By all rights, Leo Valdez was dead. His body was a mess of half-melted bone, evaporating blood, and burnt muscle, whose heart stoppped beating seconds ago. The remaining skin was covered in several patches of second to third degree burns or charred completely, like it was sent into a furnace. The Physician's Cure - a divine gift from the god of medicine Asclepius - was destroyed during his sacrifice, boiled to a mist. Hours of bargaining, blood, and tears were erased in just a few seconds - along with the only chance for Leo to cheat death.
The body of Festus, his beloved metal dragon, had collapsed. Leaving its wooden exoskeleton of the Argo II, the mechanical beast had taken part in the conflict to protect his master. Wires were scattered, circuitry poking out of crumpled armor, and ruby eyes cracked beyond recognition. Festus now had a closer similarity to a crumpled circuit than a glorious beast of war, quickly falling into the sea below.
A bittersweet death, especially for one never allowed to live a happy life in the first place. Leo didn't get a 'glorious' death, protecting those he loved from a greater threat - for his friend ends still believed he was alive. Nor would he die in peace, surrounded by loved ones - for he had finished his mission alone, never to be seen again.
It was not an empty death, for Leo died fulfilling one of his heart's desires and his life's mission - to kill the one responsible for his mother's death. Gaia, primordial of the Earth and Mother of All, had tricked the demigod to kill his mother in an attempt to dissolve his spirit. She believed she could save her own life and revenge by breaking his mind with guilt and fear, leaving an empty husk of a body.
The Earth Mother had sealed her destiny that fateful night, as Leo's mother was roasted by his flames and the warehouse she worked in collapsed. It took years running away from every scar the trauma had left behind, but he managed to move on from the trauma. He swore revenge, and promised to destroy the Primordial even if he had to move heaven and hell.
And he had managed it. Gaia was no longer a primordial - she had been separated from her domain, hurled into the sky as Leo incinerated her alive. Taken by surprise, the demigod was given a few precious seconds to separate the earth goddess as far from the earth as possible. In one of the many possibilities, his friends joined him in the battle, earning the boy time to use the finishing blow. However, no one joined him as he and Festus soared into the sky. Withstanding a supernova of fire, heat, and metal from the ammunition of an onager, Gaia had managed to wreck the dragon - a second too late as the explosion swallowed and disintegrated her consciousness.
No one killed an incarnation of the World. Such an act was impossible - no primordial being was fully slain. Even Tiamat, mother of everything, was still roaming inside the Imaginary Numbers Space, waiting to rise once more. It was the 'death' of a primordial being that stoked the flames of myth, a bright flare in the middle of a million candles.
The boy, now a goddess slayer, now a legend, hadn't cared that the fate of Western Civilization was at stake. He hadn't cared that all of humanity would be wiped from the surface of the planet or enslaved by Gaia's children. He didn't care that Olympus would reward those that completed the quest. All that mattered was avenging the one he loved.
However, Leo would not receive recognition or accolades for accomplishing what many could not in the land of the living. No, Leo would normally be sent to the Fields of Punishment. There, his soul would be forced to bathe in water from the River Styx until his soul was erased from reality, and never reincarnate. It was cruel to the point of inhumanity, but such a punishment was required for his crime.
He broke an oath sworn upon the Styx. He swore to save Calypso from her eternal prison, the forever hidden island of Ogygia.
However, Leo's existence was the most unnatural in the eyes of the supernatural, but beyond impossible in a world that was a mix of fantasy and the mundane. Leo was the first child of Hephaestus to wield fire ever since the 1600s. He had gained access to technology forgotten by time, the equivalent of noble phantasms. He had slain Gaia, The World itself, to an extent even the Titans were unable to do so with Ouranos.
That qualified him as a 'Hero.'
And that has made all the difference, for it was unique in the eyes of the Throne of Heroes.
A dimension existing outside of time and space, the Throne recorded any figure that carved itself into the human consciousness. Whether they be from history, folklore, or divinity, the Throne collected them all. It observed every miracle, whether it aided humanity or caused great bloodshed. There, they would be stored unless the world itself called for a savior. The Throne, if one perceived it that way, could be observed as an entity, a collector of humanity's legends and achievements so it could preserve the species.
Thus, it ignored the heroes of this world full of gods and monsters, considering them to be counterfeits of previous legends. They were false imitations, trying to replicate great acts that occurred long ago. Many Greek, Norse, and Egyptian heroes had gained their place in the Throne. It would not waste its efforts collecting heroes that, in its eyes, had never done something unique.
And Leo's existence and legend was enough to surpass the Throne's insurmountable standards.
As the demigod slowly died, his very being was crystallized and stored by the Throne so that it would save the world once again. Whispers and tales grew into stories, and stories to myth. Four great symbols would forever stand out, defining his status as a Hero.
