FATE/CATBOX FICTION

Chapter 17: Friend and Stranger

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm probably a little late with updating this chapter. I got my second vaccination shot on July 4, and I had to go through the side effects for a couple of days. I'm back to normal now, so things should proceed smoothly from here. For those of you who have commented on Marquis de Sade's Wiki entry, that's precisely why I left that warning for you all. Leave the hard research to me, and I'll condense it as best as I can during the story. I also wrote a super-condensed Servant profile for him on my DeviantArt page ( benit149) if you want to know more of his history without being exposed to the hardcore stuff.


Brussels, PW #00162B

For the next few hours, Iskandar streaked along the sky in his Gordius Wheel. If one looked carefully enough, they would have spotted flashes of lightning in the perpetual night sky as the intimidating chariot's wheels sparked electricity. The city soon came into view far beneath him, and he folded his arms while grinning like a madman. It had been far too long for him to be summoned as a Servant without indulging in his urge to conquer something, so he was growing increasingly excited with the prospect of taking Brussels for himself.

Gordius Wheel descended upon the ground, then came to a stop. The Macedonian king hopped out of the vehicle, then both it and the bulls vanished in a sudden rush of wind and lightning. As he turned to face the city, an armored man with dark hair appeared in a flash of light, postulated before him, and said, "Good to see you, my king."

"Are preparations complete, Mithrenes?"

"Yes. I've confirmed that the magistrate which Charles V assigned to Brussels is a Mage, though I was unable to determine which Servant he has summoned."

"So we're not dealing with the despot himself, but rather one of his goons."

"I do not believe King Charles was involved in negotiations with the Mages from the parallel world. This must have been something that the local magistrates decided on their own accord."

"I see. So this uprising should serve to bring the matter to the king's attention. It's difficult to say if he will ultimately help free this country from slavery, but that is something to be left to Leclerq's provisional government. Our job is to weaken the magistrate in the most powerful city in Belgium, thereby inspiring fear in the others and hopefully enticing them to surrender."

"Agreed. Fortunately, security is rather lax, and the military presence here is alarmingly untrained in the art of war. If Eumenes were here, I think he would agree with me that a direct assault would cause unnecessary damage to the city, and complicate the provisional government's occupation of Brussels down the line."

"A surreptitious attack then, hm? I'm not fond of anything beyond outright combat, but this is a delicate situation we're dealing with here," Iskandar stroked his beard in contemplation. "All right, you remain on standby. I will take to spirit form and go to the magistrate's manor myself to confront this Servant of theirs. If needed, I will resort to fighting them inside Ionioi Hetaroi to minimize damage to the city. Tell the others to be prepared for battle."

"Understood," Mithrenes replied, then vanished the same way he appeared.

Iskandar's body shifted into his invisible spirit form, then he headed into the city and looked around quietly. It had been a full 24 hours since his group's victory over Columbus and 15-N, so it was approaching midnight the following day. Many citizens were already asleep in their homes, leaving only the occasional drunkard or street worker to amble around during these late hours. Mithrenes already told Iskandar where to find the magistrate's mansion, so he headed straight there.

Of course, it would be the largest and most opulent manor in the nobles' quarter, in stark contrast to the slums that he passed through. The manor was similar to the Arden House in modern Orange County, New York, stretching for almost 100,000 square feet and housing almost 130 different rooms, allowing for up to 600 people to stay. The halls and rooms were decorated with the most lavish paintings, tapestries and silks one could imagine. Outside were several fountains, rows upon rows of dense rose bushes, and an enclosed field for playing recreational soccer.

This must be what the magistrate dumped his money into after selling out his own people to the Mages, Iskandar bitterly thought. He reappeared in Servant form, wrapped his burly hand around the doorknob and tried to open the door. It was locked though, so he callously used all of his might to push so hard that the lock snapped under the pressure. Even the door was forced off its hinges, so he carried it inside with him and took a few steps into the foyer before tossing it aside like so much trash.

