After the Third Holy Grail War, American magi copied all they could from what they bore witness to, and created a copy of the Holy Grail in a city called Snowfield on the Eastern coast of the United States. Inspired by this, another group of mages copied it as well, but instead of a replication, they created a "net". Their system could not produce its own energy and could only steal it from the true Heavens Feel. After the destruction of the Holy Grail in the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars, that immense amount of sheer energy being released resulted in a false ritual appearing in the Southwestern United States..

Unlike the War on the Eastern Coast, due to the power of the leylines, Saber was still a viable class. Very little is known about this War, about what truly happened in another bloody battle for the Holy Grail.

Do you want to find out?

Or leave these secrets buried and rotting?

...

You're still here? Good good, marvelous. I'm glad you have come and stayed to read this. Now, you must be thinking "What the hell kind of writing strategy is this? He's completely shattered the fourth wall and not in the good way, the hell is he doing?". Now, that is completely warranted. But for your question, I will say it as simple as possible, which will most likely still be very confusing: According to the Multiverse Theory, there is a world for literally every possibility. Every show you've watched on TV, every strange dream where you were being assaulted by overly large genitalia, all of them exist.

Scary thought right? So for this story, keep in mind that fact. Don't think of the characters written here as just merely characters in a story, think of them as real. Real, living, breathing, supposedly sentient beings. Why did I say supposedly? Because if they exist, they only exist because this story willed them into creation. They are not real, but are real at the same time. If you think about it, we ourselves could only be existing because some other being in one of the infinite universes that exist willed us into creation with a story or two. Perhaps you are the protagonist, perhaps you are the antagonist. Both do in fact exist and are true but yet are false at the same exact time.

Why am I debating creation with some random person on the internet? Don't know, don't really care to be perfectly honest. But it is fascinating stuff right? Debating whether or not we actually even exist? It may not be why you're here, you're probably thinking to yourself "Dear God man, shut up about creation and the Multiverse and GET ON WITH THE BLOODY THING ALREADY!"

Ah well, I guess I couldn't keep you entertained forever. So read on my new friend, can I call you a friend? If it's not then I have no iss-Oh yeah, you can't voice your opinion until after I release this. Bummer. I'm going to stick to calling you my friend, it's easier and it offends less people. Anyway, what was I talking about?

Oh yeeeaaahhhh, I was introducing the story, finally. Ahem, maestro please!

Oh, no music? Well screw you too maestro! The nerve of that, that…whatever I'll shut up now.

So read on my new friend, read every word and discover the world that now exists somewhere in this vast universe, and remember that to you and I, they are just characters. But to them, they are real down to the bones of their soul.

"I wish for all your dreams to come true, but keep in mind that nightmares are dreams too." – Unknown

9 months before the False Grail War

"Another Heavens Feel! The last War only occurred several months ago!" Lord El Melloi the Second proclaimed. He had been busying himself with reading some papers submitted by his students, but all was put on hold when another teacher, Mr. Blackwood, had burst into his office.

Mr. Blackwood was an old man and a well liked lecturer of the Clock Tower. Probably for the fact that he was surprisingly very accepting of modern technology, especially video games, which was where his and Mellois friendship originated. Short and stubby and with a terrible stutter, he had a potbelly that stretched the limits of his tweed suit, and his sandy hair was swept to the side with some hair product that smelled of mint, with brown eyes set deep in his face, which resulted in sweat building up directly below his eyes, giving the man the habit of carrying handkerchiefs and tissues whenever possible.

One of said handkerchiefs was currently being wrung in the mans hands, sweat pouring down his brow. "Y-yes sir. I-I-I wouldn't have in-interrupted you unless it was of mu-mu-much importance. Accor-according to what I've heard, be-be-because of the Holy Grail being destroyed in the last two Wars, a-a fa-false war is supposed to occur in America in roughly nine m-months. Me and all the other members of the Clock To-tower are being ad-ad-advised to look for bruise like marks on either their own or on their st-students bodies." He finished, his brown eyes lifting from the floor to look at his friends eyes. "Be-be-be-because you are both a survivor of one of these wars, and a-a-a friend-d-d, I requ-qu-quested to tell you in person." He finished, moving from fiddling with the handkerchief to the end of his sleeve.

Melloi sighed before standing up from his chair, rubbing his temples as he processed the information. He briefly looked back at Blackwood. "Are they certain?"

"Ye-Yes. The le-le-leylines are completely identical to the Fuyuki lines when th-they are preparing to summon the Servants and G-Grail." The man replied, before he abruptly stood up. "I-I have to leave for a class in several mi-minutes. Th-thank you for your time Mister Melloi." He said, worry knitted on his brow as he left the Lord standing alone in his office.

The young magus paced his office for several minutes longer, before he slid back into his chair. When he had first gotten word of the Fifth War starting, he had been surprised that it had been so soon since the last one, but had ignored it in his pursuit of permanently destroying the Holy Grail to prevent the fire that killed all of those people ten years ago from happening ever again. But here he was hearing about a battle for a fake Holy Grail, and so shortly after he had sent Flat to America with a pat on his back towards another fake Holy Grail.

The man drummed his fingers on his desk as he mulled over all of the information he had just received, before walking behind his desk and reaching underneath it, feeling for a small wooden box attached to the side of the wooden desk. He grinned very slightly as he pulled out a bottle of liquor he kept for scenarios like this. A.K.A., scenarios that royally screwed up his head and normal thought process.

Was that OOC? The liquor bottle? I mean, if you were a complete genius who could never advance farther than your current condition because he's on a third generation magus and has to deal with the Clock Towers crap daily, you'd keep a bottle or two of something strong laying around.

Assassin; 4 months before the False Grail War

Chicago was an amazing city, despite its many flaws and crime it was still gorgeous place. The bedridden man found it ironic that him, a guy who could barely breathe on his own, had moved to a place called the "Windy City". He had moved here for easier medical treatment, and there was almost no influence from the damned Magi Association. Those bastards rejected a dying mans last wish, for what? Some false honor? Pride?

He broke himself from his spell, and found himself gripping his bedsheets so hard his knuckles were white. He sighed and relaxed his hands, his eyes now wandering around his hospital room. Others may have had drawings from grandchildren and get well cards, but he had no such luxury. Not even the white flowers the nurses put up could alleviate the ache in his heart. He was truly alone in this world.

The door clicked, and he was greeted by a someone that he had the pleasure of calling friend. The nurse Adrian was a medical student who wanted to become a doctor, and took up the role of a nurse to get experience and money to stay in college. Also, he was a rarity just like the bedridden elder.

"Good morning Adrian." "Good morning Mr. Eriksson." The young man replied, his brown eyes lighting up as he started talking to his favorite patient.

"Oh hogwash, I've told you to call me Hugo. We are far past last name basis with what we've done for each other." Hugo said, trying to sound like he was reprimanding the boy but his smile said otherwise.

Hugo was a magus, first generation yes, but for a first generation he was rather impressive. 26 magic circuits all capable of maintaining 17 units of energy, and a master of Bounded Fields and Hypnotism. Hugo had one day picked up on his friends inactive circuits, and proved his own powers by reinforcing a plastic straw hard enough to break a fork in two.

Adrian was a half Mexican, half Irish smartass with olive skin, but that personality was what drew Hugo to him in the first place. Him being a magus too was a happy coincidence. He theorized that Adrians' ancestors had practiced magic, but his parents or grandparents stopped. Despite them not using magic, their circuits continued being passed on, and it led to Adrian having massive potential. 30 circuits, all capable of 24 units of energy each when Hugo discovered them, and through training had managed to bump up their capabilities to maintaining 26 units.

"Alright alright, old man." Adrian said, causing Hugo to frown before smirking.

"Whatever you say Shorty." Hugo replied, making Adrian stick his tongue out. Hugo hated being called old, while Adrian hated being called short despite the fact that he is only 5'4, but they had exceptions with each other.

"Anyway," Adrian began. "It's supposed to be training day right?" He asked, to which Hugo nodded.

