The servant came to a stop in the doorway and levelled a firm stare within. The windowed hallway leading to the cafeteria was bright enough, but Chaldea itself always seemed brighter. It was an ensuring and hopeful sight to see the last torch of humanity being warmly lit, yet a fire still burned. For all its beauty and promise, there were always hidden dangers lurking within the light.

As he stood there and observed the overflowing light from the doorway, he stared over the waves of mirthful smiles and vibrant laughter. Though the enthusiastic chatter rang soundly through the air like a spring drizzle, the sights flickered before him. It was almost as if he could feel it writhing beneath… the unsightly sin that welled in man's hearts. With firm crimson eyes, a cousin of the very same malice and discontent that led humanity to the brink whispered from his core.

With a small frown, the servant pulled the brim of his pork pie hat down so it helped shade his eyes from the suddenly brighter overhead lights; They hadn't changed, nor had the laughter that now sounded maniacal and foreboding. His twisted nature spun the tune differently from how others perceived, and his eyes projected tendrils of hate where there was only mirth… It saw a hidden loathing and sinful motive where it didn't exist.

Yet, try as he might, he couldn't see the mirth for what it truly was… He was of the dreaded avenger class, after all.

Undeterred, he merely stood in the doorway as the sight before him flashed between his mind's twisted vision and the true reality. It was a jarring mess that aroused the worst of migraines. Once more, he grimly missed the dim corridors of that damp, unforgiving prison… and he hated that damned prison.

Unbeknownst to him, while he struggled with adjusting to the dark perception grafted by his class' nature, more and more turned to the well-dressed avenger. Clad in a noble suit of the dimmest gray, his elongated red tie twitched with the unsteady malice that leaked from him. It grew thick and palpable in the air like a coating mist, making his crimson eyes and sickly pale skin appear far more demonic than they should. An avenger's presence was often unsightly, but none would have noticed in Solomon's crafted prison.

Regaining his senses and holding his darkened perception at bay, his strained stare gazed around unintentionally to look like a scrutinizing glare. He caught the sights of intimidation and terror from many employees. Others were cautious and unnerved at the very least, but to his curiosity there were others that didn't even seem phased; Good for them. The present servants had turned into wary guard dogs, yet that was not his intent in the least.

Still, his twisted mind sowed the seeds of discord in the form of criticism. This place was far too content, and everyone seemed to take the peaceful atmosphere for granted. Were they not at war? The previous mirth was not how a bastion, currently involved with a struggle to save mankind waged across time itself, should feel. It was too much like he was before, where the complacency blindsided him. The whispers continued unabated, and he even dared to say he let them…

"…Dantes? Are you just going to stand in the door?"

The Count of Monte Cristo, or what he was best known as at least, turned towards the source of the curious inquiry with a growl upon hearing that hated name; It was an instinctual knee-jerk demanded by his heart. He met the uncertain yet firm stare of Gabrielle, who had been with Gudao in the summoning chamber when they had the luck of contracting him. It had been good to see the taller master well and healthy, yet his intrigue quickly grew on Chaldea's newest.

Her anger had flared on arrival for daring to try and harm her best friend back then. Though it was a trial, and he had no choice, he'd flatly accepted her verbal outburst. To her surprise, he even complimented her on it. How could he not? That vengeance to right a wrong resonated within, even if his core whispered it housed further ill intent, he could not see it… or could he see it? He wasn't certain what was or what wasn't.

All he did know, is that Gudao accepted him fully, and Gabrielle rather cautiously and reluctantly. He couldn't blame her… avengers were unsightly. He, the King of the Cavern, was the very embodiment of vengeance. Every inch of him wreaked of chaos to the point his vision was drawn and swirled by its hands. Despite the almost mad enhancement influence on what he perceived, he still held some semblance of control.

Though his eye twitched, he responded with a natural nobility marred by the tints of aggravation. "No… I was just considering my options."

"…Oh, okay," she responded calmly, but offered him a small smile. Though he saw it perfectly as it shined, it rattled his core. "If you want, I could save you a-"

"You can do no such thing!" he suddenly flared as his eyes leaked with sudden ferocity. The usually brave Gabrielle flinched and took a step back, causing several nearby servants to jump to their feet; There was no need. Though his malevolent presence had rocked the air wildly, he did nothing further than allow his voice to impulsively lash out against his will. His fists shook at his sides, and his glare lightened swiftly as he brought a hand to his now growling head.

"…save you a seat…?" Gabrielle finished hesitantly. With eyes closed, he let out a slow breath, then opened them again to look at his startled master. He shook his head slowly, glimpsed into the cafeteria at the sea of anxious faces, and began walking away.

"Excuse me…" he pardoned himself in a small whisper as he strolled away from the cafeteria, leaving a bewildered and concerned Gabrielle to watch after him.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Fragment 13: A Prisoner's Requiem

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Dantes grumbled to himself as he leaned against the side of the elevator as the doors slid close before him. He glared at the electric counter that displayed the floors as it transited to the lower levels where the residential area rested. He crossed his arms in aggravation over the impulsive outburst, yet it couldn't be helped. The accompanying pain was almost instantaneous and seized control like gasping for breath while drowning.

"I suppose I'll have to apologize to her later…" he mused as he stared at the moving floor counter.

With a final tick, the elevator halted at the floor he requested. Recalling correctly, his room should be towards the end of the second hallway after an immediate left. He sighed to himself as the doors slowly slid open and he pushed himself off the wa-

He was immediately shoved back against the wall with a grunt and hiss as he glared towards the servant who had crammed hastily into the elevator. The blonde, incredibly muscular man simply grinned back though his eyes were hidden by his usual shades. His hair was currently cut short and slicked back. A fresh leather jacket was draped on his shoulders over a white shirt. To his disbelief, a few robots floated in too, but it was just the start of a train.

The rest of the elevator quickly filled as Macedonian royalty, an Irish legend, and a grumpy professor filled into the remaining space with just enough room for an employee with blasting headphones. They all seemed to have matching white shirts with an identical design on them, paired with different flavors of casual pants. Cu had his battle attire instead.

"Hey, I'm really sorry! We're in a rush and didn't see you there! You the new servant?" Kintoki asked as he looked down at the avenger. To the new arrival's dismay, the elevator shut closed and began its ascent, but he only grew more curious as the people around him seemed rather… oblivious to his presence.

"Ho? New servant? Let me see!" "My king, you bloody idiot, that was my foot!" "Please do not bump my sensors, sir!"

"Woah, woah! Watch it big guy, I don't want to be grinding against Cu! That's Gabby's dream, not mine!" There was loud laughter from the other servants as Tyler was practically pushed up against the backside of his Irish friend as the Macedonian King pushed by.

The avenger groaned as he felt a headache growing with the mirth. After rubbing his temples with one hand he looked up to see a red-haired giant dangerously close to his face. To his credit Dantes didn't flinch, as he most certainly felt irked with this servant's lack of personal space. He was more surprised at the large individual being able to move towards him through the cramped elevator.

"Fancy clothes you have their, friend! I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors!" the giant of a man boasted loudly, making the avenger quirk an eyebrow. Kintoki let out a laugh next to him, which made him instinctively cringe as the sound grated against his very being. The bright elevator only continued to flash and twist as his being skewed his perception.

'Am I going to go through this pain for every simple act of mirth…?' he internally grumbled as he looked towards the king. He seemed unperturbed by his dark aura, so the least he could do was introduce himself properly in hopes of getting some extra personal space; That wasn't too hard to ask for, right? "I am the King of the Cavern."

"Huh? That your personal nickname or something, Dantes? Not Count of Monte Cristo or Edmond?" the blue-haired lancer mused out loud as he looked towards the avenger with a raised eyebrow. His eyes sparkled for a fight, but Dantes' glowered back instinctively at the mention of the name. It made Cu blink in surprise and share a glance with Kintoki.

El Melloi looked towards the scowling man as he tried to reel in yet another impulsive reaction. "It seems so… How interesting."

Tyler, now curious at the sudden conversation, took his blasting headphones off and turned his personal music player down. "What? Who the hell mounts Crisco?"

Iskandar laughed loudly once more as Dantes recomposed himself. The rider was accompanied by chuckles from the rest of the group before they quieted down after quick introductions to the Avenger. The conversations soon split among themselves naturally. It left him to thoughts that tried to distract him from the lingering mental tugs, like the employee… Tyler, he recalled, who seemed to be embedded among powerful heroic spirits without fear.

Locking himself away mentally, he paid no more attention to the group, save for a small remark about maintenance still not fixing the elevator's cable lift properly. Dantes squinted his eyes as the bright lights of the hallway soon flooded into the elevator again. Tyler didn't miss the sight as he glanced back, but mistook it.

"Well, see you later, Grumpy!" the employee waved with a small smile which was returned with an incredulous stare.

The lancer blinked. "Grumpy?"

"Like the dwarf from Snow White. Always scowling. Even more than Waver!"

"Leave him be, Tyler…" El Melloi smacked the employee on the arm as he jumped out of the elevator, almost making him lose his balance. More chuckling followed as Dantes quietly stared after them. Despite what his core twisted and drew, he still silently watched that sight with unbiased intrigue.

"Swing by the game room sometime if you want to hang out!" Iskandar bellowed as he followed his group out. The robots soon filed out after the group ran out of sight to grant him breathing space. With a small breath of relief, he hid his surprise behind his composed visage as he reached for the elevator buttons. Despite his presence, some dealt with it rather well, even if he was still trying to figure out how he was going to cope with these constant jarrin-

"Hold the elevator!"

His eyes widened in curiosity as he looked up to see a group of Roman Emperors and a dark-skinned Hun running towards the doors. It wasn't so much the number of them that concerned him since only five were approaching and two were fairly small. The problem was the fifth one who was behind the group… who was going to take up more space than necessary. The avenger let out a low, disappointed sigh as yet more called out to hold the elevator.

