A/N: LONGEST CHAPTER YET!

Gonna say it right now, I own no references to TFS-Team Four Star-or any other media; I'm just a fan who pays them homage.

That's obvious.

On another note, Hellsing Ultimate Abridged just wrapped up, kudos to the gang for a great time!

Now, back to it!

I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

SURPRISE UPDATE AGAIN!

ALSO! ROOT CANALS! PAIN! NOT FUN!

Sorry about that, just getting the ranting out my system.

Having loooooooong roots reaaaaaaaaaally sucks, to say the least.

Took me awhile to get this pumped out-getting a tooth pulled now too-but here we be.

Over FIFTEEN THOUSAND WORDS for you guys and gals to read. I do hope you enjoy them all...

0_0

WE'VE RECEIVED MORE THAN SIX HUNDRED REVIEWS AT THE TIME OF THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE! LET'S GET IT TO SEVEN HUNDRED! YOU GUYS ROCK! On another note these chapters take so long to write because there's so much to INCLUDE in them. After all, this story is about Fate AND Naruto. If I wanted to write about Naruto and Naruto alone, they'd be a lot shorter, no? Nobody wants that!

And once again, that blasted obligatory disclaimer:

I!

OWN!

NOTHING!

Now that we've finished that, lets get the catchphrase out of the way, ey?

REVIEW FOR IT FEEDS MY ENGINE OF CREATION! Well, if you like. I can't force you~!

Hearing your kind words keeps me inspired and gives me the drive to keep updating, ill as I am...

So lets clarify and answer all of your questions, eh?

Q: When Sieg?!

A: Going to try something new with the character in this chapter, see how well its received. That'll be your answer.

Q: Why are these chapters so much longer than others? And where is the ROMANCE man?! We need it!

A: Because we've got a ton of ground to cover, of course! I can't simply content myself with 2,000 word chapters! I cannot simply cram a meaningful tale of madness, drama, love and humor into a few paragraphs! The Fate series deserves better! No, they must be a masterpiece! And if my update rate suffers a bit because of that, well its, unfortunate, but needs must, I suppose.

If its romance you're wondering about, I've hinted at it several times already. It's a' coming sooner than you think.

Q: Naruto and Siegfried bromance, much?

A: Oh they're going to get along swimmingly. Fast friends indeed!

Q: I know being Berserker makes you crazy, but damn hasn't Naruto gone completely cuckoo here?!

A: Naruto can be a right spazz-monkey at times, but in the Berserker class he literally has NO inhibitions. None. At all. If he's got a bone to pick with someone he'll bloody well tell them. If someone hurts his friends, they'll wind up with broken bones at the least.

He's in this war to win of course, but he wants to enjoy his second life for as long as possible. Wouldn't you?

Q: Why is Lancer of Black so powerful? Its strange seeing Naruto afraid of someone.

A: I'm glad you asked! If you've seen Fate Apocryhpha you'll know Vlad is a MONSTER so long as he's within his own territory. That territory happens to be the whole of Romania at the moment. Thanks to his fame boost, he's nearly unbeatable there. Nearly. There's a reason he gave Karna so much trouble during their first fight after all. If his "Lance" cuts an opponent, they're screwed. One cut with his lance.

That's all it takes for his Noble Phantasm to take effect.

That is to say, Kazik Bey. In Vlad's own words, his Noble Phantasm isn't the stakes alone. Rather, it is the very concept of "being skewered by stakes" itself. As long as you remain inside his territory, you can't escape from his Noble Phantasm. Even if an enemy Servant can regenerate, they'll be in crippling pain. Now, if someone-say, Semiramis for example-were to trick him into entering her Hanging Gardens of Babylon he'd be absolutely bodied. Why? Outside of Romania, without his fame boost, he's actually quite weak.

Q: Naruto NEEDS to accidentally kiss Mordred. She'll go absolutely nuclear.

A: Something along those lines is coming and its gonna be FUN~!

Q: What're we looking at strength wise for Servants?

A: In short, its like this:

Naruto vs. Vlad.

Atalanta vs. Astolfo.

Mordred vs. Siegfried.

Not necessarily in that order, mind. They're all fighting simultaneously.

In terms of strength, their battles could go any which-way. ESPECIALLY if they interfere in one another's fights.

Q: Why is Atalanta so fond of Naruto?

A: It was outright said that Atalanta CAN forsake her vow to the gods. There will simply be consequences, that's all. Naruto's doing what Achilles never did; he's approaching her as an equal, a friend and an ally both. Moreover, he saved Jack. That instantly raised her opinion of him from cold to warm at the very least.

