A/N: Hello, hello, sorry for the delay; I've been helping my twin get settled in for his semester of study abroad. Now, however, I'm sitting in the airport in Nice at a god-awful hour of the morning, about to get on one flight, then a 3-hour layover, then a 10-hour flight, then ANOTHER 3-hour layover, then ANOTHER flight before I'm actually home. So I may as well get some writing done, wouldn't y'all say?

First, Ilya's new Berserker. It is Krieg the Psycho from Borderlands 2, and the only fictional character from another work summoned as Servant. There will be another original Servant joining the 7, though… if you want a hint, just go look at the church scene from chapter 2. It's hidden there…

Second, I've been asked why I'm doing this since the original Fate's Gamble isn't even AT the HGW yet. Well, it's getting really darn close guys. Besides, you didn't really think I'd be all done with just the Fifth Heaven's Feel over and done with? Oh, no no no… I have plans. And those plans have plans. And those plans have plans, which have plans within plans layered on top of plans hidden inside a contingency plan… somebody stop me.


"I hate airplanes…"

A beautiful young women with chestnut hair falling to her lower back and warm, chocolate eyes stepped out of the charter plane, and instantly sunk to her knees upon touching the ground, reveling in the feeling. This may not have been the most appropriate thing to do, given that her attire was offering the passengers behind her a tantalizing glimpse up her skirt. Luckily, none of them cared.

"You could have taken the Kaleidoscope, Master," another voice spoke, regal in bearing yet teasing in timbre. A vision of the finest beauty stepped down the disembarkment stairs, a light smile teased over quirked lips, amusement dancing in her eyes. She wore black jeans with a flare to the bottom of the pant leg, heeled sandals barely peeking out the bottom, with a deep-red blouse underneath a black leather jacket on her top. Her hair had been pulled into a French braid and draped over her left shoulder, a silver shell ornament at the bottom holding the style together.

"No, we really couldn't have, Assassin," Amethyst replied, vowing to herself to find a better name to call her Servant than just the class; it was a dead giveaway. "There are too many magi congregated in Fuyuki right now, and if I used that to get there, somebody would have sensed us. It's why I'm in this form and not going as Harry and Holly. Too recognizable."

Liz and Fran followed the duo off the plane, simply slipping through the walls in their astral form, as another two figures debarked the small, airborne vehicle. Two more females, one an apparent fourteen years of age with black hair and deep, wine-red eyes, and another with crimson hair and a shining, sapphire gaze, stood around the truly youngest among them as she fought to control her nausea. While the apparently-youngest of them simply smiled to herself and shook her head, arms crossed over her chest, the redhead took no high ground and began relentlessly teasing her companion.

"Hey, hey," Aoko started, both punctuated with a light poke to the back of Amy's neck, "who knew your combined form got motion sickness, eh mahou shoujo-chan?"

A visible gloom fell over the young woman, silent curses at a centuries-old vampire geezer issuing not-so-politely from between clenched jaws and ground teeth. No, she really didn't mind the combined form, but it was the original reveal, along with the prior outfit, that both souls within the body absolutely detested. At least the old trickster had gotten his comeuppance when neither of the two demanded he reverse everything. Sometimes, the most satisfying payback was the exact opposite of the expected reaction, wasn't it?

"I'll be fine, la blue girl," she fired back, watching her friend's face darken, then pale as the implications of the first word hit her. She'd seen enough hentai to know where that one was going. "Let's get off this airstrip and back home; let's try and convene a war council tonight between our allies, see if we can get up to speed."

"Ah, about that." All eyes turned to Altrouge, who'd spoken up not moments after everybody else had nodded their assent. "Bazett will have to pull out of our alliance. Something else has come up with the war. Enforcer business."

As everybody started to proclaim their understanding, Assassin managed to put two and two together… but got banana.

"Wait, how could you possibly know that? We were on a plane for—"

"I can feel whenever somebody wants to feed another to Primate Murder."

A beat ticked by. Then another. And another. Then another after that.

"So you mean—"

"Yep."

"And also…"

"Uh-huh."

"Including that one time—"

"Primate Murder doesn't eat gingers," Altrouge viciously interrupted. "The lack of soul gives her indigestion."

Nobody had any response to that last bit.


"Trace, On."

Twenty-seven natural circuits, and an additional three temporarily-converted nerve circuits, thrummed with heat and energy. Rin, Harry, and Sakura would no doubt kill him if they found out just what he'd planned to give his summoning a little more power, but he didn't have the time to think about that. The Holy Grail War was nearly underway, and it would be a cold day in Hell before Emiya Shirou, Hero of Justice, let the disaster of a decade prior come to pass a second time.

