Disclaimer: I don't own the Fate franchise (obviously). If I did, I'd make a non-canon spin-off dating sim game where Chaldea is a high school, you can date the Servants (students) and you form a battle team (harem) to fight off the Beasts (rival schools based off of them).
Yes, I did actually put three brain cells of thought into the joke disclaimer this time. Don't judge.
Atrum Galliasta was not a happy magus right now.
His brilliant plan to summon his Servant an entire month before the Holy Grail War's start, use that time to empower his Servant and gain an advantage over all the other Masters had gone up in smoke. Not because the summoning was a failure; it had been successful.
By the gods, how he wished that it hadn't.
Striding down his way towards his private bar, he threw a glare over his shoulder at the... well, he hesitated to call them a Servant in any sort of capacity. He'd merely refer to them as creatures from here on out. Yes, the creatures he had summoned were following him like a horde of lost puppies, never mind the fact that some of them were in fact puppies.
It would forever baffle him that apparently using the rusted, remaining half of what was once the infamous Witch of Betrayal's staff had instead summoned a massive horde of young animals and birds, the tallest of which just barely reached past his stomach. They had immediately began crowding around him upon their manifestation, perching on his head and shoulders and doing damn near everything to grab his attention.
They shed hair and feathers everywhere, left the smell of a zoo in whatever room they followed him into, ate whatever food wasn't kept behind lock and key, could seemingly ignore his Bounded Fields and never gave him a moment of damn privacy. Every morning for the past three days, he had woken up to him being uncomfortably buried underneath their bodies piled on top of him and to his sides. And when they realized he was awake? They immediately tried to push their way on to of him in an effort to gain his attention, seemingly attempting to play King of the Hill on top of him!
And despite all of that, he would have been able to grit his teeth and bare through the inconveniences and indignation if they were at least powerful.
They weren't.
Scrutinizing the horde that he had grown to despise these last few days, Atrum shifted his gaze between the various species.
At the back were the slowest of the group; wolf pups and white lion cubs that frequently tumbled into one another with awkward steps, which frequently engaged brief play fights between them. In front of them shambled species that was lowest in number: hairy rhino calves with short, stubby horns that came up to above his hip in height. Before them were the much more numerous horse foals that trotted with seeming glee, often serving as perches like the hairy rhino calves for the dozens of grown birds belonging to many species that flew up the hall. Finally, leading the veritable parade of animals were a group of a dozen brown-haired elephant calves, their trunks waving in playful intent as they trailed after him.
Atrum ended up locking his gaze onto the seeming leader of the haired elephants. Visually, it had nothing to set it apart from the other elephant calves. In fact, the only way that Atrum was even able to tell that it was the leader was because it would wave it's trunk into the air and give an energetic toot whenever he gave attention to it.
Eyes narrowing, Atrum cast the spell that allowed him to view his Servants' True Name and parameters.
Lyuba
Strength: E
Endurance: E
Agility: D
Mana: E
Luck: E
Noble Phantasm: D
This Servant was a disappointment in every possible way. Too weak to fight, too weak to survive an attack, too slow to scout, not containing enough mana to make into a worthwhile battery, possessing lackluster luck and possessing an inferior Noble Phantasm that most Servants would be able to simply shrug off or ignore.
Atrum hated it.
He hated his Servant.
Hence why he was making his way to the bar.
Opening the door to it open, he quickly slammed it closed before any of the creatures could follow him inside. Casting a hasty Bounded Field over the room so that he wouldn't have to hear any of the constant grunts, yips, barks and other sounds that they would undoubtedly make as they attempted to enter the room, Atrum strode over to the counter. Walking behind the booth, he quickly scanned through the bottles before finding the one he wanted; an incredible strong and popular wine within the Mage's Association that was known as Bacchus Brew.
Grabbing it with a growl that reeked of several days worth of frustration, Atrum quickly uncapped it and began to chugging it straight from the bottle with no restraint. A solid fifteen seconds past before he stopped to breathe, having emptied half of it in his moment of frustration. His angered breaths devolved in relaxed sighs as the alcohol immediately began to kick in and intoxicate him. If this were normal alcohol, it would have taken far more than half a bottle over a far longer period of time to do so.
But Bacchus Brew was not normal alcohol.
It was brewed exclusively by a magus family with roots dating all the way back to the Age of Gods (with said bloodline having been blessed by the drink's namesake), made using the degraded descendant plants of Dionysus' own grapes, infused with mana that would continue to accumulate with age and left to ferment in the family's cellars for at least two to four centuries before being made available for purchase, often at prices high enough to buy out entire towns. It was safe to call Bacchus Brew the undisputed King of Drinks in the modern era.
And it could leave the heaviest drinker flat-out drunk with a mere tablespoon.
A casual drinker like Atrum? He passed out almost immediately.
It was warm. The Bright Air was high in the sky and the Green Stuff under our feet was wet. We were chasing after the Friends. They would run over to us and run away, telling us to play with them. It was fun.
A rumble called out. We were straying too far from Mother and the Mothers. We ran back.
One Mother got her Friend before they went to a different part of the herd, away from me and the Friends. He couldn't play right now.
Another rumble called to me. Mother wanted me with her. I left the Friends to go to her. The other Mothers were now getting their Friends.
My stomach growled. I was hungry.
Mother stood still so I could drink. I liked Good Stuff. Good Stuff was good.
Old Mother trumpeted and began to walk away. We were leaving. Everybody followed her. Everyone listened to Old Mother.
Herd followed Old Mother. Mother followed Herd. I followed Mother.
Sometimes a Friend would run from their Mother to see me. Sometimes I played with them. We never went far from Mother though. Mother got worried a lot.
