"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO000000001010100000000000000000000000000000000(One)oOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooumu!"

Demon God Pillar Flauros shrieks in agony and dies as Sader bites him down to the core. Without fail, the feral woman answered a question most people, not even mages, ever dared to think about:

How many bites does it take to get to the center of a Demon God?

The answer? More than 72. He's not a fucking lollipop, y'know.

But to Ritsuka's horror, and Olga's ignorance, what lay in the center of the oversized magenta tentacle wasn't QP, Lancer Gems of all colors, Proofs of Hero, Octuplet Crystals, Reverse Dragon Scales, or even Claws of Chaos. None of those goodies came out of the demonic pinata.

"Umu," hisses an EXTREMELY peeved and scantily-clad draconic girl holding a broken voice modifier.

"YOU were the villain behind this?" Ritsuka practically yells, mind officially blown. "What a rip-off! You're literally just a kid now!"

"I am MUCH more than a "kid", umu!" The insulted crimson-eyed gremlin shoves her malfunctioning microphone into Sader's mouth, pacifying her. Well not really, since Sader starts making baritone grunts now in displeasure. "And I would have gotten away with it too," she pouts in her high-pitched anime girl voice, "If it weren't for you meddling Chaldeans!"

"Heh," chuckles the young man. "But like, why? I thought Boudica killed you. We all cried and everything!"

Nero(?) rolled her eyes in disgust. "I have the power of Sin and Guts on my side. My death was supposed to be the climax! But noooo, that BITCH over there just had to have an existential crisis! The attention whore should have been ME! ME!" She pointed at the Director, who just now got up and started stomping over to the infantile abomination.

"Who are you calling a BITCH, huh?!"

The draconian girl gave a great harrumph. "So I just came back. No one likes an asspull, though," she sighs, using her other hand to shift her dragon tail into a better position, "so I thought I would use something that used to make sense."

(Meanwhile, Sader finished crunching and munching the microphone into small enough pieces to swallow.)

"Okay, you…creepy not-so-little Nero, I really don't get what you're saying," started Ritsuka. "But uh, you might wanna watch out for your head."

Nero(?) grins. "I'd like to see her try to eat m-"

CHOMP!

"Oh shit," exclaims Ritsuka. The Director shielded her eyes from the bloodbath. "Sader just took her head clean off! There's a bone sticking out and everything!"

The crimson gremlin's tail swung around wildly, now ownerless. Sader grabbed the tail with both hands and began her classic chow down, going through the lobster-red appendage, the gluteus maximus, the torso, and the other extremities of what might have been the Second Coming of Nero Claudius. The feral swordswoman finished the meal in a matter of minutes, ending the impromptu dinner with a belch.

The Director pinched the bridge of her nose. "I will never, ever get used to that."

But then Sader seized up, and her fish-eyed stare corrected itself into anime-style eyeballs of glowing blood-red color. Her movements grew disjointed, as if puppeted around. An uncanny grin split her face, revealing canine fangs. "Hahahahahahaha," she cackled in the cadence of an unbearable high-pitched anime girl, "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT IS I, RED SABER! IN THE FLESH!"

Ritsuka grew concerned, but wisely backed up from his Servant. "Sader?"

"UMU, YOU FOOL! I AM RED SABER!" The possessed Sader threw a hand up in the air and the other on her chest in exasperation. Or perhaps in thespian flair. "NOW WITH THIS VESSEL THAT BEARS AN EXACT RESEMBLANCE TO ME, I SHALL DEVOUR THE WORLD IN ALL OF ITS DELICIOUSNESS."

She didn't change much at all, thought Ritsuka in amusement. But before anyone else could take action, a particularly strong earthquake shook the already-ruined Roman building to its core. It was so intense, the remains of the ceiling peeled off and disintegrated, floating off to parts unknown. The walls begin to follow suit, and an enormous pressure bears down on everyone.

"Waaaugh!" Ritsuka is forced onto his knees, and the Director is already huddled in a fetal position. It's almost like the world was coming undone, though the feeling of such wrongness couldn't be justified beyond the deteriorating landscape. Maybe that was all the evidence needed. "What's happening?"


Meanwhile, The Great Menace known as Attila the Hun, But Not Really was taking giant (if sluggish) steps through the ruined capital of Rome. Her enormous form passed by the stone monuments like they were merely toys, easily tearing a path through the debris.

She had seen enough from peering into that female organism's mind. This was a bad civilization. Cringe, one might say in their words. The people were not fit to fight, and floundered in emptiness. The world overflowed with scorn and sorrow. The land was spoiled in monuments of splendor and decadence, not armored in fortresses or traps. No defense. No strategy for combat. As if war was never a way of life in this city. Destruction would be simple and easy.

"I am the Scourge of God," boomed the giant entity. "Burn. Kill. Destroy Rome. Those are my orders."

….or that's what would have come out of her mouth if anyone actually understood the alien noises. What everyone in the vicinity heard instead was:

"sdlrghhsilbuns;dtbh;srbsNJYTDJDYTHSRHSRTJYDTNSTBHR BAD CIVILIZATION."

"Tu m'emmerdes! T'ES UNE RACLURE DE BIDET!"

Jeanne Alter rose to meet the giant tan Saber's crimson gaze. Fafnir roared, sending a healthy dose of Baja Blast Mountain Dew Gamer Breath straight to the face. Unfortunately for the dragon rider, the flames never scorched the already toasted Saber's face– a psychedelic shield of myriad colors spawned into reality like a hasty BS skill activating.

"Fuckin' octagons!" Jeanne Alter and Fafnir flew in circles around the great Altera, spewing as much fire as possible. And yet nothing critical got through.

Altera was almost bored dealing with the fire-breathing mosquito. The pesky black insect poked and prodded her with flaming spears now, and some of them melted and broke through her AT Field (for ATilla) . Most of them however, got stuck halfway and lit up the area where they were lodged in oily rainbow colors.

With a mighty swing, the Flyswatter of Mars (Photon Smack) cut through the air and aimed for the flying annoyance. The dragon and rider nimbly dodged the aerial slice, though the chaotic wind trailing the motion sent them spiraling through turbulence.

"FOTZE, dammit that was close!" The Avenger lifted her head to guide her mount, only to find–

"SCHEISS, Fafnir pull up! Fly higher! She's going to–"

A giant hand grabbed the fire-breathing mosquito and its equally repulsive rider. It closed into a tight fist, flexing its fingers and palm closer and closer, much like a mouth chewing on an especially chewy piece of bubble gum. When it was done making a pancake out of the insect, Altera's hand released a now-human Sieg and a thoroughly beaten Jeanne Alter, both crumpled like wrinkled paper. And just like trash, they fell down to the Earth.

No more interruptions. And now for the business at hand. Altera raised her sword high, tricolor beams sparkling under the moonlight.

[Grail power, 100%.]

[500% NP OverCharge, Level 5.]

[Skill Activated: Crest of the Wandering Star.]

Photon Smack came apart at the handle and the blade pierced the heavens, bursting into a malevolent giant rainbow beam bridging the barren Earth to the equally desolate Moon. A moonbow.

The moon turned blood red upon receiving the multicolored blast, and the Earth itself shuddered in PTSD as Altera grew even more massive, her tan skin turning as white as marble and glowing brightly with photon energy. Her veil became a curtain that could cover a country, and her hands expanded into massive disproportionate extremities: yaoi hands. Twin ivory horns curled out erratically from her head, resembling twisted bunny ears.

Cubes that resembled a lunar supercomputer manifested in her chest and the middle of both of her hands. At last, the giant alien formerly known as Altera opened her crimson eyes as she beheld the world beneath her….

…and let out a geometric scream as the Earth's entire atmosphere turned a malicious shade of black and red.

The ruins of Rome slowly levitated, then ignited as the particles reverted into pure energy and gravitated towards the gargantuan white titan. Particles of dust were the first to be assimilated. Then came free-floating chunks of debris, entire structures, everything around the newly-awakened White Titan spiraled into her being and became one with her body.

