A lengthy chapter with all the summonings! Feel free to review or PM.
HERE WE GO!
Chapter4 Turmoil
Artoria Pendragon fiddled her pen between her fingers with the type of proficiency born out of sheer boredom. While lost in thought, her accumulated skill did not betray her as she succeeded yet again; 3 consecutive pen air-flips.
Beautiful. She was getting good at this.
A little too good.
The teenage magus blinked, confused. She blinked again. 'What I am doing?', she asked herself. Artoria Pendragon, the elite of the Clocktower, daydreaming on the first day of her mission.
She sighed. Last night was a terrifying experience, even for a rather powerful being like her. The feeling of dread which permeated the air the minute that Assassin showed his presence was frankly, unbearable. There was no doubting that frightful aura, even if he was kind of adorable in a bizarre way. In the same way a crocodile's smile looks cheerful.
'I am going insane!', Artoria realized with creeping dread.
The grandfather of all Assassins. An ill omen, the embodiment of death itself. The reaper who haunts in the night. The king of living shadows. He who tolls the bell of the end.
She thought that was somehow cute. Yikes. Maybe the urban legend of Pendragons attracting the weirdest of men holds true after all.
Artoria hugged herself. Her hand instinctively passed over her new bracelet which had an accessory trussed within. The mini katana dangled before her eyes; its hilt connected to her bracelet with a silver chain.
'Shiro.', she thought warmly. 'Sengo Muramasa.'
Artoria felt bubbly inside when she remembered their morning conversation. It felt so like home, like family.
She felt her jaw tighten. Her fingers curled into fists. The sharp pang of pain in her heart was more than enough to remind her of her current situation. A girl with no family.
Artoria Pendragon, heir of the Pendragon family, the last of her name. She was alone. They left her an empty home, where faint echoes of the past hurt her more than daggers and knives.
Artoria bit her lip. Even then, her lip wobbled. She clenched her fists. Grit her teeth.
However, the painful truth remained, as it always did.
Alone.
"Hey girl, what happened? Why do ya look so gloomy?"
Artoria jolted in surprise. Shiro stood by her side with a slightly concerned look etched into his usually laid-back expression.
She didn't even notice that she had been walking home on autopilot, too caught up in her memories of her childhood.
A warm hand was firmly cast upon her shoulder as another was wrapped around her back. Shiro pulled Artoria in for a strong hug, ignoring how she panicked and mewled like a startled cat.
"There, There, nothing to fear, young one. I'm here now. I'm here for you. You're not alone."
Artoria stopped struggling at his words. A lump formed in her throat. She felt how Shiro's rough hands gently caressed her back, how his fingers softly combed through her hair.
How long had it been since anyone treated her as a child? How long had it been since anyone hugged her like this? How much did she crave for a parental figure she once lost, one she knew that would never come back?
An involuntary sob broke through. Another soon followed.
Shiro kept his silence as Artoria buried her head in the crook of his neck, drops of warm liquid drenching his shoulder.
"We better go home.", he said softly.
"It's raining."
Shiro carried Artoria on his back with her arms firmly wrapped around his neck.
He leaped from building to building at insane speeds, eager to reach their territory before the sun sets. After all, the war begins tonight.
As servant of the sword, he could feel the vague presence of the other six in the city; six beings of legends, waiting for night to fall.
Shiro knew he was an irregular, an abomination of the counter-force, a mistaken product of Alaya. Two separate counterforces in one single body, two individuals forged into one.
He also knew that the other servants were likely to be somewhat…unique, at the very least. With the system corrupted, heaven knows what clusterfuck this war could turn out to be!
Shiro squinted at the dying sun. Hm…five in the afternoon. About another five hours until night completely falls.
He huffed as he picked up his pace. They will need every single second to make sure that they're absolutely prepared.
"Do you guarantee your success?", a low voice spoke in the darkness.
An Asian man dressed in a slick black suit nodded his head. He was lean, athletic, and very deadly. His coal-like eyes showed no emotion as he stared back at the half-transparent man hovering before him.
"I have summoned the King of Knights as planned. The info on the other masters also appears to be somewhat valid. I shall proceed."
The ghostly man scoffed.
"I have heard that he was summoned as an extra class, Ruler. A Ruler who does not have any kind of authority, that is.
There was no questioning from the sheer amount of ridicule dripping in his voice, that he was mocking the Asian.
The Asian man, however, did not rise to the man's taunt.
"You may have my word as a master that servant Ruler is NOT weakened in the slightest way."