One time I stepped in Brown Stuff. I stopped walking to look at it. Mothers and Old Mother would put Green Stuff in their mouths. Brown Stuff came out of their other mouths. I didn't put Green Stuff in my mouth; it didn't feel right.
It felt right to put Brown Stuff in my mouth. I did.
It wasn't right. Brown Stuff is Bad Stuff.
I ran away to Mother. She and the other Mothers thought it was funny. Funny things are supposed to be good. Putting Brown Stuff in my mouth was not good.
I got angry at Mother. Then she gave me Good Stuff. I wasn't angry anymore.
Old Mother stopped in front of a lot of water. She gave a strange look at the ground and stepped on it. She seemed okay with it now. Everyone began to walk through the water. It was Mother's turn.
Mother helped me through the water. I couldn't walk like the Mothers and Old Mother. I had to kick-run through it. It was fun.
We reached the other side. Mother walked away to eat Green Stuff with more Mothers. I followed her.
Then I stopped. I saw something weird on the ground by the water. I walked towards it.
It looked like one of the branches on the Branch Heads. Now that I'm closer, it looks like it's in the ground, not on it. Like a Branch Head took a nap in the ground. I walk closer.
I see the top of a Branch Head's head peaking out of the ground, covered in it. I trumpet to it. Funny Branch Head. You shouldn't sleep in the ground.
The Branch Head doesn't answer. I walk closer.
I fall into the ground.
I try to kick-run through the ground like with the water. It doesn't work. I call for Mother. I'm scared!
I hear Mother yell. She heard me. I hear and feel her run towards me. I keep calling for her to find me. I keep kick-running so I can make it easier to find me.
A shadow falls over me. Mother!
She tries to get close to me. Her front legs fall into the ground.
She yells, getting the attention of more Mothers and Old Mother. She tries to walk through it towards me. The Old Mother runs to her and stops her.
Mother ignores her and tries to walk to me. I kick-run more. We can get to each other.
Old Mother stops Mother by pushing her with her tusks. Mother squeals in pain and shock. Why was she trying to stop Mother?!
I trumpet more and kick-run as hard as I can. I'll get to Mother!
I sink entirely into the ground. I can't see! I push my head back up.
Mother sees this and panics. She tries to reach me with her nose. Old Mother tries to stop her but Mother pushes forward.
Mother's nose reaches me. I reach up to try and grab with my nose. Mother tries to grab me. She pushes me back into the ground.
I can't see! I can't breathe! It hurts!
My head gets above the ground again.
Mother is panicking and scared. She reaches to me again but Old Mother manages to stop her this time. She gets her tusks under Mother and pushes her out of the ground. I try to get closer to them.
I can't.
I am stuck in the ground like the Branch-Head.
I squeal and call for Mother. She attempts to run back to me but other Mothers block her path. Old Mother turns back to look at me.
Help! I'm stuck!
Old Mother begins to slowly make her way towards me. I keep kick-running.
My head is more often than not below the ground now. I finally free a leg from the ground. I get it on top of the ground that seems solid. I try to pull myself out.
It sinks into the ground again, pulling the rest of me with it. I'm in the ground!
I can barely hear Mother yelling for me. She is scared. I am scared.
I struggle to get above the ground. I can't.
I try to go to where Old Mother is. I can't.
Everything is slowing down.
I try to call for Mother. I can't.
I try to kick-run. I can't.
I try to breathe. I can't.
It hurts...
It hurts...
I'm starting to get tired...
I hear Mother yell again... She's still trying to get to me...
I can't respond...
I think I'll sleep here...
I close my eyes.
I'll wake up when Mother saves me...
Atrum's entire front body shot up from the floor with a start, a gasp escaping his mouth and a cold sweat drenching his entire body. What the hell was that?!
He had briefly heard that Masters may have dreams about the past lives of their contracted Servants but he didn't think it would feel so real though! Atrum had truly felt as though he was truly his Servant, in both mind and body, and that he had actually been suffocating to death in that mud!
A minute passed as Atrum took a moment to collect his thoughts and return his breathing back to normal. His face steeled back to normal as a deep exhale escaped him. Back to normal.
Atrum spared a glance at the door to the outside of his bar. The Bounded Field had remained active, meaning that outside sound still couldn't be heard. No doubt the creatures were waiting for him outside.
Atrum no longer held hatred towards them. He couldn't.
After all, why would you hate a weak tool that couldn't help that it was weak?
Instead of spending your time putting up with it and hating it, the most efficient thing to do...
... was replace it.
His Servant was weak in every way that mattered. The dream had shown and made him experience a memorable part of the Servant's life; given how they were so young, the only truly memorable part would be their death. He had experienced a death.
One death. Out of the hundreds of creatures that made them up.
He wouldn't stand for it. He wouldn't, couldn't experience the feeling of dying yet again.
Yes, he would form a contract with a new Servant and then chase his current one out. If done in the middle of the night or earliest hours of the morning, nobody would see the horde as they wandered the streets. The efficient thing to do would be to just kill them with the new Servant but Atrum decided against it; he owed the creatures at least that much for having shown him the horrors of dying and giving him a new goal to strive towards.
Indeed, allowing his Servant to live free however they saw fit for the last few hours of their second life/lives was a perfectly adequate thanks.
With his thanks planned out, his mind quickly drifted towards his new goal. When he had first entered the war as a Master, he had simply been planning to use the Grail for it's intended purpose: to punch a hole to the Root to obtain Magic for himself.
That goal had now changed.
The experiencing the feeling of dying had changed Atrum. He now had a new purpose in life.
He would do whatever it took to conquer death.
No matter what it took...
He would become immortal.
Author's Note: Pulled a lot of shit outta my ass there with that last bit with Atrum wanting to become immortal but I think I did a pretty good job overall. And if not then I have you guys to call me out on my shit and keep my ego from getting too big.