Fate Fairy Tale Prologue: Once upon a time
Once upon a time...
A boy went to War.
He lost.
Others died.
Ten years later, a sorrowful monster tried to kill everything, to save everything. In one way, it succeeded. In another way, it failed.
And no one lived happily ever after.
The end.
Only...
Was that the end?
Does any story ever really end?
Tell a story one way, and by tomorrow, a thousand different versions will be told, each just as similar and as different as the last...
So, there is no real end, and no story ever ends...
So turn back the pages...
Ready yourselves and your imaginations...
Here we go again...
Once upon a time...
He was drowning.
He was drowning, he had lost the War, he had lost his legs, and he was going to die.
He couldn't swim.
He couldn't breathe.
Something huge, and ancient swam towards him...
He couldn't breathe.
...
...
He reached out his hand, and a shadow swam towards him...
The United States
Bazdilot Cordlion was a man and magus who always preferred to not rush into things. He had always considered patience to be a virtue that one should aspire to, and practice, at all times, especially when one was a high-ranking member of the Scladio Crime Family.
As such, when he had heard that his men had finally captured the pesky magus that had been a constant thorn in his side for the past several months, Cordlion decided that he would not kill the man swiftly, but would instead be taking take his time with his new guest, taking payment out of his flesh.
One small piece at a time, which meant that it would take a very long time.
But, that was alright, as Bazdilot was nothing if not patient.
After all, the man who took his time, and not let things get to him, was the sort of man who could go very far in life.
A few hours after Bazdilot had received the call, he finally arrived at the plant, his workshop.
His men directed him to where they were holding his guest. Currently, the shirtless man was suspended and tied to one of the meat hooks on the assembly line. It looked like they had been sure to make him welcome, judging from the plethora of the bruises on his torso and face. That was good. If you didn't make guests feel as welcome as possible, then you were being a terrible host, after all.
The guest was a man in his early thirties, at the least, with long black hair styled somewhere between a temple shave, and a messy half-ponytail. He had a rather muscular build, hinting at a very active lifestyle, which, given his reputation, made a great deal of sense, being "The Wandering and Adventuring Teacher of the Clock Tower." His torso was covered in tattoos, that seemed to resemble hieroglyphs, runes, and other things. It was a great deal of tattoos.
Without much consideration, Bazdilot grabbed a fistful of the guest's hair, and roughly yanked his head upwards, putting the two men face to face.
The guest's bearded face was rather worn for someone of his relative youth, as if he spent a great deal of time under the sun and open sky. His tattooed right eye stared daggers into the mafia magus' own. He had no left eye, only a mess of scar tissue, as if someone had ripped out the other orb, and rather brutally.
Despite the bruises and blood, Cordlion could plainly see the hatred the guest had towards him upon his bloody and bearded face.
"Waver Velvet," the mafia magus said. "So, here we are, finally meeting, face to face. I hear that you have been looking for me."
The one-eyed man glared at him. "Your brand of welcome could use a lot of work, Cordlion. I give it a failing grade."
"I thank you for that honest critique. I will take it into consideration when I next have unwanted guests snooping around where they have no business being."
Cordlion stepped away, and held out his arms, as his men relieved him of his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared his apron. This was a $700 suit after all, and the shirt cost $200. "Why have you been after me for so many months?" he asked. "You have killed quite a few of my men and subordinates. Most callous of you."
The wandering teacher's look could have killed a city. "You started it when you murdered two of my students in cold blood."
Cordlion shrugged, as his men finished their ministrations and stepped away, while he began to roll up his sleeves, and put plastic gloves on his hands. He remembered the two in question; their screams had been loud. "They were in the way, and they had seen too much to be left alive. If it helps any, know that they did not suffer for too long."
"It doesn't, you twisted fuck," and, a moment later, the declaration was accompanied by a wad of spittle that splashed upon Cordlion's face.
As one of his men swiftly stepped forward and dabbed off the spittle with a handkerchief, Bazdilot then looked to the tray that his men had set up for him. All of the lovely implements set upon it were arranged perfectly, according to his personal system of sorting by use, make, and length.
As he lightly ran his gloved fingers over the implements, Cordlion spoke. "I understand your need for vengeance, Mister Velvet. To you, your students are your family, your children, your legacy. A good father would go to almost any lengths to avenge his children. However, over the past several months, you have been a thorn in not only my side, but also on the side of my family, the Scladio Family. As such, when there is a thorn in one's side…"
In a flash, Cordlion took up a scalpel, and stabbed it straight into Velvet's left shoulder, eliciting a loud groan/ scream of pain from the suspended man.
"Then the best thing to do…" He twisted the scalpel slowly, 360 degrees to be precise, clockwise, with a gruesome squelch, all the while pushing it in. "…Is to dig deep, and then slice the flesh open …" he then slowly pulled the scalpel down, cutting through the shoulder, "… so that the offending and irritating thorn can be safely and fully removed."
