Well, here we are. Chapter Four.

Another 4k chapter cranked out in a week. Good stuff me. Glad I'm still on this.

Anyways, we're continuing where we left off from last chapter: An ominous red glow in the sky. I hope you'll enjoy this.

As for comments, well:

Slayer-410: Thanks my dude, I appreciate the fact that someone wants to see more of my own, home-made world. I'll try to incorporate more of it in some chapters.

Word count was 4,616.

Now then, onwards with the chapter!

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"What did you expect?" – Talking

'A war like no other?' – Thought

"Der Teufel selbst?" – Very bad Google Translate, or emphasis on speech

'Or just a bad dream?' – Written word

~ Maybe it was nothing at all. ~ – Radio Chatter

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The man lowered his weapon, staring out through the raging fires and stifling smoke wafting above the city. From his position on one of the tallest buildings in the city, he could fire imprudently in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle with ease. Coupled with his weapon, and his excellent aim, it was no luck that leveled his hand after he fired upon the group of survivors that had exited a burning building to the north.

Sighing deeply as he deemed that another volley was unnecessary, he turned to the east, where another group had previously defended against his initial volley.

He readied his weapon again, before giving pause and lowering. It was unnecessary as well, as that duo were headed to link up with a lone survivor who was slowly being surrounded by some of the turned denizens of the former city. They'd be taken care of in short time.

Still, for a total of six survivors – five now, he reminded himself, that last volley had felled one of the three there – to pop up was a tad bit unnerving. He had expected the cataclysmic event to have wiped all living humans off the face of the country, or the city at least. For a select few to have survived put his whole plan in jeopardy.

Not to mention that blue bastard running about as well.

Still, he had time to kill. Those survivors would perish soon enough.

His King demanded it, after all.

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Helmuth awoke – slowly, painfully – to an incessant ringing. And pain. Pain was there too. His head hurt, he could taste copper in his mouth, and his ears were ringing. Cracking open an eye, the more operational parts of his mind noted he was back in the bar. The rest of it screamed for that part to shut the fuck up as damage control was worked on. He was on his back, that was for sure, as more of the pain came from there in terms of the rest of his body.

Still, for some reason he felt he needed to get up.

What had happened? Where were Hertzog and Muhlkampf? Why could he feel blood trickling down both side of his head? Who was saying his suit had been punctured?

A fuzzy image moved into his view, looking at him from a crouch.

"Hertzog?" He lisped when the blur waved a hand in front of his eye.

Damn this ringing. He couldn't figure out if this person was talking.

"Hertzog?" He lisped again, trying to sit himself up, only to gasp as a sharp pain lance up his right arm.

The person pushed him gently back down, stabbing something into his left arm. The pain lessened, while the ringing remained the same.

"Muh – My arm…" Helmuth continued to lisp, tapping on his right arm, "Warum - warum kann ich meinen Arm nicht bewegen? Warum tut es weh? Is it – is it still there…?"

The blur, which was steadily increasing in clarity until Helmuth could see that it was indeed Hertzog, nodded, saying something which Helmuth couldn't hear.

She reached over to his right shoulder, grabbing something that caused lightning to lance once more up his arm. He swore at her as she tossed whatever it had been aside, before wrapping the arm in gauze and medical tap.

"Nein - ich kann nichts hören," Helmuth slurred, shaking his head lightly. "The ringing, stop it, please."

He laid there for a bit longer, Hertzog getting up and returning with a bottle of beer, cracking it open after sitting Helmuth up against a booth. The two sat like that for a bit. The fire, which had mostly fizzled out on the back wall, crackled lightly as Helmuth's hearing slowly returned to him.

When the ringing had lessened to an acceptable degree, he lolled his head to her, speaking.

"Where's Muhlkampf?"

When she didn't respond, Helmuth tried again, only to get her to glance at him with teary eyes.

"Ah," he slurred, "M'bad… What – what happened to us? I remember… Rot?"

Silence reigned for a few seconds, the cackling of burning timber echoing in the bar, before Hertzog replied with a hiccup.

