"Eighteen... nineteen... twenty... haa... twenty-one..."
He couldn't get over it. It fascinated him.
How many versions did he know? How many different variants had he met?
His Saber. The suicidal timeline's Saber. Alter.
Three would be plenty, but no. It just continued, on and on. The lancers, for example - the older variants he met in that Chaldea place during one of his extended Archer summonings.
Those memories shocked him; who knew the tiny girl he knew would... well, yeah.
And yet, he'd never met a version quite like this one.
The blizzard continued to rage outside the cave. Day four of their quiet, uneventful travels, following the one path Artoria knew.
Unlike Saber, she didn't bother studying things like geography, politics, or any other areas beneficial to a monarch. Didn't need to, she claimed. Kay would inherit Camelot, as was his right, and she preferred to protect the people through more martial means. The once-destined girl wished to be a mere guard, and so, from a young age, she'd memorized the city's layout and every soldier and citizen within, at the expense of learning about the world outside the walls.
Except this route.
Ironic though it was, the one path she'd learned led to the Sword in the Stone. But not to travel, no.
"Thirty-three... thirty-four... thirty-five..."
She memorized it so she knew what route to avoid. Every other direction, safe. It was like a priest learning how to enter Hell, all so they could stay as far away as possible.
Her sweat glistened in the fire's light. Expression scrunched in concentration, Artoria continued her sit-ups. Her tunic rode up her body just enough to reveal her abdominals. She either hadn't noticed, or didn't care.
It really shouldn't have surprised him... but it did.
A myriad factors contributed to Saber's appearance. Drawing Caliburn froze her at fifteen years. Merlin focused her training on prana usage and magical reinforcement; those abilities propelled her far above the average soldier, but as a result her physical strength - the strength of her actual body - fell to the wayside.
He remembered that shock well. To think a mere high school student was stronger than King Arthur! To think Tohsaka could overpower the King of Knights!
Saber, meanwhile, thought her body unattractive, overly muscular, too masculine for a man to appreciate.
"Do you... haa... like... haa... what you see... haa... Saber...?"
Shirou blinked, looked away with a laugh.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare."
Artoria paused her exercises and pulled herself into a seated position.
"Ahem."
Oh no. He'd offended her again.
"Do you like what you see, Saber?" she repeated.
...
Based on that one glimpse, Shirou knew his Saber would have a damn heart attack.
Best be honest this time around.
"Yeah."
The girl smirked, then pulled the tunic up over her head. Shirou paled.
"A-Artoria?"
"I'm starting to sweat. If it gets damp I'll freeze, aye?"
"There are ways around that without needing to—"
The tunic impacted his head. He pulled it off with a sigh and grimace. Artoria blushed, and resumed her exercise.
She thankfully still wore the fabric bindings around her chest, but all the same - to do such a thing in this remote a location, with a man she'd met a week ago?
Unbelievable. Talk about a shameless flirt.
At this point, they both knew some sort of physical attraction existed. He'd be a filthy liar to think or say otherwise, and he saw no problem with admitting it. That wasn't him just being Shirou, either; from an objective standpoint, Artoria Pendragon was, frankly, beautiful. Not as an object to be desired, not as a woman to be lusted after. Her soul, her existence, was beautiful. Few things in the world matched her purity.
Tohsaka once admitted to him, during a particularly harrowing post-war escapade, that she'd not expected him to choose her. Saber was gorgeous, she claimed, and she thought him an idiot for not pursuing the Servant instead. First time they met, she felt she'd lost as a woman.
That conversation touched him in a way not many things had. And he saw her constant bickering and jealousy afterwards in a new light. He'd honored Tohsaka, so she made a point of claiming her territory whenever others like Luvia advanced or flirted. She valued his choice and opinion, and showed it in that way.
Now, in watching Artoria, he understood what Tohsaka meant.
No matter what version manifested, the girl always gave one hundred percent. For eighteen years, this Artoria lacked access to her prana reserves. All her training became devoted to physical strengthening and endurance, the same as any other person, and here, it showed. It showed in her toned muscles and the sweat upon her brow. She'd closed the distance with sheer natural ability.
