Nerve Damage
Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night. There, now will you lawyers PLEASE stop stalking me?!
Note: If there are any grammar, spelling, or information mistakes, please tell me. I hate mistakes.
And here's the next chapter, which introduces most of the new contenders for the grail war. Enjoy.
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For a normal human's standards, the house was huge.
It was built on a flat plain, a giant mansion that screamed opulence and history, with just the right amount of weathering from time to make it seem venerable rather than run-down.
For magi? It was just another noble's house.
Enforcer Jordan Lionstone, a blonde-haired blue-eyed giant of a man, clicked his tongue as several wolf-golems approached. They were much smaller than the eight-foot-tall lion golems with him, and so he was not bothered. He waved a hand, prana flowing out, and the golems deactivated, stopping mid-step for the ones walking. The running ones ended up crashing and skidding across the ground in an undignified heap.
It warmed his heart that the relatives of his that controlled this particular batch was probably twitching in frustration right now.
He continued walking, the two giant lions walking in-step beside him. More golems rose up from hidden routes or invisibility fields.
He grinned, and raised his hand once more.
The golems scattered, and in seconds, the field was clear. He laughed. The older magi were probably pissed at him right now. The younger ones? Well, half were already more or less brainwashed into the typical noble twit. The other half wanted to be just like him.
Their parents probably hated his guts. Not that he cared.
He reached the large double-doors. He waited for five seconds. No reaction.
He put his hand in one of the coat-pockets of the greatcoat he wore over his suit. "Hmm, I'm pretty sure I still have some semtex somewhere..."
The doors slammed open. He laughed once more. Magi were, to be honest, absolutely clueless with modern technology. Heck, even he was at most was as up-to-date as ten years ago, and that was sad. The fact that he was actually decades ahead of most magi was just even sadder. His family however was completely up-to-date with every kind of explosive, and it was all because of him. He considered it a personal achievement.
He was still laughing when he walked in. The main hall was filled to the brim with his family. Dozens of them, mostly adults his age or older. All of them hated his guts.
He glanced upwards at the top of the stairs. Some of the kids and teens waved at him or gave him a thumbs-up. His supporters. The ones who hated him would probably rat them out later, and they'd still worship him even after the punishments. He wondered what went on in their minds to be so dedicated.
He spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. "Salutations, my family." He said in a bored tone. Many of his family shifted nervously.
It was understandable, for Jordan Lionstone was a large man, even for a family whose males averaged at six feet. Jordan himself was three inches short of seven feet, and was bulky to boot, his entire frame rippling with muscles. Compared to the rest of his family, who, due to the fact that they rarely bothered to bulk up, looked stork-like with their great heights and spindly limbs, he was a veritable giant.
Of course, there were the eight-foot-tall stone lions.
One of the adults stepped forward, and Jordan's smile widened as he recognized him.
"Hello Jordan. What brings you here?" There was a nervous tick on Lord Lionstone's left eye. Understandable, considering that Jordan's last visit resulted in an explosion that left a twenty-meter wide crater on the family grounds.
They really should stop holding a grudge over that. He paid for the damages didn't he?
Jordan raised a hand, and savored the twitch that came over everyone in the room. Slowly, he put his other hand to the glove, and pulled it off.
Gasps.
"The Holy Grail War..."
"To have been chosen..."
"Our family's chance to rise! This is-"
Jordan smiled crookedly. "So, would anyone mind telling me what to do with this war ticket? A scrap between heroes wasn't exactly in my life's to-do list."
They were still in shock.
"But why him? Of all people..."
"The worst person in our family to have been chosen."
"Truly the Grail has a horrible sense of humor."
The enforcer scowled. He pulled something out of his pockets and threw it at the throng.
They reacted by instinct, squawking like birds and leaping away with no regard to their dignity. When the yo-yo landed, everyone was at least ten feet away from it.
Silence, as the nobles processed what had happened. There was an embarrassed shuffling as they slowly stood up, trying to pretend they hadn't just been scared to death of a toy.
Jordan crossed his arms. "Enough yapping. Someone take this tattoo off of me. I've fought enough dead apostles to know when I'm going into a meat-grinder, and the only way to survive those is to not be there."
Lord Lionstone gaped at him. "Are you mad? To sacrifice such a chance for glory...that's madness!"
Jordan had a bright idea. "You do it then, father. Bring the Lionstone itself, that thing's a match for a servant if I say so myself. You should have a pretty good chance at..." He stopped when he noticed how pale his father had gotten. "Oh blimey, you've got to be shitting me. You're scared witless." He turned to the others, waving the marked hand. "Anyone?" They backed away at least four steps.
Lord Lionstone gulped. "Well, you see, there have been stories..."
The enforcer glared at him, and the patriarch ceased talking. "All of you. I hate you all. You're all cowards." He cracked his knuckles, and the stone lions beside him growled, sounding more like a small avalanche.
His family didn't take this in stride. Prana flared in the air, awaiting their command, though there was fear in their eyes. It was an established fact that he had stockpiles of explosives in the house that they had yet to find. All it took was simple flare of prana at a certain wavelength and he could potentially blow them sky-high.
"I want access." Jordan declared.
His father blinked. "What?"
The enforcer scowled. "If I'm going to be forced to join in on this little punch-up, I'm not going to do it half-cocked. I want access to funds, artifacts, contacts, and favors. If I want to clear out the vaults, so be it. If I want to bring the Lionstone to the war, no one better give a yip about it."
