"You needn't accompany me for this, Saber."
"Hm? Dismissing the bodyguard, are we?"
Ywain found them as they wandered the marketplace. Sir Ector'd summoned them, the guard claimed, and so here they were, within the depths of the keep.
"N-Nay! Not at all. 'Tis just..."
If he could read Saber, in all her carefully guarded solemnity, he could read Artoria. Because unlike her alternate self, the girl by his side made no effort whatsoever to hide her thoughts or feelings. She wore it all on her sleeve.
"It would be more efficient to split our efforts!" she reasoned at last. "We can depart all the sooner if you continue the preparations whilst I discuss the happenings with Kay and Sir Ector!"
And what covered that sleeve now was trepidation.
Shirou understood. He imagined himself in her shoes, came to the same indeterminate confusion. What would he do if, out of the blue, he learned his birth parents still lived? That they survived the fire? How would he react? How would Ilya or Taiga react? If he were alive, how would Kiritsugu react? What if his family requested a meeting? Were they his family? Did blood count for something? How could you reconcile the people who raised you against blood relatives?
Did you need to?
What if they disliked each other? What if you were caught in the middle? Their thoughts, their choices or demands...
Shirou rested his gauntlet on Artoria's shoulder. She flinched.
"Bodyguards don't just physically protect their wards, Artoria. Emotional support's important, too."
She halted.
...
"Artoria?"
In one smooth motion the girl unstrapped his helmet and plucked it from his person. She lowered it over her head, shut the visor and ventail, encapsulated herself within its armored confines.
Took a deep, shaky breath.
...
Her voice came out muffled.
"I am better now."
He didn't judge. They all had their strategies.
"Wanna hold onto it?"
"Yes please."
Poor Sir Ector had a migraine.
Quite understandable, given the events of the past two weeks.
"Say that again, lass? Slower, this time."
She gripped the helmet tighter to her chest. "We met the witch, Merlin."
"Aye."
"She claimed I have a twin brother, a man named Arthur Pendragon, whom she whisked away to protect."
"...A-Aye."
"He is the rightful heir, not I, and the Sword in the Stone belongs to him. I-I tried... tried to pull it, just to make sure. It did not move. I... I'm..."
...
"You're the bait. The scapegoat. We all are."
Rarely did jovial Kay speak with such contempt. Disgust weighed heavily upon his shoulders. He turned to Shirou.
"Did you know of this?"
"No."
The word didn't convince, so Shirou went a step further. Caliburn blinked to his palm, its tip against the floor.
"In my world, this is Artoria's sword," he explained. "The one that chose her as king. Its name is Caliburn. It's not the sword we found. The magical signature is the same, but the appearance is not. I'm serious, Kay. My allegiance is hers; in that timeline she saved my life. I'd sooner annihilate the isle than let her be used in such a way."
"Please, brother, he speaks the truth!" Artoria pleaded. "When I touch Caliburn, I see visions of my kingship! 'Twas Saber who rescued me from the Mad Duke's siege! That white haired man - he was..."
...
The man's simmering anger bled away.
"...My apologies," Kay muttered. "I'm just..."
Like him with Sakura. City burning, people dying, didn't matter a single fuckin' bit.
Protect the clan. Always.
"It's fine. I'm the same."
Ector stroked his beard, his thoughts elsewhere. "Where did Merlin take him? This Arthur?"
Artoria fiddled with the helmet's visor. "To the... um... Reverse Side of the World, was it?"
"And what, pray tell, is this... Reverse Side?"
Kay looked to Artoria. Artoria looked to Saber. Saber scratched his cheek.
"It's complicated."
Ector pinched the bridge of his nose. "With all due respect, Saber, everything you say is complicated. We are well used to it by now."
After a moment of scavenging, the Servant took a quill to parchment. He drew three parallel lines, then gestured to topmost.
"This is where we are."
And then he slid his index down, to the line underneath.
"This is the Reverse Side. It's, uh..." He made air quotes. "...'beneath' us. So to speak."
Then he drew a fourth line intersecting the parallel three.
"This is the Tower, our destination, which holds the various floors together. It's the only way to traverse between our reality and the Reverse Side."
