Luvia dreams.
Usually, her dreams involve typical issues interesting for young female magi who are invested in a somewhat mercenary career - that is, finding a compatible donor for an offspring, achieving fame, fortune, prestige … and of course look fabulous and elegant while doing all this. Even when in the arms of Morpheus, she strives to maintain the old school nobility, as opposed to the jumped-up, closeted entitlement all too common in the Clock Tower nowadays. Yes, she does have the occasional dream or two involving fellow students or even an instructor or two (admittedly, she's not the only one who thinks of Lord El-Melloi II that way), but still, those are normal, mundane jaunts in the ephemeral realm. Barely any dismemberment, vivisection, blood and offal feature in any of them - after all, she does see enough of those when awake. Thankfully, being a noble means having an exceptional mental fortitude and self-control, allowing her to disregard such unpleasant memories when resting.
Despite all that, or perhaps rather because of that, there is a particular matter of family honor and history which always succeeds to drive her to icy fury - the closely guarded shame of the Edelfelts during the Third Holy Grail War, their ancient feud against the barbarian Tohsakas. And ever since the faint outlines of the Command Seals appeared on her hand, she dreams about taking just revenge. She sees the black-haired young family head standing tall against her, the stolen Jewel Magic and Finnish curses outlining her in a glow of power. She sees the Tohsaka fall back, bloodied and battered, her weak, unrefined skills no match for Luvia's might and fury. She sees the thief's descendant grovelling in the dust, whining for mercy. She glowers down on the Asian witch whose spine is broken by Luvia's reinforced strength, the blonde woman's hand glowing with power as she brings down her fist, crushing joints, ribs, skull, feeling the hot, delightful spattering of blood against her cheek, rejoices in the iron taste filling her mouth as her grin widens to an inhuman leer of bloodlust.
The dark dreams are held at bay by the other, unnervingly alien snippets from her Servant's mind. Far-off vistas of alien beauty, a distant yet caring elder asari looking at her with pride as she's digging in the dirt. Remote, lonely years merge into one another as she searches for proof of her theories. The nerve-wracking terror of fleeing an overwhelming enemy, bloodlust and cold mechanical precision in her wake, as she traps herself. The first impression of her savior sends Luvia reeling, as emerald eyes twinkle at her from under a mop of fiery hair. Closeness, affection, a chase after the past to shelter the future. Rage follows along with burning shame, terror and a moment of inexcusable revulsion as she sees the broken dead shell; cold wrath follows, driving the quest for revenge, gradually losing or rather shutting off parts of herself in her single-minded pursuit. Then the shock, the unbelieving joy as the emerald eyes once again look at her, unchanged, unbroken by fate - and she is pulled along once again in the magnetic wake, delving in the past to save the uncertain future, standing against veritable gods. But not alone; never alone; those emerald eyes burning with passion and the certainty of victory, shining as a beacon, turning back the endless night.
Luvia wakes, and Caster, no, Liara smiles sadly at her.
"Do not lose yourself to revenge, Master." Her fingers trace the human's ringlets with infinite care, her stance and gaze bearing the weight of centuries. "It is a cold and treacherous road, unfit for one such as you."
Fuyuki City, 5 days until the Fifth Grail War
"Are you sure about this, Master?" The gravelly voice of his alien Servant was soft in Caules' mind, and the human could feel the astralized being's senses sharpening, as if in preparation for battle.
"I'm afraid there is not much choice, Assassin. The rules are rather clear about this part." The young man continued on his road towards the forbidding church, prana running through his circuits in preparation for any attack. "I agree that the place is suspicious, but this is where the Church-designated overseer dwells."
"Why not use a familiar or a remote, Master?"
"Because this is the one moment where they are forbidden, unfortunately." A trace of wry humor entered the young man's voice. "I suspect this is also a test to see if us magi really have the necessary courage to risk our lives in the War." He took a deep breath. "Stay astralized, but be ready in case of an attack."