Lord Lionstone shook with anger. "That's insane."
Jordan lifted the marked arm until it was parallel to the ground. One of the lions leaned over and put it between its teeth. "Say no and I'm cutting my arm off right now. I've heard enough to know that the contenders will hunt me down if need be unless I'm no longer a part of it."
Silence.
To be a magus was to walk with death, but right here, right now, seeing their long estranged relative willing to get his arm bitten off to avoid a hero war, it put to mind just how different the 'fighting' magi truly were to the 'scholar' types.
The leader rubbed his face tiredly. "Very well. You get access. But you better win, boy."
Jordan chuckled, blue eyes twinkling with dark mirth. "There is nothing certain in battle save for death. I'd be lucky to survive. Don't worry though, I wasn't actually planning on clearing out the vaults. That's too much stuff even for me. And honestly, I like my lions better." He rapped his knuckle on their stone hide. "I know them more, and that's something very important in battle, even if you don't know it."
The others just glared at him.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jordan sighed as his family watched him perform the summoning.. Admittedly, he could understand where they were coming from. It wasn't everyday one got the chance to witness the summoning of a heroic spirit.
"Lancelot maybe? The greatest knight of Camelot would be invincible."
"No, Merlin! His magic is unstoppable!"
"No no no. King Arthur. No one beats the king."
The enforcer rolled his eyes and placed a palm upon the circle. His prana flowed out, and a bright flash filled the room.
When the light lessened enough for visuals once more, Jordan could only stare at the result of his summoning. So did everyone else who had come to watch.
The servant didn't change from their collective wills, despite how much they wished it so.
His family had only one thought. '...or he could summon that.'
The blonde enforcer sighed and looked at his father, who looked close to blowing a gasket. "Before anyone says anything, I totally didn't ask for this."
Standing in the still-glowing summoning circle was what appeared to be a white-haired teen an inch below five feet. She had several knives on her person, and was clothed in a horribly scandalous outfit of black leather which consisted of thigh-high boots, a sleeveless shirt two sizes too small, and a thong.
It was hardly the image of an epic hero. In fact, it looked like something out of those...what were those things called again? Ahh, yes. Hentai. Freaking Japanese.
His father twitched. "You...this..." He closed his eyes, and Jordan could feel the aneurysm forming. "Only you. Only you..."
Jordan shrugged. "Whatever." He turned to his...servant. God, that sounded weird in his head considering what she looked like. "So, nice to meet you. Name's Jordan Lionstone. And you would be?"
Slowly, her head tilted upwards to look him in the eye. He raised an eyebrow at what he saw there.
'You're different.' He thought. She looked like a human, but there was something strange about her, an alien psyche that lurked behind her childlike eyes. Most people would have shivered or felt alien fear from that knowledge, but he was an enforcer, and considering what he had gone through as part of that profession, he was alien in his own way, not to mention he had faced worse distortions.
The girl tilted her head to the side. It looked...cute, if he was to choose a word to describe her. "Assassin."
Jordan grinned. "And your name?"
She put her pinkie to her lips in thought. In his head, Jordan couldn't help but wonder what could make such a cute girl a heroic spirit. "Jackie."
More silence.
The enforcer palmed his face. 'Ah. So that's why.' He had a horrible suspicion as to who she was. "You wouldn't by any chance have been a resident of Whitechapel when you were alive, wouldn't you?"
She nodded.
Jordan chuckled. "Well, this is certainly interesting. So Jack the Ripper is Jackie the Ripper." He stepped forward and, despite the apparent madness of the action, knelt until his head was of the same level as hers. "Well Jackie, I'm Jordan, and I guess I'll be your partner for this war. What say you?"
Slowly, she nodded, frostily.
He smirked. He stood up and patted the top of her head, eliciting a shocked look from everyone. At first she was still as a statue, but then she leaned into it, enjoying the contact. "Well then, how about we get you something to eat. I'm starving myself."
His father chose that time to react. "That's it? That's it?! You summon a murderer and now you're going to stuff yourself? Have you no-"
Jordan's snarky comeback was ruined by Jackie blinking out of his sight and grabbing his father's neck in a vice grip.
He blinked. He didn't even see her move. She was just there. 'Fast. Very fast. Are all of them like this?'
His father tried to struggle, but despite her build, she was much stronger than nearly anything he had ever seen before, beyond even most dead apostles he had faced. His father, whole body trying to gain respite, elicited not a millimeter of give to her grip.
Well, as much as he liked seeing his stuck-up family getting their arse handed to them, he couldn't just let her kill the leader. He stepped up to her and put a hand to her arm. "There there Jackie, that's enough. You can stop, we need him alive."
Thankfully, she dropped him, and Jordan rubbed her hair affectionately. Her hair was...soft. Very soft. "Good girl." She smiled. It was...cute. Just like nearly everything else she did.
Jordan looked at his gasping father. "What's done is done. I summoned a legendary serial killer. Deal with it. We're not getting any second chances, so stop complaining. It's not as if..." He turned and glared at the circle.
Though the glow had lessened to a tame level after Jackie's summoning, it had never truly blinked out, which was quite unusual for circles that were not designed to draw in ambient mana. In fact, it had still been draining from his reserves; it had just been unnoticeable until now, where it had suddenly increased to a very noticeable level.
He growled and grabbed his left arm when another set of command seals freaking formed on it. "The hell?!" Faintly, as the glow reached blinding levels once more, he noticed Jackie step between him and whatever was about to be summoned...