"I don't know…" She began, wiping unshed tears from her eyes, "I remember you yelling something, incoming maybe, before I was flung a hundred meters back due to the explosion. When I finally got the wind back in my lungs, and got up, I couldn't find Muhlkampf or you. The entire street was destroyed, and I thought you both… You both…"

She paused, trying to regain herself, before continuing.

"I couldn't find neither of you, but I heard groaning from in here, and found you by the back wall," she explained, looking towards where the fire still cackled. "I pulled you away from it, and dragged you to the centre of the room. I spent ten minutes looking for a first aid kit at the bar itself, and by then you were lucid again and I got to work patching you up. You're a mess right now Helmuth. You've got slight burns, small cuts and lacerations because of glass, you had a large chunk of some lodged in your shoulder and you're bleeding from the head."

"Are you okay then Hertzog?" Helmuth asked after a beat.

"I think so," she responded, "I might have a concussion, but I'm a lot less hurt than you are."

"But you're ok?" Helmuth pressed.

"I – Yes, I'm fine."

"Good, good."

It was quiet while they relaxed, the crackling of fire and dying embers in the building creating a somewhat soothing atmosphere as Elma worked on letting the adrenaline lower in her system, while Helmuth tried to get the fuzz out of his head. Eventually, he stood, helping Hertzog up before making his way over to the bar itself and pilfering a bottle and unbroken tumbler. Turning to her as he poured a shot, he motioned to her radio.

"What's the Hive been saying?" He asked as he downed the shot, grimacing at the taste.

"I – I haven't a clue," Elma responded, glancing at the radio equipment on her back, "Muhlkampf was the only one who was allowed to have his on, as per orders, but…"

"Er ist tot," Helmuth finished, pouring another shot.

The two grimaced.

As per operation orders, two people were to carry the specialized equipment necessary to contact the Hive through dimensions; in this case it was both Hertzog and Muhlkampf. Both of them were to have the devices on, in case of separation of the unit. However, with Mannheim's disappearance/MIA status due to the last mission, Dr. Schiessman had advised against them running both radio sets at the same time, as that would drain much needed battery life. Therefore, Hertzog had her set turned off before the mission, and for the past half hour or so they've been without contact with the Hive – their command effectively.

"Scheiße," Helmuth murmured, setting another shot up, "what do you think we should do then Hertzog? You're effectively the highest-ranking officer here now, do you want to boot that thing up and call the Hive?"

She sputtered as he downed the shot he set up, "I – how can you be so nonchalant about this? Why are you drinking at a time like this?!" She yelled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. "We've lost Muhlkampf, we haven't been in contact with the Hive and they probably – no, they definitely think we're dead! And we were attacked by an unknown assailant who could be coming to finish us off! How are you even drinking, let alone being so calm?!"

Helmuth shrugged, pocketing the bottle. "Simple. I'm not."

"What?"

"I'm not calm," he continued, staring Hertzog in the eyes, "In fact, I'm freaking the fuck out at the moment on the inside. We're in a hostile territory, we've basically had our heads cut off with the loss of our commanding officer and lack of communication with our headquarters, and this is basically the second time I've been in a combat scenario. How in the ever-loving fuck could I not be on the verge of shitting myself Hertzog? Why do you think the first cognitive thing I did was a grab a bottle of alcohol? My survival instinct is to grab the nearest bottle and get myself drunk enough to cope with the stress."

"Adding on to the fact," he continued, now behind the bar and looting more bottles, "that not only have we sustained injuries and I am in pain, this is a civilian area. There's a damn good chance that there's possible survivors out there that could use our help." He paused, taking a breath, before shaking his head. "What're our orders? Intel gathering and contact the locals, that's why I asked what you wanted to call on this. Do we contact the Hive to pull us out, or do we continue on with the mission? It's a damned question I need you to answer as the acting officer. Bitte…"

Elma winced. "That's a terrible way to cope," she began, getting a glare as she added, "drinking like that at your age. But, I guess you're right. Fuck if this isn't screwed in some way, the whole thing."

Helmuth laughed at that.

"Alright, let me get this thing up and running, and we'll contact the Hive for orders," Hertzog finished, throwing the radio backpack on a barstool. "And then we'll move out."