When summoned, these weapons would be formally known as Noble Phantasms, his legend crystallized into physical form. Devastating armies and fortresses once activated, their very names were the key for others to find his identity. However, such a feat would be immense, for nobody in Leo's world had the capabilities to summon a Heroic Spirit unless all members of the Olympian Council were involved.
Out of all the Heroes of Olympus, Leo Valdez had achieved the impossible and gained a place in the Throne of Heroes. He was no longer a soul bound to the Underworld, forced to meet the punishment from a broken promise he meant to keep. The demigod was now a Heroic Spirit, an immeasurable existence that could only be summoned in a weakened state, or called upon by the world to save it. Leo would never be found by his friends, whether it be in the world of the living or the land of the dead, because the Throne was a dimension of its own.
However, Leo had a desire - no, an obligation.
It was his promise to save Calypso. Whether it was born from love or sympathy, he didn't know. However, it was a promise he was willing to fulfill no matter what it took to circumvent the island's defenses, even risking an attempt to cheat death if it meant success. It was this failure that nearly damned the son of Hephaestus to a bloody fate.
For that reason, Leo needed a miracle, one that he believed could only be granted by the Grail.
Not the Holy Grail that the Round Table sought, the cup used by Jesus Christ at the last supper. This Holy Grail was an artifact created by three great families from a parallel world - The Tohsaka, the Einzbern, and the Matou. It created a ritual that would have the capability to grant any wish, or pierce a way to The Root.
This ritual was named the Holy Grail War, for the blood bath it caused when the ritual was attempted for a second time. It was a conflict between seven Magi, users of Magecraft with the desire to fulfill a wish. Using prana gathered over a period of sixty years, the Grail would bestow these Magi with the title of Master, along with the capability of summoning a Servant.
And if Heroic Spirits could be considered entire plays, then Servants were acts. They were copied portions of the spirit, their summoning a flawed version of the Third Magic, Heaven's Feel. Servants were containers for Heroic Spirits, limiting their capabilities but allowing them to interact with the world through a physical body fueled by the mana of their Master. Then, each Master and Servant team would fight in the city of Fuyuki until there was only one left - if they wanted a wish, that is.
There was no victor in the three previous wars, no wish granted. The first one a sham, the second a bloodbath, and the third a war ground, with a new Servant class joining the fray. There were no survivors from each war aside from a single one, and he wouldn't dare speak of what happened.
And thus, in the year of 1994, seven Masters branded by the Grail commenced the ritual that would call forth these spirits, each willing to sacrifice their life for a single wish.
And Leo, a 'Hero' who never lived a happy life but one filled with regrets and sorrows, would answer the call.
(Break)
Waver Velvet slowly settled the artifact into the summoning circle, making sure not to blemish the lines filled with chicken blood. Any mistake could summon something else, not the being that would hopefully guide him to victory.
Despite his willingness to kill risk his life in order to grant his wish, the young Magus didn't seem like much at first glance. He was young, had a childish face, straight black hair that fell down to his ears, and a scrawny body. Even his magic circuits were the average twenty. It was only through intellect, pragmatism, and a bit of dumb luck that he was here.
That, and Waver had stolen his teacher's artifact.
Quite different to the Magi that participated in this war, who were experienced in both killing, had the support of ancient families, and used magic circuits and magecraft that was honed by generations of research. They were all aware of the stakes, of the fact that this may be their last action.
In another life, Waver would have intercepted a remnant of the Cloak of Iskander from his (former) mentor Kayneth El-Melloi in a bout of spite. He would've summoned the King of Conquerors, swearing eternal loyalty to a leader that wouldn't survive the 4th Holy Grail War. He would be one of the few survivors that made it through the battle unscathed, with his mentor killed by Kiritsugu Emiya. Waver would then become one of the greatest teachers in the entire history of the Clock Tower, inspiring and training future magi. He would also be the one who dismantled the Holy Grail War after the Fifth one began fifty years too early.
However, in this world, Waver didn't receive this artifact. Instead, he received one of the Spheres of Archimedes, as Lord El-Melloi believed he could learn magecraft from the great mathematician that held off the Roman Empire. This increased knowledge would help him rise to even greater heights despite his title as a Lord of the Clock Tower. And if he won the war with Archimedes, even better.
However, there was a single flaw in the Lord's (and Waver's) reasoning, one they were ignorant of. The spheres were never wielded by Archimedes as a weapon, and most attributed these 'circles' as his work on pi and circumference. The artifact wasn't even acknowledged by the public to be created by Archimedes. This was the factor that prevented it from summoning the Heroic Spirit Kayneth or Waver desired.
And thus, it would go to the closest legend this artifact was related to.