Yet even so, he was more worried about the boiling vengeance within as he recognized some of the sinful emperors from earlier. 'Keep civil…'

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ III ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Dantes casually walked down the hallway, grumbling to himself after finally placing some furniture orders through the device in his room.

The avenger would never admit it had taken him a day to choose so little. He didn't really want much, but a desk, study lamp, and chair seemed adequate enough for any interest he may gain. His current stroll would be his first attempt to learn more about this place and maybe other servants; He spent enough time locked in that room. If he was going to live here, he needed to grow accustomed to how his twisted form skewed the world around him to see-

"Fare thee well, Boudica!"

"Don't forget that book for dinner, Shakespeare!"

"As promised!" Dantes stood there, lost in his swirling thoughts. He stared at the red-headed servant making her way towards him after turning the intersection. She wore a red dress and white overcoat that highlighted her curves well, and it was almost a hint of nostalgia. A sincere smile graced her lips as she hummed to herself, completely engrossed in the book in her hands to notice the entranced avenger. Yet… she almost shined to in his sight.

Drawing conclusions from the knowledge granted to him, he identified her past in a heartbeat and what he found interested him. Here was a beautiful queen, chipper as can be as the rest of this facility, who had such a dark and horrendous past of torture and failure. A slave to the Romans and their deeds, and some of the offenders were even present in this very facility… but she was happy.

He was intrigued alright as he approached his day's first curiosity. The avenger gained the attention of the rider who was now looking at him curiously. "Oh, hello! I presume you're Dantes?"

"I would be the King of the Cavern," he lightly corrected as the irritation spilled into his tone from within. He batted it back down as he looked her over, or more through her, at the tendrils of hatred that his mind projected onto her peaceful form. The queen squirmed slightly as his eyes bore into her own, but he shook his head reassuringly. "Pardon… you just remind me a bit of someone in days gone. Think nothing of it."

"…I'm Boudica, Queen of the Iceni of Britannia," she replied with a dignified voice after shaking her discomfort. She bowed slightly to him and held out her hand, and he slowly reached out to shake it. She seemed unnerved as he grasped her hand, and he couldn't blame her; Discomfort was promised in his presence.

Still, her gaze remained on his almost scrutinizing glance as he stared through her. She glanced at herself uncomfortably. "Is... there a problem?"

"…How do you find yourself so happy?"

She blinked in confusion. "How…?"

"There's not a servant in this facility who doesn't know your past, right? Some of them even delivered you into that hell," Dantes commented through his silent confusion. "You have many chances to exact revenge, yet you stroll these hallways humming with your nose in a book... Why? Shouldn't you be plotting your vengeance against the criminals of Rome? I don't understand."

It was difficult for him to grasp. He, who was forever wreathed in the agonizing desire for vengeance against a world that abandoned him… stood before someone with an equally scarred past. Yet, the vengeful terrifying queen of legend seemed to be serene, as she was in her early life. She was happy, and not an avenger as she should have been. Though a small voice whispered praise at overcoming such a crippling desire, he couldn't help but feel compelled by his irritated heart to find out why she had gone free, whereas he was…

A frown slowly took form. "I haven't forgiven Rome… but is it really so hard to think I can push my past grudges to the side for the sake of humanity?"

"…To me it is. They tortured you. They executed you and committed unspeakable acts against your children. They delivered grave sins against your beliefs... and now you fight alongside them without an inkling of the justified revenge you once desired? Yes, Boudica, I can't help but feel there is a problem. I don't see how you can forgive that so easily. I don't understand why it doesn't seem to influence your existence."

She grit her teeth and glared lightly at the servant who stared back with scrutinizing eyes. 'Ah… then she does then…?'

"…I see. So you were just hiding it? You still wish to release your wrath upon Empress Nero? It's commendable you've been able to put it aside, but should this curtain finally close, would you try-"

"Nero and I are on civil terms, even if I can never bring myself to truly forgive her or Rome! For the sake of Chaldea's tranquility and humanity's future, I put my personal grudge aside! Why is that so hard to understand? I guess you're just like your book… nothing but hate and vengeance…" she growled back as she gripped the book in a frustrated vice. "Well, I hope you have a good day because at least someone else should have one…"

Dantes watched with slightly widened eyes as she stormed past him and towards the nearest staircase. An employee moved out of the way swiftly before the irritated queen. Despite her sudden anger, she looked to the man and mouthed a quiet apology, and he nodded. He only turned hesitantly to Dantes in response.

The avenger quietly cursed at having remained silent; He wasn't trying to fan the flames further. He was just trying to understand how it seemed so easy for her to get past a facet so thoroughly embedded in her legend… He was so wrapped up trying to comprehend how others may not be defined by their summoning and past that he had, rather shamefully, cut right to the chase in his determination. 'How very gentlemanly of me…'

He had distant memories... or were they dreams? Images of a time when he had escaped that dreaded place and through careful scheming, dismantled those who locked him away to rot. Memories of people and places he dealt with after his internment within those dark moldy walls seemed distant at best. Then there were the distant glints of the final years… like looking into a fractured mirror, but not recognizing who stared back.

They felt intangible and hazy to him, like a watched play rather than a true memory. If they were the real moments of Edmond Dantes, then he wagered they were the result of his summoning compared to Solomon's twisted hand. He was an avenger, and the embodiment of vengeance his book was known for. If there was another Dantes who had learned to let go at the end of his mission, then this one, thanks to his summoning, only knew of the damned walls and vengeance... a grim reality his core accepted.

So with frustration and bafflement rumbling in his steps, he walked down the Chaldean hallway and unintentionally spooked any employee or robot in his path. He didn't want to spread malice or unrest in humanity's last bastion, but his hands were tied; It was his presence personified, and he could only hope they'd grow accustomed to it with time, just like he tried to adapt to the vengeful pain that throbbed like a heartbeat. If not, perhaps he'd just be a constant reminder of the evils of this terrible world, and a warning to be vigilant of what may lurk beneath their crystal palace.

Silently, he continued his stroll as vengeance trailed forever in his footsteps.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

The avenger walked into Salon de Marie, glanced around quietly, and admired what he found once more. The regal space, that sung with distant nostalgia, was certainly as well-lit as most of the facility. Compared to the blinding brightness that he would describe as the rest of Chaldea, this place didn't ravage his waking thoughts nearly as much. He walked past the vacant Grand Piano towards the window seating on the far side while finally taking in the winter world beyond the glass.

If humanity was on the verge of extinction, no one would be able to tell with uninhabited mountain tops as far as the snowy haze allowed.

Dantes' eyes latched onto a lone sofa in the center of the giant windows and walked smoothly towards it. Rounding its side, which was backed by a planter with lush house plants, the avenger casually sat down and let out a breath. As he stared out the window, he found himself lost in… different thoughts. At least here he could think clearly without the accompanying headache from all the mirth. His room also did the trick, but it didn't offer this entrancing view. He let the white noise before him consume his vision as the snowflakes slowly drifted to the ground.

'It's almost too peaceful… My mind isn't warping this view nearly as much…'

The sound of children laughing snapped him out of his forming thoughts as it sent a spike of pain through him. He used his peripherals to spot the offending servants coming into view. Jack and Nursery Rhyme ran to the couch to the immediate left of his, jumping onto it after removing their slippers. They wore matching black dresses that had frilly edges on the bottom of the skirts and white flower motifs. In the hands of the two adopted sisters were several packs of crayons and rolled up paper that they dropped unceremoniously onto the coffee table in front of them as they jumped on the sofa happily.

"No jumping on Auntie Marie's couches, girls," came a soft and soothing voice, causing the assassin and caster to take their seats and begin unpacking their coloring utensils.

"Yes, Auntie Iri," the girls echoed together, with a small hint of disappointment laced in their still happy voices.

Dantes stared calmly to the girls, but curiously noted Jack's terrible scar as Nursery Rhyme spoke up. "Jackie! Can you get the rose red crayon?"

The older, white-haired caster brushed a length of hair behind her shoulder as she walked over and took a seat on the far side of the girls. Her long white, conservative dress that hid her upper arms and reached down to her knees. A golden sash wrapped itself around her torso, tied into a beautiful bow in the back, making her appear like a goddess in the dim world. The woman smiled warmly as she gently rubbed the back of Jack who was the closest to her.

Atalanta's girls giggled as they began drawing with their crayons, making various little scenes on one large piece of paper. Jack was clearly not as good at sketching as Nursery Rhyme, whose drawings honored her name in both style and quality. The little assassin's precision did make the geometric shapes and designs more realistic, so the two had a small system going on that impressed Dantes. Like clockwork, Jack handled most of the scenery while Nursery Rhyme did the characters and cartoon-like accents.

The end results were always an impressively drawn scene as they continued to work on their collaborative book.

They continued to laugh and talk enthusiastically as Irisviel gave encouraging words and loving rubs on the head to the two young servants. Their mirth irked his core, yet he did his best to resist showing it. These were children, and as much as being in the presence of happiness seemed to cause pain, he was their ally now. He just needed to grow accustomed to this so he, at the very least, wouldn't lash out.

As the girls tossed an occasional glance towards him, Dantes did so in turn, but said nothing; His silence was gone, but this was a public space. At one point, the girls and the avenger finally caught each other glancing, though nothing happened. He merely glanced curiously, and the girls blinked; He was now very curious why these girls weren't afraid of his presence.

"Oh, how rude of us! You must be the newest servant. I am Irisviel von Einzbern. These two girls are Jack the Ripper and Nursery Rhyme, but you may call them Jackie and Alice. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Dantes, or do you prefer Edmond?"

"...I prefer King of the Cavern," he quietly corrected, but unfortunately failed to block his irritation at the spoken name.