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Ten minutes later saw a frustrated Elma and a lightly sloshed Helmuth listening to static on their mask radios. This had been going on for five minutes or so after Hertzog managed to get the radio system itself working, and even with her constantly flipping dials and changing channels, nothing changed.

Growling with frustration, Hertzog slammed her hand on the bar top, before slinging the radio system onto her back.

"Fuck it," she said, grabbing her rifle and readying it, "We'll need to be elsewhere for whatever this damned interference to go away before it'll work. Get your shit, let's go."

Finishing his tenth shot so far, Helmuth reached for his MP10 only to fall short. Musing to himself that he must have lost it in the blast earlier, he withdrew Mitternachtskönigin from her holster, unlocking the chamber and checking her ammo before locking it with a flick of his wrist. Clasping his gasmask back onto his face fully, he nodded to Elma, who had done the same.

Fully armed, the duo made their way out of the bar, before Helmuth spotted something glinting in the street. Quietly making his way over to it from behind Hertzog, who was continuing down the sidewalk with her rifle raised, Helmuth was silently stunned when he saw it was Muhlkampf's ARL device, although he was saddened when he saw that the device hadn't been activated. Pausing for a moment, he pocketed it and attached it to his own in their holster, before sliding back into place behind Hertzog, revolver ready.

They made their way down the abnormally quiet streets, making it down several blocks before anything of note happened. That note was in fact a scream sounding from off in the distance, which caused Hertzog to look back to Helmuth.

Shrugging, he took lead, the two of them hurrying at a brisk pace towards the sounds of the scream. It was further off to the southeast, a little way away from where there were by the sounds of the echo, and Helmuth estimated that they'd get to the location within a ten-minute time frame, give or take. Getting close proved troublesome however, as debris and crashed cars blocked some of the avenues of approach to the southeast. Nevertheless, the duo managed to make their way around via alleyways and unblocked roadways.

Quite suddenly, Helmuth bumped into something as he turned a corner, close to where he thought where the screams had come from. That something had in fact been a someone, a woman, who had been running in the opposite direction had collided into Helmuth, not seeing him as he had turned the corner with his weapon raised. And, Helmuth supposed as he saw what she was running from, it was for a good enough reason.

Two dozen feet behind her were ten or so shambling corpses, ghouls and skeletons armed with weapons.

Barely even blinking as he recoiled from the weight of the woman crashing into him, Helmuth merely wrapped his left arm around her, raising Mitternachtskönigin towards the first ghoul, and pulling the trigger.

The resounding boom echoed throughout the dead city, and the recoil from the revolver's .454 caliber round almost tore the damned thing from Helmuth's grip. However, his aim had been true, and the corpse on the rightmost of the line exploded into a fine mist. Pushing the woman behind him, he gripped Mitternachtskönigin with both hands, steadying himself as he put the revolver's barrel back onto target, letting another echo rip through the street. Quickly felling another of these enemies, Helmuth was glad to hear the bark of Hertog's G4 rifle as it too joined the fray. A few more cracks of Hertzog's rifle and echoing booms of Helmuth's sidearm brought an end to the attack.

Within seven or so seconds, the entirety of the enemy had been dispatched, surprising Helmuth as it had felt at least a little bit longer than that, surely. However, before he could chalk it up to something like adrenaline, Hertzog had already turned on the person they had inadvertently saved.

She was hyperventilating, watching the two of them with frightened eyes. Wearing an intricate black and gold blazer overtop of a white shirt and skirt, she was covered in a light layer of grim and sweat, causing some of her platinum blonde hair to stick to her face. Helmuth noted with surprise that she had managed to outrun those… things… in a pair of high heels, no easy feat. Still, a survivor was good news. She meant that there could be more out there, even with those untota shambling about.

Casting a quick glance to Hertzog, Helmuth unclasped his mask, revealing his face to the woman who appeared startled that a human face lay behind the mask. Nevertheless…

"Hallo," Helmuth began slowly, not knowing if she'd understand him, "Ich bin Helmuth, bist du?"