He then left the scalpel stuck in the magus' shoulder. "Your demise, I'm afraid, will not be as swift as that of your students. Don Scladio demands nothing less since you have cost him a great deal of time, attention, and monetary resources. But, if it helps in any way, just know that it's nothing-"
Suddenly, the air was pierced by a loud noise; it was a cellular phone's ringtone, William Tell's Overture, if he was not mistaken.
He, his men, and even Waver Velvet looked around in confusion for the source of the noise. It was then revealed to be the guest's phone, currently in the pocket of one of his men, Jerry, if he was not mistaken.
Jerry seemed about ready to faint when he saw Cordlion looking directly at him. The Mafia Magus could not fully recall when he had last seen a corpse so pale. Meanwhile, Velvet's phone continued to ring away in Jerry's pocket.
"Go ahead," Bazdilot said, his tone even and plain. "Answer the phone, Jerry."
The dead man was shaking so hard, it was a wonder that the device did not slip out of his grip. Everyone pointedly ignored the stench of urine that was now filling the air, courtesy of the expanding puddle at Jerry's feet.
"H-h-hello?"
The frightened expression on his face was soon joined by one of surprise. He then pulled it away from his ear. "I-it's f-for him, b-boss," he stammered, gesturing at Waver Velvet.
Interesting.
With a snap of his gloved fingers, one of his other men grabbed the phone from Jerry's hand, and handed it over to Bazdilot, while another raised his silenced pistol to the back of the now weeping Jerry's head. Meanwhile, from the other side of the phone, the faint, yet distinct, high-pitched voice of a child could be heard, inquiring for Waver Velvet.
The mafia magus looked at the cellular phone in his gloved hand for a minute with a raised eyebrow, and shrugged, while Jerry's body collapsed to the piss-soaked ground, a neat little hole now in the back of his cranium.
Cordlion then took the phone, and put it up to his guest's ear, letting the teacher nestle the device in between his head and his uninjured shoulder somewhat awkwardly.
"Yes? What? Are you serious? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now…. Yes, I know I still owe you two a great deal, but…. I'm sorry, say that again? That's impossible! It's only been ten years! There's no way it would have been able to... Okay, okay, okay…. Fine… yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can. Thanks."
Cordlion took that as a sign that the conversation was over, yanked the phone away and tossed it aside, before then proceeding to push in the scalpel two inches, eliciting another grunt of pain from the suspended teacher.
"I applaud the bravado in your words, Mr. Velvet, but you will not be leaving here alive. In fact, after you have been tortured, slaughtered, and then cut up, your pieces will be ground into various sausages, which will then be shipped to every major and minor grocery store in the country. I can assure you that your meat will be consumed and digested by a variety of customers, a good deal of whom I imagine will be children.
"However, as a courtesy befitting my duties as your host, I shall grant you the chance to speak your final words."
To the mafia magus' slight surprise, Waver Velvet groaned, not in pain, but more in annoyance. Then, he actually smirked.
"Eat."
Suddenly there was a flash of light, and the sound of loud snarling. Then, his men started screaming.
The last thing that Bazdilot Cordlion would ever see in this lifetime was a large, toothy maw, as it chomped down on his neck. To his credit, he did not scream even once.
So, it was true. There was nothing but dark-
Waver Velvet was, in no uncertain terms, feeling very upset. He was also feeling tired, hungry, and very sore all over. The fact that he was currently suspended on a meat hook, inside a meat-processing plant, while two large wolves were busy eating the corpse of the murderer he had been hunting, along with over a dozen other rogue magi and mafia members…. Yeah, he was very pissed.
Of course, the smell of actual piss filling the air certainly did not help his disposition either.
The two giant wolves, each almost the size of a small truck, with glowing eyes and strange symbols running across their furs, finished their meal, and then began to prowl around him, like two sharks circling their prey, with fresh blood still staining their muzzles, as they softly growled, and seemed to size him up. To anyone else, it would have been a pants-wetting, terrifying sight.
To Waver Velvet, all he saw were his legs, in their other forms, acting like idiotic and overly dramatic juveniles. "Are you two quite done playing around?"
The black one with red eyes spoke up first, in a voice that sounded like an adolescent boy's. "Oh, come on daddy, this is the first time in weeks that you're letting us stretch our legs and eat!"
Then the white one with blue eyes chimed in, with a girl's voice. "Yeah, daddy. We have rights too, ya know. It's not healthy to keep kids like us cooped up all the time."
Waver rolled his eye, and groaned. "Fine, we'll discuss it later. If it helps, then I apologize for not letting you, my legs, which I need to move around, stretch your legs. Now, can one of you please so kind as to get me down from here? I've just about lost all the feeling in my arms."
