The flesh he has usurped is falling apart, a shell cracking to reveal the dark majesty of his ascended self. He yearns to shed it off completely, and tread the broken streets of this burning city in all his glory. But since his ascension, he cannot remain upon the mortal plane in his true form for long before being recalled to the Realm of the Gods. And there is still work to do here before he can depart.

Nearly all of the ninety-nine battle-brothers sworn to his banner are deployed across the burning city. Once, he commanded thousands of Dark Angels, but the decree of the Lion has restricted his authority within the Legion to less than a single company. Despite the annoyance this causes, he can see the sense in it, as those who have been granted apotheosis are easily distracted from the Long War by the demands of the Great Game. Never before has he deployed so many of them on a single operation, but this battle is more important than any he has fought since the Siege itself.

This is the second war of the Mortis Gate. This is where the Imperium learns of the Archdukes of Cysgorog, and the Dark Angels learn to dread the blades of Titan.

This is where the will of a Daemon Prince will be denied, and the seeds of doubt sown.

Once, in the long ago, when he still fought under the banner of the Corpse-Emperor, he led his Legion in battle here. They did not understand then the culture they found, and, believing it tainted and unfit for compliance, they put it to the sword, leaving the world ready for re-colonization.

Now, over two thousand years after the end of the Great Rebellion, the Mortis Gate will fall. The way will be open for the rest of the First Legion, and the Dark Angels will be free of their exile, free to slip past the Iron Cage that the Fourth believes it can raise around their ever-changing realm. Free to pursue the Hunt their gene-sire has ordered them to perform for their Fallen kin.

His eyes, which are burning within the sockets of this mortal skull, are drawn up to the burning heavens. There is something new there, amidst the storm his coming has brought. Trails of fire coming down, heralding the arrival of those who think themselves a match for his might.

He laughs as the Death Guard comes to make ashes of the Mortis Gate, that it might be denied to the First Legion. The dour sons of Mortarion cannot hope to stand against him. They can murder this world in their efforts, but it will not be enough. The Mortis Gate, that antediluvian structure from an age that has long since faded from all but the eldest myths, will be protected. All the destruction they will wreak will only serve to fuel the Ruinous Powers, ultimately facilitating his aims.

But …

He sees something else amidst the trails of falling drop-pods, with the sight that bloomed after he turned his back on the Golden Throne. He sees silver flames, burning bright against the fire-lit night sky.

He remembers that silver fire. He saw it burn in the heavens once before, the light of a battle fought far, far away while he and his Legion laid siege to the Imperial Palace. With that recollection comes understanding, and something as close to fear as the creature he has become is capable of.

The Grey Knights, they who defied the might of the Ravenlord and lived, are coming for him.

He should have known this would happen, thinks the boy who walks besides him.

For wherever monsters rise, so too shall heroes come to stop them.

November 26th, 2004 AD – Emiya residence

Rin woke up to the comfortable warmth of other people's bodies all around her. It took a moment for her brain to process the situation and when it did, embarrassment warred with satisfaction within her. Embarrassment at how easily Sakura had been able to talk her into joining her and Saber in Shirou's bed that evening, and satisfaction at having the tension that had been building up inside her since the start of the Grail War taken care of so nicely.

Saber's words yesterday had been right : Shirou was a very good lover. She didn't think the Fae who had created Avalon had envisioned the benefits of the Noble Phantasm for its bearer's endurance in that arena, but they were potent nonetheless. Otherwise, even someone as athletic as Shirou would have struggled to satisfy the appetites of three young women.

Saber especially had surprised Rin with the intensity of her desires. Perhaps those were due to the influence of her Dragonic blood, which had protected her from the Grail's corruption but had also changed, altered her in the process. At least she'd still had enough of her wits about her to refuse Rider's request that she join them; she didn't think she'd have a moment with Shirou otherwise.

In any case, last night certainly had been as interesting as it had been enjoyable, but it as over, and the causes of her tension still needed to be seen to.

She saw that Shirou was already awake, staring at the ceiling. Noticing her gaze, he turned to look at her, and she fought in vain to keep the blush from her face as he smiled.

God, but the insufferable moron was handsome when he smiled.

"Good morning, Rin," he said.

"Good morning," she mumbled in reply. She didn't want to talk about what they had done last night, and fortunately, she had another subject she could bring up. "You're up early. Another vision ?"

"Yes," he nodded, grimacing. "It was … unpleasant. I managed to wake up without the help of Saber or Assassin and Archer this time, though."

Part of Rin was jealous of the Servants who had gotten the chance to share the memories of the Dark Angel which tormented Shirou. The rest of her, however, was very glad that the contract between them didn't allow for that sort of things. They had considered it early in their investigation of Shirou's nature : there were spells that would let her see his memories of the dreams, even if they would lack the weird understanding that he possessed during them and that vanished when he woke up.