Their eyes lit up in recognition, with the two girls talking to each other in hushed whispers much to his irritation. Irisviel nodded slowly as she noted his narrowed eyes, "It's no wonder you're an avenger. Once more, it's a pleasure to meet you... Oh, if we're being too loud we ca-"

"You were," he said calmly, but quickly cleared his throat. The girls looked to each other uncertainly. "What I mean to say was that I was enjoying the peaceful silence."

"Oh dear... I'm sorry we were being too loud. Are you perhaps having a bad first day?"

"…It could be better, but it's far from the worst I've had," he relented quietly.

Irisviel offered a sympathetic smile, and it made his anger flare instinctively from within. Caught off guard even by his own internal flames, he struggled to keep his gaze from turning into a glare. It worked, though the caster's next words fanned the flames. "…Your story was sad… but you won't have to worry about prisons or backstabbing in Chaldea."

"Yea! Here you can be safe and happy!" Jack happily chimed in, but it quickly earned a light scowl from the avenger.

"…Me? Happy?" he nearly scoffed with the lingering edge from his flared impulses. The assassin winced in surprise as Irisiviel's smile faltered. "I'll peg your naivety on your inexperience dealing with an avenger… but happiness is a concept I'll never get to hold in my heart."

"But you were saved from the prison…" Irisviel murmured softly, but it only lashed at his nerves and ushered the wild manes into a fury.

"I was never saved!" Dantes cried out angrily, and made the three flinch. "Even now, I remain crippled with the thirst for vengeance! To lash out at the evils of this world relentlessly until they've all vanished! Does it sound like I've been saved!? I embody a cursed existence till the end of days!"

"But you were saved! I read your story!" Nursery Rhyme shot back, and he turned to her incredulously; Child or not, she was still a servant. She should know better, and the mounting pain and anguish within seemed to grow with every word. "You were happy in the end! Maybe if you threw away that crummy attitude?"

"You think I can just throw this…!?" Dantes started, but stopped as he breathed to try and calm his ever-swirling tension… "…Chaldea's peaceful air has influenced you too much… or maybe you're too swayed by your little fanciful stories that paint false promises of happy endings to everyone."

That quickly snagged Nursery Rhyme's attention as she pouted towards him with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with my stories!"

He breathed out slowly, but shook his head. Even if they were children, his mind and wrathful vengeance fully agreed this time. "They're too joyous and contrived to be the truth... Just fleeting distractions from reality's harsh mistress. Life is marred with struggle and sin, of a few succeeding with excess while most get discarded if they can't be used as pawns… Some are even left abandoned. Certainly you can agree with that terrible truth, Jack the Rip-"

"That's enough!" Irisviel shouted as she began packing up the drawing materials, all the while Nursery Rhyme and Jack looked to her and each other with uncertainty and sadness. "I will not have you speaking badly to children! How dare you even consider doing that! I won't have you wasting any more of their time with your inappropriate comments. Come on girls… we'll find a better place away from this rude man."

As the girls held onto the drawing materials that Irisviel handed to them, they began walking away as the older woman ushered them with her hands on their backs. She glared one last time at Dantes as they walked, "I hope someone helps you with whatever is causing your problem, avenger."

Their footsteps disappeared and he found himself in silence once more. That had not gone how he thought it would have at all, and he suddenly wasn't too sure what compelled him to speak about a heavier topic to children. He'd only spoken what he believed and knew was right, yet the chosen words fell heavier with every second his pained mind agreed with his avenger soul… He'd have to be far more mindful than he realized if he was to be civil.

As he sat in the now marred silence, he thought back to the older caster's statement and frowned. He scoffed as he shook his head, yet the notion she raised echoed in his head…

Why would anyone want to save him?

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ V ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

In a small corridor near the gym away from most prying eyes, Dantes glanced back at the servant who followed him. Kiyohime fixed the ponytail she tied her light green hair into, then brought her arms back across her chest. She wore a blue sports bra and gym shorts, her standard attire when she decided to tone her legs for her beloved. She looked curiously at the battle-clad avenger as he stopped, then tilted her head as he finally turned around.

"Now that we're here, Kiyohime, I have a few questions if you'd spare the time," he stated calmly. He hoped the vengeful Kiyohime might provide some valuable insight for him, but he was going to be sure about asking properly this time. He wanted to understand the conditions of some in Chaldea.

"Then please get on with it. I have work to do to impress Gudao."

"As you wish… I am aware of your past, Kiyohime. How you were betrayed and sought vengeance against the man who denounced your love," Dantes began, easily holding her interest. "I am also aware that you have many love rivals in Chalde-"

"Do you have information I can use against my love rivals!?" she interrupted with sudden curiosity and excitement. Her hands were curled into fists and her face was lit with excitement.

Dantes, caught off guard, recollected his thoughts. "Well… no, what I was referencing was that I am well aware of some of Gudao's inner thoughts an-"

"Gudao is in love with me!? Please say so, Avenger!"

He tried very hard not to let out a sigh. "Once more, no. I have spent many dark hours with Gudao, guiding him through various trials, but I never glanced those tho-"

Kiyohime's gaze froze over as she began to glare at the man before her. This is what he wanted to find out… how much her tales' love and anger controlled the berserker, yet he didn't want that anger somehow pointed at hi- "Are you trying to say that you spent several nights with my Gudao!? That you've come to declare romantic war with me and gloat over your conquests!?"

Dantes felt completely dumbstruck as he sighed loudly and incredulously. Kiyohime tilted her head in slight confusion as the irritation shined in her eyes like an inferno. "Well? Are you a love rival? I would like an answer!"

He was starting to lose hope he would ever get a straight answer about legends and their influence on servants.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

The Eternal Avenger narrowed his eyes as he stared out the large window in Salon de Marie, observing the approaching figures by their reflection on the glass. He sat regal in his usual sofa, and faced back forward to fathom his current predicament. Almost all servants he encountered had been left with a bad after taste, though mostly unintentional. He was still trying to reign in his impulses and adapt to his condition, but many percieved it the wrong way.

Spartacus was a rare exception, but his attempted conversation with the berserker had the unexpected result of him turning on the Romans. That was not what he wanted, nor Chaldea, and he found himself in rather hot water for that accidental instigation. To be fair, he was only going to talk with Spartacus if he had to… considering how difficult it was.

Since learning that he stood alone as vengeance's chosen pet, he had backed off from his curious advances, but the collateral was dealt and attention bought. Two particular servants he had met before had even begun to approach him often in hopes of shifting his views... again. He let out a groan as the two Catholics rounded the side of the sofa to stand next to each other by the coffee table with firm eyes gazing into his fiery red, which stared elsewhere.

"…You won't find victory on this battlefield, but your persistence is worthy of saints."

The blonde nodded. "Because we wish for your salvation and happiness. Is that really so much to as-"

"Yes, Jeanne d'Arc, it is too much to ask for someone who does not desire it. I am vengeance manifest in flesh and blood, unless you've forgotten," Dantes remarked dryly as he finally turned to glare at the two servants. Jeanne wore a simple blue skirt and white blouse while Amakusa wore his usual priest outfit.

The male ruler sighed. "At the very least, we appreciate you toning down your antagonizing actions around Chaldea."

"For your information, I didn't do any of it on purpose. Drawing the ire of a league of servants was never written on my list of priorities."

"Then what were you doing? You'd yet to give anyone a straight answer," Jeanne stated resolutely, meeting his light glare with one of her own. "All you've done is locked yourself in your room for most of the day."

"It's nothing you should be concerned about. Isn't everyone allowed to spend their time in Chaldea as they please?"

"Of course, just like we're doing by asking simple questions," Amakusa countered to re-earn the avenger's glare. "So if you're not aggravating servants on purpose, that says all I needed to know. So you really are wondering if you can also be sa-"

"I'm not looking to be saved," Dantes levelled immediately as pain rocketed through his form. Every time it was mentioned, it was like driving a stake through his heart. It was a struggle just to hold back his vengeance from making him spew out far more of what he truly believed, but he at least tried not to step on anymore toes. "I suggest you just leave me alone."

"We won't," Jeanne countered swiftly. "You are clearly a prisoner of your own wrath!"

He stared incredulously. "As if I had a say in this class… This is the only gift I received from the world! I had no say in this existence!"

"But you have a say in how you live with it, just like you did when you decided to escape that prison," Amakusa replied firmly. "How are you certain you can't overcome your own limitations? How are you sure you're not just letting yourself be controlled by your anger, Dantes?"

"Do not call me that name!" Overcome the class container? Did they really think he could build something out of this existence? It was excruciating pain just to live with the ever-vengeful hatred that resided in his saint graph! This was the fate he was dealt… a cursed hand from a hate-filled world that sewed him into a mockery again! He glared, "There is no redemption for me! The King of the Cavern cannot be saved!"

"…Yet I will still pray for the goodness that resides in your soul," Jeanne stated evenly as she crossed her arms and breathed out slowly. She turned and began walking away from the couch as Amakusa and Dantes continued their stare down. The remaining ruler let out a sigh and shook his head at the avenger before following Jeanne's leave. Even so, he solemnly knew their resolve did not waver.

Even if he couldn't be saved, they would continue to pray for its fruition.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

His eyes stared curiously towards the pink-haired berserker. Since arriving at Chaldea five days ago, he had quietly observed the familiar servant several times. Her amnesiac demeanor reminded him a bit of his former love before he had been locked away by his conspirators, yet physically, she was different; He even named her differently then, as a small whim of her possibly helping Gudao escape.

While leaning in the doorway, he gazed from a distance as she took a bite of her sandwich and quietly observed the firing range before her. Other servants were making short work of targets like she made short work of her late lunch, yet the only thing that was intriguing him was her. His mind, flashing with jarring images, consistently overlapped the image of a different girl over her… It was ridiculous. Yet still, it lured him like a moth to flame, and that former compulsion that he easily ignored before grew.