Then the room exploded.
It was his experience with explosions that let him know ahead of time what was happening.
A feel in the air, a strange sucking feeling, as if gravity had shifted from down to whatever was in front of him, and a general feel of unstable prana.
A mental command had the two lions stand between him and Jackie, even as he, in what seemed to him as a fit of madness, grabbed Jackie and put himself between her and the detonation. He blamed her appearance for that. He knew intellectually that she was a servant, and so magnitudes tougher than any human, heck, she was probably literally tough as rock. But she looked like a young teenage girl, and he was hardwired to protect such frail-looking sprites.
The blast ruptured the floor and brought down the immediate ceiling, along with blowing away anything not nailed down that was lighter than an anvil.
Protected by his lions, Jordan was unharmed. They were magnitudes too heavy and tough to be blown away or destroyed by the detonation, nor be crushed by any of the debris that had fallen.
Thankfully, all of his family seemed to be alright, as only the adults had been within range of the falling ceiling, and they were either fast enough to get away, or had a spell to keep themselves safe. God knows things like this had happened often enough when he still lived here. They had experience with this kind of disaster.
But that wasn't what was important. What was important was the new figure that had appeared in the circle, standing in a spot of clear ground, none of the falling ceiling miraculously landing anywhere within a meter of him.
He was...not a tall man. Jordan was not a good judge of height at a glance due to his own advanced stature, but he could tell that the man was not of average height, though not quite short enough to be a midget.
It did nothing to detract from his presence though. The brown-haired blue-eyed male wore what appeared to be a combination between century-old officer's uniform and imperial regalia, with rows upon rows of medals lined up on his chest.
His posture was superb, his bearing confident in a way that made the Queen of the Clocktower, in the one time he had seen her at distance, seem absolutely common in comparison. The man exuded confidence like a star, as if nothing in the world could faze him, and there was no obstacle he could not overcome. The man was sure of himself in a way that spoke not merely of arrogance, but the knowledge of his own power, and that same power's invincibility. It was...humbling being in the same room as him.
But then he recognized the face and Jordan couldn't help but palm his face once more. "Bollocks. What horrible luck I have today." A thought had the lions breaking position, revealing him to the not-so-mystery servant.
With as much confidence as he could muster, Jordan Lionstone stepped forward to meet the servant. "Did you have to make such an entrance? They're going to blame me for this for sure."
The servant narrowed his eyes at him. "You. I'd recognize that kind of face anywhere. You're British. I have been summoned by an Englishman. The fates truly have a sick sense of humor." He spat the title like a curse, and considering who he was, Jordan understood why.
The enforcer clapped his hands thrice. Despite his knowledge of his identity, despite what should have been distaste filling his heart, Jordan found himself overshadowed by the urge to just look at the figure and stand at attention. 'So...this is what charisma is.' Out loud, "Magnificent observation. Yes, I'm British. Also, I know who you are. It's rather hard not to recognize you. Greetings, Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of France. You are but the second servant I have summoned."
The now identified Napoleon frowned. "Second? What madness do you speak of?"
Jackie stepped out from behind him, and Napoleon frowned. "By her pitifully weak presence...Assassin? I know not of how you have summoned two servants, but I am infinitely better than that child. I suggest you dispose of it at once and fight at my side, for no other has a greater chance of victory."
In Jordan's opinion, Napoleon was an insufferable, insulting, and arrogant cocksure little shit. And yet, despite his vehement words, Jordan had to put all his will into keeping himself from obeying and ordering Jackie to commit suicide. It was madness. It wasn't so much charisma as borderline mind-control, and Jordan feared for his future if just his words had such an effect on him. So...
"By the power of this command seal..." He intoned.
Napoleon smirked, and Jackie stared at Jordan in shock.
"...I order you, Napoleon Bonaparte..."
The Frenchman's eyes widened. "What?"
"...to never intentionally harm Jackie the Ripper, directly or indirectly, in both spirit and wording of this order, lest you kill yourself. My will be done." It was a wordy order, but one that was very specific and had very unfortunate consequences. Part of his second set of command seals disappeared, and he audibly heard Napoleon grinding his teeth together.
"You...you dare?" He growled out.
Jordan nodded. "Yes. I dare. And if you kill me, you will end up far far away, hundreds of miles in fact, from the actual location of the war with no master to support you. Also, killing me will also take away Jackie's lifeline, so intentionally planning on killing me will activate that order too."
"Plebeian, you know not of the forces you reckon with." The Emperor of France threatened.
The enforcer nodded. "I probably don't, but you're kinda a dick, and I never did respond well to being threatened. Just be glad I didn't detonate the C4 under your feet instead." Then he took a bottle out of one of his pockets, reinforced himself to tear off the plug, and started chugging.
Napoleon stared at him. "What."
Jordan drank half in one go before answering. "I am British. I just summoned the most notorious serial killer of England and the Frenchman who got the closest to conquering my nation in the span of less than five minutes. I am not dealing with this sober...also, my family probably thinks I'm an utter embarrassment and is probably planning on shunning me forever after this. Isn't that right, dad?"
At the sidelines, Lord Lionstone angrily waved his fist at his son. The words 'biggest', 'ever', and 'disgrace' were repeated several times. 'Strangle you with my bare hands' also cropped up quite a bit.
Jordan shrugged. "Thought as much. I guess it won't make a difference if I ask for permission to raid the wine cellars then." He turned around, and started walking away, Jackie following a step behind him, still staring in shock at his benevolent actions towards her.
