* Rewrite - Exploration


Chapter XLIII: Cadaveric Code


* Rewrite – Exploration

Aleister Crowley had gotten exactly what he had wanted out of his distraction.

Namely, time and discretion: had the Creature actually been eliminated back then, the situation would have evolved in a most unconvenient way for him. The center of the conflict would have switched to the Clock Tower, the struggle over the Red Faction's Grail Shard would have resumed. Which meant that enemies would have come after him just as he was trying to get his hands on it.

He already knew where the Shard was located. That was the task to which he had dedicated the previous night: scouting the Clock Tower unhindered thanks to his teleportation. Unlike what its name suggested, the Clock Tower was not limited to Big Ben and the British Museum. Even with Self-Concealing Bounded Fields, they wouldn't have enough space as more generations of magi came to study (while the older generations refused to yield). But his search had been extremely successful – he had avoided all traps while locating his objective.

But that was when he had been faced with an obstacle: the Grail Shard was very well protected.

The knight Galahad was a strong wall, and the Völundr had put many a barrier in the way. But those were meant more to protect the Clock Tower than the Shard specifically. In other words, the first hurdle had been finding the room where it was guarded. It was not a particularly important room, but it wasn't too insignificant either; it was one amongst many studies, with the name 'Vasilia' written on the door. Probably a fake name, since magi would jealously protect their secrets, or maybe it used to be empty.

It didn't matter, since that was when the second hurdle had come in: entering the room.

Even though he prided himself in his freedom to reach any place on this planet, Aleister could not merely teleport inside. He had showcased his abilities in the Himalaya, so that was the consequences of showing off, probably. The room had been sealed behind a very complexe spell. The door and every single wall (there was no window) could not be crossed in any other way than physically. More specifically, it was a special Bounded Field that could only be entered through a very narrow space, located exactly where the door was.

He had tried teleporting inside, only to find an empty room. He could easily have concluded that this wasn't the place, but he wasn't a genius magus for nothing. Most other people would have completely missed it, so he felt some pride in knowing that this trap had been laid specifically for him. Of course, the door could not be opened normally, and destroying it was not an option either – the damage would be sent right back at the attacker. And since the door overlapped exactly with the Bounded Field's entrance, he had not dared teleporting right into it.

So he had accepted to play fair and undo the spell.

He had tried himself at it immediatly after leaving Alexander Lendric and Loïa Beddway. But it wasn't a puzzle waiting to be solved – undoing a spell was like arm wrestling, in that you were constantly pushed back. At the same time, it was indeed like a puzzle, at least for him who had always loved analyzing spell structures. He was the man who could wrap his mind around any kind of magecraft, so it was the exact same as decyphering a coded letter.

And of course, it was only a matter of time before he suceeded. Yes, a matter of time – he didn't have enough of it. That is, he hadn't until coming up with this unique distraction. He had already practically cracked the code by then, but he had wanted insurance. Because once he opened that door, anyone could; and he didn't know what lied beyond.

"Hmm, it seems that parasite has made a quick work of taking over the place. I had only wanted for him to rampage around, but... oh, well, as long as it doesn't reach this place."

The Creature had turned its attention to the Masters and Servants, preys it could eat; those were not too close to Aleister's position. And there was also the fact that the monster could only spread so much. Although, Aleister was truly impressed by what it had managed to accomplish – it was no exaggeration to say it had taken over an entire area of the Clock Tower. Just as he had 'feared', the parasite must have found a source of mana where Aleister had teleported it. Unlike the surface, magical energy was abundant in here because of everything that revolved around it. All the research that had been contained there must have been lost – this could be called a true disaster for the Mage's Association.

But Aleister didn't care.

He had long since lost interest in what other magi could produce or pursue. All he cared about right now was the Grail Shard inside that room. Once he'd have gotten his hands on it, the Lesser Grail would be almost complete – the only piece missing wouls be the one owned by the Black Faction.

Once the chalice was complete... yes, what would he do?

Admittedly, the War wouldn't end until only one Servant was left alive, the one acknowledged by the Grail as the winner. But maybe there was a way of taking advantage of the Grail before that. Aleister had already tried establishing a connection to the Greater Grail through the pieces they had assembled, but his attempt had not quite lived up to expectations.

He could tell that those Shards were indeed connected to the Greater Grail, but something felt... strange.

No, in the first place, there was something strange about this entire Holy Grail War. Something about it was artificial. Of course, it only made sense since this was a magus-made ritual. Yet, something about it truly gave off the impression of an 'imitation'.

The best exemple was the Grail Shards – Aleister could swear some of them were fake. Or rather, they were replacement parts. Of all the Shards gathered by the White Faction, only two of them felt genuine, including the one Ivan had supposedly found. All the others were very close to the real deal, but a long and deep analysis led Aleister to believe they had been created as repairment.

