Kotomine dreamt of the end.
The earth was a bitter and scorched land, sand and dirt sliced across his skin like razor wire as he trekked through the land. The sky was a yellow and pink haze as a mountain loomed on within the distance.
Burning, scorched, tired land. War, battle, skirmish, fight, bloody conflict that lead to the death of an entire planet. He found himself looking up to see those strange crafts hovering miles above his head.
Covenant. He didn't know why he knew that word, but that's what he recognized it as. Beams of light struck the ground and tore it asunder out in the distance. Even from here he could feel the heat. The ground was being turned to glass. Crackling, sizzling seas of opaque and fragile glass.
For some reason, the priest knew this wasn't Earth. This couldn't be.
His body moved, stepping off of a steel platform and past a pair of small buildings, both destroyed by the aftermath of war. His hands were armored, covered in thick plates of solid titanium as he took hold of a rifle, checking the sights and ammunition counter before raising it to eye level.
M392 Designated Marksman Rifle. That's what it was called, a bullpup rifle manufactured by the Misriah Armory. Utilizes 15 round magazines containing M118 FMJ Armor Piercing rounds with a rate of 86 RPM.
Why did he know this? How did he know this?
His body was encased in those same plates of armor. A Heads-Up Display ever more apparent as he marched onwards.
A dropship flew by, Phantoms they were called, taking notice as it crawled to a halt and began to descend. The side bay doors opening up to reveal the enemy, disgusting meter-tall beasts with devices strapped to their backs along with tall bird-like creatures.
A flash of blue whizzed by his head, turning to see another monster standing not too far away. Their jaw split into four mandibles and standing even taller than he was. It roared in fury as it broke into a sprint, firing the strange alien device in their hands all the while.
His body aimed the rifle and let loose a volley of shots before the space between them was finally closed. The monster, that… "Elite", swung the bulky tool at him, aiming for his head. He responded in kind by sidestepping the attack, unsheathing the knife strapped to his shoulder, and digging the blade into its jugular. Violet blood spilled and spurted from the arteries in its neck as it limply fell to the ground, the light in its bestial eyes dimming.
He had fought these invaders before so many times, and would kill more if need be. He fired again, picking off three, two Grunts and a Jackal, before moving on. His shields began to waver as hot rounds of plasma bounced off of his body. The man took cover behind some fallen debris, checking the ammo counter: 05 shots.
Time seemed to crawl, everything moved as if underwater and sound became muffled as he exited from cover, took aim, firing into another team of Grunts and leaving only the bigger fish to remain.
He charged after the next squad of Covenant forces, holding the empty rifle by it's barrel and picking up a much larger weapon with the other before slinging it over his shoulder. They barely recognized him as he landed within the center of their squad. By then, it was too late.
Cold sharp steel sliced through a multitude of smaller targets before snapping the rifle over the head of a nearby Brute, only managing to anger and daze it before a bullet perforated it's skull. Now empty handed, he unholstered the sidearm that was his Magnum and kicked aside the Spike Rifle that the Brute didn't even have the chance to fire into the face of a nearby Grunt, cracking its skull upon impact.
Aiming up, he unlatched the larger gun he picked up. A shoulder-mounted grey-green device. A full charge lasting two to three seconds before a beam of scorching red light tore through several foreign aircraft before the weapon sizzled out.
He tossed aside the useless tool and carried on.
The muscles in his body burned like battery acid in his veins, muscles constricting like fraying rope and unbreakable bones being pushed to their limits as the Spartan continued his onslaught through the battered wasteland of Reach. Shields would give out under fire, causing the onset of his gunmetal grey armor finally breaking down. Molten metal burned into his skin as the surface absorbed the plasma energy, a stray bolt struck him across the face, shattering a portion of his helmet.
Before long, the ground was littered with corpses, countless like atoms in the sea. Lungs filled with fire, muscles strung with razor wire, and the stress of war taking its toll as he continued to push on even beyond his limits.
Another wave of enemy fire brought the Spartan to his knees, the helmet worn beyond belief and lacking ammunition. The man pulled off his helmet, sucking in the dirty barren air for the first time since the Pillar of Autumn had escaped.
Much to his fortune, there lied an assault rifle, fully loaded and ready for use. Picking it up, he strode forward to his first enemy, gunning down the Elite before shifting his weight, listening to the heavy steps of a sword-wielding alien before slamming his elbow its jaw, shattering its neck upon impact.