Caules could feel the mental nod of his Servant, then the drell faded even from his awareness as the young magus entered the cool, gloomy nave of the church, heading straight towards the tall man standing at the altar. The priest turned around, and Caules had to suppress a shiver as the empty, dead gaze focused on him.
"Welcome, young man. Have you come to partake in the sacraments of the Lord?" Despite the smooth, cultured baritone voice, there was some mocking undertone which set Caules' nerves on edge. "Perchance you are a lamb, seeking direction and guidance?"
A quick glance and a pulse of searching prana confirmed the young magus' impression that they were alone in the temple.
"I am Caules Forvedge Yggdmillenia, Master of Assassin, and I am here to announce my decision to take part in the Fifth Holy Grail War." For a brief moment, the Command Seals pulsed with a dark green light on the back of his raised hand, and the priest raised an eyebrow.
"Really, young man?" The priest slowly walked from the altar, his hands behind his back, as he started to go around the rows of pews, slowly circling the young magus. "Are you aware of the stakes and dangers involved? Are you willing to set yourself against merciless adversaries intent on flaying your very soul to deny you your prize?" An undertone of genuine curiosity seeped into the cold, dispassionate voice. "Are you willing to kill to attain victory? To damn others in your search for the Grail?" He chuckled as Caules wordlessly nodded in answer. "I wonder, what you might wish for so earnestly."
"That is not something I am obligated to tell you, overseer." The young magus forced his voice under control. "I believe I have fulfilled the requirements of declaring my intent in participating, so I will be taking my leave."
"Will you not take communion, at least? After all, you are in the house of God, young man."
An image howled into Caules' brain, an apex predator ready to pounce on an unwary victim, ready to devour and corrupt, his Servant pointing out the extremely subtle signs of the priest tensing for confrontation - then when the young magus shook his head, not trusting his voice, Kotomine Kirei looked at him with dark amusement. Or rather, he looked at somewhere beside him, and Caules swallowed, his steps accelerating as he left the temple.
"Did he sense you?"
"Possibly; I am not familiar with the exact abilities invested in the office of Overseer." The drell's voice was a low rumble. "I suspect he simply inferred my presence, and had you left me outside, I am quite sure he would have killed you."
Caules frowned.
"Killed me? I know I'm not an Enforcer, but I think I would be able to at least escape from an Executor."
"Not from this one, Master. He is formidable. Just think back - would you have seen him preparing to strike if I was not there?"
The young magus swallowed.
"Good point." His features turned into a sour smile. "It's not even officially started, yet I already hate this War."
Fuyuki City, 3 days before the Fifth Grail War
Emiya Shirou's daily routine was, until a few weeks ago, fairly peaceful and exceedingly normal, especially for an aspiring magus; well, magecraft user, technically. The changes and signs of the incoming problems were very small and innocuous by themselves, and it took Shirou quite some time before he found the likely connection - and he was not happy at all. It was happening much too early, and he did not have sufficient strength to take proper action and ensure that the casual bystanders (and likely even some, or most of the participants) of the next Holy Grail War are spared from the burning hell that birthed him.
He had no idea how it was possible or why the insane ritual his father described for him during their training started five decades earlier; the only reason he could think of was the meddling of an outside factor. That would complicate things further - and already he was forced to plan how to save people in the likely event that he himself was not chosen as a Master. Sure, his father taught him some of his craft, but with his circuits crippled almost to the point of total uselessness, Emiya Kiritsugu was far from an effective teacher in matters magical. He did, however, ensure that his adopted son appreciate the need and usefulness of mundane methods, and employ his limited, stunted magecraft as effectively as possible, raising those basic abilities (mostly neglected by modern magi) to surprising heights.
Still, Shirou was all too aware that when it came to combat against other magi, he was at a serious disadvantage - especially during a ritual like the Grail War, where he would have to face scions of ancient, venerable lineages, all possessing a family Crest and extensive magical knowledge. Moreover, he was sure that at least two, likely three people he knew personally would be involved directly, and fighting against any of them would be … problematic.
Ok, if he was honest with himself, if the Matou representative was Shinji, then he would use the opportunity to correct the behavior of his friend so the blue-haired playboy would actually behave decently from then on … yeah, that was a very slim chance. He sighed, exasperated with his irredeemable friend.