He already knew this unusual Holy Grail War had been started by Ivan Pedilefey. That man was not lying when he said he had a knack for finding rare treasures, and Aleister didn't doubt he had told the truth. However, there was a difference between not lying and saying the whole truth – frankly, Aleister didn't believe Ivan Pedilefey was capable of creating those replacement parts.

He could find elements and combine them, but he couldn't create something new. That was the conclusion he had reached after analyzing the Ark for such a long time; after all, the latter was Ivan's magnum opus. Aleister had discovered it was the combination of at least two different elements, and though he couldn't tell which, they were quite ancient.

Thus, he couldn't believe Ivan could have made these Shards.

There had to be at least one more person involved in this... or more. When you thought about it, everyone in the White Faction had conveniently accepted that Ivan knew more than he let on, and had decided not to pry further. They didn't need to. But Aleister Crowley was a man of infinite curiosity, and he could not help making the proper conclusions.

For exemple, there were more things that didn't add up once he considered that some of the Shards were more recent.

.

At the end of the Fifth War, the Holy Grail was destroyed, split up in fragments and escaped all around the world.

.

That was obviously wrong. The Shards had indeed been spread around the globe, but that could not date back to the end of the previous War. What did that mean? What pieces were missing to the puzzle?

"Well, that's what I'm here to discover after all." With a final push, the spell protecting the door wore off. "Once I have all the Shards, an answer may appear."

He was simply giving in to his curiosity. He was probably one of the least concerned by it, but he was a seeker of truth nonetheless. While his distraction was still fulfilling its role, the magus finally opened the door and stepped into the room of the Shard.

And he found it empty.

"...My, such an interesting trick. This room is like a layered cake." And he was delightfully eating each layer one by one. "At this point, anyone would give up and accept that they wasted their time... but I have seen both rooms: the one outside the Bounded Field, and the one inside."

Both were empty rooms, but they did not look exactly the same. Both rooms were illusions, but the one who had made them hadn't bothered making the illusions match up. That was because no one was supposed to see both of them – only Aleister had, because he had tried teleporting inside.

Here at least, there was no complexe spell at work, it was a rather mundane illusion. Aleister closed his eyes. After focusing for a while, he cleared his magic circuit and repelled the room's suggestion. When he opened his eyes, he finally saw what was really inside.

"My, quite the contrast."

All along each wall, pedestals were lined up neatly.

Each and every one of them looked identical, down to their size and the distance between them. Even what was on top of them was the same: a cubic glass case with a red cushion inside. It was as though Aleister had stepped inside a jewellery. For indeed, there were jewels here – on each cushion, there was a Grail Shard. They were replicas of course; they were identical down the smallest detail. To make it even more confusing, behind each pedestal there was a mirror.

That room was so decorated that it could make your head spin, but Aleister was not interested in that.

He was looking at the person waiting for him.

"...You are Caster of White, correct? Your appearance matches the report."

A stern man was sitting down on a chair in the middle of the room.

He didn't seem surprised or panicked to see Aleister entering the room. In fact, save for his mouth he remained completely inert, staring a hole into the Servant with eyes of steel. Aleister didn't need to ask to know that he was a magus – everything about him was screaming it. And he was probably not here by mistake: Aleister could see the dust that had piled up on his coat. This man had been sitting there without moving for a long time, waiting for someone's arrival.

"You are well informed." Aleister had no hat to tip, so he bowed is fake politeness instead. "Considering the security put on this room, you had been expecting me, haven't you?"

"..." The man's eyes moved slightly to gaze at the crystal staff in the Servant's hand. "So you really are Aleister Crowley. Now I understand why you would do something as sacrilegeous as bringing that monster inside the Clock Tower."

"Hmm~, not fond of my little trick, are you." He chuckled, in answer to which the man's brows furrowed.

"A Servant with abilities like yours, and the knowledge of an ex-member of the Mage's Association, was certain to come directly after the Shard." The man explained. "Unfortunately, defending from an annoying man like you is complicated. You've gotten your hands on a troublesome ability."

"All the pleasure is mine, of course. You don't seem to have knowned me, so I'm glad that I was able to leave an impression on the Mage's Association."

"...You bastard, you are one of the worst kinds of magus. What you did in your lifetime is no different from revealing thaumaturgy to the public; even though a man of your talent should understand what danger it represents. It's no wonder any magus in any era would loath you."

"Oh, don't worry, they got that point across when they assassinated me. But I don't hold it against them; visionaries are always feared. It's a good thing I concealed none of my researches inside my Magic Crest. Thanks to that, I was killed instead of being sealed. And now, it's my return."

"The existance of a Servant is more precarious." The man stood up from his chair. "I will not allow you to win the Holy Grail War. The winner at the end shall be me."

"Oh? You have that kind of ambition, Mr. Vasilia?"

"..."

The man glarred at him.