She made as if to straighten herself, unsticking some hair from her face before standing up straight, the frightened way she acted before almost completely disappearing in a snap.

In almost perfect Yytusche, she responded without haste. "Ich bin Olga Marie Animusphere, Direktorin der Chaldäischen Verteidigungsorganisation. Who are you, and how did you even get here?"

"A pleasure to meet you Frau Animusphere," Helmuth began, startled at both her rudeness and how she spoke Yytusche.

"I already introduced myself, but I am Helmuth von Trotha and this is my colleague, Elma Hertzog. We're members of Großes Kraterinstitut für technologische Fortschritte's Interdimensional Exploration Unit." He explained, running through the required information to give in a first encounter meeting. "Hertzog and I, along with another, arrived in this dimension only an hour or so, and you're the first living being we've run into. Do you know if there are any other survivors around at all, or are you all that's left?"

"I… I don't know," she began, shaking her head, "I don't even know how I managed to get here in the first place. But still, you shouldn't be here either! The singularity should have only allowed members of Team A here, not some random nobodies!"

Off to the side, Hertzog murmured a quiet "Oi", before Animusphere continued.

She angrily shook the watch on her wrist, looking around in a slight panic. "Where even are they anyways? They should've been here to help me, otherwise I would've been attacked by those things! Damn it, why won't anyone answer!"

Still blinking in confusion, Helmuth paused, looking closer at the watch. A second later – as the woman continued to grumble angrily – he realized that it was like his own wrist computer, capable of interdimensional telecommunications.

"Excuse me again, Frau Animusphere," He began, waving Hertzog over, "That watch of yours is a communication device, right? Elma here and I have been trouble contacting our own base, there's some sort of interference acting up. Try as we might we can't contact anyone either, and that might be the problem you have as well."

"An interference you say? That might explain it… Oh, I wish I knew if someone from Chaldea was here," she lamented, sighing. "If there was, I'd be able to possibly set up a more direct channel with Chaldeas…"

"Until then, I'd like to propose that we'd stay with you Frau Animusphere," Hertzog stated, scanning the rooftops with her rifle, "We've already come under attack once, and so have you. If we keep off the major streets, and stay alert, we'll have a better chance at surviving."

"Very well then." Animusphere agreed, nodding to the both of them, "Let us be off then; we should head for the harbour, that place will have the biggest chance of running into anyone form Chaldeas."

The now trio-sized group quickly grouped up, beginning their methodical journey towards the port, weapons at the ready.

A few feet after they start, Helmuth – seeking to try and have a conversation to break the silence – withdrew his semi-automatic pistol from its holster, handing it over to Animusphere.

She merely looked at it, outstretched in his hand towards her, before scoffing. "What do you think you're doing, handing me this?"

"You've got no weapons," Helmuth replied, stating the obvious. "I'd feel much calmer with something capable of doing damage against any enemies we run into in your hands. You'd be able to keep yourself safe in case of something happening, ja?"

"As if," she merely scoffed, "A magus is never without a weapon." She raised her right hand, showing Helmuth a grouping of pebbles that lay in her palm.

Helmuth raised an eyebrow. "Pebbles?" He asked incredulously, before joking, "You really think pebbles are going to help against walking corpses?"

His joke caused her to sputter. "'Pebbles'?" She parroted back, "These aren't pebbles you plebeian! They're runestones! A Magus' best weapon!"

"There's that word again," Hertzog interjected, "What do you mean when you call yourself a magus?"

"Yeah, are you a wizard or something?" Helmuth joked, laughing. "Gonna use those runestones to summon a demon, like a fairy tale?"

"You be quiet pleb!" She yelled at Helmuth, before pulling a 180 attitude-wise towards Hertzog. "And yes, I am a Magus. That's what I mean when I call myself that. I am capable of many mystical things, like magic and summoning as your plebeian comrade so bluntly put it. I am a practitioner of Magecraft, or Thaumaturgy – which I suppose regular humans could classify as a sort of magical science." She explained, brushing some hair out of her face as they walked.