A world-scale calamity has been born once more.

Altera the Saber has become a walking Singularity within a Singularity. To approach her meant total and utter destruction of one's form.

Spaghettification.

In any case, a meal for the White Titan– she cared not for the anguish and pain that came with an eternity of loss, one atom at a time. Just so long as she was able to slurp up the raw noodle material after such destruction.

The White Titan took one small step for man, one giant leap towards the destruction of Rome.

If all is Rome, as the Great Progenitor's voice had once said, then everything on this planet must be destroyed. For it is all Rome.

Ravioli, Ravioli. Rome must be brought to the death it deserviolis.


/–EMERGENCY–/


01010110 01100101 01101100 01100010 01100101 01110010 00100000 01010101 01101110 01101001 01110100 00100000 01010011 01100101 01100011 01101111 01101110 01100100 00100000 01000100 01100101 01110011 01101001 01100111 01101110 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01000101 01111000 01110100 01100101 01101100 01101100 01100001 00100000 01010101 01101101 01100010 01110010 01100001 01101100 00100000 01010011 01110100 01100001 01110010

[CLASS TYPE: S̷̢͙̭̹̹̫̟̆̒͝A̶̛̯̤̬̎̑͋̆͊̉́̌̕͠ͅB̵̗͚̥̯̼̟̟̞̺̟̼̦̮̄̿͌͐́̓͒̌̇̓͜͝͝Ȩ̸͈̲̈́̅͝R̸̫̫͇̞͖͖̲̺̜̣͋͛̅̒]

[2ndROOT OF SINGULARITY]

[IDENTIFIED]

DANGER: Approaching Critical Limit….Unprecedented Parameters Detected.

Error in current classification of Heroic Spirit entity. Relegating Status to [GRAILED] and [MAX FOU].

"Ma'am!" A technician barked his results. "The enemy Servant is reaching critical values of attack and HP! She's grown in magical energy even more since her manifestation! You can't call it a Heroic Spirit anymore! This is a confirmed full-scale Threat to Humanity!"

"These ratings are off the charts," said another staff member in awe. Her screen was displaying incoherent scribbles, much like a child's drawing. Statistical bar graphs rapidly fluctuate up and down in a rhythmic manner.

"The anti-Spiritron Field is expanding and materializing," shouted Dustin. "SHEBA is showing signs of degradation around the Singularity and expanding! Soon all individual entities across time and space will be unable to preserve their forms!"

"I can't take this…I can't take this…" Sylvia gazed at her own monitor in horror. She shook her head in disbelief as despair took over, and sunk under her desk.

"Dear God," whispered Da Vinci, staring seriously at the main monitor. "Sephyr is now active. The means by which humanity is destroyed and the reason for Chaldea's mission…is revealed at last."


"...hey, Master. Are you prepared to die?"

It's dark. Too dark. And cramped, like a small one-person bathroom stall. Ritsuka can't sense the walls, but the space where he is currently existing feels that way. And before him, though he can't see her, is her.

Sader.

He thought about the question. It's not his first rodeo, or rather dance with death. He'd been to hell, nearly got roasted by dragons, had been carried by a burly man across Italy, and now voluntarily got himself vored by what used to be Professor Lev, and more recently Sader. Or Red Saber, as the abomination called herself.

Still, death means he's no longer alive. It means he can't do alive things.

"I…don't know." Ritsuka tried to make out Sader in the darkness, but it was too dark to see. "But I think I made that choice the moment I decided to follow you. You're weird, it's true. Some people think you're an animal, that's also true. But you've always helped me!" He clutched his uniform, making a fist where his heart would be. "I don't care where you'll take me, because I want to…"

(I want to be with you.)

There's a whisper in his ear, laced with foreboding sensuality. "If you say yes, I will devour you."

He's on the edge. Ritsuka's mouth turned into a squiggly line, heady with the feeling of love, fear, and possibly horny. No, definitely horny. And fear. A paradox spiral of desire and hesitation. Wasn't there a word for this? Scaroused?

"Bet."

Someone's hand grips his, and it's like gravity has tipped him over some cliff. His stomach churns with the full force of free-fall, intangible butterflies blossoming. He's falling, falling through a dark chasm but it's Sader holding his hand, definitely Sader, it can't be anyone else but Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader, Sader–!

SADER! ! ! !

"Let me get a taste of you," she says at that moment in mid-air, with unheard-of clarity. Finally, her voice sounds so gorgeous, like pure bells.

"After all…as of this moment, you are truly….my Master!"

Ah.

He's landed on Sader, his lips crashing into her own mouth as they both hit the floor of some kind of cockpit. He doesn't care where the hell he is, all that matters now is Sader.

She's wet with the ichor of the Demon God Pillar, but surprisingly soft and warm. He can feel her heart beating, somehow. Her lips. Her tongue. They're stained with ichor too. It tastes like…raspberries. And metal. No wait, that's probably Sader biting into his lips. Painful. But it was pleasant, in a masochistic sort of way?

With wide blue eyes shining in the glow of a revelation, Ritsuka experiences what has to be called…what it can only be called, really…

…a sloppy makeout.

Kimochi Warui.


To the Director's horror, she bore witness to yet ANOTHER horrible, no-good, very bad thing no human in their lifetime should have to see. Besides an alien giantess from the ground up, anyway.

"Oh my God," she yelled, tears springing from her eyes as she clutched her head in a vice grip. An emotion beyond mere seething and malding was brewing within her mind. It roared with sinful jealousy, with righteous anger, with sheer disbelief. It could only be categorized as something far deeper than despair, more passionate than awe.

"What an awful display of…I-I-I can't take this anymore. I can't! I can't! Father….FATHER! FATHER! DADDY! I….Can'T….DEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!"

The inconspicuous flower on her forehead illuminated with golden bright light and bloomed, its rapidly expanding petals swallowing up the unorthodox couple into itself.

The Director lets out a geometric, primordial shriek of her own as she leans back and lets her gargantuan flower-forehead tumor explosively blossom in the most impressive manner to relieve a monster headache after the Greek legend of the birth of Athena.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Gone was the deplorable mass of demon tentacle guts and humanoid bodies, replaced by a luminous body with unclear features.

It stretched out its shoulders, as if awakening from a morning dream atop a bed. With a simple frontal flip, the massive new being forced the Earth to shudder a second time as it created a sizable crater where it landed.

The feet solidified into chunky pink metal, which burst to reveal shoe-like dark silver armor. They looked like metal Timbs. No, really.

Then came the legs and thicc thighs, also silver-gray. A set of lighter-colored thrusters adorned its hips, flowing out like a skirt with the back part longer than the front. Sapphire blue flares fanned out like a dress as the thruster skirt briefly tested its functions.

The torso and arms followed, breaking free from the cover of light to reveal the stocky yet humanoid shape. It fluidly flexed its hands, whirring in a robotic manner. In a burst of too-flashy sparkles, a twin set of railguns aligned themselves with the mechanical abomination's back and snapped into place.

Two wolf-like pointy ears shot up from its head, which definitely would have been sued by the Saber Wars committee for resembling a certain space cop's helmet.

It struck a dashing pose for good measure before reality ensued and it was actually standing tall on the desolate Roman landscape.

And all of this conveniently lasted in the span of a second.

Director Animusphere was speechless at the sight of the newly-born marvel. The logical part of her brain screamed incoherently. Was this not Lev? Or that abomination of a Saber Servant? Or Fujimaru?! No, no, did this thing just come out of her head? What kind of bullshit is THIS?

And how big is this thing, considering the mech was currently holding her at the palm of its right hand?

"Director," it said in a feminine yet autotuned voice, retaining the signature accent of a German amateur voice actress. "What should we do next?"

"Daddy…"

The Director opened her mouth to speak, but reality ensued and the anti-Spiritron field the White Titan had been emitting finally broke through her own molecules. She went ker-splat on the palm, staining it with Tang.

(In her last moments, she imagined the giant to be her father. For that brief moment, her belief was true.)