Finally compelled, he slowly walked towards her and stopped when she turned to look at him with inquisitive eyes. She quickly recognized him by the glint in her eyes, yet he still approached calmly and hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure how she was with her actual faculties, but he wasn't about to make a new unintentional mess either.

"I see we cross paths once more, Mercedes," he introduced calmly in jest, mostly to see if he sparked further memories like a pickaxe to iron.

"I beg your pardon?" She tilted her head very slightly in apparent confusion.

"…Do you not remember…? The prison? Gudao's grueling trials for liberation?" he asked curiously to see where they stood. How could she have forgotten? Servant or not, she should have remembered those dark walls and him. Maybe it was a case of not having what the others called a memorial essence?

"I don't recall ever meeting you properly, or any prison Gudao escaped from for that matter," she explained evenly. "I am Florence Nightingale. Pleased to meet you… I assume you are our new Avenger Edmond Dantes? Quite the elusive one for all the poor waves you've been making…"

His eyes narrowed slightly at the accusation, but he nodded. "Yes… I would be the King of the Cavern."

"Interesting. Another servant from a book," she mused before crushing the wrapping of her sandwich into a ball and placing it into a side pocket on her medical bag. "Your mistaken identity aside, have you come to me about those issues I've been hearing rumors about?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "…Issues? Have those saints approached you, Mercedes?"

"No. I've just been overhearing things based on all the trouble you seemed to cause," Nightingale noted as she stood up and gazed to him. After his strange yet natural slip of her name, her gaze seemed sharper for some reason. "And so I see… all does not seem to be well with you... My name is not Mercedes. Is there something plaguing you? Are you seeing things? Hallucinations? It may be hypnagogia. That's a serious ailment that cannot be overlooked if that's the case."

He fell incredulously silent, but her determined eyes turned a brighter shade of red and narrowed. He did not know why, but he felt her scrutinizing his state, and it made him the slightest bit wary. So this was how she was like when she was… 'normal'…

"…I'm fine. I assure you." He shook his head as he turned around and started walking away. Upon feeling her palpable presence continue to approach, he quickly stopped and turned around. He glared right into her firm eyes. "There's nothing wrong with me."

She was unmoved. "You clearly need treatment."

"I can't be healed because there's nothing to heal," he shot back swiftly without room to argue, yet she still seemed capable. Her mad enhancement was clearly something else. "I see it was a mistake to approach you… Kindly leave me alone."

"He's right, Nightingale. Let's just leave him be." The berserker turned towards the tall, dark, and handsome man that approached from the sidelines with a red bow slung neatly onto his back. He wore a jade green trench coat and black pants as opposed to his antique colored armor, and his usually friendly facial expression was replaced with firm concern. Ebony orbs studied the pink ones within her eyes, then turned to Dantes with a suddenly welcome and friendly smile. "You'll have to forgive her, Avenger. She gets a bit intense."

With but a simple nod in thanks, the avenger decided to quickly take his leave before he unintentionally made a new mess; The berserker's intensity was something else. He quickly disappeared into the hallway even as Nightingale made moves to try and follow. It was only after he finally disappeared did Arash finally release his hold on the woman so she could turn to him. He sighed, "…It's like you thought from that memorial essence you got. He might call you Mercedes."

"His mind is clouded, there is no doubt about that. He is trying to imprint someone else upon me. I am not his Mercedes," she stated calmly as another round of musket fire erupted from the firing line. "You know as much as I do he's clearly troubled, Arash. His class is poison, and I can't accept that."

"But there's nothing we can do. That's his class, Nightingale," Arash insisted with a sigh. "This isn't something you'll be able to heal."

Even so, it was clear by the determination in her eyes she would try. This was Nightingale, after all. If someone was in trouble, she was going to figure a way to save them of their ailments. Yet, this was not a clear-cut case. Dantes was something else altogether, and would require more than simple time.

Yet, if he could be saved, then she would try to find a way.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"Your actions before the true king are damning offenses, Mongrel."

Dantes sat on his sofa in Salon de Marie, but paid no attention to the angered king who stood behind him. The blonde-haired man emanated prowess even in his clashing leopard print blazer with black formal shirt, pants and shoes. His haircut was clean, with the top spiked back to reveal golden earrings and judging red eyes. One hand sat on his hip as he glared angrily at the offending servant, though to the arrogant king's credit there were no glowing portals opening up around him. Instead he had a clenched fist and grit teeth as he burned a hole through the avenger with his eyes.

At the piano behind him, Mozart and Marie were watching with caution and anticipation, while Emiya stared at the doorway to the Kitchen with Tamamo in case they needed to intervene. The argument had been going on for five minutes and looked to spill over, simply because the King of Heroes was curious enough to finally investigate the new servant for himself.

"…Tch. Why did I even bother coming out of my room for this. You owe the King of Heroes much for even sparing some of his precious time, mongrel. I was mistaken to think you were potentially interesting. You're nothing but a delusional, one dimensional curr."

"That's theatrically ironic when spoken by you, Gilgamesh."

Gilgamesh's eyes flared in anger. "Do not ever address me as such… Know your place, curr! You have no right to call me by that name!"

"I didn't know one needed permission," Dantes replied flatly as he continued to stared forward with both arms crossed lightly. This argument was giving him a bigger head pains than he already had. These longs days of getting used to dealing with his ever swirling, festering hatred just to act civilly dragged on enough. Even now, he wanted to lash out at the absurdity of this golden king, who caused the natural malice in his spiritual core to writhe and whisper action… to demand vengeance against sinful evil.

Yet, he'd gotten a bit better at handling his manifested vengeance. At least now, though he naturally loathed the hatred projected onto everything in this world, he was mostly in control over his impulses. Still, they flared, but only in battle would he let it run wild. That's all he ever looked forward to aiding the masters; All this cordiality and banter between servants was just a dreamland he could never be a part of.

"See to it you make amends for the injustice you've dealt," Gilgamesh spat as he dissipated into a wavy mist of gold; He vanished into spirit form without giving the avenger a second glance. Dantes huffed in irritation, but tried to placate it as another pair of servants approached him after the archer's leave.

"That was impressive handling of the King of Heroes. Most wouldn't even attempt to rouse his anger," came a regal male voice. Dantes didn't turn around, but breathed out slowly to quell the swirling mass within. He found clarity before he spoke to smooth any coarseness.

"That arrogant king is nothing but selfish monologue," the avenger spat plainly. A female servant chuckled, finally making the avenger turn to see who was addressing him. He noted the black robe worn by the tall, pale berserker and the purple dress adorning the female caster next to him. Both seemed to observe the servant in front of them as Dantes glanced at these two new faces. "Anything else you wished to air?"

"Just the compliment," Medea replied firmly as she tugged on Vlad's sleeve. "Let's go, Vlad. We've taken enough of his time."

The man nodded and the two turned to leave. The avenger's eyebrow rose curiously. "Vlad of Wallachia? Vlad the Impaler? Dracula seems just as regal as legends say."

Medea's eyes turned worried as she looked towards her knitting friend who now wore a very irritated expression. The avenger was curious of the glare, but inwardly kicked himself. He was trying not to step on too many toes, yet he just set off another landmine. "…Is something wrong?"

"I am not Dracula," Vlad corrected with irritation dripping from his lips. Though his mind cautioned about going further, part of him wanted to. There were so many here trying to change their image or be something else, yet how was that possible? He couldn't even see it for himself. All he could understand was what others saw often twisted those into something far more hideous.

"And I'm not Edmond Dantes, but everyone seems fit to call me that even though I despise it," he explained with his own irritated voice. As much as he sympathized with his plight, there was simply an inescapable truth; A constant reminder of it always flared painfully in his heart thanks to his class. "They're our stories. They're how we're remembered… and there's nothing that can be done about how others have perceived the legends."

"It is not part of my legend," Vlad roared impressively with a controlled voice. It wasn't loud, but the tiger's roar still rattled the cage. "It is a twisting of my name after my death, spun to form tales of some fearmongering vampire!"

"…The others mentioned that…" Medea mumbled beside him, then looked towards the avenger curiously. "Why do you not like being called Edmond Dantes? Is that not your real name?"

"Edmond Dantes was a man who was saved... I am the King of the Cavern… the Eternal Avenger, one who was best known for the plotting within the walls of that chateau. We cannot be called the same," he growled back, but kept his temper from flaring. "He lived that full life, but I am vengeance incarnate."

"…You are only what you choose to be," Vlad declared in a calmer tone after regaining his composure, gaining the attention of both Medea and Dantes. The other servants watched from their respective places at the tense exchange, but their eyes glinted with caution.

Dantes felt his irritation grow wild. He could feel it… deep in his pained heart, the vengeful hatred swelled like an untamed mammoth trapped in a plastic cage. He could only do so much to placate its rampage. It didn't control him… but it influenced him so greatly with pain and malice. It dictated what he must do, and who he was; Right now, it only discouraged his ultimately futile thoughts of hope.

"Are you deaf, Prince of Wallachia? I just said I am the Eternal Avenger, not Edmond Dante-"

"And do you like that?" Medea inquired quickly. "Is that what you've decided or is it imposed upon you by others? There will always be someone who will see you for who you truly are if you let them, and not what others decide to see based on twisted notions. You were a man driven by vengeance until your successful ending, yet here you are controlled by it once more. It's almost as if you refuse to portray yourself as anything else."

Refuse? This woman dared to say he refused to try and be something else? That inferred there was ever a chance he could have been, but that was impossible. Even keeping that swirling mass under control was a exercise in determination, yet he was at least trying to curb his abrasive impulses. But to change it…? There was no way an avenger could escape… this… "And who might you be, to discuss portrayal of one's story when you're probably some beloved-"

"Medea of Colchis," she responded firmly as she crossed her arms, bracing for what may potentially come from revealing her name to the servant before her.