"Hey, Baert! Do you hear me!?" the king bellowed to the owner of the mansion. "You must have heard about Columbus' defeat by now! I've already occupied the Gate in Antwerp, so you have no hope of calling for reinforcements from your so-called friends! I am not a patient man, and will not fall for any sort of stalling tactics! Come out now and surrender quietly, or I will come in for you!"

After making his proclamation, he waited for a short while to see what the magistrate's response would be. After a minute passed, the candles in the chandelier hanging high on the ceiling flickered to life. Then he heard one of the upstairs doors opening. A rather ratty-looking fellow with greying hair stepped through and sneered to his uninvited guest, "Oh, how dreadful. How can you expect me to behave peacefully when you have already caused such needless damage to my property?"

"Sorry 'bout that," Iskandar smirked. "I have a bad habit of taking what I want, when I want it. You could say we're very similar in that regard, don't you agree?"

"Cease blathering such utter nonsense. I have not done anything to warrant being compared to such a distasteful ogre like yourself."

"Sure you have. In exchange for allowing the Mages from a parallel world to usurp your people and territory, you get to enjoy a nice life of lavish luxury. Sorry to say, but playtime's over. As of this moment, I embody the law, and by my decree, you must face the consequences for betraying your citizens."

"Citizens? You mean the rabble who constantly bicker and squabble over trivial matters, and then expect me to fix things for them? They should be thanking me for uniting them to serve their one and only useful purpose as work horses for the privileged. Due to my efforts, the amount of infighting those peons have engaged in has decreased dramatically."

"Yeah, but now they're turning their swords toward you."

Baert shrugged in disdain. "Such is the way of barbarians who do not understand how the world works. So long as even just two humans exist, there will always be one who wants to kill the other. I would rather keep myself away from such a frightful situation."

"Guess I can't refute that logic," Iskandar admitted. "Still, what you've done has sullied your people's trust in the Crown. Not only that, you have kept your king in complete ignorance of how his people are being mistreated for your own benefit. I declare, today is the day such antics will cease. Either subject yourself to my law, or fall to my sword."

"The way you're talking suggests that both of your hollow threats are one and the same. Well, I have nothing to fear from your pitiful and most distastefully violent attempts at law and order."

The Macedonian king chuckled, "Hm hm hm. I already know you have a Servant. Why not just summon them and settle this as a Servant duel?"

"Very well," the magistrate said, then snapped his fingers. "Berserker, if you would please dispose of this rat for me, I would very much appreciate it."

Iskandar panned his eyes around in the foyer, but didn't spot anyone else emerging. Then, a peculiar shadow loomed over him from behind, made more distinct by the candles glowing above him.

"Iskandaaa~aaarrr…"

"Whoa, now!" the startled Rider leapt back in time to avoid being cleaved into half by a gigantic axe roaring with green flames. He brandished his broadsword, then glared at the one who attacked him with total surprise in his eyes. After seeing who it was, he bellowed, "Well I'll be damned! Of all the Servants in this world, I didn't expect to see you here!"

The Servant who attacked Iskandar was quite literally a behemoth, standing easily at 11 feet tall and possessing charcoal black skin that was covered in numerous silver tattoos. He didn't wear much else than a cape and tabard around his waist, golden sandals, and various pieces of gold jewelry around his torso, arms, and hands. He wielded a pair of massive axes, their blades simmering with deathly green fire. His empty golden eyes, normally menacing enough on their own, glinted with intense passion as he met his most hated opponent's gaze.

"I see you're rather acquainted with Darius III here," Baert remarked. "Yes, after I heard the report about the King of Macedonia liberating Antwerp, I felt I had no choice but to summon someone most fitting to put you down. Who better to do that job than a king who considers himself your 'worthy rival', if that is anything worth boasting about."

"Oh ho! You have my gratitude!" Iskandar exclaimed joyously. "First I put a wannabe conqueror in his place, and now I get to settle the score with my destined rival! This must be the most exciting conquest I have ever ventured on!"

"MUOOO~OOOH!" Darius shouted, apparently feeling riled up just by the sound of the red-haired man's baritone voice. The War King was more than ready to do battle.