Kay's cogs turned. He hummed, nodded, and gestured to the bottom parallel line.
"And this one?"
"Oh," Shirou muttered. "That's the world."
...
"Son," Ector gruffed. "We're in the world."
"I told you it was complicated!"
Kay shook his head.
"More to the point - 'tis like an eldritch cellar, then, aye? So... we gather a small party to scoop up this Arthur fellow, and that gets Cornwall off our backs at long last. Fantastic, let's be off."
"Humans can't enter the Reverse Side."
...
Ector sighed. "I shall regret this, but: why?"
"It's complic—oof!"
Artoria elbowed him in the gut. Saber cleared his throat.
"The short of it is: the cellar doesn't care for humans. If you go down there, you'll die. You're 'supposed'—" More air quotes. "—to be up 'here', not down 'there'."
"And what, pray tell, is down there, then?" Kay asked.
"All the mythological, fairy tale stuff: goblins, dragons, gods. You know, the works."
"Wait," Artoria interrupted. "If people are not allowed there, how did Merlin get Arthur through?"
"Neither Merlin nor Arthur are fully human. Merlin's a chimera, a half-succubus. Arthur has a dragon's heart."
Realization came swiftly. Artoria blinked.
"We are twins, so we both have..."
"Yeah. Merlin probably planned it."
"Mind filling us in?" Ector grunted.
"Artoria, like Arthur, has a dragon's heart inside her, which gives her the ability to perform witchcraft. Pendragon," Saber explained. "Part of Uther's prophecy. That's why she could summon me. In the World's eyes, she's not fully human, so she'll be allowed through. It's a loophole."
"And are you able to accompany her?"
"The rules don't apply to Servants. We technically don't exist. Again - complicated."
A minor relief. Some of Ector's tension fell away.
Not Kay.
"I am... uncomfortable with this idea, I must say. This damnable witch has used Artoria's presumed familial relations to our severe disadvantage. Dear friends have died from her conniving. I hold no grudge against the boy, he's much the same victim. But her... you are venturing into a den of dragons."
Saber rested his hand on his hip, gaze on the parchment and expression, steel.
"My ultimate goal, selfish as it is, is to force Arthur to the center of the stage. To reverse their roles. I was summoned as Artoria's Servant, not his. Despite my connections to it, I don't care for the prophecy, or for Britain as a whole. My job is to protect my Master, and ensure the safety of anything she deems important."
He met Kay's eye.
"I'd love nothing more for the bloodshed to stop. But I've learned over the years that men do what men please, and I can only protect so many. So if it reassures you, the one thing I can promise is that if push comes to shove, Camelot will survive, even if it means everything else does not."
"We appreciate the thought, Saber," Ector responded. "But even you cannot be in two places at once."
"I've accounted for that. Your smith's daughter - I gave her a cuirass to study."
The elder stroked his beard. "A cuirass?"
"A breastplate and backplate combined. Imagine a fitted vest made of metal."
"How did you curve the metal over the shoulder without it snapping?"
"It's made of steel, not iron."
Never had they seen the man so exuberant.
"S-Steel?! We thought it lost with the Empire! How... ah, of course. The future, aye?"
Saber nodded. "I've given her instructions on its smelting, and a list of tools to construct. Just a handful of cuirasses and weapons would suffice in tipping the scales."
"What resources do we require?"
"Iron and some form of carbon."
"Carbon?"
"Organic material," Saber explained. "Timber, leaves, even things such as acorns or leftover fruit peels would work. The source doesn't matter, all you need is the carbon locked away inside. Fusing it to the iron with high heat is what produces the steel."
Artoria beamed. "He already made me one, Father! I'll show you before we leave!"
The medieval equivalent of a teenage girl gushing about a new favorite dress.
"Hm? Getting my daughter presents already, Saber? Fairly doting, are we not?"
Perceived as such, too.
Saber coughed and looked away. Ector laughed.
"I jest, I jest. We shall procure the required materials forthwith. Lamorak trained his eldest well. With their direction and a bit of extra manpower, the guards will get that equipment. Camelot will hold in your absence, make no mistake."