For a moment, Napoleon could only stare at the absurdity of it all, before shaking off his disbelief and running towards his master, as despicable as he was in his eyes. "Wait, you dolt!"
Jordan faced him. "Hmm?"
The servant stopped before him, eyes narrowed. "You would turn your back on me?"
The enforcer rolled his eyes. "I have little patience for today. Two days ago, I lived a good life. Perhaps it wasn't perfect, but it was nice enough. Now I have summoned two cultural villains, made myself shunned even more by my entire family, and am now bound to participate in a scrap that has an overwhelmingly high chance of killing me. Forgive me for not being level-headed."
Napoleon frowned. "Scrap? You would call the Holy Grail War a scrap?"
"It's fourteen people at the most. That's not nearly enough for an engagement." Jordan answered.
"We are heroes. Do not cheapen us so." The servant shot back.
The blonde chuckled. "And I've seen what happens when magi have the equivalent of a barroom brawl. It's like that, only larger, and deadlier, but in the end, it's not really so much a war as a death run with a lot of collateral damage."
Napoleon gritted his teeth. "You are insufferable."
Jordan smiled. "That I am."
For several moments, silence.
Napoleon sighed. "Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot."
"We have. Very wrongly." The enforcer confirmed.
The Emperor of France made a sweeping bow. "I am Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of France, Servant Archer, and I have answered your summons. What is your command?"
Jordan handed him the bottle. "Drink."
Napoleon blinked. He looked at the bottle, then at Jordan, then back again. "Oh balderdash." He grabbed it chugged down the other half. "It tastes like piss."
The blonde nodded. "You don't drink for the taste, you drink to get drunk." He held out his hand. "Jordan Lionstone, Enforcer. Nice to meet you, mate."
Reluctantly, the servant shook hands with him. "You're not going to take down that order, aren't you?" Jordan shook his head. Napoleon scowled. "That is preposterous. What about that...child then? She is free to attack me at her leisure?"
Jordan glanced at Jackie. "No attacking the other servant." She nodded silently, and he turned back to Napoleon. "She'll be good."
"You're mad."
"And something's pulling my leg. I don't get things easy. I got two servants. That makes things easy. That doesn't add up." Jordan answered.
Napoleon frowned. "You're suspicious of something."
A nod. "I am. The war's in Japan. I was on the northern region of Africa when I got the command seals. Unless the grail couldn't find anyone deserving enough for half a world of searching, I was intentionally picked for the war. That sounds bad right there."
"When everything is going well, it's a trap." Napoleon quoted.
"Exactly."
Napoleon's eyes narrowed. "And what if you are, for once, lucky?"
"We'll deal with that when the times comes. Right now, I'm hungry. Who's up for a steak, a burger, fish and chips, and a lot of rootbeer?"
"Englishmen." The Frenchman muttered.
A chuckle. "Don't diss it until you try it, Frenchman."
Jackie raised a hand.
"Yes?"
"What's a steak?" she asked.
Silence.
Jordan cracked his knuckles. "Change of plans. We're stuffing you with meat until you're addicted to it."
As they marched out, Napoleon stared in thought at the back of his new master. 'Proud, but willing to make amends. Amiable, but ruthless when need be, and if what I've heard is true, a demolitions expert.' "If you weren't British, I'd actually consider you adequate."
"Clam it. I don't like you not because you're French, but because you're insufferable."
Napoleon frowned. "You don't say."
Jordan laughed. "Mate, the guy who taught me how to blow shit up was French. If that doesn't get rid of someone's xenophobia, nothing will. Besides, I've met enough foreigners in my job to know race is too much of a factor in what you are." He pulled out another bottle from his coat and chugged a third, then handed it to Napoleon. "Booze?"
Napoleon stared at him. "You have balls, kid, I'll give you that. Still stupidly British though." Then he grabbed the bottle and gulped down the contents. He smiled. "Not that that's a bad thing sometimes..."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
There was much staring in the pub.
At first it was because of the two unusually-dressed servants. Later on it was because of their appetite.
Jordan was glad it wasn't his money being used.
"Where do you two put it in?" He muttered numbly.
Napoleon shrugged, and continued devouring his food like a vacuum, all the while maintaining proper table manners worthy of the Queen's court.
Jackie just stabbed everything with her knife and jammed it in her mouth, before washing it away with an entire mug of rootbeer as tall as her head. Once again, she finished her serving. It was her fourth. "More."
Jordan turned to the cook, who had gone out to see the spectacle, and was gaping like a fish. "You heard the lady."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Nighttime. Jordan had already left for Japan, along with several hundred thousand dollars worth of equipment.
Lord Lionstone sighed. "Do you think he'll survive?"
His wife chuckled. "He's survived this long hunting monsters hasn't he?"
Another sigh. "He's just...damn. You know why. The greatest prodigy since our founder, and he ends up a pyromaniac who'd rather go around getting into punch-ups with vampires and sealing designates than extending our knowledge."
"You wanted to be an enforcer when you were younger didn't you?"
Lord Lionstone snorted. "I did. Then I found that I didn't have the nerves for it. He does, and he makes blasphemous but effective use of anything he can get his hands on."
"Then his enemies have more to watch out for...you were hoping for Lancelot weren't you?" There had been a phase in his childhood when he had researched every fact he could get on about the Arturian timeline. For some reason, he had taken a liking to Lancelot.
"...yes."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Luvia knelt before a complex circle dotted everywhichway with priceless gems.