The thing Saber feared, and Artoria wore it as a point of pride. She made it work.
He'd never known this girl at eighteen, mentally or physically. Saber's journey lasted some twenty odd years: a decade from pulling Caliburn through Vortigern's defeat, and a decade from her ascension through the battle at Camlann. She died a thirty-five year old woman in a dainty teenager's body.
The lancers were less biologically discrepant, but even then Caliburn's ten year offset still existed. They were Artoria Pendragon at age twenty-five.
Looking at her now, he could see just how fast the changes occurred. Artoria sat between the two sides, and in her appearance Shirou saw both Saber and the lancers. Her face had lost some of its adolescence. Her hair was messier. Back in Camelot he failed to consider her late puberty. She'd always been on the short side, and she wore a man's tunic. On her, it was oversized. When combined with those wrappings—
...
Ah. He really had offended her. That visceral reaction had been warranted.
Shirou turned his gaze to the wall of white preventing their passage.
"I was wrong. Sorry."
Artoria glanced over from her place on the ground, at last finished with her exercises. She took a moment to collect her breath.
"Eh?"
"You couldn't masquerade if you tried. It was wrong of me to say so."
...
"Saber, may I ask of you something?"
"Hm?"
"Was your relationship that of knight and king, or was it more personal in nature?"
...
She rolled onto her side, staring. At his silence, a blush worked its way to her cheeks.
"I-I did not mean to pry! Forgive me!"
"It's fine. We were..."
"Shirou~! A-Ah... gimme 100 yen."
"It needs money?"
"This is unbelievable, Rin! Who would've thought we could go river rafting indoors?"
"I hear that the Fujiyama slide over there is twice as long as this one!"
"Is that so? We can't just sit around here, then! Let's get going, Shirou!"
"H-Hey! Hold up, you two!"
"Wh-What is it, Shirou? I find it uncomfortable to be stared at in such a manner."
"Talk about hating to lose."
"I miscalculated. I had no idea Saber would be so competitive."
"Yeah, she gets angry if you go easy on her, and she sulks if you get too far ahead..."
"Y-You were just as eager to compete against Rin, Shirou!"
"...close. We were close."
When he looked up from his lap, Shirou found Artoria right next to him, leaning into his personal space.
"How close?"
"She... was my best friend."
...
"Artoria..."
The girl closed what minuscule distance remained. He felt her breath on his lips.
"Just friends? She did not pursue you?"
Disbelief coated her words. Shirou stared into the fire.
"...'I cannot accept your words. I made a contract to obey you, but I did not give you my heart, Master. I cannot forsake my oath as a king. There is a duty I must fulfill as the king.'"
Her face contorted in utter disgust. He swallowed his nerves and pressed on.
"'King Arthur's goal is to obtain the Holy Grail. Even if I achieve that goal, I will not return to being Artoria. I have only ever had one wish. This wish has never changed since I pulled out the swo—'"
Her hand covered his lips.
"A fool and a liar," she hissed. "The more I learn, the more memories I wish to see. I wish to know the decisions I should not make. And I truly hope one day I shall face her within them."
Artoria released her grip. Shirou leaned his head against the cavern wall.
"Why?"
"So I can slap her. So I can put her out of her misery."
She must've spotted his lack of understanding; Artoria pushed their shoulders together.
"Are we the same person, Saber? She and I?"
She caught on quickly.
"The wizard Merlin cautioned her against drawing the sword," he grunted. "Said one couldn't be both a king and a human. She's the king, you're the human. She's the armor, you're the girl."
"And I feel what she feels?"
"Only you could know that."
Artoria pushed off the wall, leaned past him, checked the weather outside. The blizzard churned.
"Then do you wish to know the feelings of the girl beneath the 'King Arthur' title? The selfish desires she denied herself in pursuit of her sacrificial charade?"
I love Saber.
I want her to be happier than anyone else and I want to be with her forever.
But if I truly love her, that's wrong.