"That's my hope. Wouldn't do much good to get this far, only to fall apart in the final act, right?"
Kay nodded in agreement. He put his hands on Artoria's shoulders.
"Stay safe, lass. And when you meet that fellow, tell him I'd like words. He clearly needs training in the brotherly arts."
Artoria gave him a big hug.
"Aye!"
Lancelot tumbled to the ground for the fifth time in five minutes. A tumble a minute. Odd form of measuring failure.
"Agh! Blast! Again?!"
"'Thy skill is good, but could use improvement'," Gawain mocked.
"Silence, wretch! You've faired no better!"
Height, weight, reach - all in his advantage. So why in the seven hells could he not beat Arthur Emiya?!
"You swear you're not using witchcraft?"
"Nay!" came the smug reply. "I am a man of honor!"
They'd succeeded in lifting his spirits, at least. Only the suggestion of a spar drew the youth from the odd, carved gulch by the Sword in the Stone. He'd sulked for hours.
Perhaps one day Lancelot would form such a bond. But was it worth it, if its loss left him equally distraught?
Better to pay it no mind. A question for another day.
"How about both of us, then?"
"Hm?"
"Myself and Gawain against thee, Arthur," he clarified.
Gawain's snark in three... two...
"Hah? And he calls me the dishonorable beast?!"
Lancelot didn't know whether to value the ease with which he understood the royal, or loathe its predictability.
"'Tis naught else to do, Baron Loudmouth! Unless you'd rather we nurse our bruises until sundown, or perhaps watch the clouds!"
"B-Baron Loudmouth?!"
"I am more than capable of fending off the both of you!" Emiya interrupted. "Come now! Give me your best!"
...
Well, his pride was sufficiently wounded, at least. Gawain's, too, judging by the twitching of his eye.
"Hoh..." he grumbled. "'Tis gone to his head, Lancelot. Let's pick up the pace, then, shall we?"
"Aye."
The three fell into well-practiced stances. An insufferable smirk lifted Emiya's cheeks. The breeze calmed...
...
...and stopped.
They sprung. A pincer technique. Lancelot left, Gawain right. Too fast were they! Emiya hadn't anticipated it! Even he could not block two swords at once!
Clang.
Gawain's blow passed harmlessly overhead. His own, deflected into the dirt.
Emiya had ducked.
The smaller man's heel stomped Lancelot's blade; his shoulder met gut, and with a surprising amount of strength he shoved Lancelot away, disarming him in one fell swoop.
Emiya pivoted, kicked the sword into Gawain's line of sight. A distraction half a second in length - long enough for the youth to swerve up into the noble's guard and press the flat of his blade to his neck.
Ten seconds. Not even.
...
"How?!" Gawain wailed. "Gods be damned, man, who trained thee?! Does he accept students?!"
"He was quite the peculiar mentor, I must say," Emiya responded. "Something of a lecher, too. You wouldn't enjoy his company."
Lancelot withheld his curse and scooped his sword from the frost.
"Could we ask for some pointers, then? We've still some days before the army arrives."
That damnable smirk. He was enjoying this!
"Say no more, my dearest companions! I shall make warriors of you yet!"
Before his very eyes, Lancelot beheld Gawain's pride metaphorically drown in an aqueduct.
"Agh! Damn you, Agravain! I'll get you for this!"
"Saber?"
"Hm?"
"Why do you not simply conjure the equipment for the guards? It would be more efficient, no?"
He chopped the salted meat, wrapped it in parchment.
"Never tried it. The projections are permanent, but I've never experimented with, say, their maximum range. I don't know if they'll disappear once I'm a certain distance away."
He handed her the wrapped food. Blinking in surprise, she placed it inside a pouch.
"T-Truly? Not across any of your lives?"
"To tell you the truth, Artoria, you're the first to use my projections. When I told you to let the swords guide you, it's because that's how it's always worked for me. The real Kanshou and Bakuya never had a wielder, so I assumed the projections would utilize my own fighting style."
"I am not sure I understand."
"Every hero has something called a Noble Phantasm," Saber explained. "It's their legend summarized as an object or idea. You saw things when you looked at Caliburn, right?"
"Aye. 'Twas like a thousand images flowed into me."