"You are having issues with Hypnotism correct?" Hugo asked before continuing. "It's quite simple really, all you need to do is think about what you want the other person to do, and add mana to your voice or an outside object that is visible and easily augmented, like water or other liquids." He explained before gesturing to one of the flowerpots.

Adrian stared confused for a second before his teachers request clicked and he brought the flowerpot to Hugo, who nodded and mouthed 'Thank you'.

The elderly mage pulled the flowers out, and gestured to the water inside. "Right now, it's just flower water, nothing special. But with a tiny bit of prana attached with a simple command alongside it," The water began to spin around in the pot, before a small sphere of the liquid pulled itself up and out of the jar and hovered above the mans lap while the nurse stared with his mouth open in wonder.

"And it morphs and changes into whatever I want." He finished before looking at his student with grey eyes. "Try practicing applying your magecraft to water, and then move onto something thicker like milk or cream, and also practice applying mana to your words in a simple command like 'Grab that' or 'Raise your leg'. But be extremely careful, if anyone figures out what you can do, there will be repercussions." He finished ominously.

Adrian hurriedly nodded as he watched the water return itself to its pot, before frowning at something. "Hugo, when did you bruise your hand?" He asked.

"Hm?" Hugo questioned before looking at the back of his left hand to see a red marking on the back of his hand, and froze. A flower surrounded by thorns and a small bird in mid flight above it, all dyed into his skin in red. How? How had he received it? The thing his own teacher had spoke of with awe and desire, the mark that branded you as a contender on battle that could grant any desire, be it power or changing the past.

He could start again, fix every mistake, erase all of the unnecessary death and pain. Tears rolled down his face as he wept tears of joy. Adrian could be heard asking him over and over what was wrong, but he only broke free from his spell after several long seconds.

"Hugo? Why are you crying? Who gave you that bruise? Who hurt you?" Adrian asked panicked, but he stopped once he saw the smile on Hugo's face. "Teacher?"

"Nothing is wrong Adrian, in fact this is a blessing." He said, looking back at his Command Seals just to make sure they hadn't vanished. "Have I ever told you about the Holy Grail War?"

"So with this ritual, you can summon a Servant?" Adrian asked, and Hugo nodded in reply. They had moved to the hospitals basement, Hugo having Adrian fetch several blood bags and instructing him in the proper construction of the circle as he was stuck to a wheelchair.

"Yes, but despite our disadvantage, we can still get a capable Servant by summoning Assassin."

Adrian raised an eyebrow at the name of the Servant class. "Why Assassin? From what you told me there is far stronger classes available, and if we altered the ritual correctly we could get Berserker, and that just plain sounds stronger."

Hugo sighed slightly at his students rashness, but decided that it was logical for the boy to think that. After all, bigger is better as they say. "As much as I wish I could summon one of those Servants, I don't have the physical strength to maintain them. One battle and I could die from all my energy being drained. Archers are very independent, but there's the chance I wouldn't summon one and get another, more taxing Servant. Assassin is my best bet for victory without a catalyst." Hugo explained as he slowly rolled himself towards the circle, and stuck out his left hand.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. By the teachings of the great mage Schweinorg.

The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.

Fill fill fill fill fill

Repeat five times.

But break once full

I announce.

Your self is under me, my fate is your sword.

In accordance with the arrival of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this desire, this reason, then answer.

Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.

You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, Old Man of the Mountain!"

The circle glowed brightly until he finished his chant, and an explosion of raw energy causing Adrian to turn his head in fear of getting debris in his eyes, but Hugo didn't flinch or look away. He wanted to see it, his Servant that would grant him victory and a second chance.

When the smoke cleared, Hugo was expecting someone in a skull mask as is what was traditional for Hassan-I Sabbah, but he certainly wasn't expecting a man wearing late 18th century clothing and a bowler hat.

He was average height, and was light skinned. He wore a expensive looking black suit and overcoat, not a crease or imperfection anywhere. He had charcoal eyes, and a dark brown mustache. The newly summoned Servant looked cautiously around the room, before stopping on Hugo, to whom he bowed slightly with his hat taken off and held at his waist, revealing short brown hair pushed to one side with mousse.

"I am the Servant Assassin," He said with a heavy American accent. "Are you my Master?"

Berserker; 3 months before the False Grail War

"C-come on man! Please let me go! I'll disappear! You never have to see me again!" The man pleaded as he remained strapped to a chair, blood coating the front of his body. He was seated in a chair in a lavish room, the walls having golden accents and a beautiful painting of a woman holding a golden chalice towards the heavens.

His boss was surprisingly young for his position, only around 30 at the most. He had golden hair that was cut neatly, but several strands were untrimmed and fell into his face, making his normally soft features and his dark blue eyes stand out. He wore a black tuxedo with a golden cravat, and he had a gold ring with a sapphire adorning his right pointer finger, a golden watch on his left wrist, and a small silver ring on his left ring finger, indicating he was married.

He took a long drag of a cigarette before letting it out just as slowly. "Let you go?" He said, letting each syllable hang in the air. "I am not going to do that." He said coldly.

"Please, I was dumb enough to cross you." His captive whimpered out quietly. He started another plead, but was interrupted by, music?

"Let me enlighten you

This is the way I pray

Living just isn't hard enough

Burn me alive, inside

Living my life's not hard enough

Take everything away"

The boss reached inside his suit, and pulled out a flipphone, and answered it with a hush towards his captive.

"Hello?" He asked, his eyes widening once he heard who was one the other end of the line. "Cormac! You should be asleep right now? Where's your aunt?" He questioned into the phone.

"Auntie Esmé fell asleep a while ago Dad, she had a long day and fell asleep." Cormac replied innocently.

"Then why do you have her phone? You know how she gets when other people touch her stuff." He said disapprovingly, but he was smiling as he said it.

"I wanted to know where you were, you're always at work nowadays…" Cormac said sadly, causing his fathers' heart to rip itself in half.

"I'm sorry buddy, but I have to. You wouldn't believe the idiots I deal with an a daily basis." He replied, throwing the bound man a knowing glance that made him flinch.

"Anyway, you need to head to sleep, we're going to open your magic circuits tomorrow remember?" He said, causing his captive to look up in confusion. "Magic circuits? The fuck is he talking about?" He thought, trying to go over the possibilities until he heard the phone being flipped closed.

He snapped his head up in fear, and saw his boss now staring at him, his eyes gaining a demonic glint. "A magic circuit is what separates you and I. You see, I am a magus." He declared as his captive stared at him in disbelief and horror.

"We magi are a secretive type, making sure no one know that we exist, keeping all of our research hidden and out of sight. As per protocol, we have to either fiddle with the memories of any witnesses," He said as he raised his hand, the sapphire in his ring now glowing.

"Or we have to kill them." He stated coldly, before a small pulse of light shot out of the ring and buried itself in the mans chest, leaving a hole with the singed flesh smoking as the captives head fell backwards, his eyes glazed over in horror as blood oozed from his mouth.

"If only he hadn't called, I was originally going to just send you off with a message." He said as he walked closer to the corpse, taking another drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the mans forehead.

"I, am the only man you can get anything from, drugs, weapons, even more unconventional items. Anyone who crosses me shall die or become a puppet. So if you ever think about crossing me or my organization, keep this in mind. That no matter how big, or how small, you don't cross the Raven." He said amused, before cursing and grabbing his left wrist as a horrible burning suddenly tore through his hand. After several agonizing seconds, the pain suddenly stopped, not even an ache left behind.

He looked curiously at the back of his hand, before shock hit his face, which quickly morphed into giddy laughter. On the back of his hand now rested a symbol of a red shield with two swords crossed behind it, that he instantly recognized as Command Seals. He had been chosen by the Holy Grail to participate in the Heavens Feel, though he distinctly remembered hearing how the Fifth War had only happened several months ago, but he shrugged it off.

These Seals were his ticket to the Grail, and with it he would become stronger than anything that may cross his path. He would be the only king, he would be God.