Still, having Shinji as a Master would likely be better than having to face Sakura - especially since the girl was acting somewhat more confidently in the last few days. Come to think of it, she seemed to put particular emphasis on having fish-based food when she came around to cook, and she always made extra portions which she took with herself to the Matou residence, along with the cold, disdainful aura that clung to her wake ineffectively. She was likely forced to assist in preparing for the war in advance, either feeding the Matou Servant (as they likely already summoned one), or Shinji himself, so the self-styled heir could focus his power on the upcoming summoning.
And then there was Rin, who was certain to have a Servant available already - or if not, then she would get a top-notch one for sure. After all, she was a prodigy, the scion of a Founder family, the Second Owner of Fuyuki, and her father summoned perhaps the strongest possible Servant ever in the previous War. Yeah, going up against Rin would be difficult - especially since Shirou considered the girl a good person, just like Sakura. So there would be a chance that he could convince her to help him in sparing as many people as possible, if he worded his wish well enough.
"You really should pay more attention to your surroundings, onii-chan." The cheerful voice shook him from his thoughts, and he tilted his head to the side as he took in the small albino girl smiling at him from the sidewalk. "Otherwise, you will summon it too late, and that will be your death." She smirked, showing teeth, before she turned to skip away.
"Wait up, little princess!" Shirou could feel a spike of … awareness focusing on himself, from some unseen source; it was uncannily similar to being measured up by a currently content predator who was nevertheless ready and willing to strike. Still, he walked closer to the girl, leaned down, ensuring to keep his hands clearly visible and in a non-threatening position. "Are you lost? Did you get separated from your guardian? You know that it's dangerous to walk alone at night, especially for cute girls like you."
After all, there was no way a well-dressed, obviously foreign child would just go prancing around in a deserted street at night, right? That's just asking for trouble, even if the local yakuza were usually well-behaved and not in the market for such - then again, there were more things that went bump in the night of the Moonlit World.
The small girl blinked at him owlishly, confusion evident on her pale, delicate features. Shirou chuckled, scratching his nape.
"I'm sorry, I guess you are justly wary of a stranger, right?"
"Ah … er … that is, ... " The girl glared at something unseen with all the ferocity of an indolent kitten, before she huffed and looked at Shirou, her eyes wide.
"If you want to call your parents or someone to pick you up and take you home, there is a gas station two corners down the road, you can phone from there." Shirou dug into his wallet, extracting some coins. "Or if you allow it, I can walk you there?"
Shirou was not sure whether the ground shook or thunder rumbled in the distance - yet the girl again huffed, her crimson eyes glaring into the empty night air, before she sighed, her porcelain features still showing confusion.
"Well fine, you may escort me to that place, as long as you don't try anything funny."
Shirou chuckled, and offered his hand to the girl.
"Shall we, princess?"
There was another distant rumble, just at the edge of his hearing, and the albino child pouted, as the two of them walked away to make that phone call.
Fuyuki City, eve of the Fifth Grail War
Rin felt definitely annoyed and angry, and for once in the past days, it was not due to her Servant's snark. No, it was entirely due to the fact that some random magus, likely another Master, was merrily targeting her own school, full of unaware, innocent normal people - and Shinji, whose early and painful demise would not be mourned. Still, she had to focus on the price of said demise, and as a Second Owner (not to mention a comparatively sane person), allowing another magus to slowly brainwash hundreds of people to offer themselves as slaves was not something she would condone. Well, at least not in her city; and not so wastefully.
Prana alight on her fingers, she dispelled the sigil slumbering hidden on the school building's roof, then she stretched with a satisfied sigh.
"Not bad, little girl."