"Okay, daddy." The black one then padded up to him, and reared up, putting one large paw on his shoulder, and the other on his face. Of course, it had to be the shoulder that that psychopath Cordlion had stabbed, so, as his right leg chewed through the ropes, Waver was forced to have to bite back another scream of pain.
Then, he fell to the ground, only for the white wolf, his left leg, to arrest his fall. He groaned, again. His left leg gently bore him to the floor, and then nuzzled into his side with her snout, while her brother slowly, slowly pulled out the scalpel from his 'father's' shoulder with his teeth. "You okay, daddy?" the female asked, concern now alight in her voice.
With a pained sigh, he raised his hand and patted her gently on the hand. "I will be. Thanks. How about you, are you two full?"
They both nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!" the black one said. "We're super-duper full!" "Yeah, though that mean man's circuits tasted a bit yucky."
"That's good to hear. Now, can you help me up, please?"
They nodded again. Then, in a flash, the wolves were gone, and Waver's legs were back in place. 10 years ago, they had been a "gift" from an evil, lazy demon, and a bored, kleptomaniac vampire. In return for them, as well as saving his life, well, they basically owned his ass.
As his wounds slowly healed, courtesy of the two beasts/demons feeding him their energy, Waver gingerly grabbed his phone from off the floor, flipped it open, and dialed a number.
One ring.
Then, he heard an answering click.
Waver cleared his throat, as he started to gather his shirt and coat and eyepatch, before walking out of the plant, barefoot. "Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need to get to Fuyuki City, as soon as possible... It's starting again."
As he spoke, the one-eyed man gingerly raised up his left hand, with it's missing pinky and palm tattoo, as three crimson seals in the shape of a pyramid and shining sun etched themselves into his skin over the previous set.
As they did, memories began to filter through his mind, of that horrific contest from ten years ago.
…The dutiful and vengeful knight with two swords, serving a lord who did not deserve his loyalty...
… the radiant man, whose laughter had rivaled the boom of thunder, and who could stand firm even before the end of everything..
… The distant and Wild Horned king, with a glowing lance that could herald the End of the World, whilst mounted upon a steed of white…
…The Golden man, with a terrible weapon that could make the gods quake and wail in fear, and enough arrogance to drown the world… the searing pain, as he was dragged away, while his legs were left behind, by the smiling man with empty eyes… cruel fingers tearing out his eye, while the other hand gripped him tightly by the neck… "There will be recompense! An eye for an eye!"
... The ageless, undying monster, and the chittering of so many legs, laughing as a house burned... "A foolish boy, in way over your head in a war that will grind you to dust."
... "I will let you live, Waver Velvet, if only to be gladdened by the knowledge that every moment of the rest of your life will be filled with naught but despair..."
... The empty killer, holding a gun to his head... "Surrender."
…. "Do you want to be saved? If so, then make a pact with us, Waver Velvet. Though, it's not like you have any other options..."
He shook his head, as if to drive the nightmarish recollections away. "Yeah, it's started again, and early… Something's definitely wrong…"
Meanwhile, as he spoke, his legs were abuzz with excitement, their voices positively joyous as they chatted in his head.
"Yay! We're going on a trip!" "Yummy food, here we come!"
Waver Velvet sighed again.
He had hoped to never come back to that city.
Waver sighed, and looked down at his hand.
Seemed he had no choice.
Damn it.
...
...
Well, hopefully, the Witch would be able to help him, this time.
...
Fuck.
Fuyuki City, Meanwhile...
Zouken studied the relic.
Like all lasting things from that lost Age, it was a magnificent thing to look upon.
Even in the dark of the night, it shone with a strange, wild, and awesome radiance that could not be dimmed.
Ever since he had come into possession of it, ten years ago, along with the corpse of the Magus Killer, Zouken had felt his fortunes only increase over the past ten years.
It was odd that it was starting again so soon, but ZOuken was nothing if not adaptable. It just meant that he need not wait as long to attain what was rightfully his.
No, ten years was fine.
With a chuckle, he looked up from the catalyst to look upon the room's other occupants.
"The time draws ever near. Soon, the Matou will once again rise, and all who stand before us..."
He smirked, as three symbols burst unto being upon his hand.
"They will be devoured."
Fuyuki Church
The Priest rose from the pew and smiled as he looked upon the dark and empty House of the Lord.
He could feel it in his bones and heart and spirit.
It was starting one more.
Aother chance to learn, to understand the lessons of ten ears ago.
"How wonderful... Here we go again. But, I wonder... just what will happen this time?"
Unknown
It was hungry.
So close, so close, but cut off...
Aborted before birth...
But... it was patient...
It would wait...
Ten years was long enough...
Soon, all would follow its call, and, when they were ripe and tender...
It would eat, and have its fill.
Across the globe, it sent out the Signal.
It called out and waited.
Waited for the replies.
A/N: New Route!
This will be termed Fate Fairy Tale.
Read, review, and enjoy.
This time, there will be True Servants... and there will be fakes.