"In conclusion," Kirei says. "I don't believe that Saber's Master poses any threat to us in the long run."
It's been about half an hour now since Kirei returned with Berserker from his fight with Saber.
"I see," Tokiomi replies, cupping his chin in thought. "Well, that pretty much matches what I could find out about Saber's Master."
"If I may raise a question," Kirei speaks up from the seat across the table in Tokiomi's office. "The original plan was to force Saber to use her Noble Phantasm but I could have ended her Master's life on several occasions. I could go after him tomorrow and finish him off."
"That will not be necessary, Kirei," Tokiomi elaborates after taking a sip from his tea. "We got plenty of information from that encounter. Though Saber did not use her Noble Phantasm to the fullest, we now know of her identity. Furthermore, we should keep Saber and her Master alive in case there is a Servant in this war that Berserker cannot defeat but she might."
"What are your next orders, my teacher," Kirei asks.
"I want you to scout the city for the remaining Masters but do not engage them," Tokiomi answers. "I doubt that the Einzberns and Matous are stupid enough to walk out in the open."
"Understood," Kirei says as he gets up. "I will report back if I find someone."
Tokiomi nods. "Berserker will need some time to recover. Until then, we must observe and adjust our battle strategy accordingly. I will talk to Father Risei and see if there have been any new developments."
"No! Stay away from me! I -" the young man cries in desperation as he is grabbed by the throat and raised half a meter into the air.
His attacker slams him into the cold and wet ground of this dark alley they are in and pulls out a knife from his coat. One quick slash later, the nearby wall is painted with a fine line of red fluid while the victim lets out one last groan of pain and ceases all movement.
"Finally quit kickin'," his attacker says in a deep voice. "Now, sleep."
The eyes and fingers of the victim twitch for a bit as the last bit of his life ebbs away.
"Hey, Assassin," Katsuki says. "Are you done with this one?"
The Servant slices the victim's belly open with surgical precision and reaches with his hand inside, paying no mind that his clothes are getting stained from the blood. Katsuki leans against the nearby wall and watches patiently while pulling out a cigarette.
A minute later, Assassin gets up and cleans his knife on the lower end of his own ragged, dark grey coat. The blood leaves a stain on his clothing which vanishes on its own after a few seconds. He turns the knife in his hand a few times and looks over its clean blade before putting it away.
"Who's next?" Assassin asks his Master.
"Uh, I don't really care," Katsuki replies, walking towards the mutilated victim. "Go and kill whoever you like as long as you get stronger from the extra intake of mana."
"Understood," Assassin replies before vanishing in the surrounding fog.
Katsuki lights his cigarette after fumbling with the lighter and looks down on the corpse as if this is normal.
He crouches down and reaches into the victim's pocket to take his wallet. Upon taking a look inside, a small smile creeps on his lips as he sees the contents and silently counts the cash. Not even bothering to give the dead man another look, he leaves the alley.
Nicolas looks down on the palm of his right hand, reminiscing about a simpler time, about days long gone.
"No, what are you doing? Shut it down, I'm still inside!"
His fist hits the blast door in front of him that leads out of a closed, circular room with walls of reinforced steel again and again but it is ultimately futile. Then, a mechanism behind him inside the room begins to rotate and emanate a blinding light as various symbols on the ground appear in a circle. The more momentum it builds up, the louder it gets, and his chances of escaping are drowned out.
And then, silence.
...
"Your familiars have been modified, Master," Caster says as he approaches him from behind.
Nicolas awakes from his reverie. A red-eyed raven lands on his shoulder. He opens the window he is standing in front of and the raven flies out, followed by another two dozen behind it.
He closes the window, turning to face his Servant again. "Is the rest ready?"
"Almost," Caster replies. "Soon, we will have eyes and ears in all parts of the city."
"Very well," he says.
"Let us pass the time while my diligent bees do the work shall we?" he replies, gesturing for Nicolas to follow.
Despite the fact that Caster is no longer able to use his Noble Phantasm on his own Master, Nicolas has to stay on guard against him nonetheless. He is the devil that exploits human desire for his own entertainment and benefit for a good reason.