Two long days later, he was now looking at the circle he had his men create. Turns out that traitor actually had a use, because it was his blood that filled the circle. He knew his men would never even joke about their leader being a magus, for they feared and respected him that much. That is why he had no reservations about ordering them to make this circle, and to find a certain relic. It was a bone, no it was more of a fossil, and it looked like a tooth.

"Mister Vogel," He heard one of them say. "Who are you summoning?"

Vogel smirked. "A killer." He said cryptically.

He wasn't of course summoning just some random murderer, he was summoning the murderer. It was flawless, with Berserkers might and his small army of soldiers, he would win the Grail. He looked down at his watch, and confirmed that it was time, time to summon the Servant to crush all who opposed him.

"Das Material ist aus Silber und Eisen. Der Grundstein ist aus Stein und dem Großherzog des Vertrag. Der Ahn ist mein großer Meister Schweinorg."

He began the ritual, speaking in his native tongue of German.

"Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. Schließ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem König.

Füll, füll, füll, füll, füll.

Es wird fünfmal wiederholt.

Nur ist es die volle Zeit gebrochen.

Satz.

Du überläßt alles mir, mein Schicksal überläßt alles deinem Schwert.

Das basiert auf dem Gral, antwort wenn du diesem Willen und diesem Vernunftgrund folgst.

Liegt das Gelübde hier. Ich bin die Güte der ganzen Welt. Ich bin das Böse der ganzen Welt.

Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdrückung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage!"

"And to ensure I receive Berserker." Vogel thought absentmindedly.

"Dennoch dient du mit deinen im Chaos getrübten Augen.

Du, gebunden in den Käfig des Wahnsinns. Ich bin es, der diese Ketten befiehlt!"

The circle glowed all throughout the ritual, reaching its peak once he finished the original chant, but darkened once he added the extra lines for Berserker. A blast of magical energy tore through the room, revealing a small, clean shaven man with tanned skin and the furs of animals serving as clothing, a lions head serving as a shoulder guard, and a necklace made from individual razor sharp teeth. His small height and stature aside, his very presence screamed anger and rage. In his right hand, a rather unimpressively small dagger made from bone was clutched, the tip stained in blood.

He looked around the room with blank eyes, before stopping at Vogel. At the sight of his Master and the Command Seals, he resigned a sigh and bowed at the knee, grinding his teeth with barely restrained rage.

"I am the Servant Class Berserker, are you the bastard who summoned me?" Berserker spat.

Lancer; 9 months before the False Grail War

London England was a beautiful city. And the young mage known as Jessiry Ava Kuznetsov, sixth head of her family, was going to enjoy every inch. Sure, maybe if she looked out her window during the night she had an excellent view of the local hooker joint down the street, but otherwise it was really pretty.

She returned her attention back to her mirror, putting her long silver hair in a ponytail, and slipped on her black framed glasses over her green eyes. She stretched her arms above her head, reminiscing about why she was in a dingy apartment when her family was loaded with cash.

She had moved to London to study at the Clock Tower, namely underneath the famous "Master V", or as he is formally known, Lord El-Melloi II. He had survived the Fourth Holy Grail War, and he was highly respected for his talent in bringing out the talent in others.

Plus, he's hot as hell. They don't call him Mister Charisma for nothing.

Breaking her thoughts away from the childish crush on her teacher, she reassumed getting her outfit together, consisting of a green T shirt with a grey jacket over it, and a pair of faded jeans with the knees torn.

She had exited her room and stepped down the slim hallway to her admittedly small kitchen when it happened. She was busy jamming to a song in her head when it felt like someone had stabbed her in her right hand. She yelped as she grabbed her hand and cradled it, her knees giving out with tears threatening to drop from her eyes.

After several agonizing seconds, the burning ceased. She shakily looked at the top of her hand, and her breath caught in her throat. There was a blood red mark on her hand, a cats eye surrounded by fire with a strange symbol directly above it that she recognized as her native tongue of Russian, "богиня" meaning queen.

"дрисня" She cursed under breath as she ran back to her room to find a pair of gloves. Thirty tense minutes later, she had eaten, brushed her teeth, and put on a pair of gloves to conceal, whatever the hell was on her hand.

"I'll just go to Professor Melloi, explain what happened, and see what he has to say about it." She thought with a 'hmph' and a nod.

She hurriedly walked through the hallways of the Clock Tower, but realized it looked suspicious for her to be moving so quickly if it was just another day at school, so she forced herself to slow down.

She quietly crept to her classroom, walked up the amphitheater like seats, towards her usual spot next to Ezekiel Boswell, a odd but nice boy with bleach blonde hair and pale blue eyes. He wore a blue shirt over black slacks and blue tennis shoes, a shark carved from a red stone hanging around his neck on a black string. "Gee, I wonder if he's a water mage?" She thought, amused at his clothing choice. Ezekiel was a water mage who used his own body as a catalyst for his magic, altering the water in his body to make him faster and stronger, despite him being skinny as a rail.

She herself specialized in Transmutation and Alchemy. Granted her family was nowhere near as proficient as the Einzberns in those fields, but her family was still respected semi highly in the Clock Tower. She had developed a way of creating magical explosives from her potions, one of her advanced brews being capable of taking down a building according to the last time she tested it.

Ezekiel casually waved at her as she approached, his eyes still facing the blackboard and empty podium. "Hey." He said quietly.

"Hey." She replied back, fidgeting with her gloves as she sat down and put her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She was drawing a complete blank at the symbols on her hand, she probably read about it in a book somewhere, but her brain had a habit of forgetting something, and then remembering it after it would be useful. But her initial impression of strange symbols appearing on her hand was something slightly abnormal, and she could keep it to as few people as possible.

"Where's the professor? He take the day off and not notify anyone?" She asked, to which Ezekiel shrugged. "I am unaware of anything like that. But Mister Melloi isn't the guy to cancel class, in the year I've been in his class he hasn't missed a day." He replied, his "Logic trumps Emotion" personality shining through with every word.

They talked a little more, which mostly comprised of Jessiry saying something and Ezekiel responding with his opinion on it, but all classroom chatter was broken when El Melloi walked in.

Oddly, he didn't look like his usual 'I hate my life because I can't move a step higher than my current position' self. Granted he still looked like he was 10 years older than his body, but he seemed, off. His red jacket was slightly creased, and his straight black hair was a little disheveled.

Even Ezekiel commented on it, despite him sometimes appearing to have as much emotion as a plank of wood.. "He appears as if he has heard or seen something he would've preferred not to." He said quietly as the teacher walked to the podium and cleared his throat.

"Class, I have an, important issue I need to discuss with you about." He began. "Who here is aware of the Holy Grail War?" He asked the class, to which some, including Jessiry, gained confused looks, while others either raised their hand or remained silent.

"For those unaware, the Holy Grail War is a battle between mages, fighting for a supposedly omnipotent wish granting device called the Holy Grail. It involves 7 chosen Masters summoning 7 heroes of legend to do battle until there is only one Master and Servant pair remaining."

"Why am I telling you this? Because in roughly six months time, a Holy Grail War will be fought in an American city. And one of your fellow students or teachers could be a Master." He said, causing the class to break into hushed whispers.

"The Holy Grail? Doesn't that have something to do with the Christians?"

"Omnipotent? You mean I could wish for anything and I would get it? Holy crap, I gotta become a Master!"

"Wait, wasn't there a Grail War a couple months ago?"

"I thought the Holy Grail was just a rumor."

"Wasn't Mister Melloi a Master?"

Melloi let the chatter continue for several seconds, before quieting it with a cough "Yes, this all very exciting," He said dryly. "But keep in mind, any who are selected by the Holy Grail have to fight, and with the Holy Grail as the prize, any who are in that War will play dirty and killing another Master is allowed."