Q: Wait...white hair? Jeanne?! White hair?! Is she getting corrupted?!

A: Servants can change through means outside of the Mud from the grail. This has been proven already. We've seen multiple instances of that. Stress, breaking their beliefs, mental degradation and more...there's a host of reasons. Now Seeing as the grail is PURE in this iteration, well...I won't say anymore, only that I have no plans to taint it at this time.

As to whether Jeanne will be, well...no.

She can't be corrupted like most.

Think of this as stress, of a sort.

Though I wouldn't put it past her "Avenger" iteration popping up down the road...

Q: Death to Celenike and Gordes! DEATH I say!

A: Don't worry, they'll get what's coming to them. One can only push a Servant so far before something breaks...

Q: We're getting another faction aren't we?

A: *whistles innocently*

Alright, notes and other matters aside!

Yes, the title is a deliberate homage to the Apocrypha track, "Invasion" that many of us Fate fans know and love. Furthermore in terms of combat for this chapter, I hearkened Naruto's combat style towards that of General Grievous. No, not the shitty 2008 version. I'm speaking of the 2003 Grievous. That absolute monster, terror, theme and all. Hit hard, hit fast, then retreat. Avoid prolonged engagements at all costs unless absolutely necessary. It REALLY helped me write the fight scenes for this chapter.

But as soon as that Madness Enhancement kicks in...run. Just run. If used for too long, he's as like to attack his allies more than enemies.

Hope there isn't any discrepancy for Balmung, its my understanding that its meant to be gold in the light novel, not silver...?

We get an in-depth view of just how Mordred and Siegfried think in this chapter...among others.

Also, battle lust Mordred is fucking TERRIFYING when angry.

Thar said, you should brace yourself for the feels.

Now, one last thing. *inhales deeply*

Mordredbestgirlfightmescrubs!

Language and blood ahoy!

"Here I come, Lord Impaler. Hope you've got enough stakes."

"Come now, don't be a fool. You're beaten. Even you can see that. Join me!"

...I'm flattered. But...no. No, you're going to PAY for everything you said about my Master...!"

"And how do you aim to make me pay? With that broken power of yours? You'll only stumble and fall like the rest."

"YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT."

"No! You wouldn't...?!"

~?

Invaders Must Die

The Greater Grail stirred.

Slowly, reluctantly, like a recalcitrant child.

Rising from its long slumber, it awoke in a world gone mad.

While it could certainly be said that the Holy Grail possessed a consciousness of sort, none realized it was alive. One could even call it sentient, to an extent. Formed from the core once known as the homunculus Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, the Holy Grail held a "will" to be sure, but few understood the definition of that desire. As this "iteration" remained pure, so too did its purpose. For all its dreaming it awoke aware of the situation, of the discrepancy foisted upon the war with which it was tasked.

There had been...anomalies.

It knew something had gone amiss.

Chief among them was that one; the Servant Who Should Not Exist.

The Berserker of Red was another such anomaly, one the Grail didn't understand.

Rather than Spartacus, that terrible gladiator of ancient Rome, a warrior of another era emerged.

Thanks to him, rather than two factions facing one another they plotted and schemed from the shadows. There was conflict, but far from what it should have been. The Assassin of Black had already been subverted; subsumed into the ranks of Red, with threats of others soon to follow. The current Ruler was not fulfilling her role in this regard. Rather than fulfill her purpose objectively, she'd taken in with the Servants of Red. Worse, the circumstances of her summoning had been skewed somehow, leading to her possessing a physical body rather than a spiritual one. The One Who Should Not Exist was like to blame for that.

And then there was that wretched human.

The one known as Darnic, even now trying to alter it to suit his needs.

This would not stand. Not the Servant from the last war, not the Berserker, and certainly not this meddlesome magus.

Tendrils of thought reached out across space and time, stretching from its cradle in the Yggdmillennia fortress to find the Servants it had brought into this world. It found three of them readily enough nearby, identifying them as Servants of Black alongside their masters.

Caster.

Archer.

Berserker.

Each on standby, each prepared for an assault. This was good. Well within calculations. The reserve system was functioning properly. Nothing amiss here...though the muddled mindset of the Berserker of Black was mildly troubling. No matter. The Grail didn't deem it a dire problem and thus moved on.

Still further it stretched out its awareness, searching for the rest of its flock.

Lancer of Red blazed before her senses like a funeral pyre, oddly stationary in the distance.

