Author Notes :
Hello dear readers, working on three fictions at the same time prove to be sometime complicated. Unable to restrain anymore I finally published the prologue and first chapter of this FSN fiction : Fate Before Dust. Our hero follow mainly the path of Fate from the Visual Novel (with all it implies). A few things to prevent might be good.
This story is rated M as (very) probably the Visual Novel is noted. It include adult themes and Characters Death (you are warned). I must admit to be bored of fanfiction where every damn Servants and Masters survive despite taking A++ ranked noble phantasm and things like this.
There might also be quite a lot of OC but most are known to us, either from Arthurian Legend or from Mythes/History. The story takes place in Middle-Age as you will see which might put off some readers, I'll try to be realistic enough about it but the lives of citizens aren't this story main concern.
As I write for two reasons : pleasure and self-improvement, I hope to receive comments about what seem wrong in this story.
Now, I won't hold you back anymore. Good reading.
ArnaudB
Past Fate - Fate Before Dust
Prologue : Where Heroes Awaken
""I am the Slayer of all Beings"
Sword clashed in a desperate attempt to turn around the battle tide. A hopeless attempt that could never break the unsurmountable odds.
"Hell is my body and Void my blood"
Only two people were still alive in the City, all other either crushed under the rain of corrupted swords or their souls consumed by a despair too strong for their bodies and minds to resist.
"I have given over a billion death"
The man in dark green stroke once again with again another sword, the rain of sword still falling from both people. Corrupted falling randomly against the 'pure' ones aimed toward the one covered in a dark haze. The victor was obvious. The man in dark green was wounded, hurt and out of mana. He probably stood only by pure will and a little help for reinforcement spells.
"Unaware of Soul, nor aware of Mind"
The gigantic black sword passed close, too close. Once again the unnatural despair came over the dark green man, fighting now was more a survival instinct and a reflex than really a conviction.
"Abandoning my fool path to seek my One's arrival"
It was already lost, the World itself couldn't enter the madness in the unholy fusion of dimensional and parallel Reality Marble. This meant that the World couldn't summon Heroic Spirits to protect the humanity or itself. All the rest laid on the power of two people, one already dead.
"Yet, I forgot regrets. All end tonight"
The Cursed power of the Holy Grail finished gathering already, the vessel was sacrificed and soon all would be said and done. The dark man who received the mad curse would have his wish granted despite the heavy price. He already began to touch the Grail, the Reality Marble, the World, the veil of souls, the embodiment of the Universe twisted under the destructive power of the Holy Grail. Destruction was the only mean for the Grail to complete wish.
"My whole existence of Unending Forbidden Nightmares"
The almighty attack of Darkness shook the ground, the Reality Marbles themselves broke under the strain, a instant and the Grail would start its effect. The dark-green man did the only thing he could still do, he rushed throught it. A foolishness that would cost him his life... too late.
The dark-green man pushed with all his body the dark man. By doing so he also threw himself on the Holy Grail. And then the Wish was completed...
The world twisted as time was erased, the dark green man could only watch as time, existence, souls, all the complicated path that leaded to 'today' was annihilated. Thousand, Billions, hundred of billions existence were erased from their end to their beginning. An seemingly infinite amount of history, knowledge, love, war, research, peace, treaty, magic...
All was erased...
For it was the requirement to complete the wish...
Because it was the only mean for the Holy Grail to accomplish the wish...
...
...
...
...
It was time to stop.
The history was rewritten, under an occidental sun.
Pendulum had turned back, now it was time.
The story began anew... centuries before it started.
---
Darkness was all over the place. She felt light, so light. Perhaps the Dream would continue.
Feelings returned. Her head hurt and she was dizzy. A familiar incredible amount of mana surged into her body. Her vision refused to change the environment of absolute darkness. A painful moan escaped from between her lips. The lightness from before was gone and her body felt heavy, and wet. Struggling to breath faster in an attempt to regain her sense mainly caused her ribs to protest in pain. Drops of water were falling on her.
Her vision finally cleared. The stars barely pierced the forest all around, unfortunately the rain was too dense to be completely stopped by the trees. The night was cloudy, it was a wonder how one could see star, even more when she was under the tree. The night was horrible, too silent. There wasn't the sound of any insect, maybe the rain was too strong too heard anything. Still the feeling was here, the feeling that something bad happened, was happening or was going to... that was something she couldn't decide.
she tried to focus on the situation at hand, panic or dream rarely helped on reality. This was something the 'deceased' King Arthur was all too aware of.
Her armor was broken everywhere, it gave up as soon as she touched it. The pieces fell to the ground with metallic noises. Her clothes weren't something to be proud of either, thought it would be good enough if not for the bloody stain around her left breast. The stab from Mordred.
Getting up she almost lost balance, the missing weight of Excalibur surprising her. This was a curious and unpleasant feeling. Calibur then Excalibur, two almighty swords lost. Quite heavy stain to her knight's honor. Yet she was still a knight even if she wasn't the King of England anymore. Right or wrong, the two swords had been proof of her status as a King but now one was broken and the other returned back into the deepth mystery of the Lake.