Pain wracked his body as streams of plasma sizzled across his suit. The Spartan took aim once more, utilizing the Magnum he previously held onto with his newly acquired rifle, killing two at once before falling over to the ground. Pushing up with his leg, he shoved off the Elite that downed him before another showed up.
Failing to notice the sharp burning sensation as another Covenant soldier plunged their sword into his abdomen, Noble 6 only responding with a fatal elbow-strike to the monster's face as it tried for a second time to kill him.
Another made its way for him, and another, and another, and another.
Before long, it was simply too much before he was finally overwhelmed. An entire army had been after him, the unsung hero of a fierce and determined war.
But heroes alone can't win wars. He was proof of that already. A hero who forsook all and outlasted his friends, dying alone on the bitter earth of Reach.
However… history would never write it like that.
After all, Spartans never died.
Right?
Kirei woke up in a cold sweat on his bed, breathing heavily at the memory that had left his senses. The priest sat on the edge of the mattress, head in his hands as his mind was still processing the memory playing through his mind. He could still taste the bloody copper on his lips, the stench of rotten alien corpses strewn about the barren landscape.
That was hell. The Rapture incarnate from a merciless storm with no regard for human life.
The priest rose from his bed, rinsing his face as soon as he reached the bathroom and drying it off with a nearby towel. Kirei looked at himself in the mirror, trouble brewing upon his face.
There was something inherently wrong with what he had just witnessed. It wasn't the death of Assassin, this "Noble 6" he was known as. All the death and murder and carnage that surrounded the otherworldly soldier that he had summoned, it stirred things within him.
It was a feeling of… he didn't even know what to call it. Exuberance? Satisfaction?
Whatever it was, he forced that feeling to the back of his mind. It was that dark feeling he always tried to hide, but every now and then it would always return. They were his demons, his dark influence upon the thoughts in his mind, his malignance. It wasn't the nature of a holy man and such thoughts should be pushed aside.
So why did he still feel so hollow?
A minute and a half later and he was dressed in his robes once more. His fingers clutched the cross looped around his neck, grasping it tightly to the point his fingers almost split open from the pressure.
He recounted the night before, a surprising turn of events with Tokiomi as well as the brief conversation the two shared. His Servant was nowhere to be found, perhaps having left first thing in the morning and tracking down his targets.
Assassin was efficient, austere, and obedient. Neither held any particular feelings towards the other, their contract was certainly business. That raised the question: what would a man like Assassin wish from the Holy Grail?
Kirei pushed the question aside as new ones formed. What were those things, those… Covenant? They were disgusting creatures, speaking in strange tongues that he didn't know.
What was Assassin before he died?
His eyes closed tightly in frustration before sighing, rarely often did he ever feel this sense of frustration. Nevertheless, the Executor got dressed in the same black attire, the same priestly attire he always wore, intent on learning any recent events within the war.
And Kotomine was never late.
-oOo-
It was a surprise for Tokiomi to find Assassin standing in his office, but not an unwelcome one. The Spartan, at least he claimed he was, held a stack of thin white squares in the palm of his hand.
The Servant had previously filled him in on the current identities of the others during their skirmish the night before. Lancer was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the first knight of Fianna; Rider was Iskandar the Great, the Conquering King of Macedon.
And finally Saber, King Arthur, the legendary ruler of Britain during the 5th century. The revelation of Saber's sex was a surprise, but nothing that added much to her ability as the legend of Camelot's King.
So it was no surprise that Tohsaka was in a good mood today.
"Ah, good morning, Assassin," the magus in red greeted the Servant. Assassin nodded in return, placing the objects on his desk, "What are these?"
"Photographs," he answered, "While tracking down Saber, I came across some of Caster's work."
That seemed to grab the magus' attention, "You've located Caster already? This is most fortunate news, Assassin."
"Not exactly," Assassin shot down the Tohsaka's expectations, but was still no less intrigued by the news brought to him, "I know for a fact that they're specialized in what you'd call… familiar magecraft, correct?"
"Creating familiars is a basic ritual, it's not formalized under any specific houses of magecraft," Tohsaka corrected, "However, there are some that dabble in more… eccentric versions. Why the sudden interest in this particular field?"
Assassin pointed a thumb at the photographs, prompting the magus to pick them up and look at them, "I see… did you sense any sort of magic presence from them?"
