With a piercing strike, the holy lance cut through the air with a flash, it's wielder, clad in silver and blue armor, charging it at the devil-like figure that was running away. Catching up to him from atop a horse, the lancer was merely inches away from skewering the knave's head when a bright light surrounded said target for less than an instant and vanished just as quickly. Coming to a stop, the lance wielder looked around and surveyed the area, allies slowly converging to stand by her. Some wore similar armor to herself, 2 wore darker colored armor. Some had dirt and marks across their armor, blood leaking out of small wounds from their horses, as though they had just come back from battle.

Hands clenching the lance, a powerful yet feminine voice came from the leader in the mane-like helmet, "My sister, did you capture her?"

The black armored guard looked down, "The witch managed to escape. We'd almost had her, but her magic bought her enough time.

The shorter knight next to the man in red/silver armor with horns growled, "And I was this close to taking off her head. She won't get way next time!"

"If there is a next time, because now, what tethers us to reality is already lost." A red-haired warrior beside them noted, staring at the burning tree that lay beside them. Light shimmered from the stump of the tree, its top half having been bisected and scattered into pieces.

They had hoped to capture the them, force them to confess a way to fix the tree, yet alas, even if they had succeeded, nothing could possibly be able to save the tree now. The sky lit up in many colors akin to chaos, and the energy from the very air seemed to drain. Walking forward, the lion warrior clenched her spear, "No…I will not allow it. We will not fade…Camelot will not fade." Her lance glowed bright as her resolved expanded, "I will not…I will not…let us end."

The purple armored knight's eyes widened with worry, "My king!"

Grabbing it with 2 hands, she raised her weapon and roared, "IF WE ARE TO DIE HERE, THEN WE SHALL FORGE OUR OWN WORLD! A NEW CAMELOT, WHERE ONLY THE GOOD AND JUST SHALL LIVE!" With that, she stabbed her weapon into the heart of the stump, and a light shot out to the heavens above.

"Holy Lance, weigh anchor! Let light be released from the Ends of the World. It shall split the heavens and connect the land. Anchor of the Storm!"Rhongomyniad!"

The light that shot above revealed what appeared to be a floating tower suspended in the air above, yet it seemed like an illusion, blurry and impossible to reach. "We shall reach it, we shall bring Heaven down to Earth, and Earth up to Heaven. We will create a new land, where only the truly noble and virtuous shall prosper and no peace." Turning around, she declared, "My knights, from here on there shall be no more compromise, no hesitation. Whatever grievance lay between anyone, cast it aside at once. We must be of one mind if we are to save our kingdom, our country, our entire world. Nothing matters more than this. For we will not be able to live, if we do not accomplish this task. If you have any reservations, let them be known now, if not, stand beside me." Without hesitation, a silver armored knight walked forward, the rest of the knights following in tow. The black armored knight eyed the purple haired knight with disdain, but he was no less resolute in their loyalty to the king.

Far across from all of them, a figure in a dark cloak overlooked the king and her knights from atop a hill, her face covered in a black shroud. A small cry came from her as she looked at them all and with a choked cry she whispered, "No sister…please…not this…"

This wasn't how things were meant to happen, but fate is a fickle and unpredictable thing. Many outcomes shall vary, the noble to cruel, the corrupted become pure, death and despair cycle hand in hand. This time, however, was not even meant to exist, and now existed at war with fate itself to be allowed to continue living. For the sake of salvation, a great many actions are made. However, to abandon the script of fate changes the future's end, and variables that wouldn't matter otherwise become used. The known could die, and the unknown may very well rise to a new occasion. This is the story, among this grand fight for order, success, and salvation, of a nameless man of remarkable birth and potential, left a footnote amongst the great legends of his time, good and bad, and his fight against these legends. The tale of a boy, of a prince, of a killer, of a hero, of a nobody, of a nightmare…

And whether his tale shall have ever existed will be decided by sword and blood…

Chapter 1: Normal Days

(2 weeks later)

It was early morning when the youth set off on his horse, riding through the grassy plains amidst the fog and morning glare. He wore plated armor around his chest, shoulders, and legs that gave off a silvery-grayish tint. No helmet was worn however, allowing his chocolatey dark hair to be seen, his eyes a sky blue that radiated energy. His face was handsome, with straight features, and he was well built for a teenager of his supposed his. At the top of the plain, an older man who resembled the young rider noticed his presence and grinned, his bard, attendant, and close friend also there.