"…Medea?" he lifted an eyebrow as it clicked, but he stared quietly. "…So the Witch of Betrayal from Greek legends is here in Chaldea as well? How many hundreds have you planned to backstab today? Is that not how most others appraise your worth? Just like vengeance is mine, it's your defining story characteristic… an inescapable truth by being summoned."

"I am the Witch of Betrayal, but I've done no such thing. That demeaning title does not control who I choose to be," she emphasized as she narrowed her eyes. "With the help of my friends I've taken a chance to redefine myself and leave that in my past."

He glared with frustration. "One does not simply abandon parts of their pasts and have people forget abou-"

"That's an absurd notion coming from someone who is doing exactly that, Edmond Dantes," Vlad spat, earning a glare. "…It is clear he only wishes to be seen the way he's most often remembered and refuses to do anything himself to possibly change that. He has decided for himself that he will not be the man who was saved in the end, rather the blind, vengeful man Gilgamesh so aptly described."

Dantes narrowed his eyes further and scowled at the Prince of Wallachia, but he kept the raging heart placid. The tall berserker simply scoffed and held his head high; His regal posture was still very much present. "You are no prestigious Count of Monte Cristo… just a miserable man controlled by your own rage. Let us converse with this churlish servant no more, Princess Medea."

They turned around and walked back towards their little group of furniture they usually knit at, even after Naomi left following the end of her lunch break. Dantes scowled after them, then turned back to look through the large window. The snow fell softly and he cursed every flake he could see. As he did so, vague images, or memories denied, flashed through his head once more after the chastising given to him by the knitting pair. He growled and tried to crush the thoughts into oblivion.

If he could be saved, it was not likely... but as he dwelled on his thoughts, he pondered it again.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IX ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Dantes entered the library the next day and looked around, noticing it was mostly empty; Even the front desk was currently unmanned. To the far right he noticed a working servant with long, purple hair helping a formally dressed caster who made dramatic gestures while holding a book.

His was interested in finding a certain book to paint those hazy outlines in his head with color; It was an odd thought, as all servants should have clear recollection of any possible memory. That book would have the answers he needed, whether his class' vengeful hold had caused the line between dream and reality to blur, or if he never actually escaped in his real life. Had they been lost memories because he was defined by others' perception? He needed to find out, but he wasn't about to ask for help in doing so.

Deciding to ignore the working pair, he made his way down the few steps into the sea of bookshelves in the center. He strolled straight towards a specific section when he spotted its label. Quickly browsing through the packed bookshelf, his eyes glanced from spine to spine as he read at an accelerated pace. He crouched down to read the lower shelves, and even used some of his unfathomable agility to speed up his search.

Two sweeps later, his eyes stopped and re-scanned the shelf yet again. After another moment, he aired a dissatisfied grunt when he realized the book he was looking for was not shelved. He did not feel like talking with others about his issues, and decided instead to stand back up from his crouched posit-

"Looking for this?"

His eyes shot to the entrance of the aisle and slightly downward, then identified the source of the deep voice with slight surprise. The short, blue-haired servant could have passed as a child had he not opened his mouth to speak. There was an intense stare from his ice blue eyes that seemed to pierce and analyze the avenger as they stood locked in place. His satin blue vest and tie, coupled with black pants and a white formal shirt, shined under the library's soft lights. With a small frown, his free hand pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

Dantes grunted as he glared at the book the short man held towards him so the cover could clearly be read.

Le Compte de Monte-Cristo
par Alexandre Dumas

The avenger narrowed his eyes as the short servant scoffed and pinned the book back under his arm. "Something you don't understand about your own past? How humorous."

Dantes glared at the servant as he continued in a low tone. "Or maybe you're just affirming your decision to imprint familiar memories onto others you deem acceptable replacements. Boudica as Haydee? Nightingale as Mercedes? Who will Fernand be then? Danglers? Villefort?"

"That's personal business I will not be discussing with you."

"This is a library. Lower your voice." The avenger growled and narrowed his eyes further. The shorter man was unfazed.

"How do you kn-"

"It's been a week, Edmond Dantes. You're already well known around Chaldea as one of the more volatile, unmannerly servants to ever be summoned to this facility," the caster stated as he placed his free hand on his hip. The avenger scowled at the use of his name once more, earning a small smirk from the caster. "I found it interesting to see yet another character from a book take form as a servant, especially from a work written and published when I was still alive. Though to say I'm pleased with what I've heard would be a lie, considering the work in question... I am hardly surprised though, Avenger."

Dantes scoffed. "Another variety of book guru, are you?"

"Hans Christian Andersen," he introduced flatly, making the avenger head tilt upwards slightly in recognition.

The avenger stared quietly. "…Yet another person life dealt an unfair hand… Then you're also-"

"My heart is a demon that loves bad ends, but that which I lived is now separate from my actions and words since arriving here," he explained evenly. "It's a sequel, so to say, and not so bad a setting for a story."

"Then you've also decided to somehow change who you are?"

"As if. I was content with the cards dealt, so there was no need to rewrite the main character. But I will remind you, it was a choice," he countered. "For others, Chaldea has already proven more fruitful in self-improvement for many than you may ever acknowledge for yourself."

"I do not need to see anything. I've seen enough. This place may be the last chance of humanity, but I will admit, it offers an… inspirational second life for its inhabitants. But their circumstances aren't mine. Change is impossible for me."

"…And there's the interesting part, Avenger, because are you not looking to do just that with this?" Hans scrutinized as he waved the book in front of him again. "If you were already so convinced change is impossible, you would've stayed a bird in its cage and only flown out to help the masters… yet here you are, showing yourself in public after many days of only showing up to Salon de Marie."

Dantes' eyes narrowed. "Your words hold no water."

"Your words are the ones poorly penned," Hans countered calmly. "You could hardly believe many only put up a facade to hide who they really are, yet you're the one hiding behind a theme of your own legend like a slave... Refusing to try and risk when presented a golden opportunity," Hans shot out forcefully, yet still in a quiet tone. Had they not been arguing, Dantes may have been impressed at his voice control.

The avenger narrowed his eyes. "…I'm not hiding. I am the Eternal Avenger. I relish in who I a-"

"Relish? Nonsense," Hans scoffed as he narrowed his eyes. "It is very apparent that you believe yourself to be chained helplessly to the most common theme that defined your story like a dog out of reach of its water bowl. Vengeance is an iron chain you were summoned wearing and you, yourself, refuse to believe you can even bend it... Or perhaps it really is impossible for you to break…? Maybe these walls have forced you back on your knees, and the class container is the new warden glaring through rusty bars? …You may have escaped that hellish prison, Dantes, but you are still a prisoner."

There was a pause as Hans glared at the taller servant who failed to respond for several seconds. In truth, though his anger flared, and his pained mind wanted to lash back… he just remained silent, as if to accept Hans saw what he couldn't. Dantes then returned the scoff and crossed his arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable about being analyzed. "…Special treatment for me?"

"This is not the first time I have analyzed a character. Do not count yourself special, Avenger. Though your class is unique, you are currently but another boring tale of blind vengeance, insanity, and angst. Another predictable and one-dimensional act. How droll..."

Finished with what he had to say, Hans stunned Dantes by presenting him with the book with an outstretched hand. Taking his own story in both hands, much gentler than he would have liked to admit, he stared at the cover as the caster turned and started walking towards his two fellow helpers in the library. After a few more steps he stopped and regained Dantes' attention by partially looking over his shoulder.

"Tis' a shame, really. Your character was actually noteworthy in your story... A far cry from what was summoned. I wonder if that class really does bind you helplessly, or will you actually dare to try and escape… to embody your whole tale once more, like many others have..."

The caster walked away, leaving the avenger in silence. Had he looked back once more, he would have seen a gleam of uncertainty in the pale man's eyes. If he could be saved...

'Would I accept it?'

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ X ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

Dantes stared out into the snowy mountains from the edge of the training fields. Barely an hour later, he sat in contemplation, holding the book he acquired from Hans.

Opening the book allowed small snowflakes to drift onto its pages, but they didn't melt as he glanced over its many lines. The avenger didn't need the book to remember the distant memories of vengeance. It was his story of success and triumph, where in the end he smiled once more, yet this was not him... or was it? His mind kept drifting back to everything that's been told to him and scoffed. He used to wander Chaldea, questioning how anyone could reach past their own defining legends, yet he was now the one putting his own thoughts into question in the cell of his own room.

He browsed the page, reading line after line at random and sparking memories of what was his tale. Everyone remembered him for his vengeance, so why did other servants feel the need to wish for him see anything else? Why did some, even after his rebuttals, still wish for his salvation? He was the eternal avenger, cloaked by darkness and rage to tip the scales of karma and rain hell onto those deserving. Yet...

Yet as he read, the distant images started to become vivid again. They remained blurry, yet the clarity increased as they turned from haze to a forgotten memory. If what was happening was true, then they really were memories he had somehow forgotten. Ones he believed he didn't want anymore... yet a small part of him wanted to reach to a long-lost warmth. Is he so engulfed by his class' wrath, that it was this difficult to believe those brighter times were merely buried all along? Were the others rig-

Dantes dodged in a flash, just as the piece of cliffside where he sat exploded into debris and rained down into the misty abyss below. In his haste to dodge, he had dropped the book, and it too disappeared from his sight. Scowling, he looked towards the offending servant who stood casually with only light blue carpenter jeans and white sneakers. Beowulf's muscular chest and red scars were on full display as he scratched his hair. His toes wiggled in a stretch as his feet remained firmly planted into the snow.

"You mind explaining what that intended?" Dantes growled as he looked at the unknown man. 'So there are still servants I haven't seen yet.'

"You looked like you were ready to jump, so I thought I'd knock the thought out of you before you did," Beowulf explained simply, cracked the knuckles he used for the punch, and earned an incredulous look from the avenger.