She had been sitting there for hours now, chanting all the while, but she persevered. The heir of Edelfelt would settle for nothing less than the best servant.
"And so I ask of thee, answer my summons, and bring me victory!" She finished, and simultaneously, the dozens of gems used to power the circle detonated, releasing all their stored energy in what was no doubt a summoning of the highest order.
It also ended up blowing her away and crashing against the wall. "Ow. That wasn't supposed to happen."
Then something screamed from the smoke, and her chest tightened at the madness in it.
"RAAARGH!" The sound of steel meeting steel sounded in the room, along with stone shattering under horrendous force.
"Well, this is rather strange" A deep voice muttered calmly in the smoke, even as the clashing steel continued.
There was a grunt of effort, then the a loud clanging sound, and from the smoke came a smoky distorted figure of black steel plate, crashing against the wall beside her.
In an instant, it was back on its feet, and charged once more into the fray, screaming the wordless battle cry from before.
Its enemy stepped out from the rapidly-clearing smoke, and Luvia gasped.
Where the black knight was a figure of screaming ferocious madness, the cloaked, gray-armored knight was one of calm poise and lethality. Runemarked plate covered his body save for his chest and head, from which pale green eyes stared out with focused intensity. In one hand he held a greatsword as long as he was tall, a weapon that just by sight alone proclaimed its status as an overwhelmingly powerful noble phantasm.
The black knight charged, absently grabbing pieces of jagged debris that became covered in his inky black prana, wielding them like short swords, and the gray knight proceeded to defend himself.
The black knight was faster. Much faster, but the gray knight was a hero too, and skill came with it. He blocked every attack that came towards him, perhaps not perfectly, but effectively. HIs return swipe sent the black knight rolling away to avoid getting cut in half. Even in his maddened state he recognized the power of that blade.
Luvia stared. "T-two?"
"Three actually."
She blinked, then looked beside her, where an aged bearded man in a grand blue cloak holding a gnarled staff long than he was tall winked at her. It would have been reassuring, if his eyes weren't literal pits of fire. "Greetings. I'm servant caster. Lancelot over there is apparently a Berserker. The other guy? I don't recognize him, but he's a Saber probably."
"What." Dull surprise. These last few minutes were too crazy even for a magus.
Caster chuckled. He stepped forward, and tapped the ground with his staff.
Prana flared, and Luvia gasped as magecraft that modern magi could only dream of was cast with but a thought.
A chunk of rock as large as a chair tore itself out of the ground. Caster pointed it at the Saber, then a pulse of magic had it launching towards him at a speed that not even the warrior could contend against.
It didn't so much slam into him as push him. It pushed him hard, very hard, punching the Saber through dozens of walls and quite possibly out of the mansion altogether.
Then he pointed his staff at Berserker, and filaments of light formed from nowhere, snaking around the servant until he was covered from the neck down in glowing threads. He continued struggling, and numerous strands had to be replaced as he broke more and more.
Beads of sweat formed on Caster's brow as he struggled to contain the mad servant. "Killing? Easy. Binding? Not so much. Especially when the target can shatter steel with his punches." He approached Berserker. "Snap out of it." His staff glowed, and he slammed it down hard on the struggling servant's skull.
A corona of lightning formed upon impact, and Berserker screamed for an instant before falling silent. The threads disappeared, and the black knight fell bonelessly to the ground.
"D-Did you kill him?" Luvia gasped.
Caster chuckled. "No, just knocked him out. I'm surprised it worked though. Any other class and I wouldn't have gotten through his magic resistance. It was still damn hard." He turned around, and the smile dropped when he found the gray knight in front of him. "Oh bugger me."
The gray knight cracked his neck, first to the left, then to the side. "For the record, I'm a Rider."
Caster looked at his oversized sword. "You don't look it."
"Any last words?" The now-identified Rider asked.
"Stop."
The two turned, and found Luvia glaring at them heatedly, the three sets of command seals on her right arm glowing heatedly. "Don't make me waste these. I don't know how I summoned three servants, but I am making use of that for as much as I possibly can. I am your master, and you will not fight, and you will work together, for as long as I tell you to, and I'm telling you to do that right now."
Rider shrugged, sheathing his sword and taking a step back. "As you command."
Caster laughed. "My master has steel in her spine. Very talented too, to have summoned such prominent heroes. Isn't that right, Siegfried of the Norse?"
Rider's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer.
Another laugh. "Don't be surprised. I modeled Caliburn after that blade of yours after all. I made it smaller though. My king isn't quite as fond of two-handers as your kind."
Luvia stared. "Merlin. I summoned Merlin. And Siegfried." She looked at the downed Lancelot. "And Lancelot." She paused. "...I am awesome."
Merlin turned to the berserker. "Speaking of which..." He tapped him with his staff, and in a sudden movement, Lancelot sprang to his feet, aiming to choke the life out of Merlin with his bare hands.
But the wizard would have none of that. Prana flowed through his body, to the point that the energy was visible to the naked eye. His hand snapped upwards, backhanding Lancelot with enough force to dent the enchanted steel and send him crashing to the ground.
The wizard's eyes literally burned, for they were two pits of hellfire, a gift from his father's lineage. They say he has his father's eyes, and the black knight, even in his madness, flinched at the sight. "Get rid of that Lancelot, right now. I want to talk to you sane." Lancelot backed away slowly. Merlin growled. "NOW!"