"A Master knows they're chosen when Command Seals appear on their body, red markings in a group of three." Melloi said, causing Jessiry to flinch. "If you or anyone you know has developed Command Seals, contact me as soon as possible. I will fill you in on the rest of the details you have to know. Now, onto today's lesson…"

Class had gone relatively smooth that day, most of the students talking about the Holy Grail and how awesome it would be if they were a Master. All of which only made Jessiry that much more frightened. If someone figured out that she was a Master, what would happen to her? Cut of her arm and take the Seals? She had no idea how they worked, or if they could even be removed. Maybe they were bound to her soul and trying to remove them is a death sentence. Or it was as simple as willing them off of you. Anything was possible with these things!

Only her and the teacher remained in the class, everyone else already having started heading home or to a local hang out. El Melloi didn't even bother asking if she was a Master, he already knew from her fidgeting.

"When did the Seals appear?"

"This morning, I was getting dressed when suddenly my hand burned really badly for several seconds. And when it stopped, the Seals were on my hand." She explained, her gloves now removed and her Command Seals exposed. She was still getting used to the fact that she was a Master. The sixth heir to a only moderately well known family becoming a Master in the Heavens Feel. People would kill her on the spot to get her chance in fighting, and she hadn't even done anything to get them!

"In the traditional Holy Grail War, 7 Servants are summoned by 7 Masters to do battle, three of those mages are a representative or head of one of the three founding families, the Tohsaka, the Einzberns, and the Matous. However, you are not in a traditional War." El Melloi explained.

"I'm not in a traditional War? What do you mean by that? Is there something wrong about this War?" Jessiry replied concerned.

"This War is a 'False War', created by mages copying the Fuyuuki system during the Third Holy Grail War 70 years ago. It appears as if the leylines chosen still can maintain all of the Servants. But be warned, this War could be entirely different from the standard. Servants that would normally be impossible to summon could appear, such as literary heroes or people who were even evil in their lifetimes." El Melloi said, briefly remembering Casters' abomination in the Fourth War.

"Unfortunately, there is no way to easily remove Command Seals, but it is possible. Unless you actually plan on doing something as choosing a Catalyst for a Heroic Spirit, and fight in the Holy Grail War." El Melloi stated, watching Jessirys' reaction out of the corner of his eye.

She was definitely nervous, by the way she kept on rubbing her finger over the Seals and stared at them with worried look in her eyes. But she also looked determined, he couldn't stop her, her parents couldn't stop her, hell, even Zeltrech couldn't even dream of stopping her now. "If she wants to die, so be it." Melloi thought with a resigned sigh.

Phoenix, Arizona; 2 Weeks before the False Grail War

"Of all the things needed for the ritual, why does it need to be blood?" Jessiry groaned out as she poured another small bucket of pigs blood into the circle she had carved a week before in the basement of the hotel she had been staying at. She, of course, wasn't paying for it and had used Hypnotism on the staff to get her a random room free for as long as she needed. She had been meticulously researching how a Servant worked and what she needed for the ritual, which included a Catalyst, a very certain circle, and that circle to be filled with either blood or liquefied precious metals.

She may be a Transmutation mage, but the book she had "borrowed" from the Clock Tower library didn't specify what metal and she didn't want to risk it.

She finished pouring the copper smelling liquid, took off the latex gloves that went to her elbows off her hands, and walked over to a small metal table with a wooden box holding her catalyst and the "borrowed" book on it.

She opened up the box, and looked at the Catalyst that had taken a month to get. A rusty spearhead that had a large ripple in the blade. Supposedly it was connected to an ancient spearman who, according to legend, once killed a man and broke a bridge with their voice. She chalked that part up to people making their hero larger than life, but if it was part of the legend then there was a chance it would be a Noble Phantasm.

Gingerly taking the catalyst out of the box, she placed it north of the circle and walked to the southern most point, took several deep breaths, and began her chant with her hand raised.

"Silver and iron to the core. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. By the words of the master Schweinorg.

The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions shut, coming from the crown, the trice-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.

Fill fill fill fill fill.

Repeat every five times.

And break once filled.

I announce.

Your self is under me, my fate is your sword.

In accordance with the coming of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.

Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.

You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, Keeper of the Balance!"

The room was rocked by a thunderous blast that sent Jessiry onto her butt, smoke filling the circle. She groaned as she pushed herself up, but froze once she was fully standing and witness to her Servant.

She was tall, standing heads and shoulders above her, wearing ancient Chinese battle armor, white fur on the gauntlets, shoulders, and shins. Her face was exposed, she was Chinese with a scar on her cheek. In her right hand, a massive spear was being held, the shaft was painted red and had two golden dragons carved in, snaking their way up and down the polearm. The spearhead alone was half a foot, and it had three main ripples in the blade, and it's design resembled a snakes scales.

She looked down at the small Russian girl, and spoke with voice clearly hardened by years of military service. "I am Lancer, are you my Master?"

Rider

Duty is such a loose word. To one duty means fighting in a war for their country, to others it means dying for their God. She, the heiress to her family of ancient magi, was no different. She had a duty greater than her body, larger than her family, larger than anything this world could dream of creating.

Anna Walks-On-Fire was the heir to a secretive tribe of Native Americans, who after the country was "settled" by the Europeans, vanished from the sight of any tribe or any nation that claimed that her peoples homeland belonged to them.

Her ancestors had been true Spirit Walkers, but instead of only being able to glance to the Spirit Realm like the spirit walkers of most tribes, she and all of her ancestors had been capable of staring into it. With the aid of her ancestors, she was capable of amazing feats, immense strength, seeing through objects and into your very soul.

She wandered the hallways of her mind, watching as outside the "windows" spirits could be seen as small blue blurs that bolted past at impossible speeds. This was her own little spot in the Spiritual Plane, a lighthouse in a raging storm. Without this place, her soul would be swept up in the raging currents of hundreds of thousands of wraiths, where she would become one with her ancestors.

She did look forward to the day she would join her parents and grandparents, but now was not the time. Now was the time to put these "Command Seals" to the test. She felt her mind leaving the spirit realm, and back into her own physical body.

She opened her hazel eyes, and looked around her bedroom. She slept only when absolutely necessary, meaning that she would often go a week before sleeping for a day straight. As she rarely used her bedroom, it was bare of anything but a small bed with a gray blanket, and the room was probably originally intended to be used as a linen closet.

She stood up from her bed, her small nightgown sticking to her skin from all of the sweat she had been building up, leaving very little to the imagination in regards to her rather generous figure. She stepped out of her bedroom, and walked towards her Workshop, briefly glancing at the markings that she had waken up to four days prior. It was a phoenix, it's wings spread over her hand grandly. The irony of the Seals design and her own past not escaping her.

Warm light flooded the halls from the tall windows, revealing a rather unimpressive view of the Nevada desert. She briefly looked out the window, her eyes reflecting in the glass. When others looked out the window, they saw a desert, but when she looked out those windows, all she saw was death. Dead plants, bones of dead animals, all burning in the unforgiving sunlight.

"Just like how I have been burned." She thought sadly, turning her eyes back to the glass. When she was 15, her house had caught ablaze, killing her parents and her brother, only she had survived but had walked away with burn scars that stretched across her body, turning some bits of her dark skin ghostly white, making her once beautiful body into a broken shell. The day she regained consciousness was when she took on the name Walks-On-Fire, for she had walked through the flames to escape. That was 8 long years ago. After she recovered from her injuries, she sold some artifacts her family had held onto and purchased this manor in the middle of the Mojave desert, roughly 60 miles away from Las Vegas.

Breaking herself from her memories and wiping away tears that had formed in her eyes, she briskly regained her pace down the hall and towards an unassuming door that led to her Workshop. The primarily dark red room had been a spare bedroom that she never found a use for, and it was littered with tables that held countless papers on top of them, a small desktop computer and fax machine was in one of the corners with a strange looking device her father had purchased when she was 10 called a "Pendulum" and had miraculously survived the fire, which was essentially an enchanted gem attached to a pen that was somehow connected to a family contact in the Clock Tower over in England. Preparation was key for survival, and prepare she had and would.