"No need to give me that look." He was receiving a lot of those tonight. "Your name is written on the door."

"...Victor Vasilia." The human rectified, with an air of dignity magi were well acquainted with. He was acknowledging the genius known as Aleister Crowley, but not without condescendance.

"To think a Lord would grant me an audience, I'm flattered." In return, Aleister gave him fake politeness that didn't acknowledge him as anything. "Although, I suppose I've already met a Lord before – that little girl, Archer of Red's Master. She must be your daughter."

"..."

"What a dangerous look~! You're the kind of man who doesn't like it when something escapes your control, aren't you? A man of power. But you know, it's dangerous, being that kind of person. We never know when something might elude us."

Aleister was explaining all of this gleefully, especially because he knew Victor hated it.

"Fear not, I don't have any interest in harming your little heir. I just couldn't help noticing, you know? My curiosity regarding thaumaturgy is a bottomless pit, and there was already a Lord Vasilia in my time. I know full well that your family's specialty is that microcosm we call the body; on a physical level as well as a cosmic one. You can do miracles within one's flesh. And I also heard that a Vasilia's greatest masterpiece is their heir."

Passing down knowledge inside a Magic Crest was one manner of preparing the next generation, but some families had different method. Of course, Aleister expected the Vasilia also had a Magic Crest, so that their millenium techniques may not be lost. But as specialists of the body, they also prepared their heir by modifying their bodies. The head of the family would put all their knowledge and expertise in making the most sublime body they could, and their heir would pick up where they left off and build up from there to make something even more sublime.

For the records though, it had nothing to do with an esthetic of beauty – the Vasilia didn't care about outward appearance. All that mattered was on the inside; the 'quality' of the flesh, so to speak.

"You've already started working on your little girl, haven't you?"

"That is no business for an outsider."

"Ah, and here I was trying to have a friendly chat." Aleister shook his head innocently. "Oh well. Truth be told, I don't really care about your family's magecraft. You're turned toward the past in endless regression, while my eyes are turned toward the future."

"The dead's eyes are turned toward nothing but dirt." Victor spat out, and his gaze clearly communicated his intention.

"...I see, so you're another layer of protection."

"I'm here to kill you."

"Oh, is that true?" Aleister looked closer at Victor while rubbing his chin. "But you aren't really here, are you? This is just a doll, albeit a very realistic one."

"... ... ... ... ...You're sharp."

"Heh. In the first place, you aren't the kind of man who would risk his life like this."

Mastery of the flesh also meant being able to link flesh. Unlike actual automata, this doll was organic, and probably functioned as an extension of the real body. If Victor wanted, be could probably take twenty person and turn them into a single 'body'. That was what it meant to control the 'body' on a cosmic level. It was just like a miniature Solar System.

"My eyes can pierce through space and matter. Did you really think I wouldn't notice how much of a mess that body is? This is not a real living being, just a weapon."

"..."

Victor Vasilia said no more and attacked.

It was a very simple movement, a mere horizontal swipe of his hand. But in the middle of this movement, his forearm shifted shape – it became flatter and sharper, an actual sword emerging from his elbow. That swing was swift, faster than any modern athlete was capable of moving. But not so fast that Aleister couldn't see it coming: the Servant phased out of space just long enough that the sword cut through empty air.

Victor's attack packed a surprising amount of power, enough to leave a deep horizontal gash across the wall despite the distance. If Aleister had reinforced his body instead, he would likely have been cut cleanly in half.

"Impressive. So this is the kind of power that makes the pride of the Vasilia." Immediatly after reappearing inside the room, the Servant aimed his staff at Victor's shoulder and compressed space around it. The shoulder was torn off and the sword-arm fell on the ground with a clang. "That body must have regressed several centuries... no, it might even be around the 1000 A.D. mark. With this, you could probably fight low-tier Heroic Spirits. But I suppose your real body must be even more impressive."

Without paying any heed to the Servant's observations, Victor abruptly raised his other arm. Instead of flattening, the forearm enlarged and took on a cylindrical form. The canon-arm was about to fire a projectile of concentrated mana at point blank range, but Aleister had already raised his own hand. By crushing the canon's mouth, he made the projectile blow up inside Victor's arm.

The human magus had now lost both of its arms, but his expression hadn't changed in the least. He was staring into Aleister's eyes as though nothing had happened, and as though he hadn't botched his attempt at eliminating him. At the very least, he was the kind of man who would keep his dignity no matter what, or so Aleister mused. But instead of finishing off Victor, the Servant too acted as though nothing had happened.

"You know, I'm glad I found you here, Lord Vasilia. There was a question I was burning to ask, and you might be the best person to answer it!"

"..."

"You've voiced your intent to win this Holy Grail War... when you say this, I believe you're refering to yourself, not to the Mage's Association. Hmm, but there's a little problem: you aren't a Master. A strange ambition then, wouldn't you agree?"