There once was a scholar whose thirst for knowledge seemed to have no limit despite having studied everything there was available at the time. So, he made a pact with a demon that promised to grant him all of his wishes in exchange for his soul.
The scholar falls down the rabbit hole and becomes increasingly reliable on the demon's power to get what is basic human desire craves. It was never enough. He always wanted more until he completely lost his soul to the demon, ruining several lives in the process.
The irony is that he proudly exclaimed at the beginning that his lust isn't easily fulfilled, yet he fell so far to the most basic of human desires such as greed and lust.
They walk out of the side room into a marvelous and prestigious restaurant worthy of a king. The floors are carpeted in red as far as the eye can see, the columns are decorated in a floral golden pattern, and the tables are all neatly arranged.
A few people are still walking about. They each wear a black pleated vest with a dress shirt underneath and a bow tie, indicating them to be the staff of this establishment. Every one of them has a neutral expression with a blank look in their eyes. If the eyes are the window to the soul, then their eyes would be like peering into an endless emptiness where no life can be found.
Nicolas makes his way over to the bar and takes a seat with Caster right next to him.
"Barkeeper, would you kindly pour us a round?" Caster asks.
The barkeeper, wearing a fancy suit with a red bow tie, takes out two glasses and fills them with one of the many beverages on the shelf behind him. He puts them on the counter in front of his two customers.
Caster claps twice and announces, "That'll do for today. Those of you who have someone waiting for them can go home. I expect you bright and early here tomorrow. The rest go upstairs to continue on my workshop."
The majority of the people walks towards the exit of the restaurant, the remaining handful of people go the other way towards the stairs.
"You seem unfazed by the fact that these innocent lives are in the palm of my hand," Caster mutters nonchalantly as he peers into his crimson glass of rosé.
"Not in the slightest," Nicolas replies.
"Then you wouldn't mind if I do this?" Caster asks.
He materializes a small spectral orb in his hand.
He begins to close his hand around the orb which gives in under the pressure. Then, one of the people around them falls to the ground and grasps at his chest frantically. He writhes like a worm on a hook as he gasps for air as if he is suffocating.
"They're like puppets. I pull their strings, and then, they dance," Caster remarks as he looks at the squirming human. "This one has a wife and a child, if I recall correctly."
"As long as our progress isn't hindered by it, go ahead," Nicolas says as he takes a sip from his drink without so much as looking at him.
"That would be very counterproductive now, wouldn't it?" Caster responds as he opens his hand and the orb vanishes.
The man gets up from the ground and continues as if nothing happened.
"So, what is your wish for the Holy Grail, o' Master of mine?" Caster asks, savoring his own drink.
Nicolas pauses for a moment and looks down on the drink in front of him. His wish, his motivation behind all of this is quite ironic considering who his Servant is.
Caster narrows his eyes as a sly grin begins to creep onto his face, "Oh, is that a secret I sense there?"
"No such thing," Nicolas replies. "But that topic is a can of worms I'd rather not open up at this time."
"Oh, but we have the entire evening to ourselves," Caster says dramatically, gesturing toward their surrounding environment that is now deserted. "You said it yourself. We will lean back and observe the other Masters and Servants to discern their strengths and weaknesses."
"I won't fall for your manipulation, Mephisto," Nicolas says, taking another sip. "Unlike other humans you have tempted and seduced, I know exactly what I am dealing with."
"As if that is going to stop me," Caster says. "Every human has a desire to be exploited. The more you struggle, the more rewarding it will be. In fact, I welcome this as a challenge."
"You may try as long as you don't lose sight of what's important here," Nicolas concludes. "I will do whatever it takes to claim the Holy Grail."
Talia still can't understand how everything led up to this. It all started with a simple exchange program between the Atlas Institute and the Mage's Association. Then, her professor along with a few other mages was murdered and as if that was not enough, she accidentally summoned a Servant and became a Master in this Holy Grail War while she was running for her life.
"Although I am a perfect being and a pharaoh, it is not bad to have a change of clothes from time to time. You are a considerate one," the man walking next to her states.