"However, I am not a magician, or a wizard as the plebeian put it. Magicians are capable of true miracles, like what Christ could do in the Bible. In fact, it is believed that Christ himself was a magician, as most of his 'holy' actions could be classified under that. Nevertheless, a magician is very rare today anyways, and most Magi are merely caught up in petty power struggles. I wouldn't worry yourself too much about the workings of a Magus, you're human after all."

"Interesting to know," Helmuth groused, scratching his chin, "Still, magic? Magecraft? I know this is a different dimension and all, but magic doesn't exist. I'd soon rather see the Echtkaiser return from the dead, at least that'd make sense."

Before either Hertzog could slap him for being an idiot, or Animusphere could berate him, a building off to their right in front of them exploded outward, sending a black blur out into the street. Helmuth and Hertzog both raised their weapons at the smoky blur, while Animusphere merely gave a girlish shriek and hide behind them both.

The smoke soon dissipated, revealing another shambling corpse, missing an arm.

Helmuth quickly fired a round from Midnight Queen into its skull, making it crumple anti-climatically to the ground.

Blinking owlishly, he stood waiting to see if anymore popped up, relaxing slightly before tensing again as the sounds of fighting came from the now ruined building the corpse had been thrown out of.

Nodding to Hertzog, he moved forward as she stood behind to protect Animusphere, making his way over to the building. Peering inside, he noticed a horde of shambling ghouls deeper into the building, some being flung back by a large, cross shaped shield momentarily, before surging forward again. More survivors.

Holstering the revolver, he reached over his back for the shotgun slung there, the Eberkönig, and put it to his shoulder. He slowly stepped over the broken glass of the storefront window, stepping inside and behind the horde. Every second he wasted, the horde got closer to the group of people in the back of the store, so he yelled.

"Hertzog, achtung!" He yelled, aiming at the back of the horde.

Having called out loudly to his partner, the rearmost of the horde turned to him, and he fired point blank into the undead group. He pulled the trigger, blasting a large chunk of the group apart in a split second. The retort from the blast of the first barrel echoed loudly in the building, causing the rest of the dead to turn to him, before he fired again, splattering the walls with ichor. The third salvo from the Boar King ripped a corpse in half at the waist, others falling as buckshot scattered into their faces.

In the far back of the room where the survivors were, Helmuth was happy to see the buckshot ricochet off the large shield, impacting into the room or floor around them.

Now empty, he broke the shotgun open, ejecting the empty shells before quickly reloading three back in just as Hertzog opened fire from her position at the storefront window. Closing the breech with a clack, Helmuth once more aimed at the horde and fired. Three more blasts – as well as the rifle fire from Hertzog's G4 – cut the horde down in size, until there was no more movement from the undead population in the building.

When it was all done, Helmuth lowered his shotgun slightly, looking at the group of survivors in the back who he assumed were hiding behind a counter there. The shield moved slightly, revealing a young woman with wide eyes and pinkish hair staring owlishly at him. She wore some sort of armour that – for the life of him – Helmuth couldn't really understand why she'd be wearing it. It was rather skimpy.

"Is everyone alright miss?" Helmuth asked, concerned.

The woman didn't answer him, turning her head to behind the counter and speaking soft enough that he couldn't hear her.

Idly, he wondered how a woman of her stature – rather lithe and small – could carry a shield taller than himself and not break a sweat.

"Miss?" He asked again, lowering his weapon more, "Is everyone alright? No one's hurt?"

Rather than answering, she continued to speak with whoever was behind the counter.

Before he could ask a third time, a black-haired man poked his head out from behind the counter, giving a thumbs up. He then stood up, brushing some soot off from his white uniform – a double-breasted jacket of some sort – before speaking with the woman.

Helmuth sighed. This was a bit tedious, in actuality…

Behind him, Hertzog helped Animusphere into the ruined store, where both the man and woman caught sight of the two.

The woman's face brightened, before she called out "Director!", while the man smiled softly.

Animusphere, on the other hand, merely grew confused, before sputtering. "Kyrelight?! What are you doing here? Is that Candidate Forty-Eight? Why's he here as well?"