The Servant shook his head, "Whoever made that thing was able to see through its eyes though, attacked me with a knife too. Suffice to say, I wouldn't have called it a fight."
That elicited a chuckle from the magus, however slight, "Indeed, you may be incorrect that this could simply be an average familiar," his grin soured into a grimace, "If that would be the case, then turning any functional human is simultaneously a waste of time and an abominable act."
"What do you mean?"
Tokiomi set the photographs down, "Imagine this, Assassin. You share a link between yourself and Kirei, correct?"
This was obvious, but Assassin humored him with a nod anyway.
"Alright, now imagine that a human has formed a pact with a Servant, who is then supplying mana to a human-based familiar, whose upkeep would be many times larger than that of a regular animal," Tokiomi explained, "It would be a waste of mana even doing this, be it either for the Servant or the Master."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that the conclusion contains an error," Tohsaka answered, "This isn't simply a familiar, but a Doll."
"A Doll…" Assassin pondered the words.
"Specialized mimicry, a cousin of sorts to Golemancy and Puppetry. An attempt to displace the remaining consciousness of the deceased into a hollow shell," Tokiomi explained once more, "There are few figures from myth and legends that come to mind to even specialize in this, but it's very unlikely."
The Spartan turned to him, "Any sort of information would help, sir."
'The magus Avicebron would clearly be a specialist in golemancy, but his field of magecraft is too narrow for any sort of deviation,' Tokiomi looked away, deep in thought, 'Or perhaps King Solomon being the foundation of modern magecraft…? Sure he would have some insight on it. But to carelessly attack those ignorant of Mystery wouldn't add up.'
"I would need more to go off of, Assassin," the Master of Archer said, "And if a magus plays their cards right, they wouldn't reveal themselves anytime during the war with a Caster by their side."
If Tokiomi had been assigned a Caster, he'd do the same as well. They were relatively weak Servants in terms of power and durability, and often laughably mediocre in terms of agility, especially compared to the knight classes.
The Spartan hummed to himself, "So until either of them slip up, we have nothing to go off of."
"Kirei had assigned you to watch over Saber and their Master, correct?" Assassin nodded, "Keep consistent watch on them. Be they Master or Servant, they'll notice when someone is peering into them too closely and will readjust their movements in order to throw off the enemy. Wait until they get complacent and strike at the opportune moment. Unfortunately, as grotesque as it is, this isn't enough for the Mediator to call attention to. It would need to be something big, something that would violate the masquerade hiding the Moonlit World."
In just a brief explanation, Assassin had listened as Tokiomi ordered him to do what the Assassin class was already skilled at doing.
Did magi really like hearing themselves speak this badly?
The Spartan nodded regardless, "I'll gather information on the rest of the combatants while I'm at it. I have a couple ideas as to how, especially with the advantages of my class container."
Tokiomi nodded back as the Servant disappeared.
Silence dominated the room once more as the magus in red leaned back in his seat, pondering to himself over the circumstances of the war already. Two days fresh into the battle of Servants, and he had already gotten a foothold over the rest, an alliance between his protege and fellow allied Master, and a Servant guaranteed to bring him the Grail.
There was simply one problem.
Cutting off his thoughts, Archer appeared in a blurred mirage-like haze, his face stoic and expressing that valiant visage as ever.
"Master," he said, a slight hint of irritation in his voice, "I have returned."
"So you have," Tokiomi Tohsaka returned, his eyes darting back to the two remaining Command Spells on the back of his hand, "I suppose you wish to speak with me over certain matters."
"Less certain and more-so one in specific," he shot back, "I can understand the use of a seal to return me if I were ever in danger, but what I don't seem to comprehend is use of one after a single death, especially one so trivial as Berserker."
The Servant watched as his Master looked down, eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated a response to the hero.
"Your Noble Phantasm is the sublimation of your journey throughout your life, accomplishing many deeds before being rewarded," Tokiomi began to parse his answer, "Nothing short of an A-rank tool, be it magecraft, brute strength, or a rival Noble Phantasm can pierce that divine vessel of yours, correct?"
Taking in the details, Archer slowly nodded, "What of it?"
"From Assassin's reports," Tokiomi motioned to where Assassin had stood previously, "He had informed me that Kirei was unable to get a vision of Berserker's parameters."
"So you sent a knife-touting vagabond to spy on us with your protege to peer through his eyes," Archer raised an eyebrow.
