Chapter 2: Aftermath
Frantic steps echoed the metal hallway as he sprinted forward with all his might. He hears the distant wails somewhere far behind him, but opts not to turn around. Instead he continues forward, adrenaline coursing through him, fueling his mad dash.
He runs through a large gateway and into a spacious room, quickly turning around throwing down the lever on the wall. There's a hiss and the sound of scraping metal as a pair of hulking blast doors begin sliding shut.
He hears it, the horrific screaming rises in volume followed by rapid footsteps as it approaches. Sweat drips down his face, teeth gritted he mutters "come on come on come on come COME ON". The two doors slide shut with a final clank. A heavy impact sounds from the other, accompanied by furious pounding and enraged screaming. Then there is silence.
He pauses for a moment before exhaling, leaning on the wall and sliding down into a sitting position. Labored breathing fills the room as he catches his breath from the tiring sprint. He pauses to plan his next action, perhaps he–
Metal creaks as a freakishly long paled hand and arm, drenched in blood, rips a hole through the doors. A second arm follows through, both grasping opposite sides of the hole, before tugging. Metal screeches as thick steel bends like paper under the force of the abnormal creature.
The pale gaunt humanoid steps through the sizable breach, its jaws unhinged unnaturally long, it stares down at him with its blank eyes. Screams rip out from its throat and it lunges at him, too slow to react, its hand wraps around his neck. It lifts him into the air, his feet hanging off the ground, and moves him closer to its ever screaming face. He kicks and he struggles, but it's for naught.
And then it squeezes. Within milliseconds, his neck fractures, his pharynx crushed, blood rises to his lips, his consciousness slips away.
And then Wyatt Oid dies.
Wyatt slowly walks towards the cafeteria, shoulders slightly slumped and slightly noticeable dark eye bags under his eyes. Ever since the original incident and the heavy loss of staff, he's been forced to work non-stop in order for Chaldea and all of its systems to function. Worse, he doesn't even get paid overtime for all the work he's done. Well not that currency actually matters or has any value at all in the current state of the world.
'Perhaps I should demand a raise after this' he thought mirthfully. 'Actually, do I even get paid anymore?' His thought is interrupted by a sudden commotion far ahead of him. He stands tall and peers forward to see what's occurring.
Clink, clink, clink… the sound of armor resounds through the hallway as a figure strolls through confidently. Her complexion pale, armour blackened, cape flowing behind, yellow eyes glaring ahead daring anyone to challenge her.
Chaldean staff scampered hastily to the side, hoping to avoid her ire. She paused and turned her head at a male staff member, glaring intensely at him, causing the unfortunate person to lightly squeak before falling onto his rear in a panic. She sneers before turning forwards once more and continues her pace forward past all of them, and the fallen man behind her lets out a large sigh of relief.
'A servant, heroic spirits composed of the ideals and thoughts of humanity placed within a class container.' Thought Wyatt. 'Beings of great feats who're capable of fending off an entire nation by themselves. Letting them roam free in the world could be disastrous, yet containing them would be highly difficult and most certainly without casualty.'
He thought back to the Servant system, 'Thankfully there's something to keep them in check, masters and command seals. The contractor of the spirit and the power to bend said spirits to their will, but if such power ended up in the wrong hands…' He thought back to the danger these beings posed to those around them, intentionally or not, their power outclassed any mortals and could bring harm upon them.
A sudden thought crossed Wyatt's mind, kind of sounds like being around any of the senior staff at the foundation. His mind quickly reminisces on a memory of the past.
"Hey Logg, wanna come see what happens when I throw this D-class into a room with 173 and 096?" the man exclaimed cheerfully, one arm slung around the neck of a nervous D-class drenched in sweat and slightly shaking.
"No Dr. Bright, you can't do tha–"
"Oh man, this is going to be so hilarious!" The man had already spun around before the sentence ended and dashed away, dragging the poor D-class behind him, who was now loudly screaming for mercy.