I loved Saber as she continued to fight even after getting hurt.
She was a girl who discarded everything, was filled with injuries, yet still protected all the way through.
If I consider that beautiful and want to protect it...
I cannot destroy her life just for my own selfishness.
...
Eyes squeezed shut.
"I can't."
Something brushed his cheek.
"Saber."
It hurt, this cruelty. To see the girl of which he dreamed, the woman he thought nonexistent, here, in the flesh, sitting before him, so close and so far away. To see that impossibility, that thing he longed for... and yet...
She was born as a king and lived as a king.
That will not change no matter what.
From the time she swore to carry the sword, the girl became a king and nothing else.
That is her pride.
She ran through the battles so that in her final moments, she would be able to believe her path was the right one.
"Saber, look at me."
Her voice a mere whisper, Artoria met his eyes and leaned in close.
The dreams of the girl Artoria.
The mind that chose to be the king over her own life.
To fight.
Even after she learned it would be unrewarded, she still clasped the sword and defended the oath of the king.
For many years.
I cannot do anything to dishonor the pride that she has held until the time of her death.
"Please," he rasped. "I can't."
"How long have you searched for her?"
His throat was that of a parched man in a desert, searching for an oasis.
"An... an eternity..."
"Then this one time, if you allow me, I wish to give you some motivation. I am but a simple messenger. Consider her the sender, and you, the recipient. From the girl whose burdens you lifted. From... from your..."
Eyes flitted this way and that, searching his features, then focused and sharpened.
"...your Saber...?"
"In the end, there is one thing I must tell you."
"What is it?"
He opened his mouth to deny her thrice. She did not give him the chance.
The girl he once glimpsed beneath armor and sword wound her arms tight around Shirou's neck.
"She..."
"Shirou - I love you."
"...really misses you, Saber."
Their lips brushed together.
"Emiya! To the flank, to the flank!"
She ran. "Aye!"
A Saxon ambush.
Shields clashed. The thrust of spears, the slash of swords. Line to line, soldier to soldier and mercenaries between.
In this moment, she was less a person and more a lion. Wind billowed into the men she passed, but their cheers compelled her onward.
"Go, Emiya!" they shouted.
For magical ability was not to be withheld. 'Twas a blessing, not a curse, and she aimed to use it as such.
The collapsing flank faltered up ahead. Saber belted out her command.
"Make way!"
A Cornwall soldier twisted his head, eyes wide, and planted his feet.
"Brace! Brace! He comes!"
Teeth grit and jaws clenched. The men in front pushed into the advancing Saxons, and those behind braced against their allies. Saber jumped, soared like an eagle.
Her weapons failed her. They turned brittle beneath her power.
Her body? Not so.
Like a falling meteor she descended into the enemy formation. Like the dinosaurs they fell. The sword she carried - the fifth one this battle - swelled with prana. Saber slammed it into a man's stomach and kicked him back into the Saxons.
She turned to her allies. The sword exploded; its shockwave did not phase her.
With no Excalibur, with no armor, with no Noble Phantasm to call her own, she would fight as her namesake demanded. As those two men did, in their fated clash of ideals.
"Advance!"
As an Emiya.
Cornwall's men belted out a roar, and charged.
The town of Glavum laid abandoned. Here, snow's blanket silenced. Shops stood empty, deserted, as did the markets and the roads and the homes of the long-vanished citizenry. Artoria heard nothing but their chilled breathing and the crunch of their steps.
"Did you know about this?" Saber asked.
"Nay. 'Tis strange. For a town so close to ours to be emptied of its people, and for no one to reach our gates... I dislike it."
The storm passed some time ago, and to speed things along Saber had once more taken her into his arms and... well, jumped. Faster than a horse. More embarrassing, too.
...
Gods, what was she thinking?! He hadn't denied her, no, but still!
Were these thoughts her own? Did they belong to King Arthur? Both? A mix?
Gah, gods above! Confounded sorceries! Confounded alternative kingships!
No, it mattered not. King Arthur did not deserve him. Hmph! To torture such a kind soul in such a heinous manner! If that idiotic individual left him abandoned, she would pick up the pieces instead. He deserved his happiness.