"Kirei is by no means unskilled in magecraft, his talent in elucidation is well-above average," Tokiomi had sent praise to the Kotomine, though disappointed by his lack of dedication over its mastery, "He would have easily been able to gleam every other Servant's parameters, just as he did with Saber."
The demigod's lips pursed as he pondered this statement before realization began to dawn, "So you believe that Berserker is under an enchantment that hides their skillset from the rest of the combatants."
Tokiomi rose from his seat, "While a hindrance, their hidden attributes are a blessing in disguise. Were any other Servant to fight you and take your life, they would be able to take advantage of the situation to either retreat or fight back."
Archer's grimace disappeared, a low chuckle escaped his lips, "A clever use of a command seal, then. A decision that I don't wholeheartedly agree with, but I will admit it does have its advantages. Disregarding my wish to challenge Rider, I will have to readjust my judgement of you, Master."
"I wasn't under the impression that were capable of humor, Archer," the Tohsaka magus smirked back.
"Neither I you," Archer shot back, "Even a hero has to jest every so often, lest they come off as nothing more than walking statues."
Tohsaka opened his mouth before closing it, decidedly neglecting to mention the fact that an innumerable number of statues of Archer existed in an equal quantity of museums and exhibits. Instead, he decided to change the subject, "Fair enough, I suppose. As for Rider… I understand you both share heritage, if historical evidence to the contrary is to be neglected."
The gargantuan Servant nodded, "Indeed, I would wish to meet the King of Conquerors on the field of battle once more, if not to test his mettle and see if he is truly worthy of sharing my blood by spilling it myself."
Tokiomi frowned slightly, looking away from his Servant and out the nearby window, the garden where Assassin's corpse had once stood now in full repair after some payment of workers refurbishing his yard and sending them off with a simple hypnosis spell.
It almost made him reconsider his plan to have Kirei order Assassin to kill Rider or his Master. Both would be preferable.
"Perhaps you shall," was all Tokiomi said. Archer only nodded, taking the words in with some doubt before disappearing in a haze of his own not unlike Assassin, leaving the magus alone once again.
Pushing away any short-sighted plans aside, Tokiomi's own words rang in his mind.
"Hiding their skillset..." the magus in red closed his eyes before shooting back open, realizing the genius that had occurred to him.
Enchantments, Dolls, Magecraft, all of it! Perhaps it wasn't the work of a Servant. Tokiomi's mind in the sea of knowledge had pulled him to one particular piece of information that lay dormant within his own memory.
If he remembered correctly, there was one family that specialized in this kind of magecraft. Dormant or maybe even dead as they were, the possibility was unlikely, but maybe there was something that can put an end to the conundrum of Caster.
He returned to the workshop beneath his mansion, intent on inquiring on the living status of a certain family. It was improbable, but perhaps possible for the Ainsworths to have continued to exist even after all these years.
-oOo-
The smell of engine oil and grease nearly overloaded Irisviel Von Einzbern's sense of smell as soon as she stepped into the building, the whirring and clanging sounds of tools and machinery preying upon her ears just as strongly.
Kiritsugu was busy planning for something with Maiya, so the Einzbern woman took it upon herself to get this job done. Thankfully for her, she didn't have to go alone for this endeavor.
"Ahem," her companion had coughed lightly, getting the attention of the man behind a wooden counter who'd been flipping through the local newspaper, "Sir, we require your assistance."
Lowering the newspaper revealed the man in question to be a middle-aged Japanese of below-average stature, yet still bore a couple lengths above Saber and Irisviel. The upper half of his face covered in a bright banana-themed bandana while an unlit cigar lay between yellow stained teeth.
So it was a surprise to the auto shop owner to see two European women with the keys to a Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coupe parked right outside his shop.
Where any other shop of higher regard would see a normal job, this man in particular saw a profit. With a slight cough, the man set aside the newspaper for now and looked at the two women with what could only be called glee, "Well good afternoon to you two, welcome to the Kaname Auto Shop. I'm Kaname Joji, what can I do for you lovely ladies today?"
"I…" the blonde-haired youth closed her eyes as she finally processed his words, "We'd like your services to procure a new wheel for our mode of transportation."
The man only gave her a blank look, "...What?"
"Saber, it's fine, no need to be so formal," Irisviel placed a hand on her companion's shoulder, "We're just here for a new tire, sir. Our old one broke down heading back home and the spare we're using is running thin."