A large section in the middle of the room had been cleared for the circle she had to carve. She knew that her parents viewed the Holy Grail War with disdain, that the Ancestors would never approve of something as barbaric and foolish as hunting for something as impossible as a omnipotent wish granting device, but she had too. For the sake of her people and herself, she would win the Holy Grail. "Even if it means using the blood of others," She thought as she cast a weary glance at the freezer in the corner, filled to the brim with blood bags she had stolen from a hospital in Vegas.

She walked over to one of the tables, pushed some papers aside and searched around for a small box. Opening it up, she saw something that brought a smile to the 23 year olds face. An Azoth Dagger, gifted to her by her mother after she first entered the Spirit World. It was a Mystic Code, designed to be used as a catalyst for magic. What she planned on doing with it was a lot less, traditional.

She pulled the dagger out of the box, walked to the another table and grabbed a book she had her contact in London send over, and flipped through it until stopping on a page with a magic circle inked into it. She walked to the cleared area, put the book down on the floor so that she could refer from it, and began carving the circle into the wooden floor.

"I will get my Servant, and with its strength, I'll right what has been wronged."

Four Hours Later

Anna sat cross legged, her nightgown replaced with loose fitting clothing to relieve the stress on her scars, meditating on her choice and her plans for the War. The book described using a "Catalyst", an object of a particular Heroes legend, but she didn't want to waste any of her limited resources, so she was choosing the second option.

Using herself as the Catalyst.

She opened her eyes, and began focusing all of her spiritual energy into the circle in front of her, reciting the words that would summon her Servant.

"By the Call of your Child, come to me through the Gate of The World, and lend me your strength." She intoned, her eyes turning milky white as she called upon the aid of her Ancestors. Her body was covered in a light blue mist as the spirits surrounded her, lending her strength.

She focused on the Magic Circle, and mindlessly spoke the words of the ritual, her voice echoing with the hundreds of souls speaking alongside her.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.

The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.

Fill fill fill fill fill

Repeat every five times.

Simply, shatter once filled.

I announce.

Your self is under me, my fate is in your sword.

In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.

Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.

You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance."

The circle erupted in a cloud of smoke, filling the room as Anna watched impassively, before the spirits left her and she collapsed drained of all or her energy. However, instead of falling on the wooden floor, she fell into a set of arms.

The muscled and strong, but they felt strange, as if they weren't truly there, and whoever the hands belonged to had rough palms that scratched her skin. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a face that made her gasp.

It was a Native American, just like her. His brown eyes were filled with worry, and his eyebrows were scrunched up as he looked at her sweating face, his dark hair fell to his shoulders and framed his slightly wrinkled face, and she could see a feather tucked behind his right ear. He slowly raised her to his feet, his hands held out to steady her as she stumbled to her feet.

"Are, are you my Servant?" She asked of breath, to which he nodded while smiling.

"I am Rider, are you my Master?"

Saber

2 years before the False Grail War

In order to create, you must destroy something first. Ore must be destroyed to create iron, wood must be destroyed to create fire, and the weak must be destroyed to create the strong

Sealing Designation:

Name: Lord François Baudelaire II

Magic: Necromancy: Specialized in creating ghouls similar to those of a Dead Apostle, but far weaker, until he turned himself into one and is now capable of creating ghouls superior to average undead.

Reason for Designation: Turned himself into a Dead Apostle and is destroying any villages in his path throughout Central China. His younger brother, Caillat Baudelaire, desires the family crest.

Payment: 2 million pounds or the equivalent of in currency of your choosing.

Central Park, a small breath of nature in the concrete jungle that is New York City. No matter what time of year it was, people would bring their families to enjoy it's natural beauty. However, in this park was a dangerous man, someone who could take one of the many skyscrapers that framed the park to the ground.

A man who doesn't flinch at his comrades dying all around him, would slaughter entire cities if he deemed it necessary. He walked with Death, and had long since forgotten his fear of it. A magus.

Well, that's what people assumed he would act like given his reputation and his profession. In reality, he was still cold and slightly heartless, but if he could avoid unnecessary deaths in his career choice, he would gladly prevent it. He was lucky to snag this Designation before the Enforcers caught up, but it was only because he was working in the Middle East at the time he got wind of it did he manage to turn the late François Baudelaire inside out.

Yeah, thing they don't tell you about Dead Apostles, they smell about a hundred times worse than your average corpse when you blow them up. That was his only option, fighting a magically supercharged undead monster in open combat was a death sentence in of itself, so setting up a explosive that was probably twice as much as necessary in a small house that he had taken blood and soaked the walls in it was honestly the best option. The bastard probably thought he had stumbled on a slaughterhouse or something and was going to have a feast, only to be met with a combination of gunpowder, phosphorus, and several other explosive compounds.

However, the freelancer didn't expect the blast to be strong enough to blow out his eardrums when he was standing more than 80 yards away. Thank the Root he had some aptitude for Healing Magic, otherwise he would have to be learning sign language right about now.

This now vampire slayer was sitting at a seemingly random bench, a large briefcase at his side. Getting the Crest extracted from the body would have been a nightmare he wasn't willing to put himself through, so instead he just brought the bit that held the Crest.

Yet again, thank the Root the Crest for this family was on the left foot, and small enough he could easily sneak it through security with Hypnosis and sneak it into a hospital to keep it from rotting or degrading. He absentmindedly bounced his knee, waiting to see if Caillit really wanted his Crest bad enough to go all the way to America, and do the transaction in such a open area. But if he knew magi, they were arrogant and cocky, but if something as important as the Family Crest is on the line they would sooner drop their pants and offer their ass than lose the one thing that gave then a foothold in the magical world.

He spotted a man wearing a white suit and tie, his posture and snooty expression gave him the impression of a blue blood who believed himself to be better than all of the plebeians around him, so much so did he hold himself up that the man he was unfortunately working with was using every ounce of willpower to not punch this guy into next week.

Mister Better Than You walked to the bench and sat down, and took a long judging look at his newfound associate. A man in his early to mid twenties, he had short brown hair and a messy beard. His eyes were a greyish blue, and he wore a large black overcoat coupled with black gloves and pointed boots. He didn't smile or show anything to recognize who had sat down other than a glance out of the corner of his eye.

"I assume you are the Solomon?" The man asked in a heavy French accent, to which Solomon nodded curtly before raising a finger to his mouth. A slight chill went down both men's spines as the latter chanted a quick aria under his breath.

"Aegis of man." He whispered, a image of a knight raising their shield against a unseen blow flashing in his mind. After approximately four seconds, a hastily cast Bounded Field surrounded the bench, preventing onlookers from hearing anything they said. After finishing the spell, Solomon looked at the Frenchman, tapping the suitcase with his finger

"This contains the exact location of the Crest." He said before handing it to Caillit, who with barely restrained giddiness, popped it open to reveal a small piece of parchment rolled up in a scroll. The magic that leaked from the scroll making the Frenchman's skin crawl. "Wha-what is this?" He asked hesitantly.

"A geis, it entails both me giving you the location of your Crest, and that you pay me in full for the job, and compensate for the 100,000 yuan I wasted hunting your pain in the ass brother down over 200 miles. In addition, it prevents you from trying to kill me and take your money back after this exchange." He said bluntly, turning in his seat and pulled a quill from seemingly thin air. "Of course, if you reject the offer, I could always sell the Crest to the Clock Tower. Or perhaps I'll keep it for myself and start a new magic family?" He said coldly, before holding the quill out to Caillit.

"I leave the choice to you, Mr. Baudelaire."

I whistled casually as I fingered the check in my pocket for roughly 2,014,605.15 USD. Apparently Frenchie really wanted that Crest, and as per the agreement of the geis, I gave Baudelaire the location and the appropriate paperwork to get the foot, and the pissed off Frenchman gave me 2 million euros, and 100,000 yuan in American currency. Someone was either getting hammered, laid, or both tonight!

I suspected that if I didn't fork over 10 grand for the geis, I'd probably would have been been killed afterwards and the death would be covered up. Magi were possibly the most arrogant people on earth, but they were also some of the most stubborn and very few can see out of their small bubble to see if they're about to get betrayed or shot in the head.