Ultimately, however, they had decided against it. Sakura's transformation when fighting Bazett had proven that even the energy Shirou drew from the Dark Angel's essence mingled with the soul of the boy he had been could affect them, and they didn't want to risk deliberately exposing themselves to more of it. Well, Sakura had been fine with it, probably because anything that let her get closer to her Senpai was fine with her, but Shirou and Rin had been adamant on the matter. They would already be in enough trouble if the Clocktower learned of Shirou's condition without studying how it could affect other Magecraft users as well.

"Good," she replied, stretching. "You can tell me about it during breakfast."

Saber and Sakura stirred, awakened by the conversation (or, in the case of Saber, no longer pretending to be asleep so she could stay nestled to her Master's side). The sight of her sister's smile as she saw her finally routed her embarrassment and let satisfaction triumph.

No matter what society, propriety and decency might say about it, Rin would choose the path that led to her family's happiness.

As he emerged from the sewers where Caster had made his Workshop, Kirei looked up. The sky was darkening with the setting sun, and there was no sign of the hateful moon in the sky : they had waited for this, mustering their forces and biding their time until the day of the new moon. Its absence was necessary to the plan Caster had explained to him, the one that would break the last obstacles between them and their goal.

His ally's holy creations advanced around him, their blessed nature still hidden beneath the flesh they had claimed. Even so, a normal man would have been driven to terror by their proximity, but Kirei was long past such frailties. All he felt was the power swelling within his heart and reaching out to them.

The priest sensed the presence of his ally behind him, and turned to see Caster looking at him with a smile on his face.

"It will happen tonight, then," he said. "At long last."

"Yes." Caster nodded in the direction of the nine metal disks engraved with blazing sigils that his familiars were loading into the back of the truck Kirei had arranged to be left at the maintenance entrance of the sewers with surprising care. "We need only make our final preparations and set the bait. If the Gods will it, before dawn, we will have secured all we need to bring victory to the Pantheon upon this world."

"Should I call for Gilgamesh ?" asked Kirei.

Through his link to the Servant, Kirei could sense the King of Heroes was wandering the streets of Fuyuki, taking in the sights of the boring, mundane world before they sent it all crashing down and restored the glories that had been denied Mankind for too long.

Convincing him to assist wouldn't be easy : the ego of the King of Heroes was an unpredictable thing, even after his enlightenment. And while Kirei still had over a dozen Command Seals left from the Fourth Grail War and those he had taken from his father's corpse, using them to force Gilgamesh to obey was very much a last resort, as it was guaranteed to sour the relationship he had managed to cultivate with the egotistic King for the last ten years.

After a moment's consideration, Caster shook his head.

"If we need his help, then our plans for tonight will have already failed. In that case, it will be best to keep him in reserve. The Gods favor the bold, but they also delight in punishing hubris, even among their most loyal and beloved followers." The Servant's smile became a lot less congenial as he continued : "the King of Heroes will play his part in time, of this I have no doubt."

"How so, if we are to triumph tonight ?" asked Kirei.

"Completing our great work will take time, even if everything goes exactly as planned tonight. When the blind and ignorant send their forces in a desperate attempt to stop us, Gilgamesh shall prove his worthiness to the Pantheon. His great might will stand as the defender of the Grail, and the Gods shall reward him, just like they shall reward their humble priests."

Despite the words, there was nothing humble in Caster's smile, but then the Servant had taught Kirei that humility was a sin in the eyes of the True Gods. Devotion and obedience were expected, yes, but to be anything less than the greatest possible version of yourself was a failing, and humility was a chain that would always prevent one from reaching their full potential.

"Tonight, then," whispered Kirei, feeling a sense of excitement he hadn't felt in ten years grow within him.

Rider's instincts began to scream three seconds before the phone rang.

Everyone had just finished eating dinner in the living room of the Emiya household, after another boring day of keeping watch in Spirit Form, with the only entertainment on offer teasing her Master about her conduct the previous night. The table had been cleaned up and they were about to discuss their plans for the week-end when her Leader of the Wild Hunt Skill activated, warning her that something was about to happen. She stood up at the same time as Saber on the other side of the table, the two of them looking around for any threat – but none materialized until the phone started ringing.

Not wasting time on questioning their behavior, Shirou moved to answer. After a glance at the number displayed on the screen, he flicked the speakers on as he picked it up so that they could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Kamido-san ?" he asked.

"Kiddo !" said a gruff male voice that carried more than a hint of panic. "Bloody hell, am I glad to hear you. Listen, something bad is going on at the docks. Our guys there reported they were hearing screaming and weird noises, and now I can't get in touch with them !"