The man fell silent as if taken aback by the man's conviction. His holographic image blurred before he dissipated with his last words, filled with scorn and distaste.
"Very well. Do your best, magus killer. For our family, and your daughter."
The Asian man stared into the darkness, unmoving. His mouth was set into a thin line, his fist quivering in fury.
"Illya.", he whispered.
In a dimly lit manor, a man knelt before his Servant. They were not equals as Servants and Masters should be. No, they were far apart from that.
"Tokiomi. The war begins.", the Servant spoke.
"Yes, my king.", his Master dutifully answered, head bowed low.
The servant was a man of gold. His golden hair was wiped back by the evening breeze, his crimson slit-pupils glowing with immense divinity in the night.
Golden armor completed with a red sash-like girdle covered his lower body, while his masculine torso was naked for the whole world to see.
Crimson tattoos of the ancient gods decorated his skin, the muscles underneath, perfectly toned and sculpted in the most balanced way possible.
With his refined air and inhumanly elegant features, people would be obliged to bow before he uttered a single word.
All in all, he was the masterpiece of the old gods.
Servant Archer, King of Heroes, the highest above all. The trump card of Tohsaka Tokiomi, head of the Tohsaka family.
The servant was supposed to be an egomaniac, a self-centered epitome of selfishness. Yes, he was supposed to be like that.
Tokiomi mentally prepared himself for weeks before he dared to summon him, going so far as to memorize his entire legend by heart.
However, despite his worries, the king seemed to be surprisingly content with his current situation. He wasn't even bothered, neither annoyed when Tokiomi humbly begged him to demonstrate his power at the harbors tonight.
After Assassin refused to collaborate with his disciple Kirei, Tokiomi thought long and hard on what to do.
He could've asked Kirei to persuade his daughter, but the Assassin made it very clear that he would oppose them should they try to influence his current master.
Deciding that it wasn't worth the effort (since he had no idea how deadly the first Hassan could be), he painstakingly sought to show his servant's superiority in battle against another servant on this very first night.
Tokiomi didn't want to gloat or boast about his servant's ability, of course. He may be proud, but he was anything but reckless.
His main objective was to warn the other masters not to try direct attempts at finding him. With Assassin gone from his leash, he needed to buy time. He needed time to forge a new strategy.
Tokiomi warily glanced up at his humming servant. Archer was so cooperative, it worried him. 'What on earth made him so lenient?', he questioned himself.
The arrogant King of Heroes chuckled at his Master's pointless worries. He saw through them all, of course. After all, he was the man who 'seen everything'. Couldn't this mediocre man taste the disturbance in the air? This sweet beckoning of seven opponents who are worthy of his attention?
Gilgamesh's fingers tapped impatiently against his magnificent throne. A carnivorous smile reached his face as he finished his cup of wine.
The time is nigh for legends to die.
Inside a spacious storage house, there waited two people.
One was a tall European man, dressed in a regal navy-blue coat. The other was a red-haired lady dressed in a white evening dress with black trousers, one that made her look surprisingly noble.
They sat in silence, waiting for their servant's return. The man raised his head.
"Ah, about time you reported, Lancer.", the man remarked.
"Apologies for being late.", a calm voice answered. The source of the voice materialized soon after in a shower of golden light.
The servant, now in his full glory, bowed slightly in respect for his summoner. His golden earrings hidden by his white hair glittered in the pale moonlight.
The servant was thin and very tall, his skin pale. He was adorned in black skin-tight clothing that was partially covered in gorgeous golden armor, completed with a cape of red fluffy fur which reminded one of the blazing sun.
"Report.", the man, Kayneth El-Melloi ordered.
"There is a high possibility that several servants might join us tonight. They may have already taken on my 'invitation'."
Kayneth nodded in approval.
"Very well. Prepare yourself. It is time for war. It is time for the strongest to strive!"
Lancer nodded. He disappeared in a pillar of scorching flames that lit the darkness, leaving the couple to their own devices.
"Kayneth, was it really necessary for us to make the first move?", the woman anxiously asked.
Kayneth chuckled. He took his fiancé's hand in his own and answered her worries in a confident tone.
"Worry not, Sola-Ui. It was only a matter of time before the other masters took the initiative. Besides, it is extremely unlikely for our servant to be hurt, much yet lose against some second-rate servant."
Sola-Ui Nuaba-Re Sophia-Ri crossed her arms under her well-sized assets.