"To the victor goes the spoils as they say." I thought and as I walked to the nearest bank, intent on cashing in my little 'paycheck'.

6 Months Before The False Grail War

This, this was strange. I was getting a request from someone in the Clock Tower. Not a request to hunt down a rogue family member or rival, but to come in and talk? I'm a freelance bounty hunter, and someone wants me to come over for tea?

My 'You're Going To Get Stabbed In The Back' sensor was going haywire.

Walking through this place was like walking through my past, a past I sincerely want to forget. I was the, no, they disowned me so technically they aren't my family anymore. But before I was doing this as a profession, I was the child of a mage family. They were the Dougal, a family that took pride in that one of their ancestors was trained by the King of Magic himself, King Solomon. Well, that's what they claimed, no one actually knew. My guess was that it was a mistress who learned some semi advanced stuff while she was doing the nasty with the King.

They believed the only way to reach the Root was by the use of both Formalcraft and Witchcraft, saying on how using the "ancient magecrafts" and Gaia's natural energy were "the only ways" of how one could get closer to the Root of all magic. Essentially they prayed where leylines converged for days on end and committed human sacrifices to absorb their souls power into the Crest.

I was their second son, or technically third. I was born a few minutes later than my sadly stillborn twin, and like good little magi, they didn't want to waste anything. So, they implanted my own fucking twins magic circuits into my body over the course of a year. They were sloppy, whenever I relied on the damned things it felt like I was using my nerves as fake magic circuits. I was supposed to be trained as the heir, but when my older brother awakened his circuits when he was six and had more circuits on his own that I did without my extra set, they cut off my training and focused exclusively on my brother. I guess they wanted a heir who wouldn't collapse screaming bloody murder if he used too much energy or activated the wrong circuit.

My mother, the owner of the Crest, still found a shed of mercy, and taught me the very basics, leaving my dumbass to figure out a lot on my own. My arms still are slightly numb from when I scorched them when I tried using a simple curse. They still hurt like a bitch if I try and reinforce my arms for longer than several minutes.

Shaking my head, I continued down the hallway, slightly hunched over with my hands in my pockets as I used the way I was walking and a scowl that could cut diamond to prevent questions or people asking for directions. Do I look like a goddamn map?

Briefly glancing downward, I noticed that despite me not actually looking for my destination, I was still being, pulled somewhere. It was hard to describe, like how you know someone is watching you or that you know that you aren't alone, except a hundred times stronger. I was bored, and the contact didn't specify when I had to get there, so in the words of hundreds of the people who came before me, "Fuck it." Let's see where this compulsion drives me.

Several intriguing minutes later, I found myself walking towards the exit of the Clock Tower, and I cursed under my breath. "If you wanted me, don't send my ass on a magical goose hunt."

Magi, obsessed with making shit twice as complicated and annoying to do. If they needed a new location, just send a text or call. Don't set a compulsion spell targeting the person YOU asked to come and send them to Root knows where.

After wandering the streets and narrow alleys for about half an hour, I could sense the spell weakening, either meaning the spell was hastily cast, or that I was getting close to my objective. The spell led me to a small apartment complex that was probably going to be demolished in a week, so I wandered to the front door and stepped inside and wandered up the thin staircase, bringing myself to a stop.

The place smelled like piss and liquor. Or me the morning after I get a large paycheck.

I tried the doorknob, but of course it was locked. With a sigh, I pressed my right hands palm to the door and began to probe it. A curse I found several years back, at the lowest rank could prove something for a weakness, at higher ranks could exploit that weakness. If a person had broken their finger recently, it would exert pressure and eventually break it again.

After several seconds of concentration, I deactivated the spell and brought my foot up. Aiming 2 inches higher and 7 inches to the left of the doorknob, I was now targeting the weakest point on the door. With a quick Reinforcement of my leg, I slammed my foot at the wooden door, which crumpled and splintered underneath the extreme force, before the now broken door swung on its hinges until it slammed against the wall.

"Knock knock."

I brought my foot down and stepped inside the apartment, to be greeted with a completely empty living room. I walked through the rest of the apartment, to find that it was completely vacant except for the bedroom. I stepped inside and had to choke down bile as I smelled the unmistakable stench of rot. In the small bedroom, sprawled spread eagle on the floor was what may have been a woman once, but it's organs had been removed and placed all around a dark red circle.

Based on the fact that the person's skin was a lovely shade of mossy green, they had been here for a while. Several days at the least, if this was a normal body and victim. This was Witchcraft, and it wasn't impossible for the body to rot faster as result of the mage doing the ritual. It's hard to explain, it's like how they don't have an in depth description of a line or a point in geometry. Its just the way it works, can't go into more detail than that.

Now for my favorite part of being a self proclaimed amateur detective and forensics guy, investigating the body(Yay). "Oh please please PLEASE don't tell me you had Mexican or Indian food before you got axed." I pleaded as I slipped on a projected rubber glove onto my left hand, the black, semi transparent stone that made up my right glowing dimly.

About a year and a half ago, the Baudelaire dickhead was still mad about the money I took from him, and sent some other mercs after me. They were good too, one of their punches felt like it would hit me to the next millennium. One of them was packing a double barrel shotgun, and before I could get close enough, blew everything below my right shoulder clean off. I still managed to stab him in the temple, but it took a lot of willpower to stay awake long enough, and a lot of painkillers and liquor until it stopped hurting constantly.

Several spells and a puppet master to help create fake nerves for the new arm, I had replaced my entire right arm with obsidian, a one of a kind Mystic Code I very originally nicknamed the Dark Arm. Funnily enough, it's attack style was based off of it breaking into smaller pieces, and then launching the needle sharp shards at my enemies. One person underestimated the combat efficiency of it. That person had to have a closed casket funeral.

"The binding spells were written in calligraphy, this must be a Eastern mage. The question of what magic that was used is solved, but now for the more pressing issue." I thought as I continued investigating the body. "The hell was a Easterner doing where the Mages Association has the most power?" I thought as something that smelled foul exposed itself as I moved the stomach away, revealing not only that it was leaking bile but that there was something inscribed underneath it. 胃, Wèi, the Chinese word for stomach.

Several disgusting minutes later, I finally was able to finish filling out a rough sketch of the circle. Wherever there was an organ, underneath it was a bit of calligraphy that named the organ that laid on top of it. Unfortunately, I specialized in Western Witchcraft, not Eastern. And the amount of experts I knew were nonexistent, and the amount in general were pretty small to begin with.

"Whatever, I'll just leave this nightmare for the Mages Association to deal with-wait what the shit?" I thought suddenly as a I saw something on the back of the corpses right hand. Blood? Bruising? No, it contained a magic signature, this was something else.

With a careful hand, I lifted up the corpses hand, and almost choked at what I saw. Three red markings, a arrow piercing through two separate hearts. "This, no way. No fucking way."

There was three Command Seals on the corpses hand.

One Month Before The False Grail War; Twenty Miles Away From Phoenix Arizona

Call me crazy, call me stupid, I don't care. The luck of being drawn to a corpse that had Command Seals on its hand? What dumbass would pass up the chance of getting the Holy Grail? Well okay, a lot of people but, oh shut up.

I grit my teeth as I slowly inserted the needle into my vein, my blood slowly oozing into a blood bag. Over the last several months, I had been doing this in order to get enough blood for the circle that I had already carved into the floor of this old trailer home. Strange fact, the Southwestern United States is a magical hotspot. There is countless legends about mythical beasts and strange events happening in this particular region, all of them fueled by the leylines that were overflowing with energy.

And this small and terrible smelling trailer home was at the crossroads between three of them.

As the bag slowly filled up, I reminisced about why I was even here. I probably could have sold the Seals for major cash, hell most powerful magi would offer me their spouses and their firstborn if I gave them the Seals. But, this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

Call it pride, call it the desire for revenge, call it whatever you like, if I won or was one of the last participants, I would become something of a rarity and a hot commodity. Someone who will be renowned for their combat skills, someone who people know not to screw around with. Someone to envy.