Lancelot shuddered, then the black aura disappeared, and he stood up from the animalistic crouch he had, his bloodlust disappearing. He took off his helmet, and his handsome face was streaked with sadness and shame as he turned his head to the side, unable to look the Caster in the eyes. "Y-yes?"
"That is not the way a Knight of the Rounds should act." Merlin scolded.
Lancelot flinched. "I am no longer a knight, not after what I have-"
Caster grabbed him by the cheeks and forced his head close to his. "You are a knight. You have always been a knight. Yes, it was wrong of you and Guinevere to romance each other behind our king's back, but in the end, I can understand why you did it, and even more, when our king truly needed you, you came to help. It was unfortunate that Gawain barred your way, for it could have changed everything, but that is his sin, not yours. What is currently happening now however is the grail war, a war for a wish. If you truly wish to repent, then win you damned fool. Win, and change everything for the better. Got that?"
Lancelot stared at him, his expression having changed from shamed, to insulted, to abashed, then now, to steely determination as he realized what was at stake. "Yes. I understand."
The Norse hero clapped, and the two looked at him. "Touching scene. But you're forgetting the fact that only one wish is allowed."
The Caster shrugged, then grinned. "I don't have one as I don't regret anything, so I don't really care. What about you then?" Magic crackled across his frame, and the threat of violence filled the room once more.
Luvia blasted a gandr at the three of them. Merlin absently dispelled his, while the other two were unaffected. It caught their attention though.
"No fighting amongst yourselves. I'm not wasting a chance for an easy win because you three are too trigger-happy. We beat all the others first then we can discuss how we figure out who gets the winner."
The white-haired warrior shrugged. "To be honest, I really just want to live once more, to have a new chance at life, this time without any prophecies and strings of fate to ruin things."
Caster chuckled. "Oh, I can do that for you."
The warrior stared.
The mage smiled. "Boy, I made Caliburn with these very hands. A new body fit for a hero wouldn't be all that hard to make, especially with humans and their technology these days. You have no idea how hard it was to create a humonculus back then with all the compounds needed, but with science today! Hah!" The smile widened. "Besides, I don't think you wanted to go back to your old life since the prophecies would be active. You want a new one, and a new one I can provide. That good enough for you, boy?"
Siegfried let out a deep breath "Truly?"
Merlin nodded. "Truly."
Siegfried raised Gram, and the dragon-slaying sword gleamed. "Then I will fight proudly by your side for that prize."
Merlin turned to Luvia. "Hear that? You get to keep all three of us! Lucky you have me, eh? Eh? Eh? Eh?" He said, each successive 'eh' followed by jabbing his elbow at her.
Merlin was quite surprised to suddenly get suplexed by the blonde. There was only so much frustration and madness a girl could take for a day, and Merlin was pushing it.
Thankfully, being a servant, he was physically unharmed. His pride was something else altogether though.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Waver Velvet nodded as he studied the circle. Perfect.
He looked at the catalyst in his hand, the strip of cloth from Rider's cape. He placed it in the middle and began chanting.
He knew that Iskander wouldn't recognize him. The servant that appeared would be nothing more than a copy of the original in the throne, but that wouldn't stop him.
He was the last of his king's men, and Iskander's wishes were his wishes. Iskander wished to fight and win the grail war. So Waver Velvet would dive right into that den of madness once again, beside his king, where his place should be.
The summoning finished, and Waver beheld once more the gigantic figure of the King of Conquerors, tears unabashedly running down his cheeks at the sight. He knelt, keeping his head facing the ground in respect. "I thank you coming forth, King of Conquerors. I am your...master, Waver Velvet." It was hard to say that word at his liege, but that would change soon enough. "It will be an honor to fight alongside you."
Silence.
Waver gulped. Had he said something wrong? Perhaps he shouldn't have been too formal. Rider did say he hated those things.
Rider spoke, and Waver froze at the words.
"Ianioi Hetairoi is an evolving noble phantasm. It contains within it all my comrades, their thoughts and feelings known to me at all times, beyond even the limitations of the throne of heroes. After all we went through, do you honestly think you don't qualify?" Rider, HIS Rider, stated.
Waver looked up.
Rider smiled, and proceeded to grab him in a bear hug. "Waver! Hah! You've sure grown haven't you! How has it been when I was gone?"
Waver could only stare, and cry, as once again he found himself in the presence of his greatest friend.
He hiccupped. "Fine." He wondered what to say. "I'm a Lord now." He added.
Rider laughed boisterously. "They've acknowledged you lad? Glorious!" He looked to the side, and blinked at the steel maid. "Hey, isn't that your old teacher's...?"
Waver chuckled. "Ahh, yes. It is. I inherited it when I ascended to the status of a lord. As you can see, I...modified it a bit."
Volumen Hydragynum curtsied.
Rider gave another laugh. "Hah! To not only ascend to a high status, but to acquire that which your superior once held, now that's conquering! We have much to catch up to!"
Waver nodded. "That we do."
Someone spoke. "As touching as this is, I have no idea what it's about. Would someone mind explaining to me why I'm here?"
Rider dropped Waver and turned on the newcomer, a stocky, well-muscled Asian in heavy armor. "Who would you be?"
The Asian grinned. "Since your name has already been revealed, I shall do the same." He held out his arms to the side in a flaring gesture, the cloak fluttering with the movement. "I am Servant Archer, the Scourge of God, Conqueror of Asia. I am Temujin, Genghis Khan, the Lord of the Mongols! What say you, Alexander the Conqueror?"