Ramesses II, also known as Ozymandias, is one of Egypt's greatest heroes and the third Pharaoh of the Nineteenth Dynasty. He made peace with the Hittites and brought prosperity to ancient Egypt during his long reign. Having such an important historical figure with her, from her own country of origin no less, is pretty daunting on top of his intimidating demeanor.
He conducts himself as a god and pharaoh in a way that feels as natural as breathing. He holds his head high and always has a straight posture which makes him seem unapproachable. His voice carries the charisma and authority of a seasoned leader and ruler, almost like a hypnotic spell.
Still...
"Nevertheless, whether or not you survive as my Master is up to me. You have to show me that you are worthy," Ozymandias continues. "After all, it will be I who will win this war with your help. Not the other way around. Do not be mistaken about that."
If there is no catalyst used for the summoning, the Heroic Spirit summoned is one similar to the summoner's personality but they couldn't be any more different. He is brimming with confidence and authority while she is just...
"Yes, my Pharaoh..." she responds, lowering her gaze to the ground.
Having just exited a clothing store that was just about to close for the day to get him modern clothes as he ordered her, Talia takes this brief moment to catch her breath.
Ever since she summoned him to this world, she couldn't catch a break. Of course, she has contacted the Mage's Association as her Professor told her to and the response was mind-boggling for lack of a better term.
Seeing as there has been no more communication from her Professor or any of the other mages since that night, they are presumed to be dead while the Association investigates further. The worst thing though is that when she contacted her family and explained the situation to them, they told her to remain there and win the Holy Grail War for the family's glory.
Talia rubs her forehead from this fatigue and takes a deep breath. Her Servant is a powerful one but it doesn't make this whole situation any less dangerous.
Ozymandias seems to have finished inspecting his new outfit even though he still stands out to some degree.
He wears black jeans with a matching jacket and shoes. There is nothing underneath the jacket though except for the golden necklace around his neck. So, his chest is exposed for all to see. It's a good thing that Servants can't catch colds because nobody would run around with such scarce clothing this time of the year.
That being said, conversation with Ozymandias has been limited to him asking her various questions about this era which she has answered as best as she could. Though Servants receive knowledge about the era they are summoned in from the Grail to avoid a culture shock, Ozymandias is more interested in the finer details that the Grail doesn't provide. Namely the current state of the world, ongoing wars or conflicts, and disparity between various nations.
Ozymandias continues to walk with his Master a few steps behind him. He scans his surroundings as if to judge them or compare them to that of his own era. Everything from the design of modern buildings and their functionality to the pavings of the road. Talia gazes at the night sky, enjoying this moment of tranquility.
"By the way," Ozymandias speaks up. "What is your wish upon the Holy Grail?"
Talia's eyes are drawn back to the ground. She doesn't have an answer to that.
"I... uhm," she fumbles with her words. "I'm supposed to win the Grail for my family."
"Fool," he replies. "I asked what you wish to do with it. The affairs of your family are trivial to me."
"I... don't have a wish," she responds.
She silently prays that he won't take that as an insult or that she may be lying to him for whatever reason. She'd be lying if she said that she isn't scared of him though.
"Hmph, I see," he utters.
Talia is dumbfounded at that simple response. He has been acting all high and mighty the entire time and speaking like a god that descended upon the earth.
Silence settles in again and Talia wonders where they are even going. She doubts if even he knows where they are going. Perhaps he just wants to see more of this era.
After nearly half an hour of walking, Ozymandias suddenly comes to a stop and Talia nearly stumbles into him but caught herself just in time. She looks around inside the now empty park they are in.
"This place is sufficient," Ozymandias comments as his other attire manifests along with his heqa scepter.
Talia takes a few steps back as a precautionary measure.
"Anat and Set, it is good that you dwell in both of my arms! Astarte, wish me well so that the earth beneath my feet will be soaked in the blood of my battles after my glorious victory! I who am Horus and Ra will give happiness and prosperity to the world when I get another life! O' my beloved Nefertari, you will bless the call of Ozymandias as Hathor!" he declares.
The clouds in the sky darken as if there is something brewing in the heavens above them.