At those words, Shirou's transformation was less dramatic than when he called upon the power of the Dark Angel within him, but it was perhaps even more disturbing. The warmth and kindness that were always present in his gaze had vanished, buried under something cold and analytical – yet Rider could still perceive the burning desire, no, the need to act underneath. Shirou was still the same, he was simply focusing his drive to help others through the lens of battle.

It was, Rider thought, one of the most arousing things she had seen in a long time. Unfortunately, now was not the time to pick up where they had been interrupted by her own Master yesterday.

"Cordon the area off," he ordered in a tone that brooked no discussion. Less than two heartbeats had passed since the man – who must be one of Shirou's Yakuza contacts – had finished speaking. "Don't let anyone get inside and get everyone you can as far away as possible. Keep the police away as well. If you find people who saw what happened, get them to safety but don't let them get away; we'll need to interview them later." Which Rider knew meant they would use hypnosis to ensure nothing of the Moonlit World was revealed, lest the situation be made even more dangerous than it already was.

"OK." The controlled tone of voice of Shirou was doing its work : already Kamido sounded less panicked than before. "Do you know what is going on ?"

"I have my suspicions, but I won't know for sure until it has been dealt with."

"Hurry up, then."

The conversation ended, and Shirou put the phone back down before turning to face the rest of the assembled group.

"Sella, Leysritt, you are staying here," said Shirou in clipped tones. "Stay behind the Bounded Fields and be ready to evacuate if this turns out to be a diversion. The rest of us are going to the docks. Our goals are to save any of the Fujimura Group's people who are still there, identify the threat and neutralize it."

Not so different from many of the hunting quests she had taken her knights on, though if her people had access to devices like those phones, a great many tragedies might have been avoided.

"We are using the bikes. Saber, Rider, Lancer, you are driving," he continued. "Illya, you get in the sidecar; Sakura, you are behind Lancer. Rin and I are with our Servants. Berserker, Assassin, Archer, you are in Spirit Form and keep watch for ambushes. Move as fast as you can, but don't rush ahead of the others. We need to stay together until we know more of what's going on."

No one questioned his plan – there was no time, not when lives were in danger. Within three minutes of the phone call, they were on the bikes and leaving the Emiya residence behind.

They rushed through the streets of Fuyuki with all possible speed, and the Riding Skill combined with the capabilities of the bikes meant that it was fast indeed. With the last rays of the setting sun at their back, they raced east toward the docks, Rider and Lancer following Saber's lead. The Servant of the Sword had the best knowledge of the city's layout out of all of them, and even had experience fighting in the docks, having duelled the Lancer of the Fourth War there (though she didn't like to speak of it, due to how that honorable foe had ultimately been brought low).

The skies were clear, and already the temperature was falling. There was no moon in the sky, but the artificial lighting provided more than enough illumination to drive by even with mortal senses. Spells of obfuscation had been added to the bikes to keep other drivers from noticing the fact that all three were piloted by women in armor, or that a little girl was in the sidecar of one of them despite the speeds at which they advanced, which broke both the laws of the road and of engineering.

Ten minutes later, they left the bikes at the entrance of the docks, proceeding on foot. A quick word with the men of the Fujimura Group keeping watch on that side of the closed off area told them they hadn't seen anything, and a quick round of hypnosis ensured they wouldn't remember the armors of the materialized Servants either.

The area was vast, and there were metal boxes piled by the hundreds were workers had brought them off the ships that had transported them across the sea. Rider could only guess as to their contents, or the administrative nightmare that must be keeping track of all of them and sending them where they were needed. She could have used such logistical prowess in her army.

That thought was quickly dismissed, however, for they had far more pressing concerns.

I smell blood, she sent across the telepathic link Rin had reactivated between all Servants and Masters of their group. Lots of it.

They found the first body a few moments later, resting against a pile of containers. It had been mutilated to the point it was impossible to tell if it had been a man or a woman, ripped to shreds and with teeth marks in the ruined meat that was all that remained of what had been a thinking, feeling human being only a few hours ago.

It's fresh, she silently said, kneeling to examine it closely. The blood hasn't even congealed yet.

We move on, replied Shirou. Stay close to each other. Archer, Assassin, keep watch for ranged attacks.

Yes, Master. For once, there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in the two goddesses' reply.

There were more bodies. Many dockers worked late hours, and they had been defenceless against the predator in their midst. Not all corpses were as grievously defiled as the first one they had found, but all bore signs of having been killed in close-quarters with long blades.

Rider could feel her Master's shock and horror growing at the sight of the corpses. For all her mental fortitude, Rin was still a young girl, with little experience of battle and none of the realities of war. She may have hardened her mind with the discipline of a Magus, but she was still a kind soul underneath the façade she projected with various degrees of success. The grim spectacle of the docks had shaken her, and the refrain of her thoughts echoed through the link between them :

No.

I can't break down.