Iskander grinned, and reality flickered, glimpses of a sand-blasted plain appearing for instants. "I'm saying that's a lot of words, but you've yet to prove anything." He placed his hand on his sword's handle.
Genghis Khan grinned the same way, and the world changed for an instant. Waver spotted an endless grassy tundra for a second, along with an entire army of horsemen before reality reasserted itself. "I believe the term you should have said is: you and what army? Because The Grand Horde would have something to say to you about that..."
Iskander blinked. "How?"
The Khan crossed his arms over his chest in pride. "Before me, we were a scattered people. Great in numbers, but scattered." His face darkened. "Foreigners took advantage of that fact. Because we chose not to live in cities, in civilization" He spit the words out like a curse "we were considered barbarians despite our eloquence, our skill, our culture. So I gathered all my people. I made them one. I made us strong. I destroyed the cycle of discrimination and pointless massacres upon my people, for I loved them as my sons, my daughters, my children."
The pride in his face resurfaced. "And I am proud to say that they love me back." He looked at Iskander. "It is this love that makes them stand beside me even now, a thought away from touch. Into hell's gates they will march with me, for I have never led them astray. What about you? What makes your soldiers stand by your side even now?"
Iskander breathed deeply after a pause. "Because they are not my soldiers. They are my friends. They joined me of their own free will, and I am proud to have them beside me. Throughout my legendary conquests our bond only grew deeper, until to Tartarus and back they would march with me without hesitation, until that bond grew enough to shatter the bonds of death. THAT is what makes them stand by my side."
Silence, as the two great conquerors looked grimly at each other, judging each other's words.
Genghis Khan smiled. "You are a great man. It will be an honor to fight beside you."
Iskander laughed. "And I to you!"
The Mongol lord nodded. "But after..."
Iskander clapped the Khan on the back. "We'll figure out whose army is the best! But that's after we beat everyone else! For now, it's time to drink, to celebrate the start of a new grail war!"
Waver stared. Oh god, there's two of them?!
He couldn't argue about the feeling of utter joy in his heart though...
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bazett breathed deeply as she looked at the summoning circle. "You sure this will work?"
Lancer shrugged. "It has to. No way I'm beating those four, even if I activate a warp spasm." He had helped with circle with his own considerable knowledge of runes. Hopefully, that would help.
Without further ado, Bazett poured her mana into the circle, chanting all the while. When it finally finished, the resulting flash blinded her.
She blinked away the spots, and found herself facing a tall red-haired woman in heavy steel armor.
The servant grinned. "I am Servant Caster. I have answered your summons."
Bazett blinked. "Caster?" The woman wore armor, armor, and had numerous weapons slung all over her body. This was a caster?
"Oh shit." Lancer cursed.
She turned, and found Cu Chulainn staring at Caster in terror. "Fuck. Not you."
The female servant grinned. "An enemy already? And the hound of Ulster too! I might actually die this time! Defend yourself, servant!" She drew a greatsword as long as she was tall and leaped forward, much faster than a Caster had any right to be.
She slammed into Lancer with great skill, every movement precise and deadly and designed to inflict the highest damage with whatever force she put into it.
It was...amazing.
Whatever this woman was, she had been summoned as Caster, and so must have been reduced not just in stats, but also in skill. And yet, she retained enough that Lancer, despite his incredible advantage in both speed and strength was actually having difficulty.
Granted, he was avoiding wounding Caster seeing as this was supposed to be their ally, so his unfamiliarity towards defending had to be taken into consideration.
Lancer swiped his lance with overwhelming speed, at least a dozen strikes each second, the maneuver more to distract than damage, and Caster blocked them all with precise limited motions of her sword. She even found enough time to make her own counterattacks. "Is that all? I taught you better than this!"
Then she started forming runes.
She had leaped away, giving ground for the first time in the battle, and as she did so, her free hand blurred as it formed dozens of runes in midair in the time it took to land. When she did land, she leaped forward at once, and the runes surrounding her spat elemental fury at Lancer.
The spearman didn't bother countering with his own runes. He just dodged. An incredibly focused beam of fire, more like a laser than anything else, seared through a dozen trees. Literal miniature tornadoes formed from precise applications of runes, buffeting Lancer and messing up his evasion. Bullets of water gored holes through solid stone, while a whirling dust cloud that choked the air from his lungs tried to suffocate him.
Bazett couldn't let this go on. She leaped forward, diving between Lancer and Caster. "Stop!" She fought to breath as the dust cloud tried to choke her.
Faintly, she saw Caster's hand flicker, forming a combination, and a stiff wind blew away the dust cloud. "What are you doing? Can't you see I'm trying to fight a servant here? Move out of the way before he stabs you."
Bazett frowned. "No he won't." She turned around. "Lanc-" She blinked. Caster had, with that brief combination, created a dome of rock to cover Lancer. "The hell." This wasn't just skill. This was...she didn't have a word for it. Runes weren't designed for quick and dirty battle-casting, but this woman, this servant, was using them at a level that far outstripped even the magi of old. It was unreal.
She shook her head. "No. Stop it. He's my servant. We summoned you."
Lancer broke through the dome, landing beside her. "Yeah. What she said." He confirmed.
Caster stabbed her sword onto the ground. "Do tell. I'm sure this is an interesting story."
"Scathach, someone summoned four Sabers." Lancer answered.
Silence.
The now-identified Scathach raised an eyebrow. "Well now, that is something. How?"