"…What? Commit suicide? Are you sane of mind?"

"Just because I'm a berserker with mad enhancement doesn't mean I'm automatically insane on all accounts," he explained as he pointed towards the avenger, eyes narrowed. "Besides, you did think about it in your story, Dantes."

He hissed, more at the accusation than the use of his name, but there were more pressing matters. "A book you just made me lose to this abyss."

The berserker shrugged. "Hey, c'mon... Did you really need it? There's no need to cling to your story that badly, right?"

Dante considered his words as they mingled with what others had told him; The berserker probably didn't mean anything philosophical, yet it still echoed as such. In truth, with his unfathomable speed, he could have grabbed it out of the air and yet… He scowled and Beowulf sighed. "Look, I'll pay for the book's replacement and take the heat from writer boy. How about that? I know he can be a pain in the ass."

Dantes put a hand to his face and groaned. 'I can't believe this guy.'

Before he could make a statement, he heard footsteps and then felt a strong hand grab onto his arm. Beowulf pulled him towards Chaldea, much to his annoyance. "What do you think yo-"

"I'm bringing you to someone who wants to have lunch with you. She ordered me to come get you since she… can't, so let's go. I don't like keeping her waiting."

"You refuse to indulge me with your name yet you expect me to-"

He smirked back. "I'm Beowulf. If you don't know my name or legend, you're an idiot. Now come on, Gale is waiting."

"Just unhand me! I can walk just fine!"

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

It felt like yesterday when Beowulf came to get him. Dantes looked between the two berserkers sitting in front of him in the cafeteria, with their table meters away from an exit. This is where they came to sit for the past three lunches since he joined them. He preferred skipping and being alone in his room, but the battle-dressed Nightingale sat in front of him which mixed his thoughts as he caught the pink-eyed gaze of the woman in particular.

Staring into those eyes still reminded him a bit of his former fiance, he watched as his vengeful core merged memory and reality.

The images had grown clearer, and he could see just how much the two were alike, yet so very different. He had stopped calling her Mercedes after a day to her approval, yet he still occasionally ponders it. She was Nightingale, and she was definitely a servant of Chaldea... Yet the images kept overlapping, and he often felt very disoriented when trying to pick the two apart. Even so, he couldn't help but feel his thoughts slowly shift during the past three days, all since he started sitting in silence with her and Beowulf.

He blinked and turned back towards the sub sandwich that lay untouched before him. Both berserkers were roughly half done with their own subs, with small choice snacks also on their trays that were partially consumed. Nightingale opened the lunch box next to her and stored a banana and tomato, presumably as a snack for later. The other berserker cleared his throat, making the avenger look towards him.

"If you're not going to eat that, I'll devour it for you," he said simply with a smaller version of his feral grin. Dantes sighed, picked up the sandwich, and bit into it with a small chuckle from Beowulf.

Dantes finished his bite before looking up, sandwich still in hands. "You never answered my question when I first sat here. Three days, and no answer... I still don't understand why you choose to eat lunch with me where most would not give me the time of day anymore."

"I will save you from your mental illness." That again… That's all he ever got.

Beowulf soon turned back to his food, but Dantes kept looking incredulously at the woman in front of him. "Why would you even try to save me...?"

"Do you still not understand?" she said with a small hint of annoyance as she ate the last bite of her sandwich as a pause. "I am Florence Nightingale. And regardless of whether you want it or not, I will save you. Treatment should be applied swiftly, but mental delusions are a complex procedure. Had the masters not ordered it, I would have had your skull open for proper examination to identify the afflicted neurons of your neocortex and cure the illness immediately."

"Just be thankful Gabby actually used a command seal to stop her ..." Beowulf chuckled, though the two did not break their gaze.

Dantes looked at the absurd woman in front of him, reminded once more that she isn't the Mercedes he loved even if the memories overlapped and told him otherwise. Next to her, Beowulf looked at her curiously once more before chuckling and patting her on the back with his free hand. He quickly grabbed the last bite of his sandwich. Nightingale continued her intense and determined stare at Dantes, and he scowled as the always-present vengeance swirled within. "And you don't care if I can't be saved?"

"I don't care, I will save you. It is my duty."

"Did you not listen to me?"

"She doesn't listen to anyone when treatment is involved. More stubborn than even me, so I'd just accept that she's going to do exactly that if I were you," Beowulf mentioned casually as he started opening a packet of bacon chips with a small grin.

"...Then how do you plan on doing so?"

"Since my direct surgical procedures are out of my reach, I am forced to use secondary methods like persuasion and rehabilitation through mental stimuli," the female berserker detailed flatly as she drank her own water. "Over time, I will succeed in remedying you of those eternal flames. It is an illness that will be cured so you can act as you please, and not how they dictate."

"Oh? And how do you plan for this intervention against my very class' attributes, oh wise Nightingale?" he asked dryly. It drew a small glare from the woman in front of him, but he didn't waver; Avengers were controlled by their wrath. There was no escape, so it was pointless to try. Silence prevailed for the moment as Nightingale considered what to say before a loud voice at a table further down the room took their attention.

"Hey seriously, I don't think that's a good idea!"

"Oh come now. If Anton can get with a servant, what's stopping the rest of us?"

They watched as an overconfident employee loosened his tie and approached an irritated looking blonde girl with a wild ponytail sitting at a table with another well-dressed servant. The blonde male servant adjusted his glasses as he looked at the employee come up to his companion. Mordred wore a white tube top and short cut jean shorts that the employee eyed briefly before flashing the girl a smile.

The male servant reached into his black formal vest, partially brushing his cravat to the side, as he pulled out a pen and paper and quickly scribbled "be nice" and aimed it so only his companion could read it. Mordred rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Hey beautiful, what say you and I get something extra special for dinner tonight?" the employee winked, making the female groan at the horrendous attempt.

Her companion smiled nervously. "Please don't make a scene..."

"I'm trying not to, Jekyll, but this pig is asking for it."

"Aw, don't be like that. A pretty girl like you should have a proper arm to latch onto!"

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Mordred exhaled sharply with a glare. She slowly turned towards the employee who suddenly backed up as she stood with clenched fists. Even though he was much taller than her, he suddenly felt like an ant facing a flash flood. Nightingale and Beowulf were both chuckling while watching the scene as Dantes observed with slight interest. Jekyll on the other hand was paling… likely at the prospect of having to tear Mordred off a poor employee.

"What the hell did you just call me!?" she roared, making the employee turn several shades whiter.

"I-I'm sorry for trying to ask you out!"

"You called me a girl!"

The employee looked back at the servant with a confused look. "Wait, what? But you're a woman."

Mordred looked like she was about ready to burst, and several servants in the room were preparing to get up and disarm the angered saber in a flash if the need arose. It certainly did look like it would be the case. Beowulf's eyes widened as he looked towards Dantes, who stared back blankly. He followed the berserker's eyes down to his sandwich with a single bite in it before meeting his gaze once more.

Beowulf smirked. "Gonna save that employee. Got a clever way too. You finishing that?"

Dantes scoffed. "And what if I am-"

Before he could complete his answer, Nightingale watched with amusement as Beowulf grabbed Dantes' sandwich and held it like a football, much to the surprise of the avenger. The muscular berserker hurled the makeshift javelin, which flew through the air, barely bending its path from gravity thanks to the force it was thrown at; How it held together at that velocity was another mystery entirely.

Mordred's eyes widened as the sandwich impacted the employee straight in the chest, knocked him to the ground a few meters away, and splattered ingredients all over him. Shocked and angered, the employee got up while groaning in slight pain from the large bruise he felt forming. He looked over to see Beowulf standing up, arms spread wide in a 'come at me, bro' statement with accompanying savage grin. He walked with that posture toward the center of the room and away from his two lunch mates.

"What was that for!?" the employee complained as he rubbed the very sore center of his chest. His anger was held back due to lingering intimidation to the servant.

"Oh, nothing... Just thought I saw a trash can to throw some food in!" Beowulf bellowed making a lot of the cafeteria laugh. With renewed irritation overpowering his worry, the employee ignored the still fuming Mordred and grabbed a cake off of a nearby coworker's tray. He hurled it towards the berserker, who simply ducked and let the slice of cake impact Lord El-Melloi II in the face. Apparently any sort of combat instincts did not work too well against flying food articles.

The scowl on the servant deepened as he wiped the cake off, with his two lunch companions laughing at his expense while he looked at his now stained black blazer and formal pants. Suddenly smirking, Iskandar grabbed some pie from his retainer's tray and hurled it at Tyler. The dessert exploded on his face and he fell backwards as the large man continued to laugh. The employee looked at his stained, white Nintendo shirt then glared incredulously at his friend.

Iskandar struggled to control his laughter as he clutched at an overly tight "Admirable Tactics" muscle shirt. "I thought that's what we're supposed to do!"

Beowulf grinned savagely, now holding two peeled oranges in his hands he plucked from another employee's tray. He bellowed like an announcer, "FOOD FIGHT!"

Without hesitating, but laughing at his antics, Nightingale swiftly flipped the table and dragged Dantes behind it before the room exploded into flying chaos. A confused avenger stared as the berserker peered her head over the table on careful watch for any injuries, even as a cupcake slammed into her hair; Her vigil remained. The utter lunacy of this made him narrow his eyes, yet he couldn't help but peek out to see too.

Across the room, Beowulf was running full speed towards the serving stations, counting the time before the automated response cut it off from the rest of the room. It was installed after the last major food fight to cut off the fighters from a source of ammunition. He dove underneath the lowering barricade and made for the kitchen with a specific weapon in mind. The male berserker ignored the angry cries from Emiya and Tamamo as he made his way through the kitchen, laughing all the way.