I can't fall apart now.

Not when the monster responsible is still out there, still killing.

Stop it first. Help those who can be helped. Get everyone back home safely.

Then …

Then I can scream. Then I can cry. Then I can hug Shirou and Sakura until I stop shaking -

No.

I can't break down.

And so it went, on and on, forming an undercurrent to her conscious thoughts, which were entirely focused on the threat they faced. This was an appropriate reaction, and one Rider was familiar with from all the young men (and even the older ones, whose experience was balanced by their own personal demons) she had led onto gruesome battlefields.

The ease with which Rin had dissociated her thought processes was surprising, but to be expected from someone trained in Magecraft, she supposed. If anything, she worried more about how Shirou and Sakura seemed completely unperturbed by the horrors they saw. In the former's case, she was fairly certain he was forcing himself to only look at the sights from a battlefield perspective in order to best deal with the threat, much like her Master.

But Sakura … There was a darkness in the girl that, were it not held firmly in check by her love for Shirou, the Servant of the Mount felt could swallow the whole world. It was not her fault, of course : Rin had told Rider of her sister's tragic past, and how she had been saved from it by Shirou. But her innocence didn't make the scars left on her soul any less real.

Whatever it is, I can feel its presence getting stronger, sent Sakura. Case in point, the purple-haired girl was far more attuned to the currents of energy than anyone else in their party. It is close.

They moved cautiously between two piles of containers, emerging into one of the alleys where the engines of the dockers moved to carry the metal boxes from one place to the next.

And there, at last, they saw their enemy.

It was a hideous thing, madness and horror made manifest. It reminded Saber of the monsters the Caster of the Fourth War had unleashed, only oh so much worse. The fiends summoned by Gilles de Rais had been mindless animals, collared by the will of the mad warlock, but there was a deliberate cruelty to the way it looked and moved that spoke of a malevolent sentience at work.

Its body was warped into a shape that had no place in nature. Its limbs were too long and covered in a short bluish fur, with black patterns that made her head hurt and her Dragon Core heat up (though, thankfully, most of them were covered by the blood that matted its fur). Each of its four limbs ended in an identical claw, with vicious hooked talons that matched the wounds on the corpses they had found. Its elongated maw and pair of antlers may have evoked the image of a deer, if not for the grotesquely human pair of eyes set in its skull, the three rows of short, pointy teeth, and the fact that the antlers were ivory-white and dripping with venom that hissed as it hit and melted through the concrete.

Only its eyes and the scraps of dirty clothing that still clung to its twisted frame betrayed that this, at some point, had been a human being.

Saber suddenly realized that she had seen its ilk before, not so long ago, in the vision she had shared with her Master, of a battle waged in Hell between the hosts of the Damned. Already her memories of that battle were fading, but she still retained enough to recognize the unnatural parody of life, though it was still more real than the daemons of the vision. And the taint that emanated from it like a cloud of pestilence was familiar too : it was the same corruption that had held her in its grasp for a decade, seeking to twist everything she was into a vile parody of herself.

The Servant of the Sword looked upon the spawn of the Black Grail, and her Dragon's heart burned with rage.

Master. That thing …

Yeah, I know. It's familiar to me too.

The monster was feeding, its jaws tearing pieces of flesh too big for it to swallow without gagging. It didn't seem to care, pushing down one piece of human meat after the other down its throat as if it were trying to suffocate itself.

Kill it, sent Shirou. This ends now.

Unlike when they had met Illyasviel and the Ainsworth Master, there would be no attempt at negotiation. Saber's Master would not, could not, allow a monster like this to live. She felt his revulsion, his rage, his hatred of the creature, held in check only by the need to protect her and the others.

She completely approved.

They could have obliterated it with their Noble Phantasms, of course, but her and her counterparts' most powerful attacks would also have wiped out the entire docks, and there might still be survivors, nevermind the risk of their Masters being caught in the blast. Archer and Assassin had more targeted trump cards, but Shirou had discussed their limitations with them : in Archer's case, he didn't think it would affect a monster like this, while in Assassin's, he wasn't willing to risk exposing Stheno to the attacks of something which was unlikely to be affected by her mind-control abilities.

As for Berserker, well … They weren't certain what her Noble Phantasm would do exactly, due to the Command Seal still restricting her memories, but it was unlikely to be anything subtle. No, they would have to deal with this thing – which, given the amount of power they could sense inside it, was likely the Avenger-Class Servant Illyasviel had theorized about – in direct combat.

It certainly wasn't going to be a duel, though. A monster preying on civilians didn't deserve the honor of a one-on-one battle, not that any of the Masters would've been willing to limit themselves like that.