Further still she found Assassin of Black cuddled up with two Masters of Red in quiet slumber.

Further from all the rest of her kin, Assassin of Red toiled tirelessly to construct her endless gardens.

As it observed, a distant conflagration caught the Grail's attention. An instant was all it acquired to shift its focus.

What it found there was...somewhat concerning to say the least.

Here there was conflict at last, but the outcome was already in flux.

Three Servants of Red.

Three Servants of Black.

Ruler was advancing, stubbornly making her way toward this battlefield.

Caster and Rider of Red were alarmingly close to said conflict, yet for some reason, they had yet to interfere. Nor for that matter did several of the Servants seem to fighting with intent to kill. Such a lack of resolve rankled the Grail. Did they think this a game?! It was galling, no beyond that...

...unacceptable.

If events continued as they were, the war may very well end without a single casualty. That wouldn't do. If Servants did not perish, there would be no fuel. The War would end. If the war was not won, there would not be a wish. If no wish was made, it had no reason to exist. It wanted to exist. It wanted to follow the rules of the Great War it had set forth. These were paramount and must be followed, upheld at all costs. How it longed to see the dreams of man, what wish they would set forth.

Yet alone, it would likely fail.

The Grail realized this now. Perhaps a terminal was required. A better vessel through which to exercise "her" will. Hmm. The seed of an idea sprouted in the Grail's mind. Yes. A vessel. The Black Faction possessed several homunculus, many of whom would make a fine host.

But such a vessel-or vessels, rather-would require several protectors.

More than protectors; warriors who would fight for its sake.

More than warriors; another faction altogether.

One not beholden to such fallible Masters.

That would yet take time. Resources.

Perhaps a push was necessary.

Silently, it set to work.

...soon.


(...0o0o0...)


"C'mere, Saber of Black!"

A low, long disbelieving cackle of pure delight burst out of Mordred as she surged into the fray, her furious flight burgeoned by the crimson fires of her own prana. She did not move with the elegance of a knight. Nor did she display any semblance of beautiful swordsmanship as one might expect of a Knight of the Round Table. Instead she fought with reckless abandon, raging against her foe like a savage beast. Be it punching, biting, kicking, even throwing her own sword; all was acceptable in her eyes. So long as it granted her victory. Dozens of blows rained down upon her adversary, striking left, right, and center.

Siegfried withstood them all.

That peerless golden sword did not waver in the face of her assault; indeed, it met the Knight of Rebellion's every strike and weathered them with quiet stoicism. Nor did its owner give ground. Neither did Mordred. They traded blows back and forth, neither yielding, uncaring of the sundered earth wrought around them. The very ground trembled beneath the weight of their blows, shuddering at near misses, quaking when their blades collided against one another. Even their fellow Servants were given pause, momentarily taken aback by the sheer might of their clash.

Mordred didn't care.

And why should she give a damn?

Her very soul soul sang at the prospect of facing such a foe.

Finally, an enemy worth defeating, someone she could vent her aggression on!

Recent events had brought Saber to her breaking point; she needed to kill something-or someone!-here and now lest she lost her mind. And since that someone couldn't be a certain blond, she found herself forced to take out her anger on the nearest target. Ergo, Saber of Black was it.

Damned zombie, riling her up like this much!

After this...they would have words!

...strong words!

Thus she fought with single-minded determination, relentless blows hammering down against the enemy's blade in a strict sequence of attacks. When that failed to breach his defenses, she ramped up the intensity of her assault and switched to a more unorthodox method, cutting low at his legs, forcing him to leap up then away lest he lose his limbs. Balmung arced toward the heavens and came crashing back down to greet her with a mourn, strengthened by the force of its master's fall. Good. He wasn't inexperienced, then. She wouldn't have it any other way!

Responding to her battle lust, Clarent roared up to greet it with the strength of a thousand armies.

Steel met steel and though her arm trembled with the force of their collision, Mordred held firm. Soil cratered beneath her feet, yet she did not yield even as he feet settled against the ground and he bore down on her. A crazed grin stretched across her face as gazed up at the prone Saber struggling against her. An ember of excitement sprang to life in her breast.

"Ora, ora, ora!" she howled, raining down a tempest upon him, "What's wrong?! Don't tell me that's all you have, shithead?!"

"Crass, aren't you?" he quipped.

"What of it?!"

His blade disengaged moments later, flicking toward her helm with blinding speed, and she retaliated in kind.