Back in the cafeteria, Iskandar, El-Melloi, and Tyler were hiding behind a four sided fortress of tables as the caster used magecraft to acquire more ammunition from nearby without revealing himself. Tyler was enjoying himself, but also not looking forward to the potential cleaning he, Anton, and some others might have to do on the cafeteria robots who were currently trying to begin scrubbing.

Iskandar laughed heartily. "So this is a food fight! How exciting!"

"Yo, big guy! Hit someone with the cake!" Tyler cried out as he presented a slice of cake to the back of the large rider.

"Oh ho! That's a great idea!" There should have been a moment of silence after the conflict for the poor employee that got nailed with an entire, layered blueberry cake from an over excited King of Conquerors. There were audible gasps and grand laughter, though.

"Holy shit! I meant my slice not the whole thing!" Tyler yelled between gasps for air as he and the larger servant hollered. Though the food-stained El-Melloi scowled, a small smirk peered through at his two laughing buddies.

"I want to throw the oatmeal next!" Iskandar said as he reached for his retainer's thermos as the employee's eyes widened in horror.

"Broskander! Not the oatmeal! That's against like three articles in the Geneva Convention!"

From behind another set of barricading tables, Jekyll looked at Mordred with concern as she laughed enthusiastically while hurling parts of their lunch at random targets. She easily dodged several incoming attacks and ducked back down to find more ammo. Jekyll sighed and decided to indulge his friend in her escapades. The assassin opened his lunchbox and pulled out his container filled with soup in order to get to the bag filled with baby toma-

He yelped as an apple came down after angling off the ceiling, making him lurch forward. Much to his dismay, the lid flew off and Mordred was drenched with chicken soup as she stared dumbfounded at her friend. Jekyll had a horrified look on his face as he raised both his hands in the air. "I-I'm so sorry! It was a mistake! I didn… You know I wouldn't-!"

"We're on the same side, Beansprout!" she yelled with an amused grin as she found a slice of her pie and held it up. Her gaze to Jekyll turned mischievous and playful, and a tad evil.

"Wait- Mordred no! Please!"

Behind their own barricade, Dantes watched Nightingale smile as she dodged an incoming apple that shattered on the wall behind her. She picked up a nearby orange and hurled it over the table bunker like a grenade. She reached around the table and grabbed another before her eyes caught the surprised gaze of the avenger, noting the small shine of curiosity and interest in his eyes. It was different then how she looked at her so many times before and she smiled lightly, tossing the slightly dented veggie his way which he caught. He looked down at the tomato he cupped with both hands then back towards the berserker who had taken the banana back out of her lunch box and began peeling it.

"Don't just sit there, Dantes. We're taking fire!" she chuckled as a pineapple rammed into the other side of the table, sending some fragmentation into the air. As someone yelped, she quickly peered over to see if anyone was in need, then got nailed with an orange; She didn't even flinch.

"Beowulf coming in!" They heard the other berserker roar as he slid back behind the table bunker after entering through the cafeteria entrance, just as a barrage of grapes barely missed him. There was a banana peel on his head and some smashed tomato residue on his once clean denims. A feral smile was painted on his face as he cradled a few large watermelons in his arms. He looked towards the two servants, making Nightingale laugh as she instantly did the math in her head.

"I got the warheads! It's time to make it rain!" he yelled enthusiastically as he placed two of the watermelons down then held the third like an over-sized football. Dantes watched in disbelief, and silent amusement, as he took a javelin stance and aimed towards one of the reinforced ceiling fans hanging all across the cafeteria. A few grapes impacted his torso but he paid them no attention as his grin widened. "Eat this!"

Across the room, Tyler spotted the berserker in a stance and looked towards the target of his gaze. His face turned white as the berserker let the fruity bomb fly, diving behind Iskandar for cover while yelling at the top of his lungs, "Tactical nuke incoming!"

The warning came too late for everyone else as the watermelon slammed into the fan, though the reinforced appliance held firm and barely shook. The same could not be said for the fruit as it shattered into a slushy rain that hailed down from the ceiling, soaking any servant or employee unlucky enough to have been on the opposite half of the room from the launcher. Before anyone could recover, a second watermelon impacted a different fan, causing similar fallout to the poor victims below.

Beowulf bellowed from behind the table alongside Nightingale. He quickly flashed her a grin, and she accepted his high-five. Dantes, still holding the tomato, watched in partial amusement at what had just occurred as the groans of several victims could be heard in the blast zones. Upon hearing them, Nightingale quickly looked over with newfound concern, but fell relaxed as she only saw a bunch of people groaning at their stained clothes. She quickly giggled.

The groans were interrupted by the door closest to the trio. It opened to reveal Nero, who had taken a bathroom break for her makeup. She stared incredulously at the sight of the food-pocalypse in front of her. A few still continued the fight while others were trying to clean themselves off behind makeshift barricades. There were also robots still frantically trying to clean the room, some of which had food smeared onto their exteriors.

"Wha... What happened? Roman Citizens! Your Empress demands to know what happened while she wa-AAAAAAHH!"

She looked down in complete shock at the tomato remnants that now marred her otherwise beautiful red strapless. She looked up with slightly teary eyes and a pout on her face as some in the cafeteria laughed at her expense. Altera, partially marred by muffin residue, ran up to her friend with an arm full of napkins. Behind the table, Dantes turned towards the duo of chuckling berserkers. Beowulf gave him a thumbs up while Nightingale flashed him an amused smile… which he gladly returned with a tiny one of his own.

He wasn't sure what came over him at that moment, but it was different from the usual vengeful impulses and desire to keep to himself. Even he believed part of his avenger soul begged him to do something to help punish the wrongs the Empress had done in the past, this was hardly a way to do it… In truth, he had acted spontaneously, and joined in Chaldea's strange antics for the first time. He threw the tomato of his own accord, just because he wanted to have a little entertainment.

…There may still be hope for him after all.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

"Morning, Saber. Lancelot."

Arturia, wearing a simple blue strapless with white sash, stopped walking down the hallway with her knight and turned around to smile at the approaching Archer. He wore jeans and a black polo, with both hands casually placed in his pockets. "Good morning, Shirou."

"Mister Emiya," Lancelot bowed slightly with a small smile. He wore a black blazer with gray slacks and a black undershirt, since semi-formal attire seemed to be his favorite wardrobe. The knight had only recently joined with the king, having encountered her in a hallway while having his morning talk with Mashu. The duo turned to continue walking as the red archer reached them to form their little group, making occasional small talk such as discussing the food fight from yesterday. They swiftly jumped from one topic to another as they walked towards the salon to relax until the cafeteria opened for breakfast.

"…Ready for the extended supply sortie today?" Arturia said in a disappointed tone, making the two men next to her chuckle in amusement.

"I should be asking if you're ready to go without my cooking for an entire dinner." The blonde king blushed lightly and clenched her fists.

"We'll make sure she lives, right Lancelot?" Diarmuid stated as he ran up to the group from behind to join Emiya's side behind the British knights. Lancelot chuckled as Arturia nodded towards her lancer friend who had obviously overheard the start of their conversation.

The Irish man's smile dropped as his face turned serious. "First time you'll be fighting alongside Dantes, isn't it?"

Emiya nodded lightly. "You just have to watch what you say around him... Nothing difficult. Better than dealing with Gilgamesh."

They all simultaneously cringed at the thought. It was rare enough to see Gilgamesh outside his much larger Chaldean room, and every time he was it was never too pleasant. His current attitude was a far cry from what it had been during the fourth and fifth wars, and he was cooperative with Gudao, but his arrogance seemed timeless. At least he wasn't trying to kill every servant that offended him in any way, which would have been almost all of Chaldea by now.

"I'd rather not think about him as much as I can. Either of them," Arturia stated quietly as Emiya patted her shoulder comfortingly from behind.

"Speaking of rude servants… It seems he's walking about again," Diarmuid observed in a low voice. The group stopped in the hallway as Dantes rounded the corner from further down, but to their surprise his former light scowl from the first few days was replaced with an unusually expressionless face.

As they observed him, some of the group crossing their arms as he came closer, they braced themselves for any passing curiosity he'd voice; His previous approaches were always, and only, with a conversation in mind. A week ago, he had approached to ask about the Battle of Camlann and that one did not go over too lightly, especially since a certain fiery Saber was also within Chaldea's walls. The avenger looked towards them and slowed down, making the group narrow their eyes at him as his face remained unchanged.

"Good morning," Dantes said simply with a blank expression and continued walking down the hallway. As he passed, he failed to see the confused looks among the group as they turned to each other and passed glances to the retreating avenger rapidly. A certain British Queen turned the corner further down and glared at the approaching servant, only for the expression to melt into surprise as he once more mouthed a simple morning greeting, and nothing more. As he turned the corner and left Boudica still in shock, the group started walking again, still with confusion on their faces.

"…He didn't want to say anything?" Diarmuid asked incredulously. Emiya nodded slowly.

"Indeed so. He's never made such a simple greeting since his arrival," Lancelot chimed in as he looked back to where the avenger had vanished past a corner.

"Gudao did say he never meant anything intentional…" Arturia pondered, looking to the first among her knights.

"It's only been one comment, and his apologies were a bit too simple. I shall retain my doubt for now," Lancelot stated as he unfolded his arms. They were nearly at the intersection where Dantes had appeared from the right.

"Doubt about what?" Jeanne asked as her head peaked around the left corner with a smile. She gasped and ran up to Arturia and took her hands, stopping the group. "Oh! You're wearing the dress Irisviel got for you! You're so adorable!"

"Adorable..." Arturia mumbled with a slight blush as she smiled. "…Thank you, Jeanne. Your dress looks great too."

Jeanne twirled in place to show off her violet, one shoulder dress with silver accents as her loose hair caught the wind while she spun. "Martha, George, and Amakusa got this one for me! But enough about fashion in front of the boys. What's this doubt all about?"