"I suppose you're right. It is unlikely for the son of Surya to not get the upper hand."
Kayneth rubbed his hands together. This night would be a memorable night indeed.
Somewhere underground, where the steady drip-drop of water could be heard, a child whimpered.
The dampness was so suffocating, it choked the boy. He struggled to breathe, his heart beating so fast that he thought he might faint.
The place was dark, wet, and very musty. The rotten scent of iron plagued the child's nostrils as he fought his urge to vomit.
Around his mouth was a gag, his hands and feet tied by hardened rope. The child wriggled in a desperate attempt to get away, but to no avail.
A bone-white hand reached down and grabbed the child by his collar, nearly choking the poor soul as it dragged him across the slimy floor like a sack of potatoes.
The boy trembled in uncontrollable terror as he was placed atop a wooden platform.
There was a snap of fingers and blinding lights lit up with a hollow glare. The illumination was so sudden, it hurt the boy's eyes that had grown accustomed to the darkness.
"Rise and shine! Ritsuka, we've reached heaven!"
"MMMMMMMMMMMNNNNNNNGHH! NNNNNGGGHH?!"
"Now, now! No need to get overexcited, eh?"
The man, now illuminated, was very beautiful in a morbid way, as one finds skulls or knives beautiful.
His blond hair shone as he gave the boy a dazzling smile. Canine fangs glinted behind his crimson-colored lips as he gently stroked the boy on top of the makeshift platform.
He traced his tongue over a silver knife he had whipped out of his waist pocket.
"I'm sure you are very curious about who I am, or what I'm about to do to you."
He giggled madly as he tilted his head, pointing the drooling knife right at the boy's nose.
"Sadly, you are not going to be part of my masterpiece.", the man sighed as he spread his arms wide.
The boy's eyes dilated as he noticed his surroundings for the first time. A muffled scream burst through the velvet cloth that gagged him as he started to shake violently in shock.
"Ahh, yes! You really seem to love them so much! It is truly a pity you could not take place in these grand pieces of art."
Humans, mutated and twisted, carved and broken, severed and crushed-all alive.
Their faces, contorted in endless pain, grief, sorrow, rage, insanity-every single kind of negative emotion in existence.
There were people merged into living instruments such as harps, cellos, and pianos.
Hell, there was even a young girl carved into a violin! A violin, with a beating heart, visible for all the world to see.
"Why are the lovely souls still alive, you might ask. Well, a few doses of vampire blood do wonders!"
The man lovingly caressed Shirou's cheek with his index finger, drawing a single bead of blood with his claw-like nails.
"Mmm! Très Bien!", he purred with a lick. "Puuuurfect for my sacrifice!"
The maniac's eyes gazed into his with a spark of religious zeal.
"REJOICE CHILD! For you shall be the sacrifice for the devil! As will these people serve as appetizers!"
The man giggled wildly, a crooked grin on his diabolic face.
"After all, it'll take a lot of fresh mana to summon a sane Berserker, a manifestation of carnage who is not in the clutches of madness! HAHAHA!"
Spittle flew from his mouth as he reached to the heavens above, a maniac glaze in his round eyes.
"I, DEAD APOSTLE SCORPION, BARON OF VAMPIRES, SHALL GRANT YOU THIS HONOR TO BE MY ULTIMATE SACRIFICE!"
"Ah! You can call me Uryu Ryunosuke, by the way. Japanese names are much easier to get by, wouldn't you agree?"
"HIHIHI, HAHAHA, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
'Someone, help me!', the helpless boy pleaded in his mind. 'I DO NOT WANT TO DIE!'
'SAVE ME!'
Ritsuka called. Ritsuka begged. Ritsuka wanted to be saved. Ritsuka wanted to live, more than anything else.
Somewhere deep in the void, something stirred. Someone heeded the powerless boy's pitiful calls. The calls of a boy who had no control over magic, a boy of no name.
A child, about to be mercilessly brutalized and sacrificed.
An invincible hero, once controlled by madness, was now freed from his shackles. He had triumphed over impossible trials, time and time again. He had beat the twelve labors and overcome the limits of humanity.
If it means to save an innocent, helpless children he had once mindlessly slaughtered-
-He shall overwrite his legends even in death, once more.
An earth-shaking roar of rage tore through the darkness. An incomprehensible force of unfathomable power obliterated the mad apostle where he stood, vaporizing the immortal vampire without a single trace.
Ritsuka looked up at the massive figure in awe. So surprised he was, it wasn't until the giant man cradled the released boy in his arms that he realized he could speak.