Saber nodded. "I copy weapons. That's my one ability. When I replicate a Noble Phantasm, I also copy its legend and abilities. Using it lets me fight like its original owner. If I used Caliburn, for example, I'd fight like your alternate self."
She understood. "So since Kanshou and Bakuya had no original owner, they chose thee?"
"Something like that, yeah."
"Then... are they your Noble Phantasms, Saber?"
He finished preparing the last of the food for their journey, then moved on to making lunch.
"Nope. I don't have one, technically."
He said it far too bluntly for Artoria's tastes.
"But... but you're so strong, Saber! Surely you must!"
"A Noble Phantasm is based on renown, not strength," Saber explained. "It's a summary of a hero's legend. If those acts aren't known, the Phantasm doesn't form. I have no legend. All my power is borrowed from others, and their deeds make mine possible. Without them, I'm just another person."
Then he shrugged.
"But I'm fine with that. Nothing says a well-made copy can't match or surpass the original thing. And besides, if I could have an object or concept that represented me..."
He placed a platter of sandwiches on the table. Artoria's mouth watered.
"...I'd prefer it to be something peaceful."
She mulled over his words. Bite one, half the sandwich gone. "Shaber." Chew, chew, swallow. "You don't enjoy fighting?"
"Nah. I've always seen it as a means to an end."
"To protect those in front of you, aye?"
Saber sighed, scratched at his neck. "Well, yeah. I guess. That's awfully specific, though, Artoria."
"'Tis how I feel, is all. I've the impression that we are much the same."
"Hm?"
Sandwich number four, gone.
"All my life I have watched others in Camelot perish in my stead. 'Tis quite frustrating... but also my fault. Sir Ector could have thrown me to the wolves upon learning my surname. An angry mob could have demanded my removal from the city. Yet neither happened, and for that they paid with blood."
Saber just listened. Artoria eyed Alter's remade cuirass.
"There's something concrete before me I wish to protect. To assuage my guilt, I shall end this madness and bring my city peace. I... yet, Alter had none of that. I cannot comprehend her actions. She chased a figment, an ideal."
"Extrapolate what you feel for Camelot, that sense of duty, to the entire kingdom."
...
She grunted. "'Tis difficult."
"Now go further. Apply it to the Saxon invaders, to those in the mainland, to the world itself. To all those who live and breathe, whether they be man, demon or otherwise."
"But Saber, is that not foolish? Nay, tyrannical? Never have men seen eye to eye. Our thoughts are our own. The pursuit of unification is noble, but if all men acted the same, marched to the same, single future, would we still be men? The individual falls away. Only shells remain."
"She chased after it nevertheless. When I met her she saw herself more a weapon than a person."
And then it hit her.
"Because I am the person, aye? I am what she lost in her pursuit. Then... it destroyed her, surely..."
Saber merely gestured to the cuirass.
"Surely." He grabbed a sandwich for himself. The rest, she'd already devoured. "Ready to go?"
Artoria collected her things.
"I am! Let us be off, Saber!"
"She has a what?"
"A twin brother."
...
Bors dug his pinky finger into his ear. "She has a what?"
Kay resisted the urge to throw something. "Damn it all, Bors, you heard me!"
"Nay ya blasted scoundrel, ya can't just walk in here with that lordly swagger 'n drop a flamin' hot pot o' verbal oil down me pants 'n not expect me to ask 'what'! Context, man! Con-text!"
Palamedes ignored the gruff man's rambling.
"If Lady Igraine bore a second, and that child was a boy, why, then, did that stranger arrive with Artoria and not the lad? By his very nature he is the rightful heir."
Kay's brow twitched. "That stranger was Saber, and for his own peculiar reasons he owes allegiance to Artoria specifically. He saved the lass over the heir."
...
"Gods above does my head hurt," Tristan muttered.
Bedivere sighed. "It... makes sense, in a way? Kay did say he is eldritch. An eidolon, aye? Time need not necessarily hold sway over his being. Methinks the lass has a guardian angel."
"'Tis all well and dandy," Bors interrupted. "But a babe does not just survive the mother of all sieges! We've all heard the stories! Tens of thousands on each side! So if Saber grabbed Artoria, who grabbed the heir?"