"Can you sense anything, Saber?"
"In the town? No. There's a faint magical signature coming from the outskirts, though. Reminds me of the sword. It matches what your father said regarding its location."
"Then let us conclude this business swiftly. I dislike being so close to the infernal thing. How do we destroy it?"
"With this."
He handed her a crooked dagger, a foul smelling thing chilled to the touch. She tucked it in a pouch.
"What is it?"
"Rule Breaker. A dagger capable of severing any and all magical contracts. Touch it to the sword and its fate will be broken."
So many things of which she knew nothing. How wondrous, this shadowy realm of witchcraft.
"It will render the sword a mere weapon?"
They continued to walk through the empty town. Saber's helmet swiveled from cottage to cottage. None were damaged. No signs of war, no bloodied remains.
"Yeah. It's a messy solution, one with many potential consequences, but it's the only option I see working. That sword is the first step in King Arthur's legend. I don't know what its destruction would do to—"
He froze.
"Saber?"
They stopped at Glavum's eastern gate. In the distance, shadowed against the horizon, stood an arena's bastardized remains. Shimmering crystal the color of her eyes encased it from the ground to roof, and spread out across the ground like a distorted spider web. Nearby trees hung frozen in time, lifeless and dead.
...
Her heart raced, and she knew not why.
"Master."
Perhaps the adrenaline affected her hearing, but Artoria swore Saber's muffled voice, in that moment, dropped several octaves, to skirt something between his standard pitch and a smooth baritone.
She looked to him, but his helmet focused on the horizon, off to the arena's side. A barren field stretched into the distance. No trees, no cover.
Saber was judging the distance.
She gulped. "Y-Yes?"
Before her materialized a pair of curved shortswords. The white one she recognized.
"They are my most trusted weapons. Take them," he ordered. "The white one is Bakuya, the black is Kanshou. You will feel compelled to take certain actions while using them. Do not fight it. The swords will guide and protect you."
She did as he said, but the implications behind the words hung heavy on her shoulders.
"What about you, Saber?"
He scooped her into a bridal carry.
"I will get you as close as possible, and buy you time. If we are separated, you must destroy the sword, no matter the cost."
His words did not ease.
"That arena - is it the enemy?"
Energy surged into Saber's legs. The ground beneath him cratered.
"If my gut is right, and if my memories are in order, it is the one threat I haven't faced across all my lifetimes of service."
He shot forward, faster than any living thing. His next words sent a chill down her spine.
"It is the absolute worst case scenario. We cannot let it corrupt the Sword in the Stone."
One lunging step carried them a quarter of the distance. Wind pulled at her cheeks. Through its incessant howl, Artoria heard a distant, echoing crackle, the sound of shattering minerals.
Another leap brought them halfway to the sword, but it was not enough. Saber skidded to a halt, lowered her to the ground, and stepped to her front. He faced their unknown enemy, and held his right hand to the clouds.
From the arena's malformed depths erupted an endless volley of crystal javelins.
"If it can stop a spear, it can stop the rain."
His crimson surcoat fluttered in an invisible breeze.
"I am the bone of my sword."
The sky was black.
"Rho..."
Prana drained from her draconian heart. Artoria took a breath. Seven petals reflected in her pupils.
"...Aias!"
The descending projectiles slammed into and around Saber's shield. Each impact against the Aias loosed a deafening shockwave that ripped the wind from Artoria's lungs. The first petal dissolved and rebuilt itself in an instant. Saber took a step back, but otherwise held his ground.
"It's far beyond the Shadow," he muttered.
She couldn't understand what he meant, but in this frenzied moment it didn't much matter. In her periphery, Artoria spotted the crystals spreading their poison into the snow. Shimmering glass snaked to their position. Panic lodged in her throat.
"Saber! Saber, the ground!"
He extended his free gauntlet. "Come, Master."
She scrambled closer; he wrapped his left arm tight around her waist. With a single step to the side, Saber flung them both in the sword's direction. He dragged the shield along.