What actions did she have now ? Sighing she wished that the 'dream' as Bedivere called it continued. It was then that it struck her : prana. Her body was in blood and flesh, not exactly pre-made mana body of the Grail but she had it. The enormous amount of mana was here, her inhuman abilities as an Heroic Spirit, as a Servant.
Why ?
The answer was beyond her reach.
An almighty sword master and King lost, presumed dead, hungry, without sword and hunted by her own Kingdom. Somehow she felt the ironies of the situation. Rin, Merlin or Born would probably have made an annoying comment by now. She surprised herself by regretting not hearing it.
---
How long did he walk ? He couldn't remember, the stench of blood, the mountain of corpses he left behind him barely fazed him. He saw worse before, a recent 'before'. There was no concession possible, Fallen had won the fight or the slaughter as it had been one-sided and finally Archer was dead. Fallen's victory probably meant that he was also in this world, searching of the object of his obsession.
His ideals and his powers, even his friends couldn't do a thing. They... no, himself was too weak. Despair was horribly eating him but perhaps that was only Fallen's sword effect that was still active. What was he speaking about again ? The wounds were painful... weren't they ? Well, he was too tired too feel anything... probably...
Becoming a Hero was a road paved in Hell after all... But that wasn't the proverb, was it ?
Someone was here, without a doubt, there was that 'feeling'. Turning around seemed impossible but he did it eventually. The rain was still falling heavily onto the tree, onto the two of them. He saw her.
His mind and body went numb, assaulted by numerous and opposite emotions. Happy to see her but also reminded of the heavy price for that happiness. He extended an unfocused hand toward her, as well as him she was struck by conflicting emotion even if it was for different reason partly. And then it became surreal, was it his own mind trying to protect him ? The shock of the wounds ? He felt lighter as the horrible memory were throw into a hazy fog, melting together. They were closer now, when did they step toward each others ? The fact was here, that was all. She was hesitating, pondering on how to act. He didn't let her decide. He fell. He fell forward finally letting the fatigue take its token. The moment he began to go down she reacted and received him in her arms, his head on her shoulder. He whispered two syllables, a name.
His eyes lost their light, as the darkness surrounded him he vaguely heard her shout his name again and again with worry.
The darkness were peaceful, for if there is no possibility of dreaming, there is also none to have nightmares.
Before One : Sleeping with Dreams
The fire crackled inside the cavern and the fallen King watched him silenty. Seeing him sleep so peacefully it was hard to imagine the torment he had gone through. But he did change. His eyes when she saw him in the forest and before were different. He carried much more on him, just as she probably carried less now. The bloody state he was in didn't help. For one terrible moment she thought he would die in her arms, just after their unexplained reunion.
More tanned, a little more muscle on his body who she knew, he kept fit since he became the worst Magus ever. The clothes were strange, it reminded of that annoying Servant, Archer, by the style and material but they were dark green. Strange clothes indeed that she couldn't torn but only remove to tend his wound. The full set covered most of his body but no gloves. Boots completed the set. Unfamiliar clothes of unknown material on a (very) familiar boy, or man.
Now what would she do ? 'He' was here somehow, and there was her Kingdom. She was pretty sure it hadn't been long since the battle, after all the blood on her now destroyed armor hadn't dried up yet. She sighed as she placed her hand on his head searching for sign of a fever. King Arthur was to be dead as History itself tell it, yet she wasn't, yet 'He' didn't belong to here. She couldn't be King again... leaving personal issues alone, few of all loyal followers were still alive. If she had still the will, she had the abilities but... they rejected her. Because she had the abilities, because she cared for her country well-being, she couldn't become King again.
Not without being a tyran, not with the country in anarchy. What would she do ? What could she do ?
...
Maybe she should wait. She had too little information regarding the current situation. Unexplained resurrection, staying, return, in the past. The return of her Servant power... What did it mean ? There was only two possible explications, both were bad...
---
Emerging from his unconscious state was an endless trial. He was helped by but a sound. Opening his eyes he caught her face, Saber's face, lowered and staring at him seemingly embarrassed for some unknown reason. She blushed when she caught him staring at her. Without a doubt she looked cute like this. Still the reason bothered him, it couldn't be just seeing him that did that, could it ?
They were in a small cavern, a fire warming them. His clothes were mostly dry tank to the unusual material they were made of. On other hands she was still wet in her royal clothes without her armor. A curious sight.
The same sound was repeated again, this time his head was clear enough to understand it for what it was. Saying it came from her stomach was saying everything.
She cursed herself. They reunited and the first thing that happens when he woke up was showing how hungry she was.
Him on the other hand smiled amused, now he had to make efforts to restrain himself from laughing. He knew that Saber didn't like him, or people in general, to laugh at her expense when she was trying so hard to keep her posture. On other hand he was calmed by the worrisome hazy memories who let him in the current situation. It would hit him later.
"You haven't changed." She blushed at the comment, being complimented while being struck with him on her lap was beyond embarrassing.
"You did." There was sadness in her whisper, because it was all too true. This wasn't the innocent boy who got involved in the fifth Holy Grail War, nor exactly the one who was with her for two shorts yet eventfull weeks. There was more wounds now, physicals but also mental. She could see it in his brown eyes.