"Merlin," Kay answered.
The name brought the group to a momentary halt. It clicked in short order.
"Did Saber bring her here intentionally?" Tristan questioned.
"Aye," Kay muttered. "But not for the reason you think. My father told me something of the story. Put simply, Saber... knew... she was to be raised by my father. 'Tis preordained - by the heavens, supposedly. I know not the whole truth behind it all, but he gave Sir Ector the scroll so he might return if needed."
His explanation subdued them. A rare kind of loyalty, the sort that transcended years, politics, relationships, materialism in general. Beyond greed, pain, betrayal, or a difference in ideals.
Blind.
Absolutely terrifying.
Tristan ran a trembling hand through his long locks. His exhale came out choppy.
"Made the right choice, we did," Bedivere snarked.
"A-Aye."
Palamedes scowled. "And that is why the lord trusts him?"
Kay focused on unclenching his fist.
"For my father, he is the best possible solution. He would be a fool to disapprove. A man so powerful, yet utterly subservient? Even I see the reasoning. Saber looked me in the eye and claimed he'd reduce the isle to bloody sand if it meant she and hers yet lived. What's not to like? Camelot survives!"
Bors barked out a sardonic laugh. "So why ain't he done it yet? Lord knows he's got the power."
"He and my idealistic fool of a sister wish to avoid it if they can. Saber wants to throw the heir beneath the chariot."
"What, give 'im to Cornwall?"
"Aye. Given my father's ties to that bastard Uther, it makes sense for the Mad Duke to reason the heir is in his care. If the true heir returns, and if Artoria makes a show of disavowing herself of her lineage, as she's always wanted..."
"...then Cornwall's quarrel with us ends," Palamedes finished. "How long will this take? Are they going alone?"
Kay took a moment before responding.
"Witchcraft is involved, so for their safety and ours they're venturing by their lonesome. I dislike it, but... ah, blast it all. I feel useless. What sorry brother sits by while his sister and her guard delve into a pit of vipers?"
Bors grabbed his shoulder. "Chin up, Kay. Ya've got her this far, aye? She feels responsible."
"Aye, but..."
"Look at it this way, guy. Had she realized this without Saber, she'd still insist on doin' it herself. You'd throw one o' yer brotherly hissy fits, 'n come morning we'd wake up t' find the lass gone without a trace."
His back tensed, but he said nothing. Because Bors was right, and Kay knew it.
"Least this way, she's got her own one-wizard army," he continued. "And if what yer sayin' 'bout 'im is true, his priorities're such that he'll drag the lass outta there if things get too dangerous. Few things're better than a bodyguard who loves his job!"
"Oiiii! You guys!"
At last they reached the smithy; there Medraut stood, waving to them. The conversation switched topics, and for that Kay was thankful.
"What is it you wanted to show us, Med?"
She tapped her smith's hammer against her shoulder.
"You ever ask your sis if she's got any more of them scrolls?"
A strange question. "Err... nay? Why?"
"'Cause if we had about three more of him, we could make this place a fuckin' fortress. Look at this."
She led them around the shop's back, where several weapons surrounded a wooden mannequin equipped with the strangest breastplate any of them had ever seen.
"Is that the cuirass?"
Those not in the know turned to Kay.
"The what now?" Bors grunted.
"That's what Saber called it," Medraut explained. "A 'cuirass'. Both a breastplate 'n backplate in one thing, form fitted and held together with straps. Like the Imperials used to wear, yeah? And on top o' that..."
She retrieved a sword from the ground, took a few short steps, slashed it down across the metal.
"Iron can't do anything. It's made of steel."
The men approached for a closer look.
"What's this bottom part here? Where it flares out?" Tristan asked.
Medraut scratched her cheek. "Eh? A-Ah... faulds, 'n below that are... tassets? I think? Notes are in the shop. He left instructions for the steel, too. He's a real weirdo. In the cool way, though."
Rolling his eyes, Kay turned to find said notes.
And then his heart entered his throat.
"M-Mad Duke's piss, what the—?!"
The group whirled at his exclamation.