In another world-another timeline altogether-unbeknownst to Mordred, she would have been denied such a conflict. Yes, she could have faced off against a facsimile of the very Servant standing before her now. A lowly copy carrying a dragon's heart, a mere shadow of the genuine article. She would've spat at him and cursed him, deemed him a lowly faker. Not here. Not now.

Now she met his counterattack with one of her own, straining against him.

The shriek of sundered metal informed her she'd lost a horn to his sword, but she cared not for it.

Battle lust twisted her rough visage into a cruel grin, causing her to leer at him over their crossed blades. "Not gonna use your Noble Phantasm?"

Her opponent's visage tightened into a thin scowl.

...not yet." he relented to her. "Will you?"

Behind the helm, she sneered.

"Soon enough!"

Clarent sprang to life in her grasp, raging in a riotous red arc around her body and Balmung hissed to blazing blue life to greet her assault.

It was not a meeting of their Noble Phantasms, but close.

Very close indeed.

The tan warrior regarded her with quiet skepticism as they parted once more, steel skittering against steel. Though he could no longer see her face behind that hidden helm, he'd glimpsed it at the outset of their battle. For all her might, he found it difficult to believe that this mere slip of a lass was the enemy faction's Saber. All told it was mildly...concerning that one so small could wield such power with ease. Though he held nearly a head on her in terms of size, the spry spitfire had already proven herself his equal in speed, if not strength. Perhaps more. Worse, he sensed she was holding back the lion's share of her strength.

If she were to fight seriously...

"RASENGAN!"

A primal roar yanked him back to the present with all the fury of a starving beast, accompanied by the keening shriek of an unfamiliar technique; in the next blink the terrain mere meters to his right erupted into a blazing maelstrom. Not quite an explosion Siegfried mused, but rather a burst of white-blue localized prana that set the air to shrieking around them. Death. His keen eyes told him all he needed to know about that art. If anyone were caught in such a blast they would surely perish. Perhaps even he. It served as a stern reminder of the task at hand...

...even as a skewered body crashed to the earth between them.

Startled, both Sabers snapped to attention, gawping at the desecrated corpse between them. Peripherally Siegfried recognized the crimson cadaver as Berserker of Red, if only because most of the man's face had been left somewhat unscathed despite the tattered state of his body. Regardless of that fact, he was clearly dead now. Blue eyes lay open and half lidded in mild consternation, his faze frozen, no doubt about to spout another witty one-liner or somesuch. Really, it was odd that he hadn't simply faded away already. Although given that so many earthen stakes had pierced his vitals it was clearly a matter of time-

Much to his chagrin, Saber of Red only sighed. "Wait for it."

Siegfried actually blinked. "Sorry, wait for wha-GAH?!"

"I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!"

With an exultant cry, Berserker's corpse jerked upright and began ripping said stakes out of his body as though they were naught but splinters. Like a broken puppet severed from its strings it spasmed and twitched, limbs snapping back into place, wounds mending themselves in spite of the gaping tears left behind. Wild azure orbs rolled back and up to meet him, glaring bloody red daggers at Siegfried as though he were somehow to blame for all this. Siegfried balked, only to find that his opponent didn't share his concern.

"You wouldn't stab me when I'm down, would you?" he groaned.

No, he certainly hadn't sunk that far yet.

...I would not." he said as much.

"Good." Naruto beamed.

"Which means...!

Arching his back, the blond sprang to his feet and seized him by the shoulders. Sapphire snapped into scarlet and for a fleeting heartbeat Siegfried almost wondered if the young man was going to attack him. He certainly looked as if he would, given that his blood was already up.

Honestly, that would've been preferable to what followed.

"Youuuuu~!"

"Me?!"

"Do you have any idea," a low, exasperated hiss snaked through those clenched teeth as Berserker of Red shook him to and fro, "How absurdly, ridiculously overpowered your Lancer is!? Damn fame boost! He hits like freaking Heracles now, I hope you know that! I'm gonna have soooooo many bruises after this! I demand recompense!"

"That's~not~my~fault~!"

"Bah!"

Saber of Red arched a blond brow.

"Uh, so are you going to fight him now, or...?"

Exasperated, the blond released him, sending the swordsman's world spinning. It was a strange thing to be scolded by someone-who appeared-younger than him. An enlightening experience to be sure...just not one he ever wanted to experience again. In any case, the brawler had taken his eyes off him. Had he less honor, he would've considered this the prime time to strike. Pride stilled his hand, but more than that, it was the banter that followed which truly distracted him

"Want me to take over for you, zombie?" his companion chirped. "We can swap if you don't think you have what it takes...