Raising an eyebrow, the man leaned in through the window and noticed the spare tire underneath, colored a tad more gray than the darker three, while the tread was wearing out, "I see. I can fix this no problem."
Irisviel's eyes seemed to light up before calming back down, giving the man a smile, "Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how much this means to us."
The man hummed lowly, taking in the information that she had inadvertently let slip, "Really now… so you got places to be, yeah?"
"We're just touring around Fuyuki for now," she answered with a nod, "We just don't want to miss anything while we're here."
"Iri," a hand found itself on her shoulder this time, causing the woman to turn and face her partner, "We don't have a lot of time right now," she then turned to the man, "How long would this task take?"
"Ten or fifteen minutes, no problem," the man shrugged, "But I need the money upfront."
"Of course, how much will that be?"
They watched as the man tapped his fingers against a nearby machine, keys clacking with a mechanical click before the screen flashed.
"Eighty-five thousand yen? That's…" Irisviel did the math in her head, "That's more than seven hundred in Europe!"
The man's expression turned sour, "You said you'd pay upfront, right? Don't you know the rates here in Fuyuki, lady?"
Irisviel stayed silent as the man only grimaced, "This is one of the only shops here that guarantee quality, ma'am. And quality comes at a hefty price."
She opened her mouth to speak, "I... I mean, we do have the money, but I just-"
"You're not in Europe anymore, lady," the man leaned over, the two could almost smell the scent of chewing tobacco, "You either pay here, or find some other shop that'll half-ass the job and swindle you out of your money."
He almost laughed at the irony, but caught himself as someone else entered. Another foreigner in thick apparel, this one being a man taller than everyone in the room at a good two meters, even having to duck his head to avoid hitting the top of the doorframe.
The bell chimed as the door finally shut. The man stood behind the two women, shuddering slightly.
"Sure is cold outside," he muttered to himself, pulling the wool cap off his head and stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket, revealing a short crop of dark auburn hair from the man's scalp. The man then turned to the three standing before him, "Hey there, am I interrupting something?"
The shop owner noticed his accent, different from the rest of the two, an American most likely, "Nothing important, just wait and I'll get to you in a moment."
The white-haired woman seemed to flinch at his answer, to which the taller man seemed to take notice, "Really now? The little lady over there doesn't seem to think this isn't important."
"It's none of your own business," the older man's grimace seemed to deepen as he watched the giant lumbering towards them, peering over the edge, "H-hey man, it's no-"
"None of my concern?" craning his neck, he saw the considerably large number on the register, "Geez, eighty-five thousand? What's this for?"
"A… new tire."
Both women watched as the man merely stroke his chin in thought, "Isn't that the price of a full change for all four tires?"
He looked back down to the shopkeeper, now red in the face, "Listen here, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but my busi- hey! I'm talking to you!"
"Pull your car into the garage," he nodded to the two women, the white-haired woman confused for a moment before nodding, "I'm going to have a little chat with our associate here."
His posture was relaxed, but even then there was a dangerous air around him that seemed to set the shopkeeper off.
The door closed with that same chime, now hauntingly terrifying as silence filled the room.
"Now then, I know a scheme when I see one, and I can tell you're a pretty smart guy from the look of things. I'm pretty recent here, so I have one simple question to familiarize myself," the foreigner spoke, a dim glint in his eye as he drew closer, "What do you know of the Fujimura Group?"
The old man paled, seeing the dangerous glare in this man's eyes, 'S-shit, is this guy here to collect?'
"I want information, and I was told someone like you had a pretty loose tongue on the uptake," the older man gulped as the taller continued his interrogation, "Now here's exactly what you're going to do…"
"T-that'll be ten-thousand yen," the man made no efforts to move even after thirty minutes, still as a marble statue even as the money was placed right in front of him, "T-thank you, please come again."
Ding!
Irisviel and Saber entered the building for a tire change. What they got in return was a complimentary three extra changes, a tune-up, and a much more gargantuan stranger alongside them.
"So you said your name is…-?"
The larger man nodded, pulling the cap back over his head now that they were in the cold, placing the paper bag he had been holding between his teeth as he did so, "Call me Thom... or Tomi depending on the region. The people I know here call me the latter because it sounds more 'naturalized', whatever that means."