The roboticized Sader instinctively licked it….hitting her stained palm with the unopened area where her mouth should be. It was consumed nonetheless. Mmmm, tastes like orange Fanta and Daddy Issues.

Somewhere across the plains of 1st Century Europe, the White Titan paused in her rampage of destruction and raised her head. She could feel it.

A Worthy Opponent.

Their battle…will be Legendary.


"W-what the hell is this?! I'm getting signals from that enormous mechanical contraption that formed from the Juvenile Beast and the Director! It's reactivating again!"

"The hell? That's not all! We're also getting massive energy readings!" Dustin feverishly typed commands and clicked on prompts. "What the hell are the "Ahab Reactors 1 and 2" doing here, and why is the operation status [Active] on both ends? We don't own this kind of machinery!" He pulled out the enclosed instruction book, which he hoped would be helpful. As he furiously flipped through the laminated pages, he came to a simple conclusion: it wasn't.

"S-status report on Sephyr! It's s-started to move again, ma'am!" Sylvia adjusted her monitors to track down the White Titan's path…which also resembled a kid's art project. "It seems to be acknowledging the new…the new…the new signal." Her urgency died down as her brain failed to properly describe the unknown entity. "Ma'am, should we register this as a threat?"

Da Vinci stared long and hard at the mecha. "No," she answered. "If you paid attention to that Servant's Spirit Origin, you would have figured out that it never disappeared."

"B-but the Demon God Pillar-slash-Beast swallowed it whole with the Master!"

"No, no." Da Vinci smirked. "It's truly impressive what that barbaric Sader has done to it. To assimilate a higher power and take it as your own…sasuga, Sader. I can only imagine…what it must be like to ride in that [censored to preserve copyright]! I hereby christen it the Chaldean Unit 01!"

"A [censored to avoid copyright claims]? Pardon me, ma'am, but that is clearly a [censored to avoid copyright claims]." Dustin the engineer fiddled with his monitor, presenting it to the Caster. "The computer is registering the two Ahab Reactors as its personal engine, see? If anything, we should be calling it Sader=Flauros."

The Renaissance woman did not back down. "True, but can you say those Frames actually have souls? What we have here is definitely a [censored], complete with a synchronized pilot system."

"I'm telling you that's wrong!" Dustin slammed down his mug, dropping his inhibitions along with it. "It's Fujimaru's Gundam hammer. That mech is absolutely a Tomino-esque thing, no doubt about it! Giant Robot Anime!"

"Argh! Enough already!" Sylvia angrily slammed down her fist. "Who cares if it's a [G-word] or an [E-word], or even a Franxx!"

Da Vinci and Dustin paused, giving the woman's words some thought. Time was of the essence, but neither of them bothered to spare any attention to that fact.

"...that would explain what's going on in the cockpit," mused Da Vinci, nodding.

Both staff members simultaneously had the same thought. "What's going on in the cockpit?"

Da Vinci wordlessly gestured to the SHEBA lens, showing what had to be a rather suggestive scene with the Master…."piloting" the Servant. A similar scene could be found under visual examples for "inexperienced" in the dictionary.

Complete with audio.

"Uooogh, Sader! Aaaaugh, SADER!"

"Ahh~! Mastaah~!"

Wide eyes, disbelieving ears, and broken minds are all that lurk in Chaldea's Central Command Room.

"...dear God."

All of the staff could not wait for the world to end.


HOW TO DESTROY SEPHYR: A Walkthrough by Cassette Girl


Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Extella or Extella Link nor have I played them. I know, I guess I'm not a true gamer. Bite me!

Step 1: Be on the Sader Route. You won't get the cool Giant Robot Mecha build otherwise, and the alternative Karna or Valkyrie Routes are so uncool. If you're not on this Route, why are you even here?

Step 2: Have a territorial dispute with Sephyr, the Umbral Star, and declare war on this alien invader over who gets to eat the planet Earth.

Step 3: Using the Railgun, shift the Sadermech into Shelling Mode and enjoy the transformation sequence as the giant robot goes on all fours, doggy style. Take this time to set up what kind of Skills should be activated as knowing when cooldowns expire is key.

Step 4: Lose contact with Chaldea as everyone turns into orange Fanta. There's only static on the comms. You're on your own now, pal!

Step 5: Pure Massacre. Rip and punch holes into the alien abomination across the barren Earth landscape.

Step 6: Sephyr is now terrified, and the Giant White Titan Bunny begins to run away. Give chase. Give in to base instincts. Become the Hunter. The Apex Predator.

Step 7: The thirst for Sephyr's blood will not be quenched until the alien bunny is completely at your mercy.

Release the Big Fuck: [Galaxy Cannon Excalibur]

Step 8: Sephyr, defeated, decides to launch her own Fuck You in alien language by enforcing the art of using every Velber 02 cell in her freaking body to convert into pure energy and explode, causing a massive collapse of superheavy matter and taking your with her. Earth is no longer a planet. Gaia and Alaya scream in harmonized agony as the will of the planet and humanity itself simultaneously die to the supermassive cringe blackhole. Other Types follow suit, becoming spaghettified into a full-course meal for the sole victor. Even the spider chilling in Brazil becomes aware of impending doom not from a puny being of Earth, but from the full might of the cosmic Harvester Star.

Step 9: Sader slurps up a galaxy-sized Cosmic Cup Noodle and sacrifices herself to expel a massive amount of creation energy to neutralize the newborn black hole that has taken the place of Earth.

Step 9: Wait, what?

Step 9: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HERE, SADER! HOW IS THE FUTURE SUPPOSED TO GET TAKEN BACK IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT TO RETAKE?!

Step 10: SADER! *sob*

See? That was easy. Now enjoy the following cutscene, most of the budget went into it.


The void.

Or rather, a void of light. It's a little hard to see.

"Yo, mortal human. You're like homeless, familyless, penniless, and maidenless all at the same time. But you have a name and a mind, don't you? This is a world without boundaries. Despite you losing almost everything, you uh, reeeeally shouldn't be here."

A giant dark-haired asian woman in an extravagant flowery kimono levitates before him. She blows out a puff of smoke from her blunt.

Ritsuka floated in the void, making a huge effort to ignore the lack of dimensions. Or rather, the lack of everything definite. If he looked at his hands, he would see–

(Necrosis encroaching the fingertips)

(Baby hands)

(The dainty hands of a high school girl)

(Arthritis-ridden joints with liver spots)

(Calloused tanned hands from working with metal)

(Wrinkled wet hands)

(Pale manicured hands that look too sallow, too perfect to be human)

(Charred burned hands)

(A metal prosthetic right arm)

(Stumps)

(Webbed fingers)

(Broken fingers in unnatural angles)

(Claws marred with engraved curses)

(shaking hands with blades protruding every which way from beneath the skin)

—too many possibilities. Contradicting. All at once. Nausea pooled in his stomach, threatening to spill out as a 2D-3D-4D-5D mess of guts.

"私は誰かを探しています / I am looking for someone / Estoy buscando algien/ Je cherche quelqu'un," he replied, startled by the chorus of voices that spoke alongside him.

The woman nods her head. "That Divine Spirit, huh. She's out of your league, though. Literally. Her domain is a plane of higher existence than yours. And even then…well, you saw."

Anger. Rejection. GRIEF. He will not be taking no for an answer.

Ritsuka takes a wobbly fighting stance, clenching his hands into fists that dig into his skin.

With a punch that carries his unspoken anguish, he slams through the woman….and misses his target completely. You can't hit what doesn't exist, y'know.

He hurtles right into her massive projection. And immediately regrets it.

The whirring of a projection started up, accompanied by a view of the Earth from outer space. Somehow. This was…astral projection over astral projection. Astro-proception?

A cute little girl who resembled Jeanne Alter stretched to infinite proportions. She was long. Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong. Very loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong. She twisted and stretched towards infinity…and beyond.

Banana demon girls floated around endlessly. It was a kaleidoscope of yellow, silver, and the cosmos.

The wails of one-sided love echoed through the void. One wailed for his Greek porridge bird witch, and another for his magenta waifu with deadly spears.