Baert, now looking uneasy from how agitated his Servant became, began to rush through a nearby door while shouting, "K-K-Kill that trespasser, Darius! Leave nothing behind, not even his c-c-corpse!"

"DIII~IIIEEE!" Darius snarled and charged at Iskandar like a raging bull while flailing his flaming axes everywhere. Iskandar had to roll out of the way to avoid being chopped into pieces by the onslaught. Darius skidded on his toes and glared back as the Macedonian king leapt through the front entrance.

"Let's not get too hasty with the festivities! Don't want to ruin the venue, after all!" Iskandar taunted. "Why don't we settle this matter out where even the heavens can witness our glory!?"

"GRRRRGH…"

Once Iskandar made sure he had Darius' attention, he quickly summoned Bucephalus back to his side and mounted the steed in one swift dash. The black horse neighed and galloped away from the front steps moments before Darius' gigantic form descended upon them with axes at the fore. The Berserker slammed so hard into the ground that a distinct crater formed around him.

"It would be a problem if we wound up wrecking even the outer grounds. I still have to claim this place as the provisional government's head office," Iskandar remarked, boldly folding his arms and staring at the frustrated Darius with a huge grin on his face. "Hope you don't mind if I change the scenery to something we're a little more… familiar with."

With that, the familiar blue aura swirled around him like a vortex, then exploded and engulfed Darius in bright light. The Persian king glanced around and discovered he was inside Ionioi Hetaroi, complete with endless desert and bright blue skies. Lined up along the opposing sand dunes was Iskandar and his army. However, no one made a move toward Darius. Iskandar commanded his men to remain on standby until the time was right.

"Now then!" the Macedonian king bellowed to his rival. "If you wish to resume our battle from 2300 years ago, then bring out the full might of your army! I won't accept any other victory condition than total defeat of your battalion! I'm sure you feel the same, even while under the effects of Madness Enhancement!"

Darius didn't respond. He wasn't really capable of speech, but there wasn't any need to say anything. He simply stomped one foot upon the sand, sending it rippling far towards Bucephalus' hooves. Then the ground rumbled like an earthquake. Darius remained standing tall as a monolithic lifeform burrowed its way out of the sand and carried him on its back until he could glare down at the opposing army before him. The creature that emerged was an armored elephant with a dark cape around its back, looking as mean and imposing as its owner. Along with the elephant, hundreds upon hundreds of spear-wielding skeletons, either foot soldiers or horseback riders mounted on skeletal steeds, clamored out of the ground and gradually increased in number to match the size of Iskandar's army. Not only that, the clear blue sky behind Darius turned black and roared with vicious green lightning. Likewise, the golden sand beneath him paled to a deathly ashen color.

The battle line had been drawn. One half of Ionioi Hetaroi was bright and vibrant; the other was dark and gloomy. Darius sat down on the throne perched atop the elephant's back. Iskandar narrowed his eyes and smiled.

All that existed between them for the next few seconds was an intense silence.

Then…

"CHAAA~AAA~AAA~AAA~AAARRRGE!"


Akakor

Once the Chaldeans learned what Rider of Akakor's True Name was, their collective mood shifted almost instantly. Roman grit his teeth in both horror and disgust. Da Vinci's eyes widened slightly, and any cheerful countenance she possessed was gone. Ritsuka wasn't sure why they were reacting with such horror, but she could guess that Rider of Akakor's True Name invoked some sort of fear in their hearts. Although hesitant, the Master asked them, "Who is that supposed to be?"

"He's, um…" Roman murmured, but was unable to bring himself to say much else other than, "He's not someone you should get to know very well."

Earp nodded. "Yeah, I get ya. Now that y'know who Rider is, ya can already tell that we're gonna be in fer a world o'sufferin' and misery if we let 'im continue doin' as he pleases."