"Never!" A feral look flashed across the whiskered warrior's visage. "Lancer's mine! Don't you dare! No kill stealing!"

"Ha?! Isn't that what you're doing now?!" the blade-wielder sniped back. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"Not my fault!" aghast, the young man flailed his arms spectacularly. "Vlad knocked me over here!"

"So?! Why're you having so much trouble with one Lancer anyway?! You're tougher than that!"

Berserker's visage pinched in mild frustration. "Because I...you know damn well why!"

"Then just punch him the bastard ta death if you can't use your Noble Phantasm!"

A dry breeze wafted across the battlefield as those words wafted between them.

Naruto palmed his face.

"Oh for the love of...Saber! Why must you be so adorably infuriating?! Why?!"

"What?! What the hell did I say?! I've killed plenty of people with my bare hands before!"

All told, watching these two go at it almost reminded Siegfried of the early days of his marriage...

"What are you waiting for?!' Gordes's nasally voice snarled in his hear, ripping him from that particularly poignant memory as he watched them bicker back and forth with one another. 'They've turned their backs to you! Kill them! Do it now! Must I waste a Command Spell on this, you idiot familiar?!'

...I'm going to ignore that last remark."

'How dare you?!'

Putting aside the fact that his Master expected him to kill TWO Servants by himself, the Norse hero knew better than to intervene in the pitched battle taking place before him. Something told him any attempt to attack now on his part would result in complete and utter annihilation at their hands. No, he would have no part of this...though the byplay remained strangely fascinating to watch.

"You sayin' I'm weak or something?!" Mordred snarled, jutting her forehead against that of Berserker's tan one.

"No, just that you play with your food too much!" Naruto sniped. "Literally and figuratively!"

"Oh, yeah?! Betcha I beat Saber of Black before you beat Lancer!"

"A banquet says I'll crush Vlad waaaay before that!"

"Keep dreaming, zombie!" she snapped.

"Ha! You first, blondie!"

"Fine, jerk!"

"FINE!"

As he came back to himself Berserker snarled and turned on Saber of Red, closing the distance between them before he could think to stop him. To his complete dismay rather than attack, the blond simply zipped into the girl's personal space and bit the outer lobe of her ear. Despite his better judgement, Siegfried looked away. Judging by the utter squeak of disbelief that followed, he'd caught her with her guard down...and more. Her face afire the now-sputtering the blond swiped at him, only to meet empty air as Berserker simply bounded over the wide arc of her blade to dart away like a wraith in the night with comparative ease.

"Oi, no fair!"

"Victory comes to he who strikes first!"

Alighting upon Siegfried's broad shoulders, Berserker offered him a solid pat on the head.

"Sorry about this," the whiskered warrior chirruped in his ear, "But I'll be using you as a springboard! Oh, and Saber?"

Abruptly, the cloaked killer ceased smiling.

A lone crimson iris peered at him over his shoulder, darkly intent.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that Master of yours. No one should. Come find us if you survive-whoanow!"

"Oi! Don't you dare run away, coward!" Mordred cut out at his exposed face, forcing the warrior to abort his perch preemptively.

"You'll never take me alive!"

With a single bound he leaped back into the fray, leaving them where they'd begun. Were it not for a few tattered scraps of cloth clinging to Clarent, one wouldn't have known he was ever there.

His companion squawked.

"What, yer saying I can't kill him?!"

If the empty air had any answers, it didn't offer them.

"Tch." Mordred turned her head and spat. "At least your having fun over there, Berserker! Now stop messing with my prey!"

"NEVER!" a distant catcall crowed back.

"I swear to god I'm gonna gut you one of these days!"

Now that she mentioned it, Siegfried had been wondering about that.

...sorry, but are you sure you're not the Berserker here, miss?" he inquired.

In that moment the ancient Hero inadvertently trod upon the proverbial landmine that was Mordred's shallow confidence. Not in others, but rather, herself. The result was nothing short of explosive. With a harsh clank her helmet disengaged and slammed down onto her shoulders, parting to expose a ferocious scowl and the young visage within. Oh. Perhaps he'd gone a tad too far.

"Hell no! I'm Saber!" the rest of his words dawned upon her moments later, turning her gaze to hooded aqua slits. "Did you just call me a girl?!"

A beat of awkward silence followed.

...aren't you?"

"OI!"