The soft whisper came from behind and above, the voice dripping with cruel desire and a promise of violence. Rin's eyes widened, prana flooded her body as she reinforced herself, kicking off at an angle, dashing for the edge of the roof to get away from the Servant behind her. She poured on more speed, the mental bond between her and Archer flooding with awareness about all details of the roof, wind speed and direction, friction, movement trajectories … all accompanied by a barely-perceivable undercurrent of an alien yet strangely stirring melody. She could feel a sudden spike of incandescent wrath through the bond, the already-sharp focus of her Servant gaining a chilling, inhuman clarity, as she both saw and felt the straight blade arcing for her leg.
Rin changed directions with a burst of effort, barely jumping away from the sword, her leg caressed by the wind caused by its passing. She stumbled when landing, forced to use a hand to steady herself - and giving time for her pursuer to catch up. She scrambled backwards, tottering, her face a mask of terror.
"My Master was right, you will make a wonderful toy."
The Servant gazed at her with a mocking sneer, his eyes hidden behind the cybernetic half-mask, shadows swirling around his form, bleeding off the straight blade he held at his side. His empty hand lifted, palm facing Rin's thigh, a blue glow igniting within as he stepped closer - and then he paused for a heartbeat as his victim smirked triumphantly. The gem she placed exploded towards him with the force of a hurricane, obscuring her attacker, the wind shielding her from blow and blade alike. She jumped immediately towards the edge of the roof as a beam of liquid metal hit the Servant, the explosion propelling her further, sending her over and into freefall.
"Archer, handle the landing."
"You just love to test my reach, don't you Master." The flanging voice was full of mirth, and she felt the arms of her materializing Servant slide under her falling form, the turian immediately kicking off after he landed, shots sparking off from the blue barrier around them, as the other Servant gave chase.
"Can you take him, Archer?"
"Sure I can. Just need to keep you safe, he likes to go for hostages and underhanded tricks."
Rin grinned wolfishly.
"Servant or not, if he thinks me a helpless damsel, he's in for a rude awakening." Her eyes narrowed as she analyzed the schoolyard for a second using Archer's senses, then she nodded. "I'll be fine over there, you just take out the trash."
There was something distinctly predatory in the turian's smirk as his mandibles flared before he set her down and turned towards the other servant. The human-looking creature with Asian features slowed, started to circle, his palm-gun pointed at Garrus, his sword held low to the side, the shadows bubbling and frothing around him, blood-red eyes igniting within the dark. Rin swallowed, as six slender, sword-wielding figures clad in black-white armor with the same double-hexagon insignia as the pursuing Servant materialized from the shadow.
"Just give up, Vakarian - even from a vantage point, you'd have no chance. Here, you're a sitting duck." The sheer arrogance of the man's tone set Rin's teeth grating, yet she could only feel confidence and mirth through the bond.
"Seven on one, Leng? Even as a mortal, we took you on with worse odds … and won." The turian's stance shifted slightly, the phantoms spreading out in answer. "And you seem to ignore that you are not the only one who ascended to the Throne."
Her Servant's next words would have been unheard if not for the thrum of power that echoed through their bond, as Servant Archer, no, Archangel drank deep from her circuits.
"I am the scope of my gun."
And then the schoolyard vanished in a storm of gunfire and explosions.
Emiya Shirou was, as Shinji Matou put it so often and bluntly, a sucker and a doormat. His classmates often took advantage of his willingness to help out with various chores - or even, as it was the case today, to do their chores in their places. Shirou generally did not mind, he genuinely did like helping people - still, it was somewhat inconvenient to be stuck at school long after nightfall when he should have been preparing for the Grail War, to convince Tohsaka who was huddling next to the archery building, and staring at the flashing lights and fountaining gravel at the schoolyard.
Wait, what?
Reinforcing his eyes and questing with his senses, he could feel the boundary field around the school, a hasty, imperfect work barely able to mute and dissipate sounds and light so as to keep anyone outside blissfully unaware of the battle fought within. He smiled, as his faith in Rin seemed justified - she did take her duty as Second Owner seriously and protected bystanders; even if involuntarily.
His eyes narrowed as a patch of shadows flowed across the ground towards the school idol, then Shirou's eyes went wide as he kicked off with a burst of reinforcement, racing to shield the unaware magus from the silently rising killer wielding a sword.