But perhaps worst of all was the entourage of blonde mini cat-girls with suspicious (:3) faces advancing with some kind of song. And latin chanting.

"O̸͓͌u̵̢͊̐ȑ̸̲ ̸̹̕w̸̛̫h̸̢̠͋̊o̶̥͗l̵̪͔̄e̸͖͋ ̴̫̟͒ũ̴̘̲̐n̷̦͐i̸̖̒̊v̸̎͜ë̷͓̘́r̷̭̆s̸͓̎͠e̶͈̽̓ ̴͇͗w̵̲͠ã̸̖s̵̖̣͘ ̶̡͋͝ï̷̏ͅņ̴̎͝ ̶̲̕̕ȧ̶̺̉ ̸̬̆h̵͓͋õ̷̻̺͠t̷͖͇͒,̸̻͚̾̓ ̵̡̔̍d̵̤̤̿̑ȇ̴̘ǹ̸̡̝͋š̴̨̢e̸̯̟̿̀ ̷͎̗̋s̷̩͝t̶̠̾ȃ̵̰ţ̵͌̀ẹ̸̔̎

̶̼̋̌T̴͇̻̀h̸͚͕͌̃e̵̡̓n̴̝͔͝ ̶̪́ṇ̵͍̚e̴͖͘͝a̶̰̕r̶̛̰l̴̼̱͂ẙ̴͈ ̷̝͚͊͝f̸̫̼͌ō̷̩̉ú̸̹̔r̴͈͖͝t̷̮̙̿͠ȇ̸͍̮ḛ̴̀̚n̵͈͒ ̶͍̀b̸̺͋͑i̷̘̚l̵͎̈́ͅl̷͓̒͘ͅị̸̾̓o̷̩̬͝n̵̗̄ ̶̝͐y̶̬͂͑ȩ̶̘̈́̂á̵͓r̴̢͐̈́s̵͈̆̈́ ̷̧̿ä̵͉̣͊g̴̠̈o̷͎͛ ̵̬̺̀̓e̶̛͉̜͝x̴̡͚͝p̵̳̰͐a̶̙̔n̸̞͕̒ṣ̴̡́̎i̶͓̒ô̷̤̈́ṋ̴̻́ ̷̹̭͌ŝ̸̛̖͉t̸͓̙͌a̴̳̣̅̇r̴̳̆͐t̴͉̊͘ê̷͈͊d̷̖̚—"

Oh. Ohh. OHHHHHh. NO! Ritsuka realized what was about to happen. And subsequently panicked.

"WAIT–!"

There was no mercy as the Neco-Arcs began their rave protocol. The latin chanting did not stop, and thus created a cacophony.

̶̰͚́̎W̵̖̫͘Ę̷͔̅ ̶̞͗̔͜B̴̞̅U̵̳̣͛I̷̪̾Ḷ̷̺͗T̸̨̀͝ ̶̲̔̓T̶̬͉͒H̴̛̬E̴̊͜ ̵̲̪̎P̷͔͚̈́̎Ȳ̵̥̬̚R̷̭͉̋́A̷͚͊M̸̘̎̕I̵̢͑̀D̷̢̛̹S̶̪̟̾̿!̴̞̿̽

U̷̪͒N̷̛̤̪R̸͍̤͊͝A̸̢̍V̶͙͉͌̄Ḛ̸̙̕L̶̘͊L̷̨̧̂Ì̵̯N̴̳͐͋G̶̻͘͝ͅ ̴̝̻̀̓T̵͇̮̿H̷̡̅Ę̸͍͒ ̵̺̮̄̂M̷̱̃͗Ỹ̸̪̏S̵̡̮͐T̶̲̂̐Ê̵̺͛R̸̡̿̏Ỵ̵̅,̵͊ͅ ̴̧̒

T̴̰͋H̵̲̰̅A̸̟͍͆͆Ţ̷̿̔ ̷̖̏Ả̵͈̖L̴̼̈́L̴̥̩̿ ̴͖̔S̶͇̗̈̐T̸͎͖̈̍A̶̭͝R̵̬͌T̵̞͒͝E̶͍̐̓Ḋ̵̝̖ ̴̮͔͑W̷͓͛͌I̷̘̓T̴͖̭͝Ḧ̶̡͙ ̷͔͍̊Ǎ̷̪͠ ̶͉̿B̴̬̦̓̂I̷̮̍G̷̝̟͛ ̶̬͈̂B̷͎̝̓̽A̸͇̎͊N̵̼̞̎Ğ̴̣,̷̺͍̓

̶̺͝B̸̰̅Á̸̙͊N̷̖̿̕Ǵ̴̢̜̚!̵̧̖͊

̵͚͔̆̔

It played. Again.

Again. (louder.)

agAIN. (Louder.)

AGAIN. (LOUDER.)

LOOP.