Rider attacked first, making full use of her superior mobility. The Servant of the Mount leapt ahead of their party, her spear striking downward as she passed over the creature. The blow was perfectly aimed and should have struck right into its spine, but at the last moment, it dodged out of the way with a jerking motion so sudden and brutal, Saber heard the sickening sound of its bones breaking.

Passing mere centimeters away from the horror's fur, the tip of Rider's spear buried itself into the ground. Then, before Rider could even get her feet back on the ground, the beast caught Gungnir into its left claw, and threw it and its wielder straight into the closest pile of metal boxes with supernatural strength. Empty containers were sent flying by the impact, and an abominable cacophony echoed all around them.

Shame and fury blazed through the link with Rider, but she didn't seem to have been wounded. Without pausing, Saber moved next, charging the beast. As she approached, she glimpsed a line of charred flesh on its hand where it had grasped Gungnir; her sister's weapon hadn't liked being touched by that monstrosity.

Her blackened blade erupted in power as she struck, only for her blow to be parried away with a strike from the creature's claws. The talons were suddenly wreathed in pale lightning that burned away the gore stuck to them in a disgusting-smelling cloud of scarlet vapor. The scent of burned blood, however, paled in comparison to the reek of the creature itself up close, which was as revolting as its appearance.

She moved to block the other claw plunging toward her neck, before kicking the creature in its left leg. The bone broke under the impact of her armored boot, but it didn't seem any more impaired by what should have been a crippling blow than it had been by the breaking of its spine when it had dodged Rider's attack.

It opened its mouth wide, and she disengaged just in time to dodge the blast of lightning that erupted from its maw, tearing a trench in the ground where it hit. She blinked to clear her vision from the attack's after-image, which had blinded her even through her visor – and saw the monster coming for her again. It batted aside her sword and struck at her head, the only part of her unprotected by her armor (for some reason, she alone of the three versions of Artoria Pendragon in this War couldn't summon a full helmet).

A pink arrow whistled above her shoulder and slammed into the approaching claw, pinning it to the container behind it. Archer, she thought, bitterly realizing she would have to thank the other Servant for that.

She drew her sword back for the killing strike, determined to vent her frustration on the monster, drawing power from her Core and the link with her Master to ensure a decisive blow.

Before she could strike, however, it spoke.

Its voice was not a voice. It was a chorus of buzzing flies; it was the screams of the damned; it was a shard of glass running across her soul. Behind her, Saber distantly heard the pained cries of Masters and Servants, and she felt the linking spell collapse as the unholy screeching of the abomination tore through the connection.

Its words were not words. They were insults to the World; they were blasphemies spouted in the face of reality itself; they were notes in a discordant song that promised only ruin.

To her utter horror, Saber found that she understood them.

"DRaGonSPawN," it said. "dAuGhTer oF tHe BlaCk wyRM."

She stood there, frozen in shock and disgust at the fact it recognized her. Then it started laughing, and her anger rose to match her horror.

No one, and certainly no hell-born creature of the Grail, would laugh at her and live. Yet she still couldn't move. She remembered the blackness, and the silence, and the pressure, and the absence of anything, lost and trapped all alone, no light, no sound, no warmth, nothing -

"YoU BelONg tO US. yOU Will bE MAde To seRVe -"

Two wings of shadow beat once, and her Master was at her side, his greatsword plunged through the monster's chest and into the metallic panel behind it.

"Shut up," growled Shirou. "She is my Servant."

His sword ignited, and the creature screamed as it burned. Within seconds, nothing was left of its presence but ashes and a scream that lingered on the wind far too long after it should have faded away.

From the moment Rider had jumped ahead to strike, the battle had lasted less then twenty seconds. The Servant of the Mount was only just emerging from the pile of broken containers and their spilled contents.

"Shirou, is it dead ?" called out Rin in a hoarse voice, as she and the others approached.

"Yes," confirmed Shirou. "I'm sure of it. But its ashes are still there. Illya ?"

"I am not getting any energy from it," replied the young albino, looking at her brother with wide eyes. "And while I'm thankful for that, it means that thing wasn't the Servant summoned at the Animusphere Castle."

"There were bodies missing at the Animusphere Castle," mused Shirou aloud, "and given how … messy … its feeding is, I doubt the Clocktower would have failed to find at least traces of them if it was responsible."

"And I also doubt it could have gotten aboard a plane to Japan," added Sakura.

"So at best, we just killed a familiar, not a Servant," concluded Rin. "Which means ..."

"This is a trap," finished Saber, moments before her instincts finally caught up with her reasoning and started screaming at her.

One moment, they had all been standing near the pile of ashes that had been the monster responsible for the death of at least two dozens innocent people, still recovering from the … the thing it had done, that couldn't be called a voice and that only Shirou had been able to fight through. Rin shivered, and forced herself to think of something else, like the new threat they faced.