"Silver and iron to the origin," he chanted, standing over the same magic circle in his shed that had been used by his adoptive father and late stepmother. "Gemstone and the archduke of contracts to the corner. Our ancestor is the great master Schweinorg."

The circle itself had been modified in an attempt to amplify the summoning's power. Given his Origin and Element, alongside his personal skill with archery, Shirou knew that he was summoning either a Saber or an Archer. Rin had already called and sent a message saying that she'd summoned him—a him, she'd been quick to clarify, considering he himself wasn't currently standing amidst a pile of rubble in her living room—as an Archer-class Servant.

"Fill (shut), fill (shut), fill (shut), fill (shut), fill (shut). Enclose five times. Once filled, simply destroy."

To that end, Shirou had rigged the summoning as close to a Saber in his favor. The circle itself had been enclosed in blades, and Traced replicas of Avalon enclosed the circle in a pentagon.

"I hereby declare: I shall be all that is good in the heavens. I shall be all that is evil in the hells.

The divine sheath of King Arthur itself, hidden away inside of his body and adjacent to the soul-scape of his Reality Marble, would act as the catalyst for the summoning ritual. If all went well, he would have an incredibly powerful Servant to fight alongside him, one that could overcome any obstacle, ford any valley, cross any mountain. One whose honor demanded they never back down.

One very similar to Shirou himself.

"If thou should abidest by my summons, thou clad in the holy trinity, then I bid thee…"

The hammer in his head cocked back a second time.

"Come forth!"

The bullet fired.


Deep underneath Fuyuki City, something stirred. An earthquake, not even a three on the Richter scale, but more than the area had seen in the past few months, sent tremors through the surrounding area. Something of great power had awoken. And it was full of rage, rage and hate.

Angra Mainyu felt the summoning going through the Grail, reaching out to that odd space between life and death that the Once and Future King resided within. The summoning had latched on, pulling the Heroic Spirit into the material realm—the same Heroic Spirit that had prevented its full birth a decade prior.

Ahriman writhed. Angra Mainyu stirred. Avenger roiled. It would not have this. It would not let another Emiya, another of those pathetic, wretched idealists, use the same sword to prevent its birth a second time! IT WOULD NOT HAVE IT!

Black tendrils of mud and muck surrounded the immaterial spirit, pulling it deep within its bowels and depths. King Arthur would not be illuminating the world with the Sword of Promised Victory.

Not this time.


A figure seemed to appear within Shirou's circle, hazy and translucent, but before the image could solidify, it vanished. The light of the summoning changed to a deep red un-light, and a new form appeared where the previous had vanished.

Burnished silver armor with crimson inlays covered a towering figure, mighty in stature and imposing in form. Clawed gauntlets grasped a ceremonial silver blade, one that, while representative of a kingship, was still a truly mighty artisan's work, a true centerpiece in the art of war. A scent, the copper tones of dried blood, drifted upon the air as the summoning finished, and the knight stood before Shirou for mere moments.

Then they fell to a knee, offered the sword hilt-first to the young man… and dispelled the armor.

"Servant Saber, by your summons I have come. I ask of you…"

The girl looked up, pale emerald eyes framed by faded blonde hair and slightly ashen skin looking into burnished copper.

"Are you my Master?"


"You stupid! Pathetic! BITCH!"

The meaty thud of flesh on bone sounded through the area, as mortal fist impacted anti-divine cheekbone and jaw repeatedly, seemingly without end.

"All I asked was for you to get one girl. One girl! All you had to do was grab that fucking bitch Mitsuzuri…"

The young man took two steps away before turning around, face contorted in a mask of fury.

"And you can't even get that right, you stupid fucking BITCH!"

The impact of his foot on her face never came. A light hand had found its way onto Matou Shinji's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Sweat tracked down his face and his heart pounded in his throat, left hand desperately tightening around the Book of False Attendant which enforced his will.

The Servant was no longer in front of him. Instead, she stood to his side, the nails of her fingers digging painfully into his shoulder.

"You may be my Master at the moment, boya," she spoke, voice soft with rage. Small rivulets of blood erupted underneath her fingertips, the boy quashing a squeak of pain, ashen features drawn into a mask of horror.

"But while I will follow your orders, and do as you demand, there is one thing you must know."

A chain encircling the boy's ankle, heretofore unnoticed, tightened around the offending limb and pulled. Shinji squealed in fright as the unnamed weapon hoisted him into the air, an acrid scent staining the air as liquid ran down the front of his upside-down body.

"I am nobody's plaything, least of all yours… mortal."