"Dantes is walking around telling others good morning." Emiya said flatly, still in disbelief himself.

Jeanne raised an eyebrow in surprise. "…He's walking around again? No joking?"

The silence and small head shakes confirmed it. Her eyes widened in surprise as she lifted a hand to her chin in thought. If it was certainly true, it would have made the first comment rather than a determined approach to ask about someone's past. A small smile grew on her face as she mentally noted to talk to her fellow ruler about the possibility.

Maybe he had taken the first step.

¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨

The avenger, wearing a black formal vest and pants with accompanying gray undershirt, walked into Salon de Marie and headed for his usual spot. There was no need to check his watch to know he had arrived much earlier than he usually did to contemplate. He walked with a nearly blank expression, with no sign of his former scowl as he passed Marie and Mozart at the piano who noted his expression with curiosity. They had slowly watched his expression lighten over the past ten days and were more surprised how almost calm it was today.

Shaking the thoughts from their heads, they returned to discussing the play list for tonight. Marie pointed to sheet music for a particular piece she desired, titled "Kiss the Rain" by Yiruma, smoothing her red dress with a free hand as she did. Mozart unfolded the connected sheets and placed them on the piano's shelf, adjusting the sleeves on his formal shirt and pants before his fingers danced across the keyboard; There was nothing more annoying to him than playing and being uncomfortable the entire time. The piano music slowly filled the room as he began playing the piece in question for Marie to decide where it belonged in the playlist.

In a group of chairs and ottomans, a trio of knitters noted the avenger's arrival.

Naomi watched her two friends curiously while still enjoying her day off of work immensely with the pair. They were working on a collaborative set when the two servants turned to observe the avenger with noticeably calm expressions. She had been told about their confrontation with the boorish arrival, yet found it curious they looked at him now with more intrigue than spite. Had she not known them for so long, she wouldn't have picked up the small body language that indicated as much; The little movements did much to betray their facial masks to her.

Looking up at the sound of children's laughter, he saw Jack and Nursery Rhyme on the couch to the left of his usual one, as they had been exactly nearly three weeks ago. Had it been that long since he arrived in early September?

Judging by the quiet sounds of scribbling, they were drawing and coloring once more as he finished his approach, gaining their instant attention as he came into view. As they drew he observed they were also wearing the same matching dresses from that day. He sensed two servants near the bar begin to approach them, guessing that it was their adopted aunts or even mother. The girls looked at each other in concern and disappointment and began reaching to pack up their ute-

"It's alright. I don't mind."

The two girls looked up at the surprisingly calm voice Dantes spoke with. They were uncertain as Dantes turned to face them and reached out towards them. From several meters back, Atalanta and Irisviel were closing in on the two, cautious and protective instincts kicking in as the avenger reached for the heads of both of the girls in front of them. Atalanta opened her mouth to bark at the man to get-

The girls stopped in their tracks with eyes wide as Dantes rubbed the top of their heads, causing the children to giggle and smile. His face remained expressionless as he did so, yet it looked like the action was done softly to the surprise of the two motherly figures.

The avenger looked towards the two women, noting their surprised looks, and simply nodded towards them before walking to his couch and taking a seat. The women approached the children, slowly taking their seats with them and occasionally passing curious glances towards the avenger. If he was uncomfortable or irritated by the fact the children had started giggling and chatting happily as they drew, it was not present on his face as he did what he always had.

Dantes sat on the couch, as he did for the past three weeks at varying times. Staring once more through that large glass window, he listened and felt as his two masters approached the sofa. He didn't turn when they arrived, even as Gabrielle gave him a softened look, though the children stopped what they were doing and went to hug Gabrielle as the female master giggled. Crouching down, she wrapped her arms around the two children and hugged the girls.

"How are you two sweeties today?"

"We're still making our book!" Nursery Rhyme cried happily as she pointed to the coffee table. A small scene with a girl and boy playing on a swing set was discernible, though the image was still incomplete.

"You're not being too loud for our resident avenger?" Gudao asked curiously as he looked towards the man in question. He didn't even move.

"Mister Dantes doesn't mind," Jack stated as Gabrielle released the hug to look towards him in curiosity. The small assassin still held onto her arm though. "Isn't that right, Mister Dantes?"

To the masters' surprise, he slowly nodded but said nothing more… No irritation at the name, nor bloom of his vengeful presence. Gudao shook himself out of his confusion to turn back to Atalanta and Irisviel. "Atalanta… Just reminding you it's a formation training day during the supply sortie, so-"

"Auntie Irisviel is watching us later!" Jack chirped as she followed Nursery Rhyme back to the sofa to begin work on their drawing again. As they scribbled, Irisviel rubbed Jack's shoulder softly as the young girl shifted closer until she was practically on the lap of the caster. She simply smoothed her white dress that lay over her legs and picked Jack up, with some giggling, before placing her on her lap. The young assassin simply bent back over to continue drawing from her new seat.

"I'll be dressed within the hour," Atalanta smiled and nodded to her masters who nodded in return. Her black sweatpants and jade tank top probably weren't the best battle armor.

"Awesome!" Gabrielle stated, giving the quiet avenger one last hopeful look from the corner of her eye. "We appreciate the amount of effort you're all putting in."

"If it makes our tasks ahead easier, we're glad to do so," Atalanta stated firmly. Irisviel nodded in agreement while the children simply kept drawing. Dantes kept listening without moving. Waving goodbye to the group of girls, the masters turned to leave while quietly discussing what extra steps they should take later today during training. The plan they currently had was to improve synergy and situational aware to help preve-

"The servants you gathered will certainly help you complete your mission, as you have helped them more than you may know. You will save this world with them one day, Gudao… You and Gabrielle. This much is apparent."

The masters stopped in their tracks at the sudden, unexpected comment. They turned back to the avenger who was still looking forward, with the four female servants nearby also joining to stare inquisitively. The avenger sighed as he prepared to let more of his thoughts into the open after thinking hard for the past two weeks… Yet he had finally been able to.

The swirling wrath roared within him, yet he'd gotten so much better at seeing what was and what wasn't. He'd gotten used to the colors of his skewed perception and hateful projection to understand what truly rested before him... of what control could be grasped. They defined him and beckoned with seductive tints and whispers, but he now knew he could at least steer. It had taken so long, but suddenly, everything wasn't so definite anymore.

"Reality is a bitter guardian. What has been forged here was difficult, but genuine... Unique. The fruits of your labor are bountiful," he offered as he stared forward. "But should something dire happen to threaten this delicate balance... To crack that glass palace you've all built…"

"No amount of attitude or caution can prevent everything, Dantes. We'll simply bear the weight together and move forward, maybe even as a family," Gudao said simply, making Gabrielle turn to him with a small smile.

Dantes was silent for a few seconds before he chuckled lightly to surprise those around him. It sounded so… wonderfully calm. "Good answer."

Gudao commented quietly. "You're part of it now too, whether you like it or not. Chaldea is your home."

"I suppose so. We made a contract, and you have my word. I will unleash my wrath on your enemies for humanity's sake... But the Eternal Avenger has no place in relishing in that final victory at the end. It is for those who have struggled together to save humanity. It will be a victory for the honest of hearts, and not for an avenger who exists as vengeance, whose only embodying purpose it to vanquish sin where it lingers."

Gabrielle clenched her fists slightly and narrowed her eyes sadly at the back of the talking servant, with Gudao putting a hand on her arm as he stared solemnly at the avenger. She spoke firmly, yet softly. "Why, Dantes? I thought you were finally looking to better yourself! When will you sto-"

"The Eternal Avenger has no right to be saved," Dantes declared absolutely… yet his presence didn't flare. Instead, he was merely tame. "…But..."

The master stopped, her frustration partially being replaced by curiosity as a sudden silence overtook Salon de Marie. The thrusters of the robot helpers seemed to quiet down. Marie and Mozart had stopped discussing the piece he played to stare towards the scene by the window, though the musician's fingers kept playing the moving music. Vlad and Medea were listening in curiously with enhanced hearing, all the while Naomi looked between the two, confused at their sudden shift of attention.

Long seconds into that deathly silence, the avenger let out a small sigh and looked back to his masters with a firm yet calm expression... Still, the stoic mask had its holes. A single glint of something different than an avenger's malice, solemn acceptance, and tension was caught by the masters' gaze.

"...but maybe Edmond Dantes can have a role in that epilogue."

There was no irritation in his voice as he said his name that time. Gabrielle's eyes lifted in surprise as the words churned in her head. Vlad let out a chuckle and Medea smiled lightly, further confusing Naomi who felt absolutely unaware of the development. Mozart didn't even skip a beat as he looked to Marie with the sides of his mouth threatening to turn upward. She simply giggled.

Gudao's eyes had widened in surprise before a small smile appeared on his lips to join his best friend's expression. He smiled. "I believe he will."

Dantes said nothing as, once more, he turned to stare through the grand window of Salon de Marie before him. "…Is that so?"

The male master chuckled softly before looking at Gabrielle and signaling with his head they should go. She nodded and turned to leave without saying a word, the male master moved to do the same before glancing one last time at the avenger's back. "…Wait and hope, Dantes."

Having said his parting words, the sounds of masters' footsteps faded as they exited the Salon, but still he faced forward with a near stoic expression. Even as the older girls began whispering nearby and the children giggled, his body remained a statue. He watched as the snowflakes fell slowly downward, gently swaying and shifting as small breezes changed their flight path. Eyes blank and emotionless, he stared forward and watched as the light snow drifted and danced in his view, as it always had for the past three weeks.

His mind was a mix of loose yet connecting thoughts of recent events and new, revitalized memories as his eyes witnessed a different image than what floated on the other side of the window. He stared. Ever forward Dantes stared...

...and gave the first, faintest hint of a genuine smile... the first he felt in a long, long time...

...as the prison bars slowly rose.