He faced Ritsuka and said, "Marquis de Sade was a French author, politician and philosopher who died 34 years before I was born. He and I are two o'the most modern Servants among Akakor, although Caster, Saber an' Assassin are pretty darn close. I'd wager that Berserker an' Lancer were the oldest among us, chronologically speakin'. Funny I say that when those two looked like lil' kids compared to us ol' fogies.

"Anyway, y'may have heard o'the term 'sadism'. Well, Marquis de Sade is the namesake fer sadism. He was famous fer 'is libertine sexuality, and preached the notion of true freedom – the type that's unrestrained by morality, law, and religion. I may not be the cleanest sheriff in 'Merican history, but even I know when t'keep a lid on my darker impulses. That restraint simply doesn't exist fer Sade. He wrote some seriously demented literature, and definitely practiced what he preached."

"Practiced what he preached?" Mash wondered.

"That's more than enough, Mr. Earp. We've got children involved in this conversation," Da Vinci warned him.

"Hey, me gun might shoot hearts, but these lips don't sink ships, madam. I won't say any more than that to the lil' ladies 'ere."

"Huh?" the two teenagers uttered.

"Trust me, you're better off not knowing," Roman implored. "In fact, I'll make that an official order, Earp. Don't say any more than what's necessary."

"Y'dun need t'gimme an order, but red tape's a bitch, ain't it? Alright, I 'ear ya loud an' clear, good sir," Earp replied.

Da Vinci said, "All we'll say is that there has been some growing interest in Marquis de Sade's works, but there are also critics claiming that expressing such curiosity is like immortalizing him as a sort of hero, which is inherently bizarre given his nature. Of course, since he's here as a Servant, that means the Throne of Heroes must recognize his contributions to humanity's development somehow. The Throne doesn't discriminate which Heroic Spirits to inscribe - so long as they are people who have become an intrinsic part of humanity's collective consciousness, then it's fair game. I think it's safe to assume that he'd be classified as an Anti-Hero."

"That's true," Ritsuka nodded. "I assume that if the Cavalry Servants were on the same side, and you have a distinct distaste for all of them, then you must have fiercely rebelled against them during the Akakor War."

"Somethin' like that," Earp replied with a smile. "Saber was a real pro at gettin' under Assassin's skin, so I left that beehive well 'nough alone. Rider didn't help matters much when he teased with Assassin in order t'stoke the fires o'their rivalry fer shits an' giggles. Berserker just went 'long with wreckin' parties when there appeared t'be too much of a power imbalance b'tween us.

"As fer Lancer… Well, she was a real sweetheart who respected human life, so she often cooperated with me t'put down Rider an' Caster's schemes. Trouble is that she 'ad a lot on her plate with keepin' Berserker under control t'be real friendly with me, plus I was tryin' t'keep 'er away from Rider as much as possible. Y'could say that we were broken down into three distinct rivalries; Saber an' Assassin, myself an' Rider, an' Lancer an' Caster. At least Lancer an' I were on the Conservatives' side, so we never fought each other. With all the pell-mell we were dealin' with, I consider that a nice plus. I swear, I often wonder why Lancer was involved in the Akakor War when she 'ad no business associatin' herself with a buncha scumbags like us. They shoulda summoned someone other than 'er…"

"It's fascinating to hear how you seven Servants interacted with each other," Mash remarked. She then murmured with a hint of curiosity, "Something still doesn't make sense to me though. Why was Marquis de Sade summoned as a Rider? Authors like him are usually more suitable for the Caster class, but that was obviously already occupied by someone else."

"Ah… Sade 'ad a real unusual property he possessed," Earp said with a deep frown. "Y'know 'bout Pseudo-Servants, right?"

"Yeah. I'm a Demi-Servant myself, but the principles are pretty similar."

"Servants who can't manifest themselves properly rely on livin' 'osts t'sustain them. Thing is, the 'ost needs to be on a similar wavelength to the Servant fer the possession t'work. The thing with Sade though… There were an unusual number o'folks who matched 'is wavelength."

"An 'unusual' number?"

"I'm talkin' 'undreds, missy."