While Irisviel only smiled and nodded at the explanation, Saber kept herself between them, eyes flickering to the larger man ever so slightly before looking to Irisviel. Instincts had told her that something was off about him, yet this man gave off no air of being a magus or a Servant.
So why was Arturia so on edge?
"Hey, you two never told me your names," a slight frown crossed his face, but nothing more than that.
"Irisviel Von Einzbern," the woman placed a hand to her chest before motioning to the much more blonde woman beside her, "And this is my partner, Saber."
Saber noticed the crease in his brow, as though reminiscing on a distance memory. Her suspicion began to grow as he slowly turned to the homunculus woman with realization.
Before the Servant could react, the man grinned, "Von, huh? So you're German royalty or something?"
...Oh. Saber breathed a sigh as Irisviel teetered her head side to side in a bashful way, "It's… complicated."
"Well, any man would be lucky to have you, royalty or otherwise," the larger man shot a wink at her as they finally stopped at the car.
"Thank you," Irisviel smiled at Thom, "But I'm afraid I'm already married."
She watched as the man frowned for a moment, face still before his eyes widened in realization, "O-oh! M-my bad, I didn't realize you two were…"
Both Saber and Irisviel froze, opening the doors midway as the man's implications began to set in for the both of them.
"W-wait! It's not like-"
"We're not a-"
Thom watched as the two blushed simultaneously and began sputtering explanations simultaneously. Both stopped as the larger of the three chuckled, starting off slowly and low before it grew into a full on belly ache cacophony of laughter, red in the face as he hunched over and grabbed onto the top of the car for support.
"PFFFFTAHAHAA! You two should've seen your faces," the man nearly lost his footing then and here as the two did just that, turning to each other with shocked expressions, "Christ almighty, that was great, you two are really something!"
Irisviel's cheeks were still reddened while Arturia only squinted at the man as he began to calm down.
"Heh… whew! No no, but I understand," he dusted himself off and straightened back up, "You probably have a husband somewhere else here in Fuyuki, I'm fine with that. Anyway-"
Both Irisviel and Saber watched as he turned away, "Where are you going?"
Thom held up the bag, "Had to buy parts for my car, it broke down a while ago and I came here. Lucky you, huh?"
Before he could take another step, "Wait!"
He stopped and turned back to the source of the voice, "Hm?"
"At least let us treat you to lunch!" Irisviel responded, arm jut out to the backseats of the car.
Saber sent the woman an almost incredulous look, the sheer speed of her head snapping towards the wife of her Master would've been called impossible by a normal man had they paid attention to it for too long.
"What are you doing, Iri?" Saber whispered, pulling her closer and leaning in so that only the both of them would hear, "We only just met this man. For all we know, he could try to hurt you."
"He helped us with the car, the least we can do is repay him for his help," the woman answered back with a smile, one that was somehow devoid of ignorance... she knew what she was doing, but what was it? "Besides, if he tries anything, I have you here to protect me."
Saber pursed her lips as she turned back at the man, awaiting his answer.
"You sure?" the man asked, slowly making his way towards them, "You don't have to, that whole thing at the shop wasn't much really."
"Don't be so modest," Irisviel waved off the man's indifference with a smile, "Please, I insist. It's the least we can do."
She watched as the man looked up, scratching his cheek in thought, "Eh… alright, why not? I think I know a good place or two. Really high-end joints on the other side of town."
"We'd be delighted," Iri turned to her companion, "It's been a while since we've eaten, haven't we?"
Saber frowned, opening her mouth to protest before a loud groan let itself loose. Her eyes widened as she placed a hand to her belly, "I-I…"
"Well, someone sure is hungry!" the man clapped his hand against the blonde's shoulder, much to her chagrin, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to order extras for you too."
And just like that, her chagrin was gone. Damned was her weakness for such promises of refined meals…
-oOo-
Hours Later...
In another part of the city lied what should've been a corpse. Shambling through the night and only seen from the streetlamps that it would pass by overhead, its arm lay limply to its side as though it lacked even the sinew and muscle to keep it steady, while its leg was equally as lame and dragging as the rest.
A single eye discolored, veins and arteries and capillaries contorted, stretched, bulging over its pale skin with the parasites that fed on flesh and pain. This creature was aware of its condition, keeping their face hidden for the betterment of the people around them .
Even under such a grievous status, Kariya Matou still had the common decency to wear a hood.