---
He stood up and she followed his example, her legs screamed in pain but were quickly relieved by her immense prana. "Shirou..." He looked up from the wet ground outside to her. "Why are you, I, we, here ?" For one moment his gaze seemed distant and his face sad.
"There has been some events leading to this, thank to a certain person." He shook his head. "We aren't in immediate danger anyway, and hopefully this place neither."
He glanced outside where the rain was still falling heavily then starred at her then at the fire. Finally she heard something no one told her before.
"Undress."
"Shirou ?" It was truly amazing how fast someone confidence could break. Saber stared at the boy in complete confusion.
"You're hungry, aren't you ?"
"I do but, that kind of ..." He was so straight for such a thing. They did it before, twice to be frank but things were different, weren't they ? It wasn't his style to understand words in 'that' sense.
"What is wrong saber ?" He approached her perplexed. Blissfully unaware of her increasing unease while she turned her head away. He whispered gently, not knowing what else to do. "You'll get a cold if you don't change."
"Change ?" She muttered feeling her mind crumble in confusion.
"You can't stay in those wet clothes." He showed her a dark green female set of clothes patiently waiting in his hands. The poor boy watched in confusion as the stunned blonde knight fixed him. "Saber ?" She was all red. Saber extended her hands and Shirou handed her the clothes, then she stared at him with a glare that was as much threatening as embarrassed.
"Well... I'll let you change." He walked toward the cavern entry, letting the fire make a wall between them.
She noted there was no underwear in the set.
---
She joined Shirou at the cavern's entry, walking with blond eyes falling a little past her shoulders. "Wrong size ?" he asked hesitantly. She nodded, blushing as much as him except it was her third time this night. He stared at her, chasing the embarrassment and actually doing it well. He inspected her from head to toe and then touched her shoulders with his hand, making it travel down her body until he was at her news boots, the clothes were tighter or large but better hold. "Better ?"
She moved her arms and legs, chasing her own embarrassment. Then she made a turn on herself. "Amazing." her voice was low but her admiration was clear. It fitted perfectly. "You traced it ?" she asked as she wondered on the resistant unknown material, he nodded. "You might have to furnish the mana though."
He had definitively improved.
"Shall we go now ?" She glared at the rain still falling but took the offered hand anyway. He stood by her side, his head very close to her ear. "You're beautiful." She wondered if she had a fever, she felt really too hot considering it was raining.
As they stepped out she was only slightly surprised to find a large grey umbrella shielding them from the rain hold by the tracer. And so the two walked in the forest toward their fate, hand in hand.
***
The powerful wizard watched his enchanted map of England, with worry. Slowly, his fingers played with his long white beard. He had never been able to get rid of it, everything he cut it the magic circuit passing by his chin would multiply the grow. A total of forty-six unusual sources of prana had appeared on the old map. Sources each owned by spirits, with few living human exceptions, himself being one. He still searched the reasons.
His unmatched, to his knowledge, ability to feel the magic allowed him to find that all those source, including him, were linked to a power he didn't recognize. A tremendous power at least which was perhaps familiar, or not. This power wasn't human, that much he could see. It had to be a relic, an artifact. As always in those situation, it would be needed to find who, how and why were this artifact activated. Another power resembled to it by the nature, but else was it different. This second power was hold by a human or a beast, something alive and with some intelligence. Truly, the wizard was more worried about that one. It constantly moved with a speed and endurance far exceeding normal humans limits. This worrisome power also destroyed, killed, or whatever, one spirit source. When he focused on that moment, a few hours ago, the dangerous power had taken visibly less than a minute to finish its task.
Worrisome power...
Five others sources of power had disappeared, two others were blinking on the map close to each others. The most likely for those last two was a battle-situation against each other. Seven sources had the heavily mana and large radius of magic that characterized wizards of highest levels, with him that made eight.
Many others sources had differences, too many to be counted in a few words. Still seven 'types' were here but with an important number of exception. The wizard decided to make eight 'types' with 'exception' being the eighth.
He mumbled joyously, first he had two things to settle before working on this situation more. Getting out of the weakening spell binding him and next... see what was were those sources so close of where his old student made a pact with the World. Indeed, why was one of those source of familiar energy like his normally dead student ? And why did the other weaker one had some familiarity with the monstrous that drew first 'Spirit source blood'.
The old wizard rubbed his hands in excitement. It looked like Merlin's role in History wasn't over yet.
***
***
The man went on, pushing his inhuman speed and endurance beyond their limits. His black armor moving noiselessly, a black titan in the night. The 'awakening of Spirits' hadn't forgotten him.
Him. The one whose actions contributed to this country's falling. A fall he remembered, as he remembered his past, present and future regret at the same time. Now he had a second chance, that he wouldn't pass for anything. His heard raced more in excitement than because of the insane running he was doing.
Lancelot of the Lake, the black knight, rushed to his King side.
Berserker of the Holy Grail in order to erase his regret, he was one rare one to have been granted his wish.
At which price ?
R&R