"H-Hundreds!?" the Shielder yelped. "That's impossible! Finding a living person with the same wavelength as a Servant's is akin to finding a new gold vein inside an abandoned mine! How in the world could his Spirit Origin match with so many people at once!?"

"Hmph. It ain't that 'ard once ya think 'bout it. Marquis de Sade is the progenitor o'modern sadism, right? 'Ow many other folks 'ave been shown t'be 'ardcore sadists like 'im in 'istory? Let's not ferget the number o'closet sadists lurkin' in the darkest corners o'society, just waitin' t'pounce on the unsuspectin' like 'ungry animals."

"Well… um…"

"Exacerbatin' things is 'ow the Mage society 'as been allowed t'thrive within this world. I ain't gonna claim that I know if Mages o'ancient times were saints or not, but their descendants have proven themselves t'be real sociopaths. Plenty o'fodder fer Sade to hijack 'is Spirit Origin into."

Ritsuka likewise became serious. "So you're saying that Sade is a Rider not because of his talents in life, but due to his abnormally high sync rate with so many living people."

"Yup," Earp nodded gravely. "That's why it's been a real pain in the ass t'kill 'im fer good. If ya wanna get rid of 'im, ya'd have t'kill any an' all potential candidates t'be his Pseudo-Servant body. Since this society revolves 'round fosterin' the Mages' lunatic tendencies, yer basically goin' 'gainst the entire world itself. I doubt anyone'd be in the mood to go on an impossible 'unt like that. Believe me, I tried many times to off 'im durin' the Akakor War, but he just kept comin' back like a bloody cockroach. I dun wanna imagine 'ow many bodies he's got stored away fer the occasion."

"Bodies stored away?"

"Not all of 'is vessels are willin' participants. In that case, he kidnaps 'em an' keeps 'em in cryogenic stasis. He was more than 'appy t'boast 'bout it whenever I fought 'im."

"…"

Cuchulainn glowered, "Well, my group managed to destroy a workshop belonging to him. That should slow him down enough so that we can focus on occupying Manoa."

"Your 'group', you say?" Mash wondered. "I thought it was just you and Connla."

"Right, I forgot to mention this. Remember that Okada punk who attacked the kid before? Sade was actually trying to take his Spirit Origin for himself, but Connla and I bumped into him and put a stop to that plan. The punk owes her his life, so he's tagging along whether he likes it or not."

Roman became shocked as he yelped, "Okada Izo's on our side!?"

Izo shoved the transmitter into his view and blurted, "Yeah, got a problem with that?"

"Oh, no, not at all! The more the merrier, they say!"

"This coming from a blowhard sittin' all nice an' comfy in his cushy lil' office."

"Ouch… Got me there."

Earp remarked, "'Ey, dun give the feller such a 'ard time, mate. It ain't easy keepin' tabs on so much at once."

"Shaddap," Izo snapped. "I ain't keen on makin' friends with any of ya. All I want is to kill the trapped version of that pipsqueak, then get the hell outta here."

"Feisty, aren't we? Tell ya what – nothin' gets on a man's good side like some booze, right? Once this whole fracas is said an' done with, I'll treat ya t'some o'Tombstone's finest liquor. I ain't got Japanese sake, but 'Merican whiskey is t'die fer."

"Hm… Fine, yer on. If yer into gamblin' too, that'll be even better."

"Sure thin'. I'm a rather dab 'and at poker."

"Poker? Ain't heard of it. Yer gonna have to show me the ropes first b'fore we can play fer real."

"'Course I will. Jus' dun mess up the job on yer end, y'hear?"

"Who do ya think yer talkin' to!? I'm the Man-Slayer of Tosa! I'll get this done faster than ya can cook rice!"

Da Vinci smirked a little and thought to herself, Who would've thought it, huh? A samurai and a cowboy getting all chummy with each other.

Cuchulainn muttered, "Are we done here? I think we've rested enough, and I want to haul our asses to Manoa as soon as possible."

"Sure, go on ahead," Roman told him. "We'll figure something out with Rider of Akakor on our end."

The Celt ended the transmission, then picked up Connla and said to Izo, "Let's get going."