There were ten figures standing atop the piled containers around them, which had appeared out of nowhere, without the slightest disturbance to her senses that would have indicated a magic veil being taken down. Nine of them looked like men dressed in the kind of clothes only the truly wealthy ever bothered with, and radiated the same kind of baleful energy as the creature Shirou had obliterated. But it was the tenth that drew Rin's attention, because she was certain it was a Servant. The flowing robes and long white hair screamed 'Heroic Spirit', though there was something in his eyes that just seemed off.

And then, of course, there were the three red markings on his hand. Given that this most definitely wasn't Marisbury Animusphere, that meant they faced the being responsible for the destruction of the Animusphere Castle and the slaughter of that ancient family.

"How the hell did they manage to surround us without us noticing ?!" hissed Rin, drawing another jewel from her pockets and holding it in her free hand, ready to cast at a moment's notice.

Meanwhile, Shirou and the Servants were forming a defensive circle around the comparatively squishier Masters. Berserker had materialized the moment the newcomers had revealed themselves, and Archer and Assassin had done the same, though they were inside the circle – they were too small to serve as effective shields, after all, even if they had been willing to risk themselves for mere mortals.

"Greetings, Masters and Servants of Fuyuki City," said the brown-skinned man in a genial tone. "I am Caster."

Well, that answered her question at least. A Servant of that Class could be expected to be able to conceal himself and his allies from their senses, especially one capable of laying waste to the Animusphere in their own Castle.

"You fought very well," he continued conversationally. "Poor Furfur never stood a chance."

'Furfur' ? No matter how ridiculous, the name sounded vaguely familiar.

It took Rin a few seconds to remember. She had read that name in the Lemegeton, one of the most spread texts of Magecraft, so famous it was known even in the mundane world. It was a grimoire, written in the 17th century, no one knew by whom. Its first part, the Ars Goetia, listed seventy-two demons, detailing their natures and powers.

Studying it had been part of Rin's education, and she knew the names of each of the seventy-two demons described within its pages – and Furfur was one of them. It was supposed to possess elemental and mind-altering abilities, and be a pathological liar unless compelled by the appropriate Mysteries (which hadn't been included in the texts she had studied, and of which she doubted any copy existed outside of the Association's most secure vaults, and perhaps those of the Church as well).

There was also something about it having the shape of a deer, and Rin supposed the abomination they had killed vaguely resembled one, if you squinted very hard and were having a bad trip after ingesting some very potent, very illegal drugs.

"And to have inflicted such complete obliteration upon him ... Magnificent." Caster clapped several times, seeming genuinely happy that they had killed its familiar. "I am pleased to see that you retain more of your power than I anticipated, 'Shirou Emiya'."

The way he said those last two words made it sound like he was sharing a joke with them.

"Who are you ?" asked Rin. She already had her suspicions, but she was hoping she was wrong. The chances of the Servant answering were low, of course, but you never knew. Crazy people did crazy things, and if Caster was influenced by the Grail's corruption as 'Furfur' seemed to make certain, then he was definitely crazy.

She was right in both instances, even if she really wished she wasn't.

"Ah, how rude of me. I haven't introduced myself !" He laughed briefly, a sound that set her teeth on edge. "Truly, my manners aren't what they used to be. Please forgive me."

Caster spread his arms out wide, and his voice rang loudly across the docks as he declared :

"I am Solomon. King of Mages, Master of the Seventy-Two Demon Pillars, and a devout servant of the True Gods." He performed a mocking bow in their direction.

Oh. Oh, that wasn't good. Solomon's work was the foundation of all Magecraft in the current era. If the Grail had managed to corrupt him (which it must have, because Rin doubted a properly summoned Solomon would have said anything about 'True Gods' when his faith in the God of the Church was a pretty important part of his legend), then the situation was so bad it wasn't even funny.

"Liar."

Shirou spoke softly, but his voice echoed with power. He had let go of the Dark Angel's power after killing Furfur, but had drawn upon it again immediately after the reveal of their ambushers. Rin didn't want to imagine what sort of impact something like that would have on him in the long-term, but right now, she felt much safer behind his back, with his shadowy wings stretching out to cover Illya, Sakura and her.

Something ugly briefly flashed on Solomon's face at the single word, before vanishing and being replaced by another smile.

"Oh ?" the Servant said in a deceptively soft tone. "Please, go ahead. Elaborate."

"I know you." Under the black lines of Reinforcement and the blazing golden eyes, the expression on Shirou's face could only be described as one of horrified determination, and it scared Rin more than she cared to admit. "I have seen you before, in the years when treachery spread in glory's shadow. You had a different face then, but you cannot hide the truth from me. You aren't Solomon. You wear his shape, but you are not the King of Mages."

"Yes," the enemy Servant gloated, his smile revealing pointed teeth. He clapped his hands and laughed. "Yes ! You are indeed what I was hoping for. But tell me then, my friend. If I am not Solomon, then who am I ?"