Rin should have retreated further, should have heeded Archer's advice, but she had to see, had to experience - she would not be able to call herself a proper Magus or Master if she left her Servant far behind while she engaged in tactical withdrawal. Her focus was entirely on the swirling dance of death the remaining five, well, make that four, figures conducted in the courtyard, and despite the steady drain on her prana, she felt proud and confident in her Servant. Thus, she considered it a rude interruption that someone spattered hot fluid on her face and neck. She turned her head, a pair of jewels lighting up in her hand as she opened her mouth to burn the interloper to ashes - and her jaw fell as she saw the Fake Janitor, a phantom's blade biting into his forearm despite his attempt to block with a reinforced bokken.
A moment's hesitation on her part, and her mind could barely process the dozen lightning-quick exchanges between the boy and the shadowborn abomination. The bokken broke under the strain, blood stained the ground and Emiya's clothes.
"Trace, on."
Two words, a surge of prana, and the boy was holding an identical sword in his hand, the speed of their dance picking up even more. Rin narrowed her eyes, calculating for a heartbeat - and when her ad hoc partner forced his opponent into a bladelock, which he broke with a swift kick, Rin raised her hand, and the storm of curses ripped the shadowborn phantom to shreds.
A brief moment of exhausted panting followed, then Rin spoke.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me."
Four more inky patches of shadow crept towards them. The two young magi looked at one another, before voicing the same thought.
"Run, I'll hold them off!"
A brief mutual glaring, then Emiya spoke with urgency, his blade raised into a guard position.
"How about we split and run? Looks like your Servant is doing fine, so no need to worry about him … or her … it?"
Despite the situation, Rin snickered.
"He better be fine." She glared at the boy, then nodded. "Ok, we'll do it your way. Do not die, Emiya - I have questions for you."
The boy gulped, nodded, then they both took off at a run.
Shirou felt his circuits burning, as he sped for his home and workshop - he would not have expected to expend this much prana in one evening, and he was beginning to worry about how to deal with the phantoms hunting him. Sure, the traced blade worked against them, but it took a toll on his circuits, and he had a nasty suspicion about the numbers of his pursuers. He could but hope that he pissed them off sufficiently to focus their efforts on him instead of Tohsaka, or the normal, helpless people.
He did not bother opening the gate, simply opted for jumping over the fence on a direct route to the shed which housed his workshop - and at the height of the jump, he felt as if a horse kicked him in the stomach. His next sensation was a brief weightless moment of flight, before the pain and crashing registered. Something tore a hole through his midsection, and sent him crashing through the door, his blood splattering on the floor.
Heaving for breath, he forced himself upright, leaning against the far wall, as static buzzed in his mind. He could dimly perceive the armored man appearing in the door, his voice a distant drone in Shirou's ears. He tilted his head to the side, puzzled, as pain exploded in his thighs, and his legs gave out. Strange. He did not remember putting a blue light into the shed - and he definitely did not recall ever drawing such an intricate arcane circle on the floor.
The masked man loomed closer, his voice grating in Shirou's ears.
"You are annoying, kid. And just for that, I will make sure to drag you back to my Master, so you can watch your pretty little girlfriend suffer the consequences."
The mocking, cruel voice simultaneously revolted and infuriated Shirou. There had to be something he could do. He needed to stop this man, this monster. He needed to…
The summoning circle lit up, drinking in the prana and blood, as the blade in the Servant's hand swung for Shirou's neck - only to be swept aside by a black-armored forearm. A rapid exchange of blows, then a crash from outside, and the masked Servant's furious, insane shriek.
"You! Fucking bitch, why do you have to … "
The rant was cut short by an enraged, pained howl, an explosion, then silence.
Shirou managed to open his eyes, and focus through the static buzzing in his mind, and the deep, steady burning from his circuits.
Crinkling emerald eyes looked back at him from under a mop of fiery hair. A black armor sporting a single red stripe along the arm and an N7 insignia on the chest hugged the woman's form. A husky contralto, the timbre of command unmistakable, spoke.
"I ask of you: are you my Master?"