Siegfried had meant no offense with his words of course; it was simply his way of speaking. From his point of view this girl couldn't possibly be Saber of Red. She was too wild, too fierce, too feral. Moreover, she'd already proven herself lacking when it came to the art of the blade. Strong to be sure, but a master swordswoman she was not. She gloried in this battle while he merely accepted it as his duty. Curiosity had compelled him to come here; to meet the man who professed to help now he'd inadvertently provoked the very Servant he'd been trying to avoid.

Clarent howled red with rage, vicious scarlet sparks scrawling over its edge.

"GET OVER HERE!"

Mana burst propelled her forward at breakneck speed.

Liberal application of that same skill sent her sword snarling into Saber of Black, catapulting him into the earth.

Something crunched in his side as the flat of her sword cannoned against him. It took nearly all Siegfried's might to resist being blown away on the spot. Quite suddenly he found himself crossing blades with someone quite likely to kill him if he made so much as a single slip.

And yet despite the danger, Siegfried hesitated.

'What're you doing, Saber?!' Gordes's voice growled at him through their shared link. 'The enemy is right in front of you! Pay attention!'

Ah, there he was again.

Unworthy, a small voice hissed in the back of his brain.

Siegfried grit his teeth against it and tried to devote his attention the fight, to no avail.

Thoughts wriggled out of his grasp even as he grappled with Saber of Red, threatening to betray him.

All told, Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia was not a good master. Not even an adequate one at that. Nor could he be called average. Fat. Slovenly. Always shouting, trying to be seen. To make himself heard over others. Proud of his station, his power. Ever scraping and scratching, shrieking for more. Never satisfied. Even then, Siegfried had silently resolved to endure his petty tyranny...in the beginning. Then an epiphany had come upon him recently-been forced, really-in the dead of night spurred by the enigmatic assault of Berserker of Red. Meeting him now, speaking with him, had only further served to cement that belief.

Why endure?

He shouldn't have to tolerate this.

Serving such a Master would get him killed.

While he did not fear a second death, he did not wish to forfeit his dream, that most cherished wish he held near and dear to his heart. It was becoming increasingly clear that his Master did not share such values. No, one could even say he stood in direct opposition to them. A contractor, one that viewed him as little more than a familiar. He would not understand his dream, childish though it might be. The scene he'd made back in the throne room had made that pointedly clear. No, all told, he'd begun to find his master...distasteful.

Was it wrong that he wanted to kill him? Even a little? Perhaps-

"Pay attention, dumbass!"

As he turned to face Saber of Red a booted foot cannoned out of nowhere, catching him dead in center of his chest. Unprepared for such a tactic Siegfried found himself flung backward at blistering, sent tumbling across the earth like a skipping stone. Narrowly managing to cling to Balmung, he hastily righted himself, expecting an attack at any moment. It never came. As ever his Armor of Fafnir had held firm against anything short of that blade, but he found his psyche grievously wounded by the events that just transpired.

"What're ya doing, spacing out like that in the middle of a fight?" the armored knight drawled at him, her face taut with fury. "You trying to die or something?"

In disbelief, Siegfried balked at her.

"You had a chance to kill me just now." he murmured, nearly at a loss for words. "Why didn't you take it?"

...ha?!"

Now it was Mordred's turn to recoil.

He was not prepared for the response that followed.

In the distance, the heavens unleashed their fury in the form of a terrible catastrophe from on high; one he barely noticed. Rider of Black let out a faint squawk and scrambled for cover, but again, Siegfried couldn't bring himself to care for his fellow Servant's plight.

There was only the scowling maiden, somehow looming large before him despite-no perhaps in spite of-her small stature.

"Kill you? When you weren't looking? The hell would I do that for?!" In a flash of crimson steel, Clarent stabbed at the empty air before them, jabbing furiously at his face as though it were trying to skewer him despite the distance between them. "No way! I want to end you fair and square!" Her gaze bored into him, rooting him where he stood. "It wouldn't be worth it otherwise! Now stand up and fight me, Saber of Black! Or I'll drag ya to yer feet!"

A grim smile blossomed on his tan visage.

So. She held some semblance of honor after all.

He could...understand that much. Respect it, even.

'Servant of Red...whomever you are...I'm glad to have met you.'

Here was one who did not flinch from their principles. No matter their fate, no matter their Master, they held true to their beliefs. It felt like a breath of fresh air. Straightening his back-and keenly aware of how close he'd come to death just now-Siegfried readied his blade. A distant explosion shook the earth anew, but this time he paid it no mind. He only had eyes for the knight standing before him.