Ö̷̞̳̳̺͕̣͕̈́͌͐͂͌͘ͅṻ̷͙͖̙͖͕̥́̔͛̔̉͂̿́̂͛͜r̷̡̰̺͓͔̺͖͒͑̽̕ ̵̲̒͒̽̏̍͌̕w̴̡̢̤͛̏̓̉͑̅̔͛̆̕h̸̗̩̳̟̖͉̩̟̙̗̍̉̒o̵̧͔̞͙̼͔̙̮̾̂̈̓̈́̅̃̆͝l̸̥͕̜̗̳̯͇͌̚e̵̗̳̹̺͕̭̘̤͆̓͝ ̵̧̘̬͙̘͊̍͒̔ ̸̲̻͇͔̲̤̘̘̽͌̊̊̊͠ͅ ̵̞̘̼̗̆͋̐̈́̓̈͗̽̕̕͜͜͝ ̸̨̘̜̯̂̀͌̌̆̀͐̽͝u̶̧̞̞̲̹̪͙͗̇̾̀̂͊́͋̊̕͝n̵̲̮̺̱͕͈̈́i̸̫̙̤̯͂̋̕v̸̮̞̻͕̥̰͍͕̲͓̙̓ȅ̴̞̹̣͇̹͔̼͙̹͎̔̔̓ͅr̷̡̫͓̩̫̥͊͌̂̑̌̌͝s̴̛̼̱͖͈̺̅e̵̡̨̥̖̲̙̿͆́̾͘ ̵̨̹̰̞͓̫͌͂̒͌̔̈́̓̇̎̕͝ ̵̼̟̜͊̈́̑̈̐̎̅̀̾̕ ̶̧̢͖̲̘͇̖̠͐̎͋̏̕ ̵̡̜̝̟̻̦̩̐̆͌̈̆̊ͅ ̶̡̛͉̻̘̫̼̪͂̒͗̿̈́̌̚͝ ̵̧͇̗̟͖̞̂̈́̂̋̑̓͂̚͝ ̴̗͎̼̭̻̪͊̾́̅̉͗̍̚͝ ̴̱͌͠w̴̡̗͍̬͙̱͒̓̾̕a̴̢̨̢̧͇̳̝͕͗̓͐͠s̸̢̡̢̢̲̟͙͈̳̖̐̓̀̓̚͘̚͠ ̷̤̞̣̻̟̬͉̲̂̄̎́̄̒͆͋̓̆̕į̸̰͙̺̦̟̱͈̟̟͕͒̄̌̎͑̔͠n̷̻̥̥̫̺̬͕̫͆̋̽͝ ̷̢̛͙̤͙̥̭̣̔͆͂̐̑̀̏͋͠ͅặ̸̩͖̗͈͍̪͒̏ ̷͙̹̤͇̜̉̽̏h̶̜̿̇̑̀̅̅̓͐̇͠o̵̡̢̫͈̻͈̖̺̔̅̄̕t̴̼̝͑̾ ̷̖̠̋̓̍̓ ̸͉̠̻̪̄͗͑̓̓ ̶̬̮͂̉̉̅̽͝͝ ̵̢̨͕͙̼̣͈͆̽̃͒̋̋̂̈͌̕͘͜d̴̬͙̆͘͝ë̴̼́n̵̡̻̞̪̫̹͌͌̉̆̎̏͛͑s̶̰̩̬̮͐͆͆̏͛̾̿͋̓͝e̶̞̟͖͙̅̿̍̿̀͛͗̃͂ ̸̧͚̼͕̅̍̃̓̓̏͆͒̈́͘͝ ̶̟̱̙̮͍͔̇̍͆ ̷̢̛̖̜͕͈͇̥͚̮̘̪̓̃͐̀̚ ̵̜̯̯͇̪̯̦͔͐̈́̈̉͂͊͊s̶̻͎̱̱̩̟̾̆̀t̵̟̉ạ̴͎͕̬̝͊͊͐̆̏͌̔̉͌͝t̴͍̜̹̟̖̓́͌͗͊̌ę̸͇̪̺̖͖̝̻̈́́͌̑̐̀̂̚̕͝ͅ ̵̘̜͖͙͖̦͚̲̼͌͛̏͒̕͠͠ ̸̲̣͖͍̙̓͌̇͘̕̕ ̷̤̥̼̠̐̓̀͊̄̓̈́̑̔̚̚ ̴̛̲̖̙͛̒̆̊͂̓̇͘ ̶͚̽̂̎̚ͅ ̵̨̮̞̝͂͋̄̽t̴̬̞͇̱͎͉͇͐͗ḩ̵̩̻̳̼̻̭̞̹͇̬̓͋̍̀͊̏e̴̡̮̺̯̱̖̦̓̏̔ń̸̨̛̲̲͓͚̒͋͐̉̑͒̕͝ ̵̢̢̢̘̖̭͉̳̱͓͌͒̾̐̑͒͆̉̂̾͝n̶̥̏̎ḛ̸͙̟͇̺̻̐̇̈́̽͑͂ä̵̧͎͓̖̙̼̦͖͙̠́̿ŕ̵̢̨̼͈̦̻̼̠̤̇̎̿̒̏̓̓̂̎l̴͕̙̦͒́̋́́̆̅ÿ̸̰̦͕̻̥̝̮͉̲̪̺́ ̶̨̢̙̣̺̻̀̓̉͌̎̅̚ ̷̢̛͓͓̻̤̼̽͌̅̿̆͜͝ ̵̢̪̺̹̱̜̘̖͍̥̪̎̓̈́̌̀̀̆̾ ̴̢͇̙̋̿̉̉̈́͑f̸̟̲͖̼̭̝̮̞̑̒̉͂̅̈̂̐͐̚͘͜ơ̵͔̱͚̟̱̤͉̪̎̌̾̄͒̾̊͠͝u̵̡̘̤̺̲͇̽͌r̶̢̖̻̼̬̪̰̙̠̰͋ṯ̴̮̲̞͖̙͙͒͋̕͝è̷̡̬̊̈́̀̇͗̐̓͛̈́̒ę̸̘̟͎̘̖̤̺̫͉͚̀̄ṇ̶̛̭̱̪̫̓̓̀̎̍̓̋ ̶̘̺̺̫͛̂ ̸̢̢͇̮͓̱͍̻̀͆͒̂͋̐͝ ̷̪̊͒͆͆̀̋̔̆ ̶̺̬́b̵̛̃̿̓͗̉̽͌̃̚ͅi̷̡̦͔̟̳̝͂́̾͌ͅl̶̫̜̳̗̥͎̥̖̳̃̎̌͛̕l̴͕̫̫̰̠̍̎̈̏̒̆́͘̚͜͠i̶̡̡͕̹̭͉͖͈͉̳̺̔̄̓̉̊͘̕͝͝õ̴̤̪̼̪̞̻̿̓͆̒̈́̔̚͜͠͠ň̵̛̤̝̲͙͇̙͙̘̠̀͐̍̽̕̚͝͝ ̸̧̠̝̬̋̐ ̶̛̻̣̼̬̯̺̝̞͌͛̈́̚ ̴̢̛͖̮̣̦̭̱̞̯̣͎̊̒̔̾̆̈́ ̷͓̯̰̣̥̭͓̟̃y̷̨͙͇͖̞̦̹͉̻͐͂̄́͜e̸̡̱̣̝͔̯̠̜͚͍͓̅̌̈́͘a̷̦͍͊̎͒̇̕ȓ̴̡̛͕̻̺̥̳͎̰͇̓̽̚ͅͅs̸̡̛͚̟̰̙̤̳̥͇̉͒͑̆̕͠ ̵̡̛̠̬͕͔͎͆̐ ̷̦̠̣̞̺͇͍͖̭͋́͋ ̷̲̤͔͊̓̔̀̔͐́̃͛͘ ̵͈͎̈́̑̄̃̏̆ã̵͎͚̈́̎̏̇̕͘g̸͎̲͉̼̼͔̦̰̪͒̄̒̌͐o̶͈̹̰͈̦̳̒͗̔̆̋̈́͛͐̓̕ ̷̛̩̤̘̳̅͒͌̽͒͠͝ ̴̭̿͌̂̂̎͗̐ ̸̳͎̙̥̮̫̜̔͗̓͛̀ ̸̢̤̞̮̰̓̂̍̍̇͗̀̊͐̂ͅe̶̛͎͚̍̓̀͑̄̕x̷̨͉̩͔͈̫̪̀̀̽̀p̷̨̧̻̺̘͇͙̊̒a̴̫̖̞̦̫͖͎̬̜̎̋̄̀͂̃̐́ͅn̷̟̠̼̤̦͈̱̗̟͍͎͑̇͛͆́̏̌̀͘͝͝s̴͙͖͎̼̲͖̜̣̝̱͂͐̿͝i̴̧̤̼͎͚̣̥̐͒̓ọ̵̫̬̀̆̔͑̄̋̋̚͝͝n̶̤͎̣̹͉̓̔ ̴͕̻̩̘͍̍̄̈́̍̇̈̄̍̉̕ ̴̢̗͕̗̣̥̤̠̥̤̲́̉̇̓ ̴̨̧̡̛̟̱̼̱̭̺̜̫̆̂̊̀̂͋̕͝ ̴̨̨̫͙̘̫̫̥̋̊̏͒͋̔̕͜s̸̛̛̬̝͆̔̌̈́͑͘͝͝t̴̳̲͙̩̩̩̬̀̊͊a̷̘̅̈́̅̈́̉̓́̀͘ř̵̢͇̠̦̞̄̎t̵̛̗̀͆̚e̵̦̭͈͇͕͗̀̐͋͐͑͝ͅd̷̢̛̰͖͉̭̤͇̳̦͔̻̓̅̄̍̀ ̴̟̲͖̗̳̇͑ ̵̡̢͚͎̮̣̲͇͐̄̾̈́͑͊͊͘̚͠ ̸̺͍̥̫̪̺̤̠͇͛̏͆̈́̐͑̕ ̴̟̬͂̀̓̆͘ẁ̵̙̤̙̦̣̏̔̎̃a̶̢̜͈̺̝̝̘͎͋͌̽̈́͗̓̑̃̕͠ǐ̷̢̭̹̙̭̫̪͙̮̫͜t̴͍̪̭̬̦̫̞̭͑̉̾̈̽͘ ̶̧̛̥̭̓ ̴̭̝̳̯̪̪͛̈́̀͗̈́͒͠͝ ̵̢̝̔̉͌͐͌̀͛̎̍͑͘ ̴̮̲̹̖̜̳̱͕̋͐ť̸͉͕̦̗̼͕̭̞͋͒h̷̯̿́́̓͝e̷̢̲̣͓̪̣̤̺͇̝͍̍͋͛ ̷̧͔̫̟͇̊̃͌̄͗̂̍̔͆͘e̶̛͚̅̑͗̀̈͌̚͝͝͝a̷̢̡̙͇̟̘̱̝͎̿́́̓͜͠r̴̨̨̜̟̗̲̈́ͅt̴͉̲̣̖̱́́͑́̀͆ͅh̷̢̨̛̫̮͖̦̜̠̫͙̉̆̔̂̄ ̴̢̺̗̩̣̳͎͚̺͙͉̃͑̅͑̋͆̆́͝ ̸̨̨̩̣̟̫̦̖̻̟͗̒̿̊ ̸͍͕̜̟̭̰͚̇ ̶̢̣̟̱̳̤̦̤̓̓͘b̶̨̪̠͈͎̣̹͓͙͒͑̓̽̀̿͑̕ė̵̡͚̠̭̠̦͐̏̓̕g̶̛̲̼̭͍͎̩̙̼̈́̽̀̿͝͝ͅa̸̢̫̰͍̿̉͛ͅṋ̴̦̥̩̎̆͋͌̃ ̸̢̧̟͖͐͒͌͂̈́̽̽̈̽̚ ̸̛̱̖̳̪͚̯͔͑̆͠ ̷͓̞̘̤͐͋͆̒͌̃̑̄͒̉̈́ͅ ̴͙̪͔̲͎̪̗̏t̴̛̯̼̺̺͉̜̥̥͎̟̐ṏ̶̞̹͎͙̰͙̩͇͍̯̅͂͊͊͐͐ ̵͙͔͇̱̍̓̅̇c̷̫̮̈́́̀̍̎̌͝o̷̘͎͓̻̣͉͈̥̎͆́̈́͛͑̿͆͠ö̸̧̡͕̳͔̺̳͓̹̗́̐̀͜ḻ̷̢̟̥̙̻̮̙̲̎̃ ̶̡̩͓͓̻̬̤̝͌ ̴͍̹̩̺̫̬̘͙̏̔̉ ̷̼̠̱̹̺̈̂͌̇̓ ̵͈͎̭͕̬̠̱̭̪͔̳͑͊͗̓͛̂̓̈́͘å̷̛̘͆̅̌̒̋͝u̴͎̝̗̖̘̟̺͓͆̐̀͊̊͒̂̚t̸̢͉̳̣̜̬͕̄ͅo̵̢̧̧̺̥̜̝̩̫̱̓t̷̺̬̦̬̆r̷͚̉̌̎́͗̓̒o̷̜̦̣͎̪͖͉̺̪͆͗͌̇͌̀͗̋p̶̤͍̗̯̓̓̽̃͠h̴̡̛̛̳̼̟̯̦̘̑͂̐̇̅̄̿͐s̸̨͉̘̤̈́̓͜͠ ̴̥̞͎̤̬̏̽͐͌͋̈̎̕͠͠͝b̸̡̥̻̪̎̈́͗̓̋̅é̵͙̣͚̮̭͔̞͔̈́́͆̅͋g̴̠͙̯̈́̀̈́ȧ̴̢̨̛̠̳̱͖̦͔́̀̇͛͛͜ͅͅņ̴̯̒̎͛̏̄̇͑͊̔͜͠ ̵̼̭̤̐̾ ̴̢̥̾̊̉͌͐̀̄́̉͜͝ͅ ̶̬͍͙̥̿̅̈́̐̈́͑͌̃͘ ̸̧̨̇̕͠͝͠ͅṫ̴̢͍͇̠̩̻̲͉̼͖̿̍̐̾̀͐͜͝o̸̙͔̠͎͓̻̿ ̴̨̻̗̙͖͚̯͚̰̩͂ḓ̷̞̥͔̜̗̻̥̆͠ṟ̵̨̫̻̔̋̚͝ͅơ̴͕͚̹̺̭͋͐̏̐̍̕ȯ̵͎̙̮̮̝̺͓̹̠̼̞̆͒̓̆̕l̶̡̤̭̤̝͛̊̈́̋̉͒̂́̂ ̷̱̔̍̿ ̵̡̛̲̙̭͇̰̹͕̲͔͔̇́̊̃̅̈͒́ ̶̖̐̑͌ ̸̦̤̲̝͖͕͛̾̃̒̎̐̀̓͝Ṉ̴̯̖̲̘̔̋̇͑̏̚͝e̵̥̼̤̘̣̩̦̬͍̟͚̔͂̓͌̚ȁ̶̠̜̍̊͌̌͗̓̚ͅn̶͔̤̠̬̭̲̂͑͛̌̅̀̽̆͂͘̚ͅd̷̢̨̼͉̍̎́̀͐̄̾̃͋̉ë̵̗̠͖̙̥̤̳́̂̂̉̅̀̌͒ͅr̶̢͇͉̭̺̺̜̦̠̫̓͊̊̂͌̾̍͑̀̒͘ţ̵̥̲͚̝̒̉͐̒̉ͅͅh̵̨̨͙̯̥̗̝̱͓̤̥͌̓̾͊̐́̽ą̵̛̭̬̱̭̤̊͐̂̏̒̀̂́̚l̵̘̫̘̥̀͗̓̆̓͌ṡ̸̮͖̮̯̠̩̉́̽͆̿̔̓̕̕͝ ̴̡̞̮̪̬̘̙́̌͂̀̀̓̏̕ ̵̛̪͍̗̘̳̱̙̭̗͗̌̿͆̓̕͝ ̵̨̒̾͛̓́ͅ ̵̢̦͎͇̮̉͊͊̐̕̕͝͝ ̴̹͔͇͕͕̥͇̑̚͝ ̴̨̻͔͚͓͖̹̗͎̥̠̾ ̶̱͍͐̾̊́̆͒̕̚͘️̷̘̭̙̫̾̔̔̾͑͋͝ ̴̧̩̗̯̳̻̓͊̅̈́͛ͅͅd̸͕͙̜͉̺̠̰̞̅̃̇͒̿͌͘ḙ̷̉̌̽̐̏͗̌̈̅̃̾v̵̛̺̗̠͔̤͍̺̮̖͛̅͋̋͒̍ẹ̸̢͓͎͔̼͉̃̉̌̑̊́̔̚l̶̛̗̳͍̳͇̖̙̖͑͋͒̀̿̃͝ͅo̸͓͙͙̺͆̈p̴̨̛͚̖̰̼͓̜̦̑̅e̷͈̯̠͖̥̞̪̠͌̌͂̎̏̍̚d̸̲̠̗͇̯̲̐̏͗̕͠ ̴̛̘̜̏͆̐̍͑͂̏̆ ̴̮͍͙̃͛ ̵̜͍̥͚̗̓͂̈́̔̍̾̕͝ ̸̧̼̭̞̞̓͋͑̓̀̈́ţ̴̤̖̰̰̺̏̑̑̄̑͝ỏ̷̡̗̘̜̬̰̙̫̳͂̄o̸̬̣̜͗ļ̶̭̝̺̓ş̵̢̠̗͍͔̙̥̗͓͑͂ ̷͙̯̗̹̟̠̮̮͈̥́̂̎́̃̒̐̾̓͝ ̴̢̧̻̱͓͖̇̒̀͒͘͠ ̸̧̠̈́͂̓ ̶̡̜̑̊̓͛́ ̸̛͖̩̯̰̳̯̾̑̒͆͋̋̾͝͝w̶̗͎͙̞̃̐̋͑͗̃̏͋̄͗̂é̸̡̡̀̌̄̂ ̴̨̤̪̥̞̞̥̪̣̳̂̓͌b̴̤̎̆̌̊͛͋̊̃́̓͋ų̶̭̭̀̈̇̌̔͗͐̄͋̈ì̶̙͖̭̣̼̗̉͗͛̿l̷̢̗̬̪͉͈͍̞̣̜̞̔͌̌̓̅̀̋̒́͋t̸̯͎̪̦̀ ̶̝̪͚͍͑͂̾̇̀̋̚ ̵͔̭͐͐̓̐̈́̍͆̃̕͘ ̴̛̛͚̠̖̳̱̑ͅ ̸̧͙͔̾̿̈́̍̚̕͜ ̷̱̑̓̃̆̾̿̌̊̈️̵̼͎̺͇̈́̌͊̉͋͌͗̋͆̉̑ ̶̡͈̟̠̣̤͓̖̈́̀̕̕͠a̶̢̬͔͇͕͚͕̺͒̄̽̈́̿̑́̽̀̀͂ͅ ̷̼̹̜͚͉̪̉̈́͛͑̊͊̒̈̋̄͠w̷̨̛̭͉̗̹̰̆͛͝a̴̺̼͑̊l̴͙̱̞̦̋̑́̃̊̈́̾̇̆̚l̵͍̹̭̪͈͊͗́͌̈́̕͝ ̷͕̲̯̪̥̲̟͒̏́̏̆̊ ̷̢͉̮̘̅́̌̈́̂̅͑̕͝ ̸̨͖̺̬̼̦̥̣̄̅̑̏́̒̊͂͋͠ͅ ̶̧̈́́̎̾̉̋ ̴̳͊ ̴̮̦̭̜͉̯̝̖͂̀͗̍̋̌̚̚̚̕ͅ ̵̤̦́͑͋̕͝ ̵̢̧͎͓͓͕͇͕̳̈̾̄̈̐̽́̓̅ẅ̷̢̠͉͔̖̪̦̝́̆͒̔̾̾̍͝e̷̛̲̼̘͖͓̰̙̪̣̔͌̑̌̓͝ͅ ̶̢̛̱̦̜̞̼͙̋̌̉ͅb̴̜̱̝͔͇̏̑̽͗͊͝ủ̵̘̺͙̬̣̭̈̃̀̈͒̋̄̀̎͋į̴̧͍̱̯̏̂́͑͜͜͠l̴̢̗̙̭̗͕̦͋̒͐̔͊t̴͍͔̖͖͂ ̴̡̼̱̫̬̦̤̺̙̯͉̓ ̸͎̰̻̃̀̓̋̃̉͂̐̿̇͜ ̵̡͚̥̇̆̃̿͠ ̶͚̳͎͙̣̼̲̲̰̾͌̄̍͋͝ ̶̹̬̤͕̈̈̀̈́̂͐͋̍̅͠️̵̬̤͙̫͖͕̫͔͓̤̻̋̓̌̋ ̶̖̲͖̺̳̗̬̠͊̋̏͝t̸̬̘̟̲̿̈́̇͂̀̀h̸̛̤̼̣̼͉̹̦̮̳̻̣e̸̟͖̿͗̓́̆̔͝ ̸̳̭̏̽̍͂̀͘p̵̟̜̭͍̳͉̦̔̆̚y̸̡̟͓͓̬͔̖̲̠͛r̸̨̨̪͉̰̼̮̙̦̓̅̆͑̇̂̕ã̷̛̘̟̻̟̱͂̈́͛͆̇m̸̡̜̗̟͐i̵̟̝̮̳̠͆͗͋̒̑͒͂͗͒̐͠ͅd̵͉̙͉̬̺̅́̏̊̚͜͝s̶̪͉̄͒̕ ̶̡͕̪͕͎̯̿́̎ ̶̡̨̨͙͔̤̠̤̭̩̼̋͆̐͝ ̴̼̬̩̜̞̪̏͜ ̵̞̩͉̫͉̭͒m̵̯̹̺̩̮̀̔͂̉͋̎͑͗̊̅͘ą̷̻͕̯͈̋͊͛̔̾̽̒̍̚͜t̴̰̩̼͝ḥ̵̨̛͍̼̿̋̌͂̚͜ ̴̡̣̤̪̙͕̯̦̼̥̩͌ ̷̧̗̘̦̬̬͕̭̈́̈́̓̅̾̕ ̴̛̻̥̙͍͐̌̾ ̵͇̲̳͔͚̹̒͊̅̉̈́̌̎̍̈́̕͝s̶̡̢͎̜̱͔̦̫̙̆̐̈́͊́͆͝ͅc̴̮̠̟̯͇͉͍̞̩͎͋̇͊̅ï̷͈e̵͎͍̮͙̙̝̼͈̠̋̓̄̈́̓̐̑͘ñ̵̜̙̩̭̞̲͖͝͠c̷̢̱̠͇̰͔͓̩͙̍̎̈́͋̆͑͂̈͜e̷̞͉͉͈͙͗͗̄͂̓̂͂̚ ̷̢̗̲͉͓̻̏̔̍̏̊̏̆̚͝͠ ̵͍̻̍̔̈́̊̐̀̆ ̶̻̗̃̆͊͌̊͑́͜ ̸̧̹̭͔͉̌̀́͗̂̎̾̔͊h̶̛̜̗̩͈͎̰̝̗̏̃ǐ̸̹̖̲͎͈̼͍̥͉̤͆̀̊͜s̴͎̤͆͌̆̅̓͘̚t̸̡̉́̓́̔͘o̶̱̪͔̝̤̍͛͗r̴͖̈̀͛͑̉̀͝y̷͙͔͚͙̦͓̖̹̜͓̍̿́͆̆ ̸̠̍̓̈̆͒̈́͌͋̋̈̉ ̴͖̹̲͈̟͉̹̫̮̠̦̆͘ ̶̡̡͓͙̼͍͗̊̐͗͜ ̷̢͎̈́͊͒̉̓u̴̼͈̫͓͍̪͎̥̞̗̥̓̎̆n̸̢̢̹̺͕͓̙̗̱̫͓͆r̵̗̣͎͖̦͊͗̂̌̃͊͒̒͘̕ą̴̛̱͙͚̞̟̖̤̤̅̒̿̉̓͗͋̐̔͝ͅv̶̡̡̦̦͖̪̪̜̌̌̄̇̄̊̎̈́̕͘͝ȩ̸̘͈̭͈̤͚͈̤͛̾͒̊̕l̶̛̪̪̲̠͕̭̪̦͙̽͛͐̈́̆̂̔͜į̸̭͙͓͕̩͙͔̫̐̊̊̂̒̃̀̎̍̋͜n̸̡̨̧̟͇̟̳͓̝̿͌̐͜ģ̶̖͑̅́̽́́̈̆͐̚͠ ̵̨̝͔̑̽̄t̴̰͈͖̤͍̠̼̪̯̯̅͐̃̕h̵̢̭͕̠̏̈́͂e̸͈̲̤̹̱͔̦̻͓͗̎̂͋̿̊̆̈́ ̷̛̩͉̗̯̺͑̋̔͑̕̚̚m̵̪͖̦̙̈̚y̶̨̧͙̞̞̖̙̝̗͔̝͌̂̏̀̆̏͛s̴̨̮̜̘̼̜̩̎͑͜͜t̶̨̲͉͇̜͇͖͉̝̆̉̚͜ͅẹ̷̢̬͈̌͗̈́̃̄r̵̥̬̰̭͖͙͐̆̂̈́i̸̢̥͐͑͝ḙ̴̬̖͈̍͑̽͌͘͘͠s̷̡̤͖̥̫̲̫͇̱͊͐̈͂̈̊̉͜ͅ ̸̦́͛͜͠ ̷̡͎̊̍̓͋͝ ̷̭̼͚͐͊̍̊̌̀̃̊͠͠ ̷̨̭͙̱͉͙̺̙̌͋t̶̢͍̜͚̬̙̞̮̮̤̗̋̿ḩ̸͉̠̬͕͊̈͛̎͗̎̾͝ä̷͕͖́t̸̗̍̅ ̴̜͎̙̺̍̃̇̊̅̇̽̓́̕a̵̦̯̽̈́̓̈́̎l̸̝̩̅͘͠ļ̶̻̼̀ ̶̨̲̝̙̦͓̟̺̝̿͜ ̶͕͉͓̘̫͉͎̝̘͉͐̽̍͋̄͘͝ ̵̢̘͓͉̣̱͎͇̤̌̀͂͌͘ ̵̘̫̖̗͕̺̥̮̓̏͌̍̊̑͐̽͝͝͝s̷̢̢̩̬̹̠̖̮̉̃̌̿ͅt̷̢͙̞͍̲̺̤͋̒̋̌͠͠ͅa̷͇̱͕̐̄̎͑͒̀͒̇̓͘̕ͅr̸͚̳̙̤̼̂̊̈́͆͐̃̈̄̈́͘͝ṭ̴̡̡͚̩̦̻̗̅̓́̆́̄̅̐̀̓̚ê̴̡̱͖͔͓̫̥͔̝̔́̽͗̑͐d̴̢̼̠̬̳͉͉̠̍̀͗̓̊͝ ̶̺͔̱̳͙̼͉̄̈́ͅ ̷̪̣̻̞͌̑̊͜ ̸͔͉̥̣͉̌͝ ̸̢̻̫̣̘̗͉͎̫́̊͌̔̔̑̍̎̑̉̓w̶̡̧̡̠̗̘̳͚͌͋͆͐̂͝ì̷͎̮͔͈͗͆́̊́̇̋̚̚͜͝t̴̯͖̭̱̺̱̯͇̙̆̍̎͌͌h̵͚͙͕̦͎̟̔̈́̕͜ ̸̣͉̟̰̽͂͊͌̾̓͛̇̀̈́̈͜ả̸̧̜̦̫̺̥͎̲͎̳ ̶̢̢̣̥̺̫̬͙͉̯͖͒̋̀͛̄̂͆̽̕̕b̷̪̹̱̦̱͂̔̾̂ǐ̴̢̧̧̛͉̯̟̟̘̀́̇̇̇͊͘ͅg̴̞̦͈͍͙͉̹̋̄̐̏̉̽̊́͠ ̶̢̺̜̗͙̠̩̯̣̠͛̈́́̊̉̍̆̋̂̚ ̷̫͕̟̞͠ ̴̥͕̰̏̔͂͠ ̴̹͆̑ͅb̶̝̞̯̼̄͂́͐̏ȁ̴̢̝̺̝͑̈́n̸̘͋͆͗̎̇g̴̨̩̯̟̭͍̘͙̩̘̯̉̈́̈́͂̄́͒̿ ̶̢̫̗͔͔̲͐̆͒͊̔̃͛͘͜͠ ̶̛̦͓̱̭͍̫̀̍̿̍͛͗ ̶̱͉̭͉͔̥͒ ̵̨̧̞̝͓̭͍̥̝̥̽̌̑̒̃̈́̑̅͘ͅḂ̴͉͈̥̬̬̬̹̖̈̀̉̔͊ͅÁ̵̢̡̯̜͇̝͇̭͙͋̋̊̈́̆͘͘N̶̙̻̠͘͝G̵̡̮̲̝̠̺͕̭̪̓̈́͐́̂̅̅̂ ̵̢̠͍͚̩͙̳̬͘͝͝ ̴̺̩͖͔͓̍̿͒̐̽͝ ̷̣͓̞͎͆̾̃͊̽̚!̷̥̰̫̻͎̙̻̙̈́̃͆̌̇͘͠