"Ah, it seems my son has finally arrived. And here I was worried we'd come all this way for nothing. Upon finally arriving, the youth leaped off his horse with a flip and landed besides the older men, his sword in hand. Sighing, his father stated, "If you're done keeping us waiting and showing off Malphas, it's time to see how far you have come with your sword." He then unsheathed his double-edged sword of impressive size. "I will be your opponent for today, show me what you can do my boy."

His son raised his own impressive-yet-smaller sword, "Very well father." With that, the spar began, although to unaware onlookers, it resembled a fight to the death.

CLANG! The ringing sound pierced the mist as the older man's downward strike was parried by his son, who deflected the blow and attempted to move to his father's blind spot, but the older man adapted his guard and pushed the teen back. With his greater reach, the older man had the advantage, and despite his son's footwork and agility, he was still well within his physical prime, and countered any attempt the youth had to take the advantage. Overhead slash-stab at the leg-diagonal strike, all pressing the boy back.

His son clenched his sword tightly and grit his teeth as he held back against the man's furious onslaught. Malphas stilled the trembling of his arms and dug his back foot into the dirt, twisting in order to maneuver his father's sword beside and spun behind him. Going into a crouch, he lashed out with his sword in a stabbing maneuver, but his father turned around and deflected his blade with his own, then launched a powerful kick that sent his son back several feet onto his back. By the time the boy had gotten up, the tip of his father's weapon was an inch away from his neck.

"Still a way to go." His father stated while his son lowered his head in shame. "First, what have I said about leaping off your steed like that. Wasting yourself on pointless maneuvers as such will merely waste your energy and diminish your awareness of the battlefield. Even if you were to do so to attack your enemy, your enemy will be more than a singular foe in many cases, and a well-trained opponent can easily counter and disorient you once you do so. Only the absolute greatest would ever manage to such techniques to pure effectiveness, and even then, they'd likely see no point. Until you've surpassed them, don't attempt such an opening again.

The boy nodded, "Understood father."

The man's gaze softened, "Still your technique has improved quite well, and your strength has risen a great deal since last week. You always did grow quickly." He closed his eyes, "Even so, you cannot make such wasteful displays of skill. I'm glad that you've calmed and controlled your nerves better in the face of a fight, but a foolish knight is a greater liability than a timid one. When we engage in combat on the battlefield again, I urge you not to engage like that, less I not be able to save you like last time against those barbarians." Malphas looked down while his father placed a hand on his shoulder, "Rest assured, that day is not today, and I have faith you will be able to not need my assistance then." His boy grinned, and he smiled in return, "Alright, if you're ready for more, Olved, your time to train my boy again.

An older man with grayish hair approached and brandished his lance. The teen grinned, "Let's see if I can cut off that shaft this time Master."

The older man grinned, "You can try, my young student."

As the father walked back to observe them from a distance, his attendant walked to speak to him, "Sire, I believe, that we should proceed to discuss the circumstances of our allies at the square meeting with the other nobles."

"Not now Luthen, it can wait a little longer." The father stated as he watched his son fight the older spearman, his approach a mix of youthful recklessness tempered with will and focus of a prodigy. 'He really grows so quickly…' a mournful look came upon the man, 'Yet why does that mean he be robbed of a better childhood?'

An hour or so passed when a messenger approached them all with a scroll, "Lord Guiomar, delegates from Camelot have arrived. They say that King Arthur has made new demands for us to hear."

Malphas's father looked at the messenger with apprehension, "Alright, I suppose we'll end things here, Malphas you will continue training in the courtyard for now, we must return."

As they all saddled on to their horses and rode off, Guiomar continued, "I hope our guests have been treated well?"

"Indeed, they have sire." The messenger replied.

"Good, we will have our discussions soon after arriving back to the castle." Guiomar declared.