"O-Oi!" Bors sputtered. He reached for his sword. "Who the fuck're...!"
"It's a fake!" Medraut shouted. "Guys, relax!"
The thing didn't move. Bors shuffled closer, took a stab at it with his blade. It phased right through.
"What the..."
"See?" the smith girl grouched. "It's an illusion. Saber left it there."
"What for?"
"He called it the end result. What I should strive to make. Dunno why, but it sorta... ngh, it's just weird, y'know? Don't like looking at it that long."
Something strange crawled up Kay's back. Like a hole in his mind, a blank spot previously gone unnoticed. He gazed upon the suit of armor for a second further, then turned to the group.
All of them wore the same expression.
"Is it just me... or does that thing... seem..."
Uncertain hesitation gnawed his gut away. He risked another glance.
Twin crosses at its visor's corners. A flowing blue plume. The blackness of its sight chilled him to his core.
"...oddly familiar?"
Planet: Earth
Branch: 2-XX
Twig: [Unknown]
Year: 20XX
Location: Classified
Chaldea Security Organization
Despite the growing pleads for an emergency rayshift, Assassin remained absent. And the only thing more unnerving than an active, hostile Counter Guardian...
"Here, senpai."
...was that same Guardian not making good on his threats.
"Thanks Mash."
Ritsuka took the offered glass of water. He clicked to SHEBA's next analysis; Mash pulled up a chair, sat to his right. She leaned in to read the contents.
"Have you learned anything?"
"Gaia is linking the parallel worlds to the active timeline," he hummed. "It's feeding it mana."
Mash frowned. "So it's not just Alaya?"
"It's everything besides the Root itself. I don't get it. Why would the Counter Force go so far?"
"Maybe—"
A white blur landed on the desk. They flinched from the sudden movement, but then the thing yipped at them, trying to get their attention.
"Fou?" Ritsuka muttered.
"Master!"
In the doorway Bedivere stood. His frantic expression heightened their concern.
"Sir Bedivere? What's wrong?"
"We have an incident in the summoning chamber! I beseech thee, come at once!"
Fou climbed up Mash's shoulder. She and Ritsuka raced from the room. To the lower levels they went, into the shrouded, dimly lit hallways approaching the spiritron arrays.
The monumental doors hissed open. Magical smoke danced across the room's cold floor; the various Round Table knights stood in varying states of suspicion and distrust.
"Ah~! There you are! How goes it, Fujimaru?"
Him and his timing. Always perfect, always convenient.
"I... wasn't expecting your assistance, Merlin."
And always for a reason.
Merlin rubbed the back of his head, grinning.
"You wound me, young Master! The ever-diligent Magus of Flowers has returned to his home away from home! Please accept my apologies, however, for today I come on behalf of another!"
...
"Another?"
"Indeed. King Arthur sent me!"
Lancelot crossed his arms, aggravated. "The king was assailed by a blackened copy, wizard. The Counter Force rayshifted them both to a Britain perverted by unimaginable strife."
Merlin scratched his cheek and gulped. "Ah, yes, yes. I am well aware. I sent Alter."
...
"You... what?"
Fujimaru read the situation like a book. "Stand down, all of you! Now is not the time!"
Hands fell from swords, though the borderline hostile atmosphere remained. Chaldea's Master leveled Merlin with a glare rivaling Rhongomyniad's intensity.
"Explain."
Merlin clapped and laughed.
"Why, 'tis elementary, my dear Ritsuka! We need Excalibur for the coming war!"
...
Like being dunked into a bucket of ice.
"What?"
"Please, Magus of Flowers, do not confuse them. Now is not the time."
An elderly man bled into reality. Merlin inclined his head, nonplussed. Had he expected the new arrival?
"How are you this fine day, Kaleidoscope?"
"Fairly excited, actually. Yourself?"
"Ha! Much the same, much the same!"
"U-Um..." Mash stuttered. "Mister Merlin, who is your friend? How did he...?"
The man offered a respectful half-bow.
"My name is Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg. I am the practitioner of the Second True Magic, Kaleidoscope, the operation of parallel worlds. It's the foundation upon which your rayshifting technology is based. Our meeting is long overdue, indeed."