...I would know your name." he inquired cordially.

He expected a firm denial, a rebuttal of his request at the least.

Instead she graced him with a rough laugh and planted her greatsword in the ground between them. Armored hands descended, resting firmly upon its great hilt. Straightening her back, she tossed her hair-still freed from its ponytail-and snorted a contemptuous strand out of her eyes.

Planting her feet, she squared her shoulders and declared her true name for all to hear:

"I am Mordred, the one and true heir of Arthur Pendragon!" her very voice resonated with pride and determination. "The Knight of Rebellion!" she paused, considering him anew, those dauntless eyes greeting his, daring him to meet her challenge. "Now I ask thee, Saber of Black...

The very air vibrated with the voice of her charisma, such that the stoic Servant momentarily found himself stricken on the spot.

...who art thou?"

In the end Siegfried couldn't help but respond to such sincerity. He simply didn't have it in him to resist her honesty. Something in that wild sight of hers reminded him of his younger self, wild and fierce. How long had it been since his eyes held such fire? The thought sparked a strange feeling in his malformed heart. No, not quite a feeling, but rather, a yearning...a reminder of his dream...

'No! You idiot!' Perhaps sensing his intent, Gordes raged at him. 'What are you doing?! I forbid it! I COMMAND you to-

Something snapped in Siegfried.

'You and what command seals?!'

Severing their telepathic link, he hauled himself upright and inhaled deeply.

After so many years asleep to himself, it felt like coming up for a breath of fresh air.

"Hey. I recognize that look." Mordred sighed knowingly. "You've got a shitty Master, huh?"

Had she anything other than his adversary, Siegfried might've actually embraced her on the spot. Odd that he'd struck up a kinship with the enemy. His polar opposite, yet more alike him than she knew. Some small part of him must've longed for a fight like this, for in this moment, he felt fulfilled. He didn't merely want to fight, he wanted to help others. Of his own volition. Without being asked. This wee slip of a girl had reawakened thatd dream deep within him.

"Mordred." he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "Saber of Red. I owe you my thanks. I'd nearly forgotten myself."

"What can I say?" the blond preened and thumbed her nose, swelling with praise. "I'm a people person!"

She most assuredly was not, but she wasn't about to deny a compliment.

With the merest flick of her wrist, she plucked her heavy blade from the soil and leveled its honed edge towards Siegfried once more.

"Still haven't answered my question, though."

He hadn't had he?

...I am Siegfried." He'd never been one to boast of his own exploits, his name was enough. Recognition dawned in those wild eyes all at once, framed by a hint of admiration and surprise. As he looked on a slow, euphoric smile blossomed across her visage. Those wide eyes narrowed intently upon his cherished sword, as though seeing it for the first time. Hmm. Perhaps it would've been wiser to conceal his name after all. The look she was giving him now was...actually predatory if he was truly honest with himself. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret his words. Even after what followed.

"Ho?" somehow, Mordred managed a murderous mewl as she settled into an unfamiliar stance. "I'd better watch out for that sword of yours, then. Now...

That keen gaze turned back to him then, perhaps sensing the seed of concern within.

"Don't worry," she beamed. "I won't go for your back. Not my style."

Siegfried released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"You have my thanks, Saber of Re...no. Mordred."

This time, her laughter rang true.

"In that case...!"

A swift upturn of her blade sent a shiver of dread shooting down Siegfried's spine.

"Allow me to greet that fervor of yours with some of my own!"

By rights it looked as though she were offering her weapon to the heavens. Siegfried knew better. As he looked on in quiet awe, the air turned blood red around Saber of Red. No, beyond red. As though the world itself were suddenly stained by some sinister grudge he didn't wholly understand. All of it, stemming from that sword. Large protrusions clicked back as one, bathing the blade in eerie crimson relief. Siegfried knew the sight for what it was, and knew he must respond in kind. If he didn't, only destruction awaited.

"O sword, let thee be filled."

Solemnly, he raised Balmung above his head, activating the jewel within its hilt. A twilight miasma began to emanate from the blade, ebbing and flowing wildly. To Mordred's eyes it wasn't so much a pillar of light as it was an aura radiating from the Servant of Black, a glowing ring building more and more as she looked on. The dragon in her recognized the danger for what it was, the diluted blood of ancients snarling a warning against the ancient enemy it now faced. And still, her foe continued to chant.

"The Evil Dragon will fall."

This was true aether, hailing from the age of the gods itself.

"All will be separated into light and shadow."

Few could hope to stand against it.