The makeshift magus of a dying family, the Matou clan being a dried up and withered name that had been forced to take extreme measures for their own benefit, and the man shambling through the streets the way he was now was no better. He was no different from that vampire of a man.
And he hated it. God did he hate it.
Kariya Matou looked down at his hand, the Command seals on the back proving his right as a Master for the Holy Grail War. And in turn had given him an unstable Servant, powerful yet unwieldy as a hurricane. Berserker had made his impression, taking on Archer with swift maneuvers and somehow even managing to kill the Servant. He should've been impressed had the Archer not somehow rise from the dead.
Of course that changed when the mad knight had set his sights on Saber. All hell broke loose thereafter, sending Crest worms into a frenzy and eating away at his body faster than his wounds could be mended.
"Urgh!" Kariya bent over, the wet slap of his body crumpling to the floor as the creatures in his body began to writhe even harder, slicing into his body like razor blades as he vomited more and more out of his mouth, leaving the taste of bile and blood upon his lips.
Then he began to laugh.
The uproarious and pained laughs of Kariya broke the silence of the night, hacking coughs following soon after as he continued onward, leaving a trail of tainted blood in his wake.
That bastard, Tokiomi, he would get his revenge on that piece of shit of a magus. Him and that fucking Archer as well, no matter how many times it took for Berserker to do the job. He'd give as much of his body as he could to kill him
"Someone seems to be enjoying himself…" a voice suddenly made itself known. All thoughts went to a standstill as Kariya froze, rapid blinking eyes scanning the streets ahead of him as he gauged the source of this voice.
"Who are you?! Show yourself, coward!" he screamed into the night, met only with a dull silence just seconds later.
He exhaled, it was probably nothing. Maybe his Servant's madness was seeping into him...
"Kariya Matou," the voice spoke again. If Kariya hadn't been strong enough to even bear the crest worms in his body, his heart would've stopped from the bone-chilling voice permeating the air, "Such hatred, such loathing, and yet to bear it all before me is a sight to behold."
A figure appeared under the blanket of darkness, just precisely out of range from the streetlamp the Master of Berserker stood under. He knew this was a Servant… but to who?
"What the hell do you want?"
"Oh?" the voice still held that smug tone, "Me? I simply see a troubled soul in need of assistance, you have a problem with that Tokiomi fellow, perchance?"
That got Kariya's attention, "What's it to you?"
"I have my own… grievances against him of my own, so to put it," the Servant spoke coolly, "Help me and I will get you what you so rightfully desire."
The man looked down at the concrete, watching as a fallen worm squirmed across his shoe. Closing his eyes, he knew that this wasn't someone to be trusted, that this was some sort of incomprehensible evil ploy.
The roar of Berserker split the air, reappearing in front of the Matou as he reared his fist back, ready to punch a hole into this new foe. The shadowy black armor of gauntlets flew with the force of a jet engine, eager to spill blood with unrelenting carnage.
Only for it to stop. The fist of Berserker shaking fiercely as it struggled to even touch the Servant.
So it surprised Kariya when he asked, "What do you want me to do?"
The Servant laughed, looking down at the rapidly disappearing Command seal on Kariya's hand,"Haha, fantastic! I simply need you to… run some errands for me, all of this will culminate in the death of your most rivaled foe, this… Tokiomi Tohsaka, correct?"
Kariya nodded, a dark gleam burning in his eyes as the translucent aura of Berserker loomed over him, over this new Servant.
The Servant stretched out his hand, "Then I believe it is settled, we both have a common enemy and shall seek to eliminate him at once. As your new ally in this war, I will tell you my plans to take care of each Servant before reaching Tohsaka."
He was playing with fire, dealing with this new Servant. This man reeked of obvious maliciousness, seemingly charismatic and bumblingly… flamboyant as he may appear. But that didn't matter, what mattered was saving Rin from her corrupt father and… Sakura, the one most in his thoughts, the one that was his sole reason for joining this war in the first place.
Kariya reached out, shaking the hand of this new associate of his
"I can assure you, dear Matou, I will not disappoint," Caster grinned as the sound of an explosion in the distance shook the very foundations of Fuyuki, smile growing ever wider as the smell of smoke began to reach them. With that, the Servant disappeared, "I'll be in touch…"
For the first time ever since the war started, for all his life as a knight of the round table even in his addled and broken shell of a state… the Knight of the Lake was afraid.