If it means getting to tell my brother to go fuck himself, I'll do it within a heartbeat. Turning my attention back to my arm, the blood bag was almost full, and I felt like I was about to fall unconscious or go into shock. That actually happened once, several years back I got stabbed in the leg and my artery got nicked. I managed to heal it fast enough, but by the time I was finished I was a inch away from the grave.

You would not believe the headache, no hangover or morning after could even dream of comparing.

Pulling the needle out with a grimace, I walked over to the mini fridge I had hooked up to my cars battery, and took stock of how much of the stuff I had. Four bags, should be more than enough. Pulling out all of the bags at once, I brought it over to the dilapidated table and chair and put all but one of them down on top of it.

Grabbing the bit that normally separated the bag from the dripper, I very carefully pulled on it until the plastic tore and a very small hole emerged. I crouched down and very, vary carefully began pouring it into the circle.

I was originally going to just rip open a hole in it and pour it in all at once, but then I considered the fact that ripping a giant hole in a blood bag was probably the last thing I wanted to do unless I wanted to look like I just ate someone.

Several minutes and three blood bags later, the circle was complete. It smelled coppery, and unpleasant as hell, but so be it. I looked down at the Seals on my flesh hand, the power of the Holy Grail to order a Servant three times. The mark that recognized me as a Master, and damn it all if it didn't feel great.

A Catalyst, tempting but risky. I could get some arrogant dick who thinks that they rule the world or maybe a madman with anger issues. If I used my body as the Catalyst, I would get a Servant that matched my personality, which was a dickhead with a heart of gold. No, gold was ugly. Silver? No that's a holy metal and I'm a blasphemous warlock. Iron is too crude and rigid, and Steel is cliché.

Obsidian. Forged in the flames of the Earth and now sharp enough to cut in between the bounds that hold things together. The aftermath of destruction, a weapon that becomes smaller and deadlier every time it is shattered. That was who I was, that was my existence.

"Huh, guess I'm a philosopher now." I snickered at the thought. I had my moments, but most of the time I was a complete dumbass.

Raising my left hand, I began my chant.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.

The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.

Fill fill fill fill fill

Repeat every five times.

Splinter, and break once full

I announce,

Your self is under me, my fate is your sword.

In accordance with the coming of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this desire, then answer my call.

This is my oath. I will become all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one destroys all of the evil of the world.

You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O Keeper of the Balance!" I finished with a roar as the Circle literally blew up in my face.

The force sent me stumbling backwards until I tripped and slammed against the wall. "Motherfu-Man that hurt." I muttered quietly as I pushed myself back onto my feet, and stared at the man that now stood in the circle.

He was tall, taller than six feet at the least, with a ragged black cloak and black armor. His arms were scarred, and he had two scaled metal gauntlets with bladed knuckles on his hands and forearms, his black hair was wild and long, and I was greeted rather terrifyingly by two yellow eyes that pierced through the dark of the trailer. Perched on his back was a blade hidden by his cloak, but the hilt was made of bronze or brass with black wrappings around the handle.

He stepped forward, his scaled boots clinking together as he slowly walked towards me and offered his hand. I took it and was pulled up to my feet without an issue. He gave me a quick slap on the back that felt like I just got sucker punched by Muhammad Ali after he took an entire barrel of steroids and cocaine.

"Sorry if my summoning injured you Master, I was not anticipating you would summon me in such a," He glanced around the trailer. "Confined space." He said half amused.

"Hardy har har, let's just finish this so I can take a nice, long, 12 hour nap."

"Of course Master." The Servant straightened himself and spoke in a deadpan voice. "I am the Servant Saber, are you my Master?"

"Yes, now that's all said and done," I said around a yawn as I walked to the door. "Time for a nice sleep."

"Sleep well Master."

Caster

Five Days Before The False Grail War

"This is ridiculous." Ezekiel commented quietly as he reread the page again. The "fact" they had put in this tome was completely false, had been disproven. This book should have been either destroyed or corrected years ago, yet here it was, spreading it's lies. Perhaps he should burn it? No, that would be ridiculous, the book could prove useful still, so he wouldn't destroy it.

Yet.

Putting the book aside, he reached his arms above his head and stretched. He placed the book in a pile separate from the ones he had already read, and grabbed the next book from the large pile.

"The Heaven's Feel," He whispered as he opened the book and flipped to the first page.

The Heaven's Feel, more commonly known as the Holy Grail War, is the result of the Einzbern, the Tohsaka, and the Matou clans cooperating together in order for the Einzberns to reclaim the Third Magic that they lost centuries before. It is a duel between 7 Magi and their Servants, heroes of legend brought from the Throne of Heroes as powerful familiars.

"A pipe dream, everything has to get something in return. Well, perhaps not the First Magic, but nearly everything in the world is bound by that rule." Ezekiel commented in his mind as he lazily skimmed through the pages.

By eliminating each of the Servants, their souls returning to the Grail create a hole to the Root. Originally the Holy Grail War was supposed to be used purely to gain access to the Root, but the Holy Grail carries the potential to manipulate Gaia, and foolish mages seek the Grail solely for the purpose of fulfilling a physical desire.

It takes 60 years for the Holy Grail to collect enough energy to both maintain itself and the Servants. By marking magi with Command Seals, it grants them the power of being a Master. The Grail takes a Master from one of the three families that created the Holy Grail, and fills the remaining slots with seemingly random magi, but it has a very specific choosing system that no magi, as of this being written, actually know.

"How, dumb." Ezekiel thought clicking his tongue. "This is a djinn's lamp, if that one wish can manipulate the World, one just needs to wish for everyone to have their wish granted, including themselves. Then again, some humans don't deserve a infinitely powerful wish, or any desire to be granted for that matter."

"Humans are rather vile creatures at heart if you consider all of what humans as a collective have done." He thought as he stood from the desk and hefted the large pile of books into his arms.

"Even those with magecraft don't do anything to change the world significantly, hoarding it to themselves and hold themselves as superior to those who could very easily destroy them if they wanted to. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and they actually have the collective thought of destroying all that they don't understand. Humans are dumb like that." He thought, not at all disturbed by his thoughts of how easily he and everyone he knew could be massacred. It was just the way he thought, often putting a logical decision in front of an emotional one. Saves time and effort, and often results in the best decision for him, a win/win in his book.

"It is rather annoying, all of the staff here acting like chickens with their heads cut off with the Fake Grail War happening." He thought with a 'tch'. They had talked to the students about how a Holy Grail War was happening in America, and it was about a month ago that they revealed that the war wasn't the real thing. In order to try and motivate anyone who was secretly or going to be a Master, they assured them "That this fake is still as powerful as the original". Most likely trying to lure put the poor sod out of hiding and then rob him blind. More likely they would kill them, with the whole 'no loose ends' mentality.

Sighing, he put the last book up on the shelf and walked to the exit, regretting how long he had spent researching as he could see the sum beginning to set through the massive windows in the hallway. Turning towards the exit, he began the walk back to his apartment downtown. He had decided against taking a dorm that they provided for students, considering that they could have preplaced spying rune or spells in the rooms.

And no one liked being watched while they were doing something designed to remain hidden.

Opening the door to his apartment, he was greeted to the sounds of water filters and the scent of moss. He locked the door and deadbolt, before turning towards his "living room".

It had three large tables in the center of the room, one small table and chair tucked into a corner, and one large bookcase off to the side. On the tables were large fishtanks, one was filled with colorful types of tropical fish from the Caribbean and the Great Barrier Reef, another had a baby leopard shark, and the last was filled with something one could only describe as "abominations".

One of them had four eyes and was a rainbow of colors, another had razor sharp teeth that were far to large for its small body. They were his experiments on splicing DNA of animals, his main focus.

By splicing together animals together, they would eventually create the perfect creature. It would be immortal, never needing to breathe or sleep, it would be the absolute pinnacle of evolution, reminding him of Doomsday, the one villain from Superman.

