He panted breathlessly, unbothered by his mortal wounds. What right did he have to this pain? The burns and lacerations that oozed his essence onto the sand did little to staunch the flames of anger that burned within him.

And as he had done many times before, with practiced ease, his flame of hope was snuffed into apathy.

He would dematerialize soon. He knew that. It would be onto the next battlefield. The next slaughter. And that was what he had been sent here to do. Alaya had deemed this orphanage a threat to humanity. What sin one of these children had committed in their future. He didn't know which child would become the spark for a bad end, and the counter force hadn't cared. It was easier to snuff out the life of a child than a fully grown Magus.

The world had placed children against the power of a counter guardian.

He no longer had the will to care. Once, he would have broken down. Gone all but insane. And indeed, he had in the distant past. But what is a moment in the face of eternity? This was his hell. The hell he had so foolishly walked into.

He wasn't a hero.

He was the monster heroes killed.

His eyes closed, as he felt a familiar tug at his spirit core. The best and worst part of existing across the multiverse was he could be pulled to an infinite number of places an infinite amount of times.

This tug he recognized. An infinite amount of times he had answered it's call, and between his fleeting moments of clarity he had come to appreciate the reprive. Certainly, it came with the recognition that his foolish younger self would be there.

But there was something about the fourth grial war that calmed and soothed his spirit. Rin, Artoria, shall we all dance once again? On this stage where only I may see the fourth wall?

He braced for a rough landing, knowing that it was a rare timeline when Rin's perpetual laziness allowed her to wake up at the opportune hour for his summoning. He expected to have his mind become cloudy due to her error. He would remember the gist of things, but they would be muddled and slow to form. If he could remember who he was right off the bat, he would just use his independent action to silently kill his younger self before Rin grew too attached.

But rather than normal, he felt his spiritual body and spirit core sync with the current world. He formed from the breach to a circle in a semi-familiar room.

This seemed to be a universe where Rin managed to get her ass out of bed. Lucky him. Now, he would make their pack, kill Shirou Emiya, and fight the grail war with Rin.

Except, his summoner wasn't Rin. It was a woman, dressed in an obscuring cloak. He began to dread the idea that it was Medea who had summoned him, but the profile didn't quite match up.

Annoyed at the break in the script, he none the less introduced himself. "Servant Archer answers your summons. Are you my master?"

He extended himself to accept the bond this master would offer.

The woman before him looked perhaps in her mid twenties. In fact, she looked a lot like the Rin he had known during his time as a mercenary of the clocktower. Just a few years older. At least, that's what he could asertern from her figure and lower face.

"Indeed, servant Archer. I am your master. I offer you a pact." The link formed and snapped into place, and Archer's eyes widened at the amount of power pushed his way before it was clamped off to a more reasonable level.

He narrowed his eyes in suspension. Something about this who exchange didn't feel right.

Still, it beat whatever the counterforce would have him doing. Alaya was the collective consciousness of mankind. And mankind was cruel by nature.

"I accept your pact, master."

The woman seemed entertained by the whole endeavor. As if in on an inside joke.

"Excellent. Please, servant, may I know your name?"

He scowled. It was to be expected, but he didn't have to be pleased. One eye closed, he gave his usual speak. "Archer is good enough. I'm not really one for personal relations. In fact, I can't even remember."

His signature smirk was wiped off of his face when his new master didn't respond how he expected. She had the nerve to giggle.

The magic of the pact now formed, the runic circle faded leaving the town standing in the dark. His master produced a small gemstone that ignited with a soft green light. It floated beside her as she walked out of the room.

Dutifully, he followed.

They walked through a section of long and lavishly decorated hallways. Wood panels and various prices of artwork decorated the walls.

"So, master. Might I have your name? As well as a goal? If you've summoned me for a grail war, I'm afraid a malfunction has taken place.

Usually, when a servant is summoned via the grail knowledge of the current times is placed within us. But I'm afraid that function has failed."

The hood over his silently walking master moved in such a way to sugest she had tilted her head back toward him some. Most likely listening to his inquiries.

"No. Just, Master will do for now Servant. After all, you don't wish to be overly personal." She said as they walked through mostly dark corridors.

He barked a laugh. At least his master had a sense of humor. Fair was fair, as far as he was concerned. Eventually they came across a set of stairs leading down to a more well lit area. Along the halls were lights composed of basic mystic codes. It was no less decadent.

"As for our goal and the reason for summoning your, please wait until we've in my main workshop. It just up ahead."

He shrugged. Typical Magus response. Honestly, he didn't care either way. Anything was better than being a tool for Alaya. He internally shuttered at the idea of being sent to fight off against the White Queen again. Her rampages were rare, true. But that meant little to him, who was sent to the worst hells and expected to clean up.

He hated fighting her, or any of the top three undead apostles for that matter. Zelretch being the exception, they were monsters who could, and frequently did from his perspective, destroy the world.

They arrived at a large library like room with what looked like a massive shuttered window behind a central desk. Varias mystic codes were scattered about, emphasizing this spaces use as a workshop.

His master took a seat at her desk and turned her chair to the shuttered window. Not seeing anywhere to sit, he leaned against one of the shelves. Her chair had a rather high back, keeping him from seeing anything but the top of her head as she took off her hood.

"Tell me, Archer. What is your perspective on the art form of tragedies?" He frowned at the out of place question. He expected his master to begin waxing about the genius of whatever plan she had concocted. Purhaps fill him in on the reason for his summoning. Instead, she was asking him about a type of story telling.

Still, he supposed answering wouldn't hurt anything. He gave it a moment of thought before indulging his master.

"I think they exist to pluck at our heart strings. I think they take a hero, and make them human. All for the purpose of crushing that hero for the most emotional impact from the audience. Is that a good enough answer, master?"

His master didn't speak for a moment, purhaps thinking over his opinion.

"Yes. That's not an inaccurate answer. Though it's more clinical than I expected from you."

He rolled his eyes. "How would you know that? We've only just met?" He scoffed. His new master was already making assumptions.

She waved her hand in dismissal of his question. "I just have a feeling about you. But going back to my point, tell me. Is the point of that emotional impact not to make the audience wish they could change the hero's fate?"

He didn't understand the point of this discussion. Why had he been summoned if his master intended to debate philosophy? He knew for a fact that without a grail to assist, the summoning of a heroic spirit was incredibly taxing. Even if he felt no strain on his masters Prana, he felt she was being wasteful.

"I don't think it matters. The story has been told. It was written down and preformed. It can't be changed, regardless of what the audience wants."

His master hummed as if she didn't like that answer.

"But what if it could, Archer? What if the story could be changed? What if the tragic hero could be saved from their fate? Do you think that's something worth pursuing?"

This time, rather than answer, he scoffed. He pushed away from his leaning position and made his way to stand across the desk. "Enough. You summoned a Servant. Why? What is our goal?"

The high rise chair didn't turn around. Rather, the woman snapped her fingers and the shutter in front of her began to open.

Archer's eyes widened at what he saw. Behind the room sized window was something impossible. It wasn't enough to simply call it space. It was the cosmos. A twinkling canvous of stars and nebula. All taken in in it's entirety by his Archer-class eyesite. So stunned by the sight was he, that it took him a moment to notice that his master had turned toward him.

But the moment he did, he felt his heart stop.

"R-rin?"

It was Rin. She was older. Her hair was lose and while she wasn't endowed by any means, her figure had filled out. She had shed the ritual robes and was left in a stylized red Chinese dress.

Her smile was enchanting. She looked at him with a sense of nostalgia and familiarity.

"Hello, Shirou."