"..."

"Ah, but there's your daughter! Of course!" Aleister tapped his finger against his forehead, pretending to have noticed only now. "And you seem to be the man behind the Red Faction... So, I need your personal opinion on this: don't you think the Command Seal distribution is too convenient?"

"..."

"I heard that Ivan Pedilefey personally selected the members of our Faction and offered them the title of Master. Considering his involvement with the ritual, I'm not too surprised if he had found a way to achieve that... but he's not the only one, is he?"

"..."

There was a reaction. It was extremely faint, but Aleister could swear Victor's eye had twitched when he had brought up the name of Ivan Pedilefey.

"So I can logically assume that any person who had a hand in starting this Holy grail War would have a similar privilege. What do you say about my little theory?"

"... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Disappear."

There was a huge concentration of magical energy inside Victor's body. But he hadn't manifested any weapon – the weapon this time was his entire body. With a snap of his fingers, Aleister teleported him out of the room. Shortly after, a powerful explosion shook the hallway; the walls didn't have a single dent in them, though. There was probably not even a centimeter of skin left from the doll, since if anybody got their hands on a single piece of its body they'd be able to study Victor's magecraft.

"Thanks for your input." Aleister dropped the smile, since he had no one to smile to anymore.

He had to push this matter aside now, as his interlocutor had blown himself up.

It wasn't as if he could locate Victor Vasilia's real body anyway; even if the flesh was linked, Aleister only had a surface knowledge of how it worked. And he was more than satisfied with what he had learned already, so now he could focus entirely on his initial objective: get his hands on the Shard.

And so he resumed studying the strange array of pedestals and mirrors. Since the Shard inside each glass case was fully identical, there was no way to tell them apart visually. It had to be the last layer of protection, but it was a rather effective one. Supposing an enemy managed to get through all the other defense mechanisms, they would scratch their head helplessly. They might even get tempted to grab all of them, but in that case they would become a high priority target, and it was hard defending this many pieces without knowing which one was real.

"Hmmm, the mirrors' presence is what's intriguing me. Perhaps the truth is reflected in them... ... ... ... ... ... ... Just kidding."

This entire ordeal was a joke.

As said before, this room was not a puzzle: it hadn't been made so anyone could solve it; it had been made so nobody except the maker could get their hands on the prize. As such, there was no hint hidden anywhere, only lavish decoration to lead people astray. The truth was, none of the Shards displayed here were the real one. In the first place, why would you give people even a tiny chance of stealing the treasure you're trying to protect?

"The real Grail Shard is here, isn't it?" Aleister walked over to the chair where Victor had been sitting, before moving it aside. "Not far, just barely out of reach."

The Shard was inside the ground.

Intruders could steal as many replicas as they wanted, the real one laid underneath their feet. The reason Aleister had managed to solve the room was not only thanks to his cunning, but also thanks to having studied the Shards on the Ark. He had been able to tell immediatly that the chunks of gold sitting on the cushions were not genuine.

Slowly, he extracted the fragment from the floor, and the golden Shard came floating up to his hand. This one was the real deal, no doubt about it.

"Not only that, but it seems to be an original fragment, not a replacement piece."

Now, he had no more business here.

The Creature was still rampaging around, but it was a tad too late to stop it, now that it had taken on such a troublesome form. But oh well, it would meet its end one way or another. Something that does nothing but consume mindlessly shall walk no other path than that of its own destruction. The other Servants of White will probably hate him for this, but he was already used to being hated. The only ones who had never hated were those who worshipped him. For a pioneer genius like him, any other way would have felt unusual.

In any case, since he wasn't planning on assisting the others, Aleister promptly left the Clock Tower with his prize in hand. That is to say, he teleported repeatedly over medium distances until he had reach the edge of the outskirts of London. He might be a Caster and an expert magus, but tonight had made him spend quite the amount of energy.

Floating high up in the air, he spared a glance at the world below. Even here, there wasn't a soul, although it probably made more sense than in the heart of the city. But it's also because of this emptiness that he noticed something moving: several people were making their way in the opposite direction. They passed below Aleister without noticing him, and they entered the city.

(That presence... without a doubt, one of them was Ruler.)

It wasn't too surprising, thinking about it – this was the direction for the Ark after all. That being said, Ruler had visited the White Faction early in the morning the day before. It had taken him an entire day to cross that distance? In the modern era, you could go from one end of a country to another in that much time...

"If they had to take a detour, I guess Lancer might have given chase after all. Oh well."

As stated previously, it was none of his business. But thinking about it, the time limit imposed by Ruler was right around the corner.

If the Servant of the Grail had decided to come here now of all time, what was he planning to do exactly...?


Thanks for reading.

Aleister is the single most efficient character in this entire story and I have no idea how.

~Legends Storyteller