"NO BRIGHT!" Logg sprinted after him, all the while shouting "SOMEONE STOP HIM!"
Wyatt paused in the hall, seemingly deep in thought for an entire minute, before coming to a conclusion and nodding to himself.
I think I'll take my chances with a Servant.
And with that thought, Wyatt continued onwards to the cafeteria.
( ( ◉ ) )
A tray of food held in his hands, Wyatt strolled the cafeteria until he found an empty table and sat down. He glanced around the room and noted all the figures there, among the few Chaldean staff were multiple servants who were enjoying their own meals.
He stared at one particular table in which sat a blonde young woman in a noble dress and a blue rattail haired man in body tights, who were both being served by a tan white haired man wearing black body armor.
The woman sat regally, in front sat a mountainous pile of food which she ate. Her hands moved faster than any average man could comprehend as she steadily plowed through the stack, never hesitating nor pausing. This was King Arthur, or more appropriately Artoria, the king of knights and wielder of Excalibur.
The blue haired man sat crisscrossed in his seat, a large cup of beer in hand. He boisterously laughed out loud at something before raising the cup and downing it in a single swig. This was Cu Chulainn, Ireland's Child of Light and the Hound of Culann.
The tanned man placed down the food he had brought onto their table before picking up a stack of empty plates next to the king of knights, who thanked him. He gave her a kind smile before turning around and walking back to the kitchen carrying said stack. This man was a puzzle, no matter how much Wyatt searched and asked, he couldn't for the life of him figure out the archer servant's identity. Someone who managed to reach the throne of heroes yet whose identity he did not know, a mystery.
Wyatt brought a strip roasted pork to his mouth and bit into it, a cacophony of flavors exploded in his mouth. The meal made by the mentioned archer servant was unbelievably delicious, rarely had he tasted better. 'How did he manage to make this so delectable, truly a mysterious man' he thought before digging further into his meal.
A tray was placed down in front of him as someone sat down in the seat across from him. "Good afternoon Mr. Oid" Romani Archaman friendly said as he picked up his utensil.
"Good afternoon Dr. Roman" he replied in kind.
They ate in silence for a while before he broke the silence and made small talk. "I saw a new servant earlier, was she just summoned?"
Roman paused in thought for a second before snapping his fingers, "Ah yes, Jeanne Alter, she was summoned this morning by Gudao".
'Jeanne Alter?'
"The Dragon Witch?" He blurts out incredulously. "Didn't she try to kill them in the singularity a few days ago?"
Roman sheepishly scratched the back of his head while answering, "Ah yeah, she really scared me this morning, but Gudao and Gudako were really insistent on letting her stay, they wanted to give her a second chance".
Wyatt processed that information for a second. 'That's…really naive and foolish thinking, but who am I to judge. I'm sure they know more than I do and I suppose they've been successful so far. Plus...' he thought to himself, 'a chance is also all the reason why I'm here.'
He had lost connection to the Foundation seven years ago. Well, seven years in this world's time at least.
He was isolated, alone in a foreign world. So he did the rational thing and hid himself, he blended himself into society while gathering information and searching for a way home for a year. It was during this period in which he discovered the Moonlit world.
He opted to navigate the hidden world carefully, avoiding detection while learning all he can about this occult society. Well that was the original plan at least.
Only a few months had gone by before he was approached. He was unsure of how he was found out, he hid all traces of his investigation and had done nothing that would hint at his involvement with the society run by type blues.
The individual who discovered him? Why it was none other than the doctor himself, Romani Archaman. He still remembers the day.
"Are you Wyatt Oid by chance?" The orange haired man had asked.
"I am, yes. And may I ask who's asking?" Wyatt said as he stood behind the doorway of the apartment.
"I'm Dr. Romani Archaman, though you may just call me Roman". The man smiled gently before taking out a business card. "I'm here today to ask you to join our organization, Chaldea, as a technician".
Roman tilts his head slightly, " You're proficient in technical repair correct?"
