"Ah, I really don't get mages" A young man mused to himself in his hotel room, hunched over, his eyes scanning a thick stack of documents in his hands. The table next to him displayed an array of equipment that looked straight out of a military armory. Rifles, grenades, and explosives were neatly sorted and organized, like a mosaic of plastic and steel.
The individual, John, had a bullet and stab proof vest draped over the chair, easily within range for him to don quickly. On his right hip a black polymer based pistol was currently holstered. His oriental features were scrunched up, as he remained deep in thought.
"A holy grail war of all things. If I'm reading this correctly, the mages in Fuyuki created a system to drag copies of Heroic Spirits into specific classes as "servants", then using these "servants" duke it out. The servants that perish are used to fill a "grail" that, after being filled with mana, can be used to punch a hole to the Root" John sighed, tilting his head back to rest for a moment, trying to compartmentalize the information in his brain "A side effect of the ritual is the massive amount of mana in the grail, huh. Apparently it's this reservoir of energy that some believe contains the wish granting effect" Of course, just because you have a large chunk of mana doesn't grant you omnipotence, John contemplated quietly. Similarly, if this reservoir were to fall into the wrong hands…
An image of crimson flashed through his mind, before he abruptly cut off the memory. "Now isn't the time to be distracted" John paused, trying to clear his mind.
After another moment of reflection, he continued reading through the rest of the reports. "'Although the Church and Mages Association have, in a rare occurrence, decided to join hands, they were still unable to contain the effects of the battle and ensuing damage.' What do they expect when summoning the most exceptional heroes of history?" John shook his head in disbelief. "Hundreds dead in a mysterious dark fire, and 'gas explosions' in the middle of the forest. Well, I guess that's why I'm here".
John stood up, rubbing his tired eyes before glancing at his watch. "Ah shoot, I can read the rest later. I gotta get started"
Walking to the center of his hotel room he stood over a circular inscription that he had made after moving the furniture. Countless runes and patterns dotted the ground which he had painstakingly copied from the reports. At its head lay a war helmet adorned with countless ornaments. Round in shape, two face guards and a back flap would have protected the skull, neck, and sides of the face. A relic from long ago, it was in surprisingly good condition, and looked as though it could still deflect quite a few blows from blades. At the tip of the helmet was a red plume that although faded with time, still resembled a burning flame.
Taking a deep breath, the young man began to recite the incantation he had so meticulously memorized. "Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the grails call, and obey my will and reason, then answer my summoning. I hereby swear that I shall be all the good in the world, that I shall defeat all evil in the world. Seventh heaven clad in the great words of power, come forth from the circle of binding, guardian of the scales!"
A small tremor grew as the circle's inscription began to glow. Mana poured forth as the circle served as a conduit for the grail to drag the existence of a servant through it. As John finished the chant, a blinding flash that nearly knocked him off his feet flooded the room. In its place stood a single individual clad in armor.
John took a moment to assess who had just appeared before him. In his right hand the newcomer held a spear. Standing significantly taller than his master, the servant looked at John and asked a simple question. "Are you my lord?"
John stared back at his new servant, still overcome by the ritual's success, before recovering his senses. The smallest smile cracked his face, and he nodded. "Thats right —."
His servant nodded, before kneeling. "I understand. I am the servant, Lancer. As your loyal vassal, I ask that you use me as you see fit. But a word of warning, my lord. If you prove yourself tyrannical and unworthy of my services, my spear will instead be directed at your heart."
Although his words contained no malice, John felt an instant chill. Despite knowing his objectives in the war would never stray into this hero's definition of evil, he felt the impact this statement had. Even if he had all his equipment, he would not last five seconds before the spear pierced his chest.
But I guess that's exactly why I summoned him. John silently pondered, relieved that the hero was as valiant as he had heard and read in stories growing up. Looking closer, John estimated the servant's height to be around one hundred eighty something centimeters, about ten centimeters taller than himself. His face was sturdy, like that of a warrior hardened through countless conflicts. His armor was a combination of laminar and plate, giving him a combination of protection and mobility. The spear he held was a straight pole of lacquered wood reinforced by metal strips, while the head was kite shaped for stabbing and slashing. Between the shaft and spearhead was a red plume, similar to the one on the helmet of the servant, and flowed like fire when moved.
His servant stood to his full height again, "Then, your orders, my Lord".