"Shouldn't the witch's boy be there?" The bard remarked to Malphas, who rolled his eyes in turn. "I'd say it be important that he get used to understanding things about his own blood."

"Vanir, silence." Guiomar commanded with stern authority.

"Yes sire." The bard shut his mouth while Guiomar's associates looked away, not willing to share their own concerns. Malphas in turn had simply chosen to ignore the bait and simply pet his horse's side with care, the steed whinnying with approval.

Upon finally arriving at the castle gates, Guiomar looked at his son, "Remember Malphas, you are to continue training before you attempt to fatten yourself up on bread. I will know whether you have truly practiced, so there is no point trying to lie to me."

"Yes father," Malphas lazily responded as his horse nuzzled the side of his cheek. The 2 left for the courtyard, the bard following them in suit, some playful mischief in his mind.

Guiomar sighed, "Well, it seems it's time to see what my old King demands."

As they headed to get together with everyone else at the King's Square, Olved spoke, "He will have to know soon sire. There is no use in trying to keep it hidden. Having already seen the battlefield and fought for his life, I wouldn't be surprised if Lord Arthur wanted to know about him personally."

"My eldest son should be allowed to grow up as normally as possible." Guiomar stated.

"But he is not a normal child. His mind does reveal his true age, yet he must mature along with his body." Olved looked sad, "These are hard times, things have grown even more out of control in the rest of Britain. The boy has already had to fight by necessity due to us lacking men during the attack by the Barbarians. Even if we have enough men now, he must have full awareness of who he is, or else he may not be able to defend himself.

Guiomar grit his teeth, "Exactly what she said…"

Olved sighed, "I question why a witch would cast such magic on a newborn child, but at least it's settling down and stabilizing to a degree now. With hope, we may have more time.

'More time, yes, more time. I wish for all the time I could have for the growth of my children.' It was odd, just a while ago, he was admonishing his son on his immature flashy behavior, and now here he was, hoping to preserve whatever innocence his eldest son had remaining, for one who had already killed. An unaware onlooker would see such behavior regarding a teenager approaching manhood, they would attribute this to indecisive protective parenting, yet with Malphas, looks were very deceiving. 'He has no wish for a throne. That is good at least, because he'll always remain loyal to his younger brother, yet still dreams things so far from reality.'

That had been his own fault, having told Malphas tales of knighthood for years, allowing his eldest child to dabble in his curiosity of swordplay and fighting. He had hoped that perhaps some of those dreams would come true, yet as things were going now, that seemed to be hard to believe. It had been weeks, since after the Barbarians, but Guiomar couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread wrestling with his logic. Something was going to happen, and all he could wish was that this simple morning didn't become a distant memory too soon…

Hello, name's Venomous Blade. If anyone does know me, you know I was previously writing a Yugioh Arc V fanfic called The Starving Predator, but stopped like 2 years ago (family issues, dead grandpa, highschool and college, moving, etc.). Pretty far change to do a Fate series fic, especially one like this, but ever since I found this Franchise 2 years ago, I've been hooked. This is going to be a pretty ambitious story for my first time, as I'm basically telling my own version of the Camelot Lostbelt before it's even out.

Full disclosure, yes, I am using some of the elements from the Camelot singularity, but more so the bare minimum, and I want to tell my own story with it as well. I don't imagine it reaching the same quality of Urobuchi or Nasu's best works, but I'm hoping to write a good story. I already have the main story all planned out, I know the story I'm telling. Since the 6th Lostbelt will probably be done before I'm done, I may use elements from it, but I will not be completely changing my story to fit it, I will just be using the knowledge I know about the Camelot Lostbelt for the time being as the basis for telling this version of it, along with the story of Malphas, or at least this story of him. The name is from one of the demons of Arms Goetia, and as the name and this starting chapter has suggested, he's not a normal dude. If you don't know who Guiomar is, look it up, and Malphas's lineage will be pretty obvious, if it isn't obvious already.

Don't be afraid to review and give feedback, I'm plenty open to criticism, and I hope I can give a story that will impress you all, or at least whoever finds it worth reading.

So stay tuned for the next chapter of my hypothetical Lostbelt 6.