Wyatt kept his facial expression in check, he quashes the rising panic inside him and calmly responds, "I'm not sure of what you're speaking–".
"Oh, you don't need to hide anything. I'm not going to pry into your past". Roman quickly waves off his concerns, "I'm just here to give you an offer".
Skepticism crossed his face, a thousand questions filled his mind, "But why me?" He blurts out the first to rise to the top of his mind. "Surely there are those who're more suited to the job than I am".
Roman hums a little before gazing upwards, "I'm not exactly sure…but if I had to explain it". He looked back down, "It's a gut feeling". Wyatt could've swore that for an instant, Roman had a knowing look in his eyes, the stare of someone wise beyond understanding.
Wyatt paused in thought, mind racing and thinking of all possibilities. They stood there for a minute, after which he stepped back and waved Roman in.
"Come in, let's discuss this inside"
Roman smiles brightly and steps within, the door gently closing behind him.
"I trust them, I believe they can handle it" Roman stated confidently, jolting Wyatt out of his reminiscing.
'If it weren't for him I may be incinerated along with the rest of humanity right now,' He muses. "If you say so doctor, I'm sure your faith isn't misplaced." He replies in recognition.
'Though I never did find out how he found me or even knew of me…'
'A question for another day then.' They went back to eating their meals in peace, surrounded by the liveliness of Servants.
'Maybe I should ask about that raise though…'
Standing elsewhere, two beings converse with each other, only for one to suddenly pause. "Oh my, they've attained the Grail in France?" Lev Lainur Flauros mutters.
He scowls, "And so they persist on surviving" he snarls.
Across from him, the blurry being stands, its appearance unobservable and its form is ever-shifting. Its shape is only vaguely humanoid and its presence is unnerving.
"Seven singularities…seven seals…seven rings…seven brides…" The distorted figure murmurs deliriously, its words slurred and its voice twisted. It quietly continues its delusional rant.
Lev briefly glances at the entity before turning his gaze to the sky, perhaps the thing was once mortal, but now it's nothing but a mindless beast, spouting nonsense and acting purely on instinct. "I shall destroy the nuisances when they arrive, they can't be allowed to go further".
"It matters not, it matters not, it matters not…" The figure's form starts shaking. Is it out of fear, excitement, or anger, Lev can't tell. Its voice warbles before spitting out its final sentence.
"...All shall perish in the march of the King…"
I'll give three guesses for who big bad baddie is...
Inspiration had struck me and so it's been dictated that the next story update will be when my frail grubby hands manage to type it all out.
Thank you for reading this story and thanks to those of you who left positive reviews, they really made my day!
I'll see you in the next chapter, but for now have this omake.
Omake: Type Ex Machina
Jeanne D'arc, Georgios, and Martha, powerful servants who were grand feats were recognized and led to them being qualified as saints.
Their existence itself implies the presence of the Abrahamic deity, the God himself with a capital G. Its influence clearly shapes and impacts the world to this very day, evidently shown by the presence of the Holy Church and its followers in the Moonlit world.
Yet despite its authority, it's just as enigmatic as the self proclaimed God he once knew of, the white bearded old man stared at him, sat in his comfy old English chair, calmly sipping from his cup while speaking in a gentle tone. Still the existence of the Holy grails and the servants related to the higher being no doubt proves the authenticity of its existence.
Wyatt needed more information, so he sought out someone who knew more.
"Eh, you want me to speak about our Lord?" Martha asks in question. Seeking out a saint, Wyatt had come across the rider in the cafeteria and approached asking for information. "That's fine, then this saint will preach to you now!"
Wyatt nods and takes a seat across from her, 'Surely with her connection to God she must know something.'
"The Lord is the father, the Lord is loving, the Lord is super-duper awesome and incredibly cool–" Martha's composed form quickly gave away, and she descends into a giddy rant while making large hand motions.
'Ah, perhaps this would be harder than I thought.'