But the maneuver diverted his attention.
Right as they landed, a supersonic crystal tendril snapped out from the arena. It punched clean through the Aias, and impaled Saber's chest.
His breastplate did nothing.
"G-Gugh...!"
The frost stained crimson. He shoved Artoria away just in time, for a second tendril pierced through his left gauntlet. That same glass spread across his hand and up his forearm.
Artoria stared, horrified.
"SABER?!"
I fight down my urge to vomit.
My whole body shakes.
No.
No.
No.
No!
Please, gods! Anyone!
No! I do not want this! Please!
Blood spews from his helmet's breaths.
He releases a garbled, miserable chuckle.
I hate it. I hate it, I hate all of this!
"All that... p-power... with the m-mind of... an animal. I'm a-already a... slave, f-fool. You... can't... eat me...!"
He says it as a point of detestable pride.
I feel sick.
Not after I just met him!
Not after I just found someone I could connect with!
Hateful, despondent rasps course up my throat.
I climb to my feet.
That thing shan't take him.
I shall not let it take him!
Bloody blades erupt from his greaves and calves.
They pin him in place.
More emerge along his chest and arm.
They pierce the crystal's poison, halting its spread.
Why must he suffer these indignities?
For such a kind man to be so... so...!
I want to break down.
I can feel the wail building.
"Trace... on..."
A pulsing ripple flows over me.
For a single, breathless instant...
...I behold a wasteland of swords.
"A-Ah...!"
It vanishes with my gasp.
Magical energy drenches the air.
Next to him, a sword pushes through the ground.
Its pommel greets his waiting palm.
His right hand curls around the hilt.
My eyes trace the sword.
"...!"
Static floods my vision.
I see a bloody hill.
A woman stands on the bodies of her countrymen.
Just one glimpse is enough to exhaust me.
This sword is...
"Destroy... the sword..."
His shuddering helmet glances at me from over his shoulder.
My gaze meets the black of his visor's sight.
I wish I could see his eyes.
"B-But... you...!"
The crystal harpoons pull at him.
His blades hold fast.
Saber does not move.
"Without her... I struggled to use it..."
The red knight traces the sword's hilt with his fingers.
Longing coats his pained words.
"Even... as a f-fake... it is still hers..."
He tightens his grip.
The blade hisses.
Pale light ascends its length.
I can feel its dignity, its rage, its desire.
It scares me.
"But here... like you..."
Angry tears stain my cheeks.
I know it is my sword.
It has always been my sword.
But I refuse it, because of what it represents.
A baleful glow bursts forth.
Saber pulls it from the ground.
"It is free..."
The iron vanishes beneath the torrential light.
It sparks along the ground like a tumultuous thunderstorm.
I hear its whispers.
It asks for guidance.
But I have Saber, now.
I pulled my sword from a scroll, not a rock.
I back away. I turn in the direction of this sword's counterpart.
"Protect him. Protect Saber!"
Those are my orders.
The sword roars its compliance.
Saber points the tip at the distant arena.
The crystalline tendrils yank at his chest, but he stands his ground.
I break into a sprint.
The longer I stay, the likelier it is that—
No.
I shan't let it happen.
"Your master commands you."
Saber's whisper gives me strength.
"Caliburn...!"
My shadow lengthens.
The heat scorches my back.
And the snow melts away.
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Year: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
...
Analysis complete.
Year: AD 506
Age: [Error: variable "Age of the Will" undefined]
Classification: Unknown
Depth: EX
Threat Level: Undefined
Chaldean Saint Graph detected:
Saber - Artoria Pendragon - ACTIVE
ALERT:
Saint Graph corruption detected.
Updating parameters... complete.
Chaldean Saint Graph detected:
? - Artoria Pendragon - ACTIVE
Class - Unregistered
Noble Phantasm - Unregistered
Additional notes:
Noble Phantasm: Caliburn - FAILED
Noble Phantasm: Excalibur - FAILED
Noble Phantasm: Rhongomyniad - FAILED
Noble Phantasm: Avalon - DATA INSUFFICIENT
The assembled group stared at the rotating CHALDEAS sphere, listening in muted horror as the system continued its robotic announcement.