Him, and his ancestors, had all resigned themselves to knowing they would never see that creature, but they all returned to the Root with the knowledge that their descendant would do it. The final result would probably be really ugly or really beautiful, but the stepping stones to it were definitely not pretty or easy to produce.

He set his bookbag by the door and walked to the small kitchen off to the side, his stomach growling as he opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of angel hair pasta and set it on the counter behind him before reaching deeper into the pantry and pulling out a can of tomato sauce. Call it boring or cliché, but spaghetti was amazing and anyone who says otherwise will get a firm reeducation about how it is one of the most underappreciated meals.

After cooking the noodles and warming up the sauce and spooning himself a rather generous helping onto his plate and sitting himself at the small table, he began swirling the noodles around his fork and brought it to his mouth.

But as soon as it reached his mouth, his right hand felt like it was on fire. Choking on the fork and his food, he dropped it grabbing his hand as he fell put of his chair, swearing heavily under his breath. The pain lasted for several seconds, but stopped at the flip of a coin.

"The fuck just happened?" He thought as he looked down at his hand, his stomach jumping into his throat once he saw red. Dyed into his skin, was a vase with two flowing rivers coming from the mouth of the vase.

"What the hell? What is on my ha-" He thought until he remembered what he read earlier that day.

"By marking magi with Command Seals, it grants them the power of being a Master…"

"Me? Why? Just another magus who couldn't care less about the Holy Grail. Especially on the 'I dojt care' part." Ezekiel thought bewildered at the Seals. Of the thousands of magi in the world, they picked the person who couldn't care less about it.

"Damn," He thought as he pushed himself up onto his feet and began pacing his apartment, mindlessly walking through his bedroom, his bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, and then repeat. It was a habit he never grew out of, and it helped him think. And this particular scenario required a lot of long hard thinking.

"There's no option right now, trying to get rid of the Seals would only mean that I may run into someone dangerous to my health, giving them to someone else is like trying to run an auction where everyone is pointing a gun at each other. I only have the option of fighting, despite the risks." He thought as he hummed quietly, crossing past the bookcase for the third time in a row.

"It's settled." He declared to himself as he hit his palm with his fist. "I will participate in the False Grail War, and either win or be defeated." He thought as he walked back to the door and picked up his bag. "But first, I'm going to need some materials."

One Day before the False Grail War; Phoenix Arizona

"Now, it's done." Ezekiel thought tiredly as he rubbed the bags under his eyes and stared at the blood filled circle before him. He had snuck into a plane heading to Tucson the day after he got the Command Seals, and had rented out small house in the suburbs around twenty miles away from Phoenix. Far enough to stay safe, but close enough to get to the battleground within a convenient time frame.

He guessed he had only slept about four hours total in the last several days. All of the preparations and hypnotizing and safety precautions were getting to him mentally and physically, so he had to do this quick.

He raised his hand, and began to intone the summoning ritual aria.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.

The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.

Fill fill fill fill fill

Repeat every five times.

But break once full

I announce,

Your self is under me, my fate is in your sword.

In accordance with the coming of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this desire, then answer my call.

Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.

You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O Keeper of the Balance!" Ezekiel finished loudly as the blast that came from the circle sent him stumbling backwards.

He fell onto his back, groaning as he pushed himself back to his feet and looked at the man who now stood in the circle.

He had a face that made him seem youthful, but it lacked the normal brightness of a young person's face. He wore a brown suit with a brown tie, his hair moussed to one side. His face wore an apathetic expression, and he looked unamused by the boy who had fallen over.

"I am Caster, are you my Master?"

And scene!

Before I go any further, let me explain something important: All of the Servants seen above did in fact exist in one way or another. None of them are pure OCs, as they are based off of real people or are like Jekyll and Hyde, who didn't exist, but their legends got popular enough that they can be summoned.

For those that are going to talk about the mechanics I have introduced, remember that there is possibly HUNDREDS of different types of magecrafts in Fate, and there is more variation between them due to a mages personal Origins. The spirit magic Anna has is something I thought up regarding Native American beliefs and how ghosts and wraiths work in Fate, and Solomon's arm is based off of how I believe gem magic could work if merged with Witchcraft.

Can you guess who the Servants are? I tried to leave it vague, however some may appear as obvious.

Here, for your convenience and as a reward for sticking around and reading this, is a list comprising of what is known about all the Masters and their Servants that we have experienced so far.

Knight Classes

Sabers Master: Haven "Solomon" Dougal

A freelance magus who was disowned by his family, discovered Command Seals on a corpse and stole them for himself.

Magecraft: Witchcraft and Basic Gem Magic. Uses curses and black magic as a offensive and defensive unit, while utilizing his Mystic Code.

Origin: Obsidian

Mystic Code: Dark Arm: A arm made out of solid obsidian, its main attack style is shooting needle like projectiles.

Servant: A large black haired knight with a bronze greatsword.

Archers Master: ?

Magecraft: ?

Servant: ?

Lancers' Master: Jessiry Ava Kuznetsov

Origin: Splintering

The sixth head of a Russian magi family, she went to study under El Melloi the Second in order to bring out any hidden talent.

Magecraft: Transmutation and Alchemy. Her Transmutation abilities are currently unknown, but she states she can create a explosive cocktail capable of taking down a building.

Servant; Name is unknown, a Chinese warrior, most likely existed sometime B.C. or before 1400 A.D. at the latest. Wields a large spear and supposedly screamed a man to death.

Calvary Classes

...

Berserkers' Master: Engel Vogel AKA The Raven

Origin: Manipulating

A powerful crime lord who uses magic to ensure his foothold in the criminal underworld, 60% of the drugs and illegal munitions flowing in and out of Europe are under his control. In order to keep the Mages Association of his back, he also deals in magical goods.

Magecraft: Gem magic and Mystic Codes, predominantly firearms shooting gem tipped bullets. Most likely has powerful Hypnotism and Mind Control spells due to his profession.

Servant: Is "the murderer", and that is all that is known. Wears furs as clothing with a necklace made of teeth, and has a knife made from bone.

Assassins' Master: Hugo Eriksson.

Origin: Destroying

A man dying of disease, he wants the Holy Grail in order to restart his life. He is receiving help from his friend and apprentice, Adrian.

Magecraft: Hypnotism and Bounded Field. As he is only a first generation magus, his abilities are lackluster compared to the other Masters, but his levels of Hypnotism and Bounded Fields could be stronger than he lets on.

Servant; Name is unknown, a man who appears to have come from the late 19th to early 20th century based on his clothing. No hint of his abilities have been revealed as of yet.

Riders' Master: Anna Walks-On-Fire

Origin: Survival

Head of a Native American magi family, she is 23 and is covered in burn marks. She could be considered as a person "turned cold by the world".

Magecraft: Appears to be able to loosely control ghosts to aid her with magic. Possibly has a Reality Marble in the function of a "Spirit World."

Servant: Name is unknown, a Native American man who appears to be in the middle of his life, late 30s at the least and early 50s at the most. Any indication of his abilities are unknown.

Casters' Master: Ezekiel Boswell

Descended from Gypsies, was brought to the Clock Tower as a boy due to his latent talent. Believes that emotions are a hindrance, and tries to work without them most of the time in decision making.

Magecraft: Water magic, primarily in manipulating the water inside of him. Can use it to heal injuries quicker, probe for abnormalities in his body, and strengthen it in a pseudo-Reinforcement technique.

Origin: Adapte

Servant: A brown haired and suited man with round glasses who is apathetic to what happens around him.

Misc. Character(s)

Name: Mr. Blackwood

Bio: A lecturer of the Clock Tower, he developed a friendship with El Melloi some time after he returned from the Holy Grail War. He helped expand Mellois love of video games and helps him in reviewing assignments and the like.

Magecraft: Runecraft

Origin: Maintaining

Expect probably one more chapter until the War truly begins, as I have to explain how everyone gets to the battleground, who fights first, etc.

Peace – Anthem of the Nights