"I am Pharaoh Ozymandias!" he exclaims as he swings his scepter. "All of creation under heaven are within my grasp!"
Coming down like a meteor from the sky, an enormous beast lands in front of him, leaving a crater in the ground after its landing.
Talia looks up in bewilderment at the sight of the majestic creature towering above her. It's sphinx-like body ripples with a mesmerizingly cosmic glow, permeating the area around it. What catches her attention is the nemes headdress, rivaling the great pharaohs of old with its design and ancient beauty along with its shining golden wings.
However, the most prominent feature of this faceless sphinx is its skin. The vast expanse of space spreads out in front of them just by looking at it. Numerous blue glowing dots of light are illuminating the seemingly infinite darkness before their eyes.
Ozymandias rests his free hand against his hip, seemingly pleased with the sight in front of him.
"Behold!" he says. "The Sphinx of Abu el-Hol. It is probably the reason why I am summoned as a Rider. An ordinary Servant is no match for it. In fact, it can take on three at once and emerge victorious! Hahahahaha!"
The sphinx lowers its body to the ground before Ozymandias proceeds to get on top of it.
He then looks down on Talia and says, "What are you waiting for? I have permitted you to accompany me, have I not? I will not be defeated because your carelessness gets you killed."
"Y-Yes!" she replies quickly before climbing onto the sphinx. "But where are we going?"
"That should be obvious!" he states as if she asked something utterly redundant. "I will find the other Servants in this war and slay them!"
As far as the first encounter with another Servant goes, this one could have gone a little better. And while I'm grateful that I'm not out of this fight yet thanks to Jeanne's fast response, the enemy might know her identity now because of that last attack on Berserker. I have to figure out his identity to even it out.
I lean back in my chair as I've finished writing down the essential information that we got from this encounter on my laptop. With the input from Jeanne, I can say for certain that Berserker is either a military general or a king but I am leaning towards a king.
The first reason is that the undead soldiers he summoned all wore clothes that matched the ones he wore which indicates that they aren't just any undead but rather soldiers still in service of their king.
The second reason is his clothing. Nearly everything of what little he wore was made of pure gold which indicates that he belongs to royalty, seeing as only these types of people had access to such luxury.
Finally, there are those eye tattoos all over his body. Extensive research yielded some results. Apparently, it is called a Nazar and typically made into amulets to ward off against a superstitious belief called "the evil eye" which is said to bring misfortune and injury to its victim. They were widely used in the BC era in the middle east which was the ancient Persian empire at the time.
Adding in the fact that that Berserker's clothing looked rather archaic to solidify all of that, he is either Darius I, II, or III, Xerxes I, or Artaxerxes I, II, or III.
I can safely rule out Artaxerxes I and Darius II because history sees them as failed rulers and I doubt that a Master would want that kind of Servant.
Now, if I were a Master that would have to choose between the remaining five as my Servant, it would be either Darius I, III, or Xerxes I. Artaxerxes II, and III weren't great kings judging by the fact that they had to deal with revolts. Darius I, while he brought prosperity to ancient Persia, was not a great fighter as his expeditions in the Persian Wars were unsuccessful.
That leaves Xerxes I and Darius III.
The former brought Egypt under Persian rule and invaded Greece where he fought against King Leonidas of Sparta and his 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. The latter was the rival of the King of Conquerors, Alexander the Great, who fought him many times until he was eventually murdered from within his own ranks.
Both are valid candidates.
Well, that's as close to his identity as I'm going to get for now. If I play it right, I can confirm his identity the next time I encounter him.
The next issue is his Master. I have to come up with a way to deal with that guy or hope that someone else does it for me. It'll probably come down to me ending him though. I've already sent a drone over to the church to monitor it for anything suspicious. I am positive that it was one of their executors which means that not only could he be fed information but can also be supplied with extra Command Seals from the not-so-neutral judge. This is a serious problem.
I sigh as I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling of the living room.
"Master, I made us some tea," Jeanne says, heralding her arrival and putting down a tray with two teacups on the table.
"Thank you," I say, taking one of the cups.
I take a sip from the liquid, savoring the taste and close my eyes. It's pretty relaxing after a straining day like this.