Ritsuka's group continued westward to the Shrine of Tiahuanaco. Something kept bothering the Master though, so she asked Earp, "Say, I got a question for you."

"Hm? Whassup?"

"Isn't poker supposed to be about playing mind games with your opponent? As in reading your opponent and gauging if they have a good hand or not depending on their reactions?"

"Sure, it is. That's why I wanna teach that feller – I can tell he's the type o'guy who ain't good at keepin' a straight face. Easy pickin's, if ya ask me. He he he."

"Oh, Earp…"


Connla felt herself falling into another vivid dream. She wasn't sure why she was here though. The last thing she remembered was fighting Sade. Did she pass out from using too much of her energy all at once? No, she was sure she witnessed Sade escape in a new body after she destroyed his current one. She remembered Cuchulainn holding her back as she flew into a blind rage, then felt his hand on the back of her neck, and then…

No, she couldn't recall anything else beyond that. She wasn't sure, but maybe he used a Rune on her to make her pass out. The best one for such a scenario was the Gyfu Rune, a sigil with positive forces that represented goodwill between partners, and the wish to relieve someone of their stress and negativity. That, combined with her exhaustion, would definitely cause her Imbas Forosnai to trigger.

Damn it… I really don't have time for this.

As Connla thought this, she felt her feet plant squarely onto solid ground. She heard the gentle sound of leaves swaying in the wind, which soothed her. However, when she opened her eyes, that calming sensation immediately vanished.

She was definitely back in Connla Cliste's private dream garden. That, she must have been certain of. This time though, the scenery looked completely different. What were once beautiful apple trees had withered into useless stalks of blackened wood. The rustling leaves she heard weren't from living green plants, but dead leaves struggling to hold on to their branches without being tossed away by the breeze. Crickets constantly chirped, and an owl hooted in the distance. The grass had all turned black, and the multicolored sky was replaced with a persistent vermillion hue that made the atmosphere a thousand times creepier than necessary.

Connla tensed up. Why did it feel like she had suddenly stepped into a horror movie? This was supposed to be Cliste's safe space, right?

Speaking of Cliste, Connla couldn't find her counterpart anywhere in the outer grounds after several minutes of searching. The only place remaining was the cabin, where Cliste loved baking apple desserts. This time though, the alleviating scent of cooked apples was noticeably absent, which worried her. She quietly approached the small home to see if anything was amiss. Right away, she saw that the door to the cabin was slightly ajar. Connla wasn't sure if she should try entering, but she was growing more and more frightened the longer she stayed outside in this lonely, dying apple grove. She took a deep breath to muster her courage, then gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The entrance consisted of little more than a hallway that was so unnaturally narrow that one who suffered from claustrophobia would experience a panic attack just from seeing it. Off to the side was a stairway leading to the second floor. The hall had multiple closed doors all painted with dark lacquer, and their very sight practically repelled visitors. She didn't know where to look first, so she investigated each room on the first floor. For some strange reason, every room was totally empty. No chairs, beds, desks, furniture, windows, ceiling fixtures, decorations… Nothing. It felt like she was scouring through an empty box shaped like a house, and it unnerved her even more than before.

With no success on the first floor, Connla decided to try looking upstairs. She took each step carefully, and the aged wood creaked so loudly that she thought she was being haunted by a ghost. The stairway only led to a single door, and she entered it.

This looked to be a dormer bedroom, judging by the slanted ceilings and triangular-shaped wall on the opposite end. There weren't any fixtures besides a lone stool in the furthest corner of the room, and a cracked window showing the multicolored sky. Sitting on the stool was Cliste, with her back facing the door. It was impossible to tell if she heard Connla entering since she didn't react whatsoever.

The Lancer warily approached her silent counterpart and murmured, "Cliste?"

"…"

"It's me, Geal. Is everything okay?"