"Who-who are you?", Ritsuka timidly asked.
The giant patted Ritsuka's head with one finger in utmost care, a small smile on top of his valiant features.
"I am your Servant who heeded your call, and I hereby swear that I shall protect you from whatever harm that may befall you."
"…? Uh, what is your name."
Hercules grinned. His teeth gleamed in the light like white boulders.
"…Call me Berserker."
In an underground cellar, a man writhed in agonizing pain. He squirmed on the ground like a mutated worm, his body half-rotten.
'For Sakura! At last, I killed that old monster by consuming him…! I shall not, will not, die now!'
Kaliya Matou bit so hard his teeth fractured, blackish blood gushing out of its decaying sockets.
The summoning circle shone in a brilliant light. Kaliya gripped the stolen catalyst tightly in his hand, the mummified remains of the pharaoh's beloved.
He prepared himself. Two of the command seals simultaneously disappeared as he uttered an incantation under his breath. Even so, the immense rage that hit him was like the wrath of the heavens itself.
A towering inferno of volcanic fury, anger that could incinerate a mortal in the blink of an eye.
"You dare sully the remains of Nefertari with your tainted hands AND have the gall to force me to listen before I execute you, lowly scoundrel?"
The voice was the harbinger of judgment, the sentence of Ra himself.
Kaliya coughed up another mouthful of tarnished blood before he spoke. He didn't have any time left. He must be quick.
"Hear me, King of Kings, O' mighty reincarnation of Ra! I hereby offer you my soul in the afterlife, my life, my everything! In exchange, I hereby ask you by the power of the last command seal-"
Another wave of pulsing rage assaulted him, but he spoke on,
"-To SAVE A TORTURED, MUTILATED YOUNG GIRL WHO HAD BEEN TAINTED AND CURSED BY EVIL, AND ACCEPT HER AS YOUR MASTER!"
The brown-skinned man stared into Kaliya's murky eyes that wept tears of blood. Burning gold found his black orbs of gaping despair. It shone through every shadow; evaluating his truth, his reason, his beliefs, his very soul.
A long yet short time passed.
The man closed his eyes and leaned back on his golden throne.
"Your sins shall not be forgiven by just your meager soul. As punishment-"
The man tossed something. Kaliya's heart sunk in despair. All was for naught…
The torturous punishment he had expected, however, did not come.
Kaliya's eyes widened in disbelief. He gaped at the scarab jewel that landed on his chest. The jeweled scarab turned to life as it latched its legs into his chest and began to rapidly restore his vitality and purge his curses. Kaliya couldn't believe his eyes.
"As your punishment, I order you to live and achieve her salvation by your own hands. When done, your soul shall be worthy."
Kaliya's mouth quivered. Tears-happy tears this time, poured from his eyes. He started to bawl, grinding his forehead against the ground.
"Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU!", he sobbed.
Ozymandias sighed.
"The pact is sealed. I, servant of class Rider, have heeded your call."
MEANWHILE
A boy, dressed in student attire of the clocktower, was frantically banging his thigh against a wooden bed.
"What the-why in the hell-STOP, Ah, THIS, Ah, DREAM, AHH!"
A flowery woman dressed in white robes stood beside the boy. The woman seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Aha! Humans are SO interesting! Servant Caster, at your service! I am overjoyed to make your acquaintance!"
Saber: Sengo Muramasa & EMIYA (Fate/Grand Order)
Archer: Gilgamesh (Fate/Extella ver.)
Lancer: Karna (Fate/Extella, FGO)
Rider: Ozymandias (Fate/prototype, FGO)
Caster: Merlin (Fate/prototype ver.)
Assassin: Hassan the first (Fate/prototype, FGO)
Berserker: Hercules (Fate/strange fake ver.)
Ruler: Arthur Pendragon (Fate/prototype, FGO)
Yes, Irregular, I know! I can read the lore of Kinoko(Type-Moon) in Japanese, so I know what I'm doing. All of them are so overpowered in their own right, Muramasa is really gonna have a bad time!
BTW, just in case; I shall spell 'Hercules'. in his English name.
Also, Berserker Hercules is actually one of his weakest forms. His strongest form is saber or archer class. Even then, he will never be strong as when he was still alive: the golden rule of how heroes born before Christ was 'born in the age of gods', thus making them significantly weaker in servant form, even with the 'cognition/popularity' buffs.
Review for poor little Muramasa!
X-kalibuuuur, over and out!