"The king is trapped in there," Lancelot hissed.
Mordred leaned against the room's back wall, scoffing.
"Without Excalibur or her armor, eh? Sounds rough."
ALERT:
Counter Force activity detected.
Assassin left to the void after guaranteeing Chaldea's cooperation - that is, their confirmation that they wouldn't deploy to this unknown timeline. Such an agreement bothered the Round Table knights above all, but at the moment it was the only thing preventing their erasure.
"List the known active assets," Fujimaru ordered. Da Vinci tapped away at the terminal.
ASSETS: Gaia
Monster - ACTIVE
Divine Spirits - ACTIVE
Elementals - ACTIVE
Phantasmal Species - ACTIVE
Mash paled. "F-Fou...?"
Ritsuka swallowed away the gnawing fear, and turned to Bedivere.
"Does this seem right to you?"
"There were more Elementals and Phantasmals active then than there are now, to be fair," the man answered. "And if Merlin is present, so too shall be the Monster. But I cannot recall us ever encountering Divine Spirits."
Fujimaru chewed on his lip. His focus returned to the central display.
ASSETS: Alayashiki
Monster - ACTIVE
Counter Guardians - ACTIVE
Throne of Heroes - STANDBY
...
Silence.
Chaldea's lone Master turned to the only two people in the room with some degree of understanding.
"Gilgamesh, Enkidu? Do either of you—"
"Fujimaru."
Ritsuka's jaw clicked shut. Abhorrence swirled around the King of Heroes like a whirlpool.
"I will give you the catalysts for the summonings."
...
"M-My liege, forgive me. I don't understand."
Gilgamesh snarled out his next words.
"We have not the time for your foolishness, Fujimaru! We must summon the spirits while the Throne is still stable! Abominable subconscious! To go so far as to incarnate that thing! He cannot win, he is too weak of mind, too feeble! That Guardian is a fool, the madness will continue forever! We have no choice but to act ourselves!"
His unexpected tirade stunned the room. Enkidu sighed. Gawain glanced between the two Babylonians, lost.
"My apologies, King of Heroes, but could you explain to the rest of us what, exactly, this creature is? I, for one, did not know Alaya had a Monster at its disposal."
The king fumed. Enkidu put his hand on Gilgamesh's shoulder.
"It is the human Counter Force's absolute last line of defense," he explained. "The greatest reaction it can muster."
"And we do not know about this being, why?" Tristan asked.
"Because its existence requires the utilization of what human magi call the Third Magic. It is separate from the—"
ALERT:
Unknown signature detected.
Analyzing...
The group turned back to the CHALDEAS sphere. Ritsuka scowled.
"Da Vinci, where?"
The Servant tapped away at the console. The map closed in on the nonexistent Welsh-English border, to the Bristol Channel's inlet - the town of Glavum, in the same location as modern Gloucester. The Round Table knights tensed; all of them knew the town's significance.
"The king's sword!" Gawain snarled.
SHEBA enhanced further, to the town's outskirts. A hazy, pixelated image displayed: an old, unused jousting arena.
The entire structure - crystallized.
Mash swallowed her nerves. "I take it that's not how it normally looks?"
"'Tis not," Bedivere muttered.
Analyzing...
Analyzing...
Analyzing...
Failed.
An array of lines and focuses traced some sort of object within the arena's ruined depths. SHEBA outlined it, zoomed in as much as possible.
ALERT:
Data insufficient. Analysis inconclusive.
Cross-referencing existing records.
Searching...
Searching...
Complete.
1 match found.
Analyzing... complete.
Updating threat levels... complete.
Threat Level: Existential
Sweat dripped down Fujimaru's cheek. His voice came out a panicked whisper.
"What is that thing, da Vinci?"
WARNING:
WORLD IN PERIL
WORLD IN PERIL
WORLD IN PERIL
WORLD IN PERIL
Her hands shook on the terminal. "That... th-that can't be right. How could..."