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He came face to face with himself among the chaos. The spitting image of one misplaced human being. An imPosTer.

(get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head

"BAZINGA," said Ritsuka calmly with a smug grin. "It's Morbin' time."

Ritsuka Fujimaru screamed.

"Woooah, little man, let's end it here." A delicate hand plucks the collar of his uniform, and he is thrust back into the slightly more comfortable but equally incomprehensible void. "Looking into a girl like that is kinda perverted, don't you think?"

"Every person you look at, you can see the universe in their eyes, if you're really looking."

— Albert Einstein

(you're almost certain he said that.)

Acid trip be damned, Ritsuka goes for another slug at the giant woman. He, of course, misses again, but this time makes sure to flail around hard enough to not fall into the Big Bang theoretical hellhole dimension.

"Hoho. You're quite feisty, Ritsuka Fujimaru. You wish to fight the void for the chance to see your friend? Or rather, your partner. That….is actually amusing," murmured the woman calmly, inhaling weed, then exhaling. "Even if it serves no purpose. Alright fine, I'm in a good mood. This universe is about to do the inside-out, red-and-blue pulsar vacuum death-and-rebirth action anyway."

Ritsuka cocks his head quizzically as the faint sound of many babies crying starts coming from somewhere.

"I take it you never played Super Mario Galaxy? Oh well. You should try it sometime. It's a wonderful game."

The sound of baby noises grows louder, and Ritsuka can't tell if that's more or less ominous.

The woman gestures to the luminous surroundings. "This area of existence and dimensions has ceased to be true, but new galaxies will be born from the remnants. Though what is remade is never quite the same as before. That is a universal truth. You may very well forget this once you reincarnate, but if you can, please etch this moment into your soul."

Time-space rapidly expands, becoming a familiar black and vast space slowly beginning to become speckled with pale white dots.

"This is…the moment a star is born."

Cosmic clouds of hydrogen, helium, and other light elements coalesce into a massive clump. It's cold, heavy, and soon it all flattens down into a slowly rotating disk of compact gas. From the center, a ball of pale blue light takes form and hungrily absorbs the hydrogen-rich clouds forming the disk.

In a pompous manner, as if to boldly declare its newfound existence, the pale blue dot shoots out twin jets of irradiated gas from opposite ends. The golden light cuts like a stardust blade through space, shining for the universe to see.

That newborn baby-blue star…it's Sader, isn't it?

And with no regrets, that wondrous sight is the very last thing Ritsuka Fujimaru sees as his life comes to a close.


["I look into your eyes and see the universe not yet born."]


"Look, bro! Shooting stars!"

(How... pretty.)

"Hey! Let's make a wish!"

(Alright then.)

"Big bro, did you make a wish?"

(Sure did.)

"Really? What did you wish for?"

(Can't say.)

"You meanie! Hmph! Okay then, how about something else. What's your favorite star in the night sky?"

(See that white one? It's tiny, but it always seems to shine the brightest when the night is darkest.)

"Ohh, Arcturus? Yeah, I guess it's a pretty star. But my favorite is…mmm…that one! See? You gotta twist the telescope like this and…there! The red one! I think it's called…umm, Beetle Juice!"

(Pffft. They're all pretty stars.)

(It's such a shame it will all collapse some day.)

"Hey! Don't be so negative!"

("Well think of it this way: it will come back, but a little differently than last time.")

"Really, big bro?"

(Yes, really.)

"You're so smart. I wanna be just like you when I grow up."


Years in the ? (But not many)


"WAKE THE HECK UP! YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE BUS, BRO!"

That shout plus a strident alarm blare is enough for the boy to wake up and snap himself into the usual morning protocol: leap out of bed, put on clothes, brush his teeth, and practically slide down the floor to the breakfast table.

In a bold manner, as if to declare his presence in the loudest way possible, the boy crashes into his exact seat and causes the other two occupants to jump from the impact.

"I'M HERE!"

Mrs. Fujimaru sighs and adds another sugar cube to her coffee. "You just missed your father. Dear, what did I tell you about setting your alarm multiple times?"

The boy sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "Aha, sorry! I forgot last night."

From across the table, his copper-haired sister sticks her tongue out. "He needs his dependable little sis to get his sorry ass out of bed, haha!"

"Ritsuka! Language!"

"Sorry ma," says the girl dismissively. "I mean Gudao's sorry butt. He totally came home late 'cuz of his-" and she says this in a mocking accent- "Bri'ish guhlfwiend. I know, because I was finishing my job application when he came in like a beat-up sock puppet–"

The brother's face turns beet red. "AHEM! So you're applying somewhere? Where do you think you're going?"

Ritsuka smirked. "While you were out stuffing your girlfriend like a fat boy in a Golden Corral, I found this cool place called Chaldea! They're some kind of security organization that's currently looking for people my age, and no experience is necessary, which is like, the ideal entry job…"

And somewhere high above in space, a Star Overhead twinkled.


[THE END]


[a/n]: Our whole universe was in a hot dense—

OK I am done with that torture. It's finally over. I didn't really mean to stretch this thing for so long, and I really struggled with how to give this a decent ending. Will there be a sequel? Only time will tell. If anyone bothers to ask for more Sader, anyway. The random quotes are from George Carlin (not Einstein!) and Rumi respectively.

Thank You Sader. Goodbye, FGO….and to all the Readers:

Congratulations. Omedetou.