"You are not of the Caster Class either," continued Shirou, his eyes blazing with power as he looked upon the Servant, seeing things Rin could only guess at. "That, too, is only a mask you wear to hide the truth to the World. You are nothing but a Pretender, but I see you."

Still, the demonist kept smiling. A terrible sense of foreboding came over Rin then. This was a mistake. They were playing into Caster's plan, whatever it was. She didn't know how, but Shirou was doing exactly what the Grail-corrupted Servant wanted.

But it was too late to stop Shirou :

"Last of the arch-priests of Colchis. Leader of the Covenant. The Black Cardinal, Prophet of the Dark Gods, Voice of the Ruinstorm, and the arch-nemesis of Lorgar Aurelian. Your True Name … is Kor Phaeron."

The name echoed in Rin's bones, and she felt a chill descend on her very soul.

"YES !" roared the exposed deceiver, laughing like a madman. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ! Wonderful !"

Caster threw his arms out wide, and before their eyes, his body started to change. It wasn't anything as simple as an illusion spell being dispelled, or a more physical kind of shape-shifting coming undone. Rin couldn't explain just how it happened, but the aspect of Solomon simply fell off the Servant, discarded like a mask that had covered not just his face but his entire existence.

Gone was the lustrous mane of white hair, revealing a bald and scarred skull bearing an impossibly old face that looked down on them with small eyes that burned with the sort of fervor that set continents ablaze. Gone was the bronze skin, replaced by a pallor that was more appropriate for a corpse rather than a living being. The flowing multicolored robe was gone too, replaced by a black garment that resembled those worn by monks, except for the eightfold star threaded in gold on the chest and the crimson jewel embedded at its center, which blazed with malevolent light.

The only thing that hadn't changed, much to Rin's horror, were the rings he wore on each of Kor Phaeron's fingers, whose simplistic design belied the power she sensed within them and which looked utterly out of place on the withered, claw-like fingers that protruded from his sleeves. According to legend, Solomon had been given ten rings by God in order to accomplish His will. The Moonlit World had a dozen different interpretations of the myth, of course, but none denied the power of the rings.

Rin still very much hoped these rings had been Kor Phaeron's all along. If this being was from the same alternate timeline which had created the Dark Angel which had been fused with Shirou's soul in the fires of the Fourth Grail War, as the familiar names her lover had employed in his denunciation indicated, then perhaps his own legend included ten rings of power too, which was how it had managed to usurp the summoning of Solomon in the first place.

She really, really hoped that was the case. Because if it wasn't, if the Pretender-Class Servant (something which not even Illyasviel's notes on the Grail summoning system had ever mentioned as a possibility) had managed to cling to the true rings of the King of Mages as he was stripped of his disguise …

"Now," said Kor Phaeron in a voice that was much drier and less congenial, "let us proceed with tonight's second Revelation."

Solomon, King of Mages
Class : Caster

[DECEIT REVEALED]

||
V

Kor Phaeron, the Black Cardinal
Class : Pretender

Strength : E
Edurance : E
Agility : E
Mana : A++
Luck : A++

Noble Phantasm : [ACCESS DENIED]
Rank : EX
Type : Anti-Humanity

Skills :
Daemon Summoning : Master of the Seventy-Two Pillars (EX)
Charisma (C)
Territory Creation (A)
Item Creation (B)
Independant Manifestation (A)
Mental Pollution (EX)
Revelation of the Octed (-)
[ACCESS DENIED]

AN : AT LAST !

For nigh-on two bloody years I have kept that reveal waiting. Since I started writing the Grail War Arc in earnest, the first thing I did was list the Servants that would participate, and what to do with Caster was the big question. Everyone who read this having played FGO thought it was Goetia, but you were wrong ! I did tell you there would be more 40K characters, didn't I ?!

OK, deep breaths. Sorry, but as I said, this has been a long time coming. The end scene of this chapter, and the entire next one, are stuff I have been imagining for a long time, much like certain scenes in the Times of Ending for the Roboutian Heresy *cough* Cerberus versus the Eldest *cough* the reveal of Sanguinius' mental state *cough* the truth of the Yellow King *cough cough cough*.

More details as to just how Kor Phaeron ended up in the Spirit Origin of King Solomon will be revealed as the characters uncover them. While I am taking inspiration of the Pretender Class which was invented for Fate Grand Order, I am changing some of the details, partly because that chapter hasn't been released in English yet, and partly because I am still not convinced the official Fate writers aren't more or less writing by the seat of their pants when it comes to the mechanics of the setting.

And yes, as foreshadowed by Kor Phaeron's final words, the next chapter will contain another revelation. I am sure you can guess which one.