"…"

The awkward atmosphere between them intensified the longer Cliste refused to answer her friend's questions. Soon though, the hooded girl's head turned toward her visitor. Her expression was frightfully blank, and her eyes glowed in the darkness beneath her hood. Upon getting a better look at her face, she realized that her hair had turned chalk white, and her eyes were no longer brown, but a pair of shining ruby irises that lacked any semblance of soul. Awful bags had formed under her eyes, as if she spent years on end unsure whether to stay awake or fall asleep. For a moment, Connla thought that Cliste had turned into some kind of zombie.

Connla's heart seized up, realizing that something was seriously wrong with Cliste. Both of their lips moved, and they asked each other the exact same question simultaneously:

"Who are you?"

Within two seconds, the dormer room instantly darkened to pure blackness. Connla couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. A pair of bright red eyes opened in the darkness, and rows of sharpened teeth became visible. Drool splattered on the ground, and whatever this creature was bellowed a guttural hiss.

Then, the monster rushed at Connla.


"HYAAA~AAA~AAAH!"

"Gah!?" Cuchulainn yelped, startled that the sleeping Connla suddenly shrieked in his ear. Izo was likewise spooked from the unexpected scream.

"Ah… Aaah… Aaah…" Connla whimpered uncontrollably. Her eyes were so wide that they could have dropped out of the sockets. She shook so badly that Cuchulainn had a hard time keeping her steady in his arms.

"What happened?" the Berserker asked her.

"I… uh…"

The transmitter from Chaldea activated, and Sigurd's face popped up as he implored, "Did something happen?"

None of them responded to him for a moment. The swordsman added, "According to my sensors, you're experiencing a sudden bout of tachycardia and rapid shallow breathing. Did you have some kind of nightmare?"

"I… think so…" Connla shuddered. She was so terrified that she couldn't think straight.

"Calm down. Follow my instructions and take some deep breaths. Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe out…"

She did so for a few minutes until her nerves settled enough. Sigurd murmured, "Good. Your vitals are returning to normal. Tell me what you saw."

"I went back to see Cliste… At least, I think I did."

"You 'think' you did? Why do you say that?"

"Well…" she moaned, then described the drastic change in scenery she witnessed. "I know it's the same place that Cliste likes to retreat to. It's usually so bright and inviting, and I leave feeling rather refreshed. This time it looked completely different though, like it had suddenly corroded after years of neglect in a single night."

"Are you certain it's the same location?"

"Positive. I found Cliste inside the cottage, but she wasn't… herself."

"Meaning?"

She likewise described her counterpart's ominous change in appearance and demeanor. She then said, "It was like I was meeting the same person, but seeing a wholly different side to them. Just for a moment, I was looking at my friend and a total stranger at the same time."

"That doesn't seem like anything to cause such terror for you."

"No, it's what happened right after I found her. Everything went dark, and then a monster appeared before me. I couldn't do anything as its sharp teeth bit down on my upper body and thrashed me around like a rag doll. All I could feel were its teeth digging into my spine, and the slimy, disgusting feel of its saliva mixing with my blood…"

"Oh my," Sigurd murmured.

Connla grabbed the sides of her face and shuddered, "That couldn't have been Cliste… could it? There's no way. She'd never turn into something like that. She wouldn't try to kill me, would she?"

"Of course not. From your many testimonies, Cliste sounds like a wonderful person."

"Then what was that supposed to be?"

"Don't panic. Whatever may have happened, you're back safe and sound with us. Stay focused on the mission and provide your allies with as much support as you're capable of, but don't strain yourself so much that you cause yourself more harm than good, understood?"

"M-Mm…" the Lancer nodded. "You're right. It was just a dream. I shouldn't be so shaken up like this."

"It's all right. You witnessed your friend turn into something abnormal. It's only natural that you'd be so frightened. Try not to let it impede your judgment though."

"Okay."

Sigurd smiled and said, "Good. I'll report this to Dr. Roman. If anything else happens, let me know right away."

The Norse hero hung up. Cuchulainn asked Connla, "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry for screaming in your ear like that."

"Shit, even I'd piss my hakama if I was eaten alive like that," Izo admitted. "Well, at least Four-Eyes was right 'bout one thing; it was just a dream. Don't let it get to ya."