The woman continued to speaking walking over past Helmuth to Animusphere, talking a mile a minute. From his wrist, Helmuth's wrist computer beeped twice, before the unintelligible language the two were speaking filtered into Helmuth's own national speech. Glancing down at it, he merely shrugged. Must be that translator thing.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Helmuth looked up to see the man standing next to him. Now that he got a closer look however, Helmuth noted that he was a young teenager rather than an adult.

"Thank you," he said, "If you hadn't gotten here when you did, I don't think we would've survived."

"No worries," Helmuth replied, glancing around the store, "You're okay, the two of you?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you." He answered, scratching his head. "Where are my manners though. Ritsuka Fujimaru, Chaldean Master."

"Helmuth von Trotha, GKI Interdimensional Scout."

"What's this about survivors?" Hertzog's voice interjected, halting Animusphere's talk with the Fujimaru's acquaintance.

"Ah, sorry," the girl stated, shifting nervously. "I was just explaining to the Director that we're the only ones from Chaldea so far, but we've found survivors of this singularity. They're holed up upstairs. Senpai and I have been trying to keep them safe, and we were almost overrun had it not been for you."

Survivors…

"How many?" Helmuth asked, causing the girl – Kyrelight – to turn to him in surprise.

"Um, about twenty or so sir."

"Can you take us to them?"

"Now hang on a minute," Animusphere interrupted, "Where are the other Masters from Chaldea? A Team should be here, shouldn't they? You should have linked up with them when you rayshifted here! Also, why are you dressed like that?"

"Uh, actually Director," Fujimaru stated plainly, "We don't know what happened to A Team. There were several explosions in the Rayshift Room and several other places before we were rayshifted here, and I don't know if anyone survived. For all we know, we're all that's left of Chaldea."

Animusphere came short. "W-What? Have you tried contacting Chaldeas at all?"

"We haven't Director," Kyrelight answered, "We've been too busy trying to keep the survivors we found safe."

"Well come on then," came the huffed reply, "Let's get to the roof of this damn place. Bring those survivors with you, we'll contact Chaldeas from the roof."

With a quick glance, Helmuth shrugged at Hertzog. The two now seemed as if they were going to be brought along for the ride to whatever the Hell was going on with this Chaldea place.

The due and Animusphere were quickly guided by Kyrelight and Fujimaru to a blocked stairwell, where the skinny Kyrelight surprised the two of them by lifting a large countertop out of the way, before ushering them up to the second floor.

Opening the door to the floor, Helmuth was greeted by the sight of twenty to thirty soot-covered survivors, all huddled around themselves as they stared at the group that entered. Off to the side, a police officer lowered his pistol, before exclaiming his happiness at both Fujimaru and Kyrelight surviving.

Sharing a look with Hertzog, the two of them realized things just got slightly more complicated with these survivors in the mix.

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Deep within a cavernous expanse, a King and the Man in Red stood watchful, staring over the bubbling mud of the open chasm before them. The Grail War was almost at an end. All that remained was Caster, and then their dreams would be realized.

That's what the Grail promised them, after all…

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And that's Chapter Four at a close!

Hoo boy, did I get stumped on some parts of this chapter. Mainly how to handle Olga Marie, as I'm not really familiar on how she acts really. I know she's uptight for sure, but she's a complicated character with fears and niceness in her.

Also, the enemy has been introduced in the form of the shambling skeletons – upgraded to zombies now – and the unnamed Archer.

I've changed how Singularity F will be going. The introduction of survivors – and the possibility of more of them – will add a pressuring challenge to our heroes as they go about the Singularity. Truth be told, when I read about the Fuyuki Fire of the Fourth Grail War, I wondered if people could've survived it underground, and considering what we see of Fuyuki in FGO, the buildings are still standing rather that being eaten by the fire. So why wouldn't there be survivors?

Anyways, now Helmuth and Elma are allied with Mash, Ritsuka, and Olga, hopefully bolstering their chances before they run into a blackened servant. The addition of firearms might seem OP – for now – but servants are way more powerful than mere buck and bullets. We'll have to see what other tricks the soldaten from GKI have up their sleeves.

Anyways, as always, review, leave a follow or a favourite if you like my work! I really do appreciate the emails I get saying someone is following this fic.

Ciao!