"What are you working on?" Jeanne asks while looking over my shoulder.
"I tried to figure out Berserker's true name," I elaborate as I open my eyes again. "And I've narrowed it down to Darius III and Xerxes I."
"That is really impressive," she says, taking a seat next to me. "You could identify him to that degree just from one encounter?"
"It's no big deal," I reply. "Anyway, this is just one out of the six Servants that we potentially have to fight. I sent drones over to monitor the Tohsaka, Matou, and Einzbern residence. The latter got taken down by something. A Servant with some sort of detection skill if I had to guess. That makes four Masters if we count in the executor, leaving two unidentified. Our next step will be to observe the other Masters and Servants to discern their strengths and weaknesses."
"I am sure we will encounter them soon enough," she says. "And you should take a break. You can't be thinking about the Holy Grail War the entire time."
"Well, what else is there to do?" I ask.
"Why don't you tell me more about you?" she smiles, taking another sip from her tea. "I want to get to know you better."
"Fair enough," I answer. "But there's not much to say. I lived in London for the most part of my life and work as a freelancer at the Clock Tower. Then, through a strange series of events, I ended up as a Master in this war."
I still have to look into that white-haired mage that got me into all of this at some point.
"That is all?" she asks with a puzzled look on her face. "What about your friends and family?"
"I don't have friends or family," I reply.
It is better this way.
"Forgive me for asking but I found these last night," she says hesitantly as she takes out something from her pocket.
She places a letter and two photos on the wooden table between us.
"This is..." I say as I pick them up.
My words are caught in my throat while memories are being recalled in the back of my head. Memories so painful that make me wish to have forgotten. Sometimes, I can still hear their voices as I look at my bloodstained hands. I'm sure that no matter how hard I try, those memories will haunt me for the rest of my days.
The old man with spiked white hair. He took me in when I had no one but suffered an end he didn't deserve because of it. Then there's the guy who taught me a lesson about humanity that came at a high cost.
I thought that I threw away all the photos but it looks like I missed some. The letter though… I don't have the courage to open it and I don't have the strength to throw it away either.
"Please do not rummage through my stuff again without my permission," I say as calm as I possibly can. "These are old items that are of no importance."
Jeanne, casting her gaze downward, replies, "I see... My apologies if I have caused you discomfort, Master."
My facial expression must have said more than a thousand words. I notice that my cheeks have gone slack and that a single tear has ran down.
"Well, I'm going to turn in for the night," I state as I close my laptop and get up, leaving the photos and the letter on the table. "Oh, and put the letter back where you foun-"
I stop and grab the remote on the table and turn up the volume on the TV. Jeanne focuses her gaze in the same direction.
"The serial killings in Fuyuki continue despite the fact that the 'Demon' Ryuunosuke Uryuu has been detained five days ago and is awaiting trial," the female newscaster states while a picture of a boy with orange hair is blended in.
"Two more dismembered victims have been discovered this evening in the downtown area of the city. The police, as of right now, have no comment on the identity of the killer or if these murders are even related. However, they do advise people to remain indoors as several witnesses have also reported a weird fog appearing randomly throughout Fuyuki."
The newscaster finishes as the program on the TV continues. I heard about the killings after I arrived here but the perpetrator was already caught by then. This fog she mentioned though is interesting. I would have guessed that this new killer is just another deranged lunatic copying his predecessor but now I think it might be a Servant.
It is possible for Servants to get additional mana from devouring the souls of human beings. The more consumed, the higher the additional reserve of mana. In an objective sense, it is quite useful but I would never use such a disgusting tactic myself. It breaks one of the fundamental rules I was taught.
"Never get innocent people involved."
I turn towards Jeanne, "We'll go on the hunt for whoever is responsible for this tomorrow in the morning, most likely a Servant, and eliminate them."
"Agreed," she says. "I cannot let such an atrocity stand as it is."
"I'm glad we're on the same page on that matter," I say as I walk towards the stairs. "I'll turn in for the night. Do me a favor and put the letter back where you found it, please. Oh and get rid of these photos while you're at it. Good night."