Waver stepped back, a thousand emotions crossing his mind. Fear. Excitement. Dread. All tempered and cooled under his determination and ambition. He will show his former Master that lineage wasn't everything, and succeed in winning the Holy Grail War. The fact that he would win this with the Servant Kayneth intended to summon would just make this all the more sweeter. With the Holy Grail, he would wish for respect, for power, for money - and make it to the Root through his own merit.
Branded on the back of his right hand were the command seals that allowed him to perform this ritual. Waver almost felt lucky that the Grail had chosen him as one of the competition's seven participants. Stretching his hand until it was aimed straight at the space above the circle, Waver slowly chanted the incantation that would call forth Archimedes.
"Let silver and steel be the essence.
"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation."
In front of Waver, the summoning circle started to glow in a bright aquamarine green, the light making the leaves from nearby trees vibrant with life.
"For the ancestor, the great Master Schweinorg." A lie - Waver had no great ancestor, with his own grandmother being the first Magus of his lineage, supposedly discovering it during pillowtalk. It was one of the many reasons he was often mocked by his fellow students, because they had the resources and years of experience backing them up - like a toddler bike forced to compete against sports cars.
"Close the gates of cardinal directions.
A wall to block the falling wind.
From the crown, come forth and follow the forked road leading to the Kingdom.
"Fill, fill, fill, fil, fill! Repeat five times." With each word, the circle glowed even brighter.
"But when each is filled, destroy it."
"Set." The circle shifted color, starting at a bright orange before settling into a ruby red.
"Heed my words." Air began to pulse around the woods, the stirring leaves almost whipping against the wind.
"My body shall give you life, and your sword shall weave my destiny." He didn't want to die. He wanted recognition, to reach the Root, and most of all, he wanted to be appreciated.
"Answer the beckoning of the Holy Grail, and if you acknowledge my will and reason…Then answer!"
"My oath shall be sworn here!" Waver's magic circuits buzzed with energy, fueling the ceremony as its discharge covered the forest clearing. This was the final factor, the one that would decide whether the Heroic Spirit would abide by the summons.
"I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven!"
"I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!"
Knowledge was what mattered in the end, wasn't it? He wanted access to the Swirl of The Root and the access to the Akashic Records. That meant access to most benevolent and sinful magics in all of creation.
"You seven heavens, clad in the trinity of power,
come forth from the circle of binding,
Guardian of the Scales!"
The building mana burst from the circle, pulsing and scattering dust across the lonely night as blinding light clouded Waver's eyes. This light was created in five more places around the world - two from the same city, in a luxurious house with a western design. One in a castle, hidden by a snowy forest in Germany and patrolled by a mix of Homonculi and familiars. One in England, from a workshop dwelling in the depths of the Clocktower, right beneath the British Museum.
For a few seconds, that was all Waver could see. Then, the light slowly dimmed, and Waver stumbled back in surprise. Dust was still in the air, and Waver's excitement peaked before a single question pierced the back of his mind.
This is my Servant?
Waver was expecting a sage, a middle-aged man who was a type of professor dressed in the clothing of the Roman Empire. Or a shrewd old man with a beard, wielding a staff. His artifact was supposed to summon Archimedes, and that was the image pop culture along with any busts of the man's face had developed. Archimedes had lived to a ripe age, killed by a roman legionnaire who was too stupid to know the value of the mathematician despite his inventions slaughtering and drowning his comrades.
The magus didn't expect a boy that looked barely above the age of 18. Especially one that was a bit taller than him by a few centimeters.
He was lithe, with a scrawny body that was close to an acrobat's. He had brown skin and a face that reminded him of elves from fantasy books, without the supernatural aura. Dark brown eyes analyzed Waver with a stoic air, a small glint of mischief hinting at some sort of scheme. Curly black hair was whipped wildly by the wind, barely held together by a pair of goggles. The rest of his clothing was extremely modern, with a white shirt, black suspenders, and a tool belt.
All in all, the complete opposite of Archimedes. What stopped Waver from cursing was the sheer power the Servant in front of him radiated.
It wasn't charisma, nor charm. The power Waver talked about was a raw form of divinity. The very air seemed to sizzle at the Servant's presence, the ground glowing where his feet touched the ground. Waver barely noticed sweat already dripping down his forehead, and it felt like he walked into London during a summer's day.
The boy bowed. "Thank you, thank you. I always wanted an awesome entrance." A smirk passed across his lips, before his posture became more rigid. "Servant Rider at your service."
The boy opened his hand, and a ball of fire filled the open palm. Panic flaired across Waver's mind, but his legs were frozen to the ground. It felt that if he moved a single millimeter, he would be burnt to cinders.
"I ask of you, young Magus, are you my Master?"
It's been a long time since I've put up some of my ideas up in here. I was inspired a bit by Holding Back the Sea, except I wanted to mix up the formula, so to speak. Hopefully you'll be able to enjoy.