Bazett stared. Scathach? She had summoned Scathach? Cu Chulainn's own master? The slayer of gods and immortal killer herself? That Scathach? She couldn't help but thank her luck in summoning such a powerhouse. It also explained her overwhelming skill and power.
Lancer tsked. "You should have been there. The kid had prana like you wouldn't believe. Dozens of times more than the magi of this time. He'd fit in our age any day. Whatever the case, he pulled out four full-powered servants out of the grail. I..." He gulped, unwilling to admit the incident. "...I barely escaped alive."
Scathach crossed her arms. "How powerful exactly?"
Bazett spoke up. "A master summoned a berserk Hercules. The four killed him eight times, and only half of them used their noble phantasm."
Scathach started laughing. "Hah! That is rich!" She wiped a tear from her eye and sheathed her weapon. "Very well. I will fight by your side. If nothing else, this will be an interesting endeavor." She clapped her hands. "Right. Where is our base of operations? It better have a bed. I have an itch that needs scratching."
Bazett blinked. "Uhh, what?" She glanced at Lancer, and noted the red tinge on his face.
"Is now really the time?" He said.
Scathach walked up to him and grabbed the Irishman by the throat. "Hound, I have not had any in centuries. Yes, now is the time." He gulped.
The Irish enforcer turned scarlet as she realized what she was talking about. 'friendship of her thighs indeed.' "What?! B-But..."
Scathach glanced at her and snorted. "If you wish to join, girl, I mind not, but I get first dibs. You are not stopping me."
It was an awkward night for Bazett.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The ancient looked at the circle. In his hands were a lock of ancient hair and a strip of faded brown cloth.
Which one? Both were genuine, but he didn't know which would be better.
He threw them both at the circle. "Let fate choose then. Summon." He Said, and the circle flashed.
In an instant, two figures knelt before him.
"Servant Caster/Berserker, I have answered your call." They said at the same time, before looking at each other in shock.
"Greetings."
They looked at the speaker, and in another instant, they were standing and glaring at the abomination in front of them.
The cloaked man pointed his staff at the ancient. "YOU! How dare you!"
The ancient nodded. "You know why, Moses."
The named Moses flinched. "If I could, I'd..."
"You'd kill me, and I'd welcome your attempt with open arms. You cannot, therefore I do not care." The abomination answered.
The other servant, an incredibly muscled, hirsute man with extremely long hair tied with rawhide, cracked his knuckles. "I could-"
The ancient shook his head. "No Samson. It won't work. I've been dismembered before, and it doesn't come close." He looked at the two. "You know why I'm joining. If a collection of humanity's greatest heroes and an absolute wish cannot end me, what will? It is in your best interests to help me. You will have to, for you cannot help but claim this prize for the glory of Yahweh."
Moses tapped the ground with his staff. "You are not a magus. You do not have circuits to supply us with prana."
The abomination tilted his head to the side, then Spoke. "Mana in the air, Support and Sustain these Spirits."
The two froze, then sighed.
Moses gripped his staff tighter. "Very well. It seems you CAN manage." He frowned. "Know that I will expend no effort to save or keep you from danger."
Samson crossed his arms. "As will I."
The ancient being nodded. "I won't have it any other way." He turned around and started walking away. "Follow me. The location of the war is half a world away. Modern marvels will have us there in a day. Come."
The two looked at each.
"There can only be one." Samson said.
Moses nodded. "But for the glory of Yahweh, it shall be a hero of his creed that will stand last. A truce, until we are but the last to remain."
Samson shook hands with the prophet, and they followed the murderer.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In the shadows of the shrine, two servants conversed.
"Four Sabers. I wouldn't have believed it with just that image, but your fear, oh your fear. That's proof." The heavily-armored Chinese muttered.
The witch of Colchis scowled. "I have told you my wish. I care not for this war, only for my love, and I need not the grail for it. Will you side with me then?"
The weapon in the warrior's hands clicked and changed form. "Yes. In light of this revelation, I find that a wise choice. Four Sabers. That's enough servants that some won't need to die for a wish. Very well, we shall claim victory. With the power of the grail I shall conquer the world, but I am to leave you and your man's family alone."
The contract between them glowed, and the Chinese laughed as he walked out of the room. "You! Swordsman! I wish to taste your steel once more. Defend yourself!" He shouted at the gate-guardian.
Outside, Assassin's happy chuckle could be heard. "As you wish. It is an honor to spar with such an established hero as yourself."
"Less talking, more fighting!" The sound of stone shattering was heard. Truly, the Lancer's strength was tremendous. Matched with his speed, he was a mighty opponent. Hopefully mighty enough.
Medea sighed and rubbed her temples. "This is too troublesome."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Yeah, I totally just did that.
Things are heating up. Heating up FAST. And it'll be awesome.
Those aren't the only servants coming out though. Sakura, the teacher, and Rin have yet to summon theirs. You're going to be absolutely shocked when you meet the buggers.
Also, kudos to the guy who recognizes Medea's mystery Lancer. Hint: He's an actual canon servant, just not a Lancer.
Shirou: Arturia, Alter, Lily, Nero
Luvia: Siegfried, Lancelot, Merlin
Ancient: Moses, Samson
Bazett: Cu Chulainn, Scathach
Ilya: Hercules, Hector, Odysseus
Waver Velvet: Iskander, Temujin/Genghis Khan
Jordan Lionstone: Napoleon Bonaparte, Jackie the Ripper