The chain disappeared as though it was never there, sending Shinji crashing to the ground. Rider had already changed to astral form and left the area, nursing the bites on her fingers.

The insects retracted into the Book of False Attendant, their duty continually fulfilled.

Miles away, Zoukens face broke into a rotten sneer.


"So what're you gonna cook for me tonight, Emiya-kun?" Rin asked in a playful tone, taking way more pleasure in this particular situation than Archer thought was particularly healthy. The evil grin on her face probably had something to do with his bad feeling. Rin's whispers under her breath about making the idiot indirectly get what was coming to him wasn't exactly very encouraging, either.

"Nothing."

"—be a risotto pasta followed b—eh?" Rin stopped dead in her tracks… which made a very funny scene, considering she was balancing on one foot, the other pulling one of her trademark thigh-highs up her leg. She stood there for a good ten seconds of pure silence, just staring at Archer.

A cold sweat started working its way down the back of his neck.


Shirou and Saber sat companionably at his table, awaiting Taiga's arrival. However, in the meantime, the setting was rather idyllic and peaceful. This assumes, of course, that Shirou didn't have a somewhat red face from peeking at his Servant's slightly scandalous attire… and that Saber didn't notice it.

Of course, their topic of discussion was pretty good at distracting the Servant. Funny stories from the past will do that.

"So there was this one time, Gawain and I had just gotten back from investigating rumors that the Green Knight was back, obviously they were false, but along the way we'd procured this cask of the most amazing mead! Well we'd each drunk about a quarter of it on the way back, so neither of us is standing up particularly straight on our horses, singing dirty limericks the whole way back, and there at the gate is who else bu—"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOTHING, YOU USELESS SACK OF HORSESHIT!?"

Seconds passed. Those seconds turned into minutes. Eventually the birds resumed their song, the crickets continued chirping, and that one spider went back to spinning its web around a Japanese Giant Hornet that had flown into its web the night before.

Shirou pulled himself out from under the table. Saber sent her sword back into hammerspace, the silvery outline of her armor fading. Taiga fell down from the rafters in very slow fashion, drifting side-to-side like a piece of paper… further heightening Shirou's belief that she probably knew all about Magecraft first-hand.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes. Then…

"Let us never mention this again." Shirou and Saber nodded in agreement and returned to their breakfast as Sakura came in, trying to hide the fact that she was favoring the right leg. Another moment passed, until…

"SHIROU! WHAT IS THIS GIRL DOING IN YOUR HOUSE!? OH, KIRI, HOW ASHAMED YOU WOULD BE OF YOUR DELINQUENT SON, BRINGING RANDOM SLUTS HOME DURING HIS WALKS OF SHAME!"

A crack, and Saber's tea spilled all over her lap from where she broke her tea. An aura of bloodthirst and hate rolled off of her in waves, such that even the Tora-Shinai began to quaver in fear.

"No no wait a moment miss I'm sorry I didn't mean i—"


"Exactly what I said," Counter Guardian EMIYA replied, one pinky probing his ear to make sure the one facing Rin hadn't had its eardrum burst. The other had managed to pick up the sounds of what could only be Taiga… begging for forgiveness and cowering in fear? Nah, that can't be right. This was the Tiger of Fuyuki he was talking about, daughter and heir apparent to the local Oyabun of the Yakuza.

"But, but, but…"

Archer sighed at Rin's sudden shake, trying desperately to avert his eyes from the massively oversized tear threatening to spill forth. He walked over to the cabinet and opened it up, releasing a sigh. Some part of him twitched at that; cabinets didn't sigh. A moment later a squirrel walked up to the edge of the cabinet on two legs, chittered angrily at Archer, demanded something or other of Rin, shook its fuzzy fist at them, blew a raspberry at the Servant, then slammed the cabinet closed.

Nobody spoke.

"Rin."

"Archer."

"You have a sapient squirrel living in your pantry."

"His name is Kinemaru."

"… squirrel circle. Great." Archer let his head fall into his hand, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Remind me to kill Zelretch next time I see him."

"Don't. I doubt his grandson would like that much."

A moment passed.

"Rin."

"Yes Archer?"

"Please tell me that you didn't just say that Zelretch has a grandson."

"Oh yeah, his name is Harry Potter, he wears this stupid fricking blindfold and has a magical girl staff and—Emiya-kun, what the hell are you doing with that sword!? Put that down, no, ack, get that off your throat you, DON'T MAKE ME USE A COMMAND SPELL, YOU IDIOT!"


"We all set, Aoko?"