Cuchulainn nodded in agreement. "We're almost to Manoa. You better be at the top of your game since we're going to be dealing with either Sanson, Spartacus or Leonidas shortly."

"Understood," Connla replied.


Chaldea

After Sigurd cut the transmission, he left his seat and approached Roman as he was keeping tabs on Ritsuka's group. He told the doctor everything that transpired with Connla, and the orange-haired man became visibly perplexed.

Finally, Roman summed it up by murmuring, "That doesn't sound good."

"I concur," Sigurd said. "Though I cannot be absolutely certain of what Connla witnessed, I'm sure it was not a mere dream. It was a full-fledged Imbas Forosnai event where she encountered Cliste. What troubles me is the radical change in Cliste's demeanor, as well as the nature of the monster that scared Connla awake."

Roman hummed to himself for a moment, pondering a potential possibility. He then asked Sigurd, "This might sound crazy, but are you familiar with Alter Servants?"

"Somewhat, thanks to my time idling with Chaldea's various Servants. My understanding is that they are Heroic Spirits who have undergone a corruption process known as Blackening. Such Servants become more powerful, but their personalities are inverted to the point that they are unrecognizable as the original. Why the corruption occurs seems to vary from Servant to Servant, but their appearance becomes more menacing than usual, and their physical appearance changes to reflect such a change."

"Yeah. I don't have any concrete evidence to support my theory, but perhaps Connla Cliste has become an Alter."

"How peculiar. Our Connla regards Cliste in high esteem as a cherished friend. From what you're describing, I sincerely doubt an Alter would inspire such camaraderie."

"That's the troubling part. Cliste's personality is almost the same as Connla's, so there's no doubt they would be friends. So why would Cliste suddenly attack Connla during one of her visits? There's also the fact that Connla felt like she was talking to her friend and a stranger at the same time."

Sigurd closed his eyes and mulled on this riddle. He then asked, "Wasn't there one time where Connla dreamed of a counterpart whose Spirit Origin split into two separate Servants?"

"That was the alternate depiction of the Fifth Singularity we went through before," Roman said. "That version of her suffered from such a traumatic event that her Lancer self was fragmented into an Archer and a Berserker. It took some time for both halves to reconstitute back into the original Lancer."

"Do you think the same thing may have happened here?"

"Hmm… I'm not so sure. With the Singularity Connla, it was her physical body that fractured and materialized into new Servants. I don't think that's the case with Cliste though. We know that her head is entombed in the Preservatorium, so she'd have no way of undergoing the same process."

"I'm not necessarily saying that it was a physical fragmentation of her Spirit Origin. Perhaps it is a psychological split we're dealing with this time."

Roman sat back in his chair and rapped his fingers against each other. He narrowed his eyes and mumbled, "You might be on to something there. We have to remember that Cliste triggered the Extinction, was executed via guillotine within a matter of days, and was forced to stay alive for 50 years as just a head. I can't begin to imagine the psychological damage that would have caused for someone as sensitive as her."

"All of that on top of her being hooked to a computer that requires constant maintenance. It's been proven that Cliste's psyche can be further damaged whenever the system encounters a glitch."

The doctor's lips thinned. Chills coursed through his skin, and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. The more the Chaldeans learned about Akakor and its inner workings, the more disturbed he became with the horrifying mistreatment that Cliste endured. If both men were right, then her mind was playing host to two separate sides of her; the normal version that Connla regularly interacted with, and a mysterious 'Alter' that had never been seen until now.

If there truly was an Alter lurking within the Holy Grail Terminal…

Roman didn't want to think about it. He believed that was a question better left unanswered until the three teams reconvened in the Preservatorium. All he could do was keep that possibility in the back of his mind and be ready for it in case anything drastic happened.

He faced Sigurd and said, "All right, let's keep Connla's report on file for now. Tell nothing about this to Ritsuka or the others – we don't want them losing focus during this crucial time. If they ask about Connla, just say that everything's fine"

"Roger."