Ritsuka swallowed his nerves. One thing after another. "Nice to meet you. I take it you're here for a... um... reason?"
"Correct, Ritsuka Fujimaru. I have long observed you and your organization. You have handled the Singularities, managed the Lostbelts, and proven your worth as both a Master and Alaya's disciple ten times over, and as such, I have come to give Chaldea its last, greatest assignment. Should you complete this task, your organization will no longer be needed. The Greater History of Man will be impenetrable. And you, of course, will be able to retire."
...
"I mean no disrespect, sir, but please: could we at least be given an explanation? If not for me, then for my Servants. The knights worry for their king. Others have concerns regarding this so-called Monster of Alaya."
The Wizard Marshall relaxed.
"Your reputation is well-earned, boy. I see now why you've survived as long as you have. Very well. What do you wish to know?"
Ritsuka beckoned to the knights. Gawain stepped forward.
"Why was our king sent to this unknown timeline? Is she in danger?"
Merlin answered instead. "Only King Arthur can empathize with and guide King Arthur."
...
"G-Guide...? You mean..."
"Aye. The king must survive Camlann."
Such a simple statement, with so many resounding implications.
"Then surely we could aid that world's chosen king, as well!" Lancelot reasoned. "We've knowledge of the events! 'Tis our history, not the Monster's! We are responsible! They are our mistakes to correct! Why was he sent, while we are forbidden?"
"Because sending Chaldea would have fully awoken the Aristotele."
Zelretch's response brought silence to the room.
"What's an Aristotele?" Mash asked.
"A TYPE. An Ultimate One. That signature you detected, linked to South America, was a shard of the Spider. In the world you now observe, it wakes millennia before the promised time. That timeline was meant to be quarantined forever - the Counter Force intervened, for it detected within its variables a way past extinction. It sneaked the Monster in to both protect it and stabilize its place in the Tree of Life. Once it saw that the Spider remained mostly passive, it rayshifted King Arthur, too. They are Alaya's most powerful agents. The situation requires quality over quantity."
Ritsuka gulped. "SHEBA detected redirected mana flow to that world from all of the others, including our own. Is that related?"
"It is. The Monster's existence is unique, you see. Unlike the Throne or, say, myself, he does not exist outside time. He is the sum of his experiences, the cumulative total, and as a result, incarnating him establishes chronology. At their times of death or removal from the Throne, the shards are sent forward and added to the total. Gaia is using those established pathways to supply mana for the timeline's continued existence. The Counter Force thusly must lock down the Tree of Life to stop the creation of any new variables that might affect the extant shards. This world's shards all came from the Throne, which grants you leeway."
To prevent paradoxes.
The Monster's reality continued its activity... and everything else converged. Multiple streams merged into one river. One path.
The future... or something more?
"It is the human Counter Force's absolute last line of defense. The greatest reaction it can muster."
Ritsuka fought off a sudden bout of nausea.
"What is it you'd have us do, sir?"
The room's temperature dropped another ten degrees. Zelretch leaned upon his cane.
"Before I describe to you your objectives, you must be made aware of the dangers you shall face. You must prepare to your utmost. You must bring with you a Servant army. Every entity you'll face can level cities, or kill you with a thought. Dare you proceed having learned this?"
Mash took a steadying breath. She and Ritsuka shared a tense look.
"Yes," he answered. "We do."
"Very well. Then heed my instructions closely, and stray from them not."
Fate/ess
"You are to rayshift to the End of the World, and break into a castle-turned-prison."
Fragments - 4
"Once inside, you are to free from his chains the single man capable of eliminating the threat besieging our realities."
THE GRAND ORDER
"His name is Ado Edem."
Confusion Corner
the legendary 78
Those of you who recognize that name - who don't really need the Nasuverse side of these Confusion Corners - will fully understand the implications. Zelretch isn't a troll in this story. When he shows up, it's for a reason. And from what we've seen in canon, Zelretch only shows up when someone mentions an Aristotele.
The rest of you are about to get painfully confused in short order. These next chapters are reason number one for these explanations. Another short one this time around, because, starting from chapter 13, they're going to get very, very long.
Take a deep breath.