The young user of the Fifth True Magic stood up from where she'd been kneeling over, pressing a hand to the soreness in her back, and inspected the circle she'd been preparing. She'd managed to pilfer some more materials from her sister when Touko had been testing out another of her new puppets over in the Bayankala mountain range in China—no clue why she'd picked that location, don't ask Aoko—and had used those to create the summoning circle. Hopefully, it'd also let Harry transfer the command spells from Athasia Lovejoy's severed hand onto his own without overly much difficulty, but sometimes Gaia was finicky, and the Greater Grail even more so.

"Yeah, it looks like it. You're gonna want to do this quickly; I can't remove it from the passage of time without contaminating the Summon Servant ritual, so you've only got twenty minutes before it starts to decompose. Why'd you want an organic summoning circle, anyway?"

"We're dealing with an omnipotent artifact tainted by the physical embodiment of all the world's evils, Aoko," Harry replied, matter-of-factly. He had his hair reduced in length (a trick he'd learned from Tonks in that other world), and it sat roughly mid-back in a high tail. Two strands framed the sides of his face, ending just below his chin, and he wore his Mystic Eye Killers instead of his customized Breaker Gorgon. "If I want to exploit the system and summon yet another Servant for myself, I'm going to have to start appeasing the damn thing. Not much better way to do that than make this circle as…" Harry searched for the proper descriptor for a few moments, but came up empty.

"Satanic?" Assassin supplied, still clad in her casual attire.

"That's a good one," he acknowledged, grasping onto the option. "If we can get this as satanic as possible, then it should distract Ahriman—"

"Angra Mainyu, Harry," Aoko corrected.

"Actually they're two names for the same thing, and since it seems we all really want to interrupt me, I'm just going to get on with the damn ritual."

Harry closed his eyes as he turned towards the circle, and tapped into his circuits. Prana hummed to life as od flowed through his body. He outstretched his hand, opened his crimson gaze, and set his stance firmly.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gemstone and the archduke of contracts to the corner. Our ancestor is the great master Schweinorg…"


Thousands of miles away, a figure looked up as something drew its attention. A sneer spread across a twisted face, as light illuminated the circle at their feet.

"Legacy of the Tuatha: Summerlands Shallowing."


"If thou abidest by this contract, thou clad in the holy trinity, accept the summons and come forth—!"

The meaty circle at Harry's feet flared up, the light growing to blinding… and disappeared.

"What th—"

"MASTER!"

"Harry, look!"

He spun on his heel, eyes following Aoko's finger to gaze at the circle, which had reappeared underneath Assassin. The Wise Queen of Assyria found herself lifted into the air as power flowed through her spirit, altering her, improving her, empowering her. Out of the corner of Harry's vision, that odd semblance of a computer screen that told him, and any other Master, about the Servants they encountered, flared up as a new entry listed itself under Assassin's.

"Dual Summons?..."

The light faded and the summoning circle disappeared, taking the severed hand of Athasia Lovejoy, and the Command Seals inscribed upon its surface, with it.

"Assassin?" Harry's voice was carefully measured, fingers closing around the twisted athame he had 'liberated' from the Department of Mysteries… just in case. "Are you okay?"

Semiramis stared down at her hands for a moment before prana hummed to life, and a dove appeared nestled within her palms. A brilliant smile blossomed to life upon her face.

"It seems that I've just become a Caster as well, but only occupy the mantle of Assassin," she spoke, eyes firmly fixed upon the dove, cooing as she rubbed a finger over the top of its head and down its white-feathered neck.

"Then that means…"


"Servant Caster, by your summons I have come. I ask of you…"


"There's another Master out there. And somehow, they've hijacked the Summon Servant ritual to acquire a Caster of their own."

The Command Spells emblazoned upon Harry's arm flared to life, burning a brilliant crimson as they burned through the bandages with which he had covered them.

"All Seven Servants have been summoned", an ethereal voice spoke.


"Are you my Master?"

The figure chuckled before stepping forward, showing the back of their left hand to the newly-summoned Servant. The representation of a cliff face, with the sunset and a will-o-wisp burned crimson, and the Servant nodded.

"Very well, our contract is complete."

"Indeed. Now, let us go forth and claim the Holy Grail…" The figure began to turn and walk away, opening up a door at the other side of the hallway.


Within the Church, Gilgamesh sneered at the false priest, the so-called 'Moderator' of the War.

"Let the Fifth Heaven's Feel… begin!"


"… Scathach."

"Yes, Master," the revealed Caster spoke, sword in one hand, staff in the other. Power flowed over her person, an impossible quantity of runes emblazoned upon her person and floating in the air, surrounding She Who Was Too Strong.

"Let's."