Oh, and the Mortis Gate from Shirou's vision at the start is something from old Dark Angels codexes. Not much is known about it, which made it perfect for my purposes. In the RH-verse, the Mortis Gate was a Webway Gate connected to a section of the Webway corrupted by Chaos and leading inside the Eye of Terror. I am sure you can link the dots for yourselves.

I look forward to your reactions and thoughts on this chapter. The next one should be easy to write given its contents, but I also don't want to mess it up, given that it will be pivotal to the entire story. So ... I don't make any promises, but hopefully before the end of the month.

Zahariel out.

PS : Enjoy the Omake. Writing Waver is still as fun as ever.

Omake : The Clocktower's Rumour Mill

If there was one domain in which Waver's skills had grown since becoming a Lord of the Clocktower, it was dealing with paperwork. Other Lords had veritable legions of assistants to deal with the boring details of their office, as promising youngsters all but begged for these positions in the hope of making useful connections.

Him, however, needed to do it all himself. It was an arduous task, but at the very least while he was battling forms, filling in reports and grading papers, he wasn't fighting for his life in the midst of his latest unwilling investigation having gone horribly wrong. There was a tranquility to boredom that he had only come to truly appreciate in his later years.

That tranquility was shattered as the gate of his office opened and his adoptive sister and tormentor walked in with a smile on her face.

"Hello, dear brother."

"Hello, Reines," sighed Waver. "Go ahead, don't hold back. Tell me."

"Tell you what, dear brother ?" asked Reines innocently.

"Whatever it is you came here to tell me that you think will annoy me."

"My ! Is this really how you think of me ?"

"Yes," deadpanned the Lord of the Clocktower. "Now, out with it. I have enough to worry about already without having to wonder what additional trouble you are going to add to my plate."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it trouble. It's just that I have heard the most amusing rumors about the last meeting of the honorable Lords of our institution."

"There are always rumors before, during and after these meetings," dismissed Waver. "You would think people would have better things to do with their time than trading gossip, what with this being an organization dedicated to research."

"In their defense," Bazett – she and Gray had been quietly sitting in the room reading and keeping watch, just in case another of the Magi holding a grudge against Waver for his interference in their crazy, doomed-to-fail schemes – pointed out, "knowing what's going on in the upper circles of power is pretty much a survival necessity here."

"That might excuse it, if there was ever a grain of truth in the rumors. For all our differences, I do respect my esteemed peers enough to believe that they respect the secrecy of these meetings."

He sighed again.

"Now, Reines, get it over with. What ridiculous theories about the meeting are circulating right now ?"

"Well," the smile on her face didn't fill him with confidence, "there's one rumour that claims one of your former students has just become a Magician, and that the Lords gathered to decide how to handle that momentous event."

"Ridiculous. I have taught some gifted students, true, but none of them are close to that level. Well, except Flat, maybe, but his approach to Magecraft is far too random to actually grasp the Root … I hope."

"The other, most widespread theory as to the subject of the gathering is the succession of the Astrology Department's Lordship, since word of the Animusphere's downfall has already spread across the entire Association. It is whispered that you have managed to secure the Lordship for yourself, blackmailing the other Lords into acceding to your demands by threatening them with the same fate you already inflicted upon the Animusphere if they oppose you."

"… What ?"

"Oh yes," Reines nodded, her smile widening even further. "Apparently, you were the one to destroy the Animusphere Castle, as punishment for their studying of the Moon having led to them being contaminated by the remnants of Brunestud's madness."

"That's … there is so much wrong with that I don't know where to begin," admitted Waver, all too aware that Gray and Bazett were holding back their laughter and not quite succeeding.

"Either that, or a Reflection of Zelretch showed up despite the wards and endorsed your candidature, silencing all opposition. I take it there is nothing to that either ?"

"Of course there isn't ! I already have far too much work on my plate to take up the duties of another Lordship, let alone one so fraught with risk as the Astrology Department !" He frowned as a realization suddenly hit him. "I'll need to make sure Olga-Marie doesn't believe this nonsense. She's already in a difficult enough situation without thinking I'm to blame for it all."

"Apart from that … There are those who believe the Atlas Institute has offered you a place in their ranks in recognition of your talent at dissecting Mysteries, those who think you are planning a coup to install yourself as Director of the Association, and …"

"And ?" Waver asked with morbid fascination, convinced by Reines' pause that she was holding back the decisive blow.

"Well, apparently you and Vice-Director Barthomelloi are about to announce your wedding," she delivered without mercy. "Congratulations, dear brother."

Slowly, calmly, Waver pushed aside the documents he had been working on, along with the pens and stamps he had been using. Then, with great deliberation, he slammed his head into his desk, once, twice, three times.

"Teacher ?!" "Lord ?!"

God, but his younger self had been a moron, to think being famous was a good thing.