"Da Vinci?"
Da Vinci met Ritsuka's eye. Hopeless terror swam within her gaze.
...
Fate/ess
That pixelated object—
Edem's!
Lament!
We must!
Repent!
—was a floating crystal shard.
It comes!
It comes!
Death comes!
The Kingseekers - 4
How many worlds would you burn?
For the soul!
Of Alaya!
By the grace!
Of Gaia!
How many innocents would you torch?
It comes!
It comes!
Death comes!
FEAR
For one ephemeral chance...
"The... the signature m-matches... w-with a reading... f-from..."
...of surviving the unsurvivable?
"...South America..."
It comes!
It comes!
D̶̥̲̫̑E̷͖͔͆A̴͙̘͌̕T̶͎̠̝̓͘̕H̷̨̉ ̸̞̣͆͆C̷͈͓̓̓O̵̟͉͈͐M̸̹͖͒͛È̸̡̲̝̚S̶̛̝̬̐̌-̵̬͖͗̽̋͜
Confusion Corner
The absolute worst case scenario
Back in chapter 5's Confusion Corner, I made note of something called an "Aristotele". In this chapter, I'll copy-paste the canon side materials entry describing what that is:
Aristoteles
[ Ultimate ONE ]
Life forms that came from the other planets.
They were the strongest life forms on their respective planets, and each of them had the power to wipe out all the remaining living beings in this world.
The name Aristoteles was given by the humans, and they have no such things in the first place. The Aristoteles don't fight each other, and they just freely fly around killing things.
Several Aristoteles among them contacted mankind learning about this planet's concept of "knowledge."
After Type-Saturn, who received orders from their respective planets and sent it to the others, got eliminated, they entered a final war with the human race.
[ Angel Voice: Notes. ]
The bolded text here is important, because it gives us a naming convention. Aristoteles, Ultimate Ones, and TYPEs are all synonyms describing the same "organism". Now, we'll take it one step further - I'll copy-paste a segment taken from the entry on the 27 Dead Apostle Ancestors:
Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors
[ term · nickname ]
[...]
5/ ORT
Details unknown. Seems to be a mutant species that crash landed in South America sometime before the Common Era. As an attack-type organism, its power is on a completely different level. It uses the encroaching reality marble, Crystal Valley. Its appearance is similar to a spider's. The former 5th Apostle recklessly tried to capture it, and was instantly annihilated. Afterward, it was confirmed to possess vampiric traits, and is now treated as an Ancestor itself.
Type Mercury.
[...]
[ Tsukihime Dokuhon Plus Period: Tsukihime Dictionary Revised ]
In the first chapter's author's note, I mentioned that Fateless is a grand finale scenario both for Fate and for the larger Nasuverse. You're gonna see some freaky shit here; this chapter reveals the enemy. It doesn't think, it doesn't feel, it doesn't talk. For those of you who play FGO: if the Alien God is an extraterrestrial invader, Aristoteles are eldritch horrors. They are the Nasuverse's Cthulu-style Old Ones. ORT is the thing sleeping in Lostbelt 7. It's definitely why Mash has the Black Barrel Replica. It's probably why Chaldea has Excalibur's essence. Nothing else has a chance in hell of hurting it.
You don't fuck with these things. In every timeline we know of, ORT is fast asleep. In Fateless, it isn't.
It's waking up. And part of its power is already in Britain.
(that's bad)
Middle of the road
Fateless!Artoria's appearance is modeled as the middle ground between the Sabers and the Lancers, and she's also something of a discrete inside joke - specifically, she's a tongue-in-cheek reference to Artoria's awfully inconsistent bodily proportions. No other character has such a variable body type, so when I was brainstorming her design I very quickly "averaged out" all of her appearances and placed Artoria in the "middle", so to speak. If you want a mental image, she's pretty much MHXX with the nape-tied ponytail worn in Zero or with some of her alternative designs, like Hollow Ataraxia's shrine maiden outfit. Official MHXX, not fanart. Gotta be specific with these things, lmao.