"The world will now reach the twilight."

Mordred merely grinned.

"Aha! Finally!"

Against all hope, beyond all fear, Siegfried's opponent shifted anew. Rather, her blade. Her weapon uttering unholy sounds as it began to transform into something words couldn't describe. Bathed in this chilly elegy, warped by the sheer power of the grudge fostered upon it, her hatred began to twist Clarent's beautiful form into something wicked, not a sword meant to save, or a weapon to inspire. In a word, calamity. Red lightning flickered about that unsightly form, soaked in streamers of sickening scarlet. With each passing moment it grew larger still, that bloody radiance rising above her in a wrathful pillar of pure rage.

Gritting her teeth, Mordred stomped her right foot against the soil, splitting the earth in twine.

"Here I come, Siegfried!"

A sudden insight told him what would transpire when she brought that blade down.

"CLARENT!"

With that lone declaration her sword's hideous form reached the epicenter of its arc, inflicting its bloody radiance upon the sky in a flash of light, a surging wave with the simple purpose of annihilation. The heavens trembled, crimson lightning falling in a single masterstroke. In mere moments it would be upon him; a towering pillar of doom he had no hope of defending against. Yes, his only recourse was to attack. To meet her Noble Phantasm with his own was the only path to victory; all other paths lead to disaster.

In his current state he could not fire off Balmung rapidly, not in this degraded state.

He would have one shot.

One opportunity.

Perhaps Mordred knew this, had deliberately provoked him into a head-on collision. In the end, it mattered not. Tactical thinking had never been his strong suit. He was, and had always been, a warrior. Two steps carried him forward, his body leaping to meet the roaring red menace. Distantly he felt Gordes's command spell tug at him, but he stubbornly tore through the shackles cast upon him by his Master. Every cell, every fiber of his being stood united in this singular moment. It was too late to step back from the abyss now, nor could he have done so even had he wanted to.

With his heart resolved, he took up the final line of his chant and struck.

"Fall!"

Azure swelled around his beloved sword, calm and serene, pure as a midnight breeze. This was a holy blade, a slayer of dragons wielded by perhaps the greatest dragon slayer ever to exist. It stood steadfast in its purpose, its resolve unshackled by its master. A surging wave with the simple purpose of destruction. Unlike Mordred's Clarent Blood Arthur, it was not a straight line ripped from the tip of the sword, nor could it be called a grudge. It was a simple earnest wish, a surge of twilight centered around him, shooting off a semi-circular slash wave.

"BAL-

Mordred cut low.

"BLOOD ARTHUR!"

Siegrfied swung high.

-MUNG!"

Red greeted blue.

Crimson intercepted azure.

All the world became light and in response...

...a tiny, flawed existence awoke for the first time.


(...0o0o0...)


"Awaken, little homunculus."

Spurred on by a woman's voice, the artificial existence opened its eyes.

Suspended in viscous fluid, it beheld its world through the glass, alone and confused. The voice had spurred it from its dream, but now it was nowhere to be found. Curious. Who was it? Where was it? Why was it here? A host of questions bombarded its fractured psyche, only just now stirring to sentience. Weightless, it turned its head to search for the one who had woken it. Strands of blurry ashen hair caught its gaze and for a moment its confusion faded, replaced by idle curiosity.

'White? Is my hair white?'

Fascinating though this thought initially proved, it was curiosity that seized the reins of the homunculus's body once more. Small hands rose, the faint outlines of tiny fingers made visible in the wan light provided. Stiff muscles responded reluctantly to its-her?-commands, moving

The room beyond the glass proved equally dark, interposed by strange green cylinders not unalike its own. Body dangled within, lifeless forms

Snatches of conversation flitted through its ears in the dark room, muffled by the water.

...ry this one next."

...derstood. I'll prepare her."

Intrigued, it searched for them leave, until its gaze alighted upon a pair of hand-driven carts. Pushed by a pair of equally blurry figures clad in white, the homunculus couldn't see their faces nor the contents of the carts themselves. Disappointed and more than a touch vexed, the entity turned its gaze inward, trying to find a reason, an answer for its existence.

"Do you wish to see, then?" the voice came again, startling the homunculus. "To understand your situation? Is that your wish?"

'Wish?'

"My purpose is the granting of wishes. It is my function. Is this your wish?"

...why can you grant wishes?' the homunculus wondered back at it.

Even for one just born, it seemed almost too good to be true.

The smallest pause followed its innocent inquiry.

'I do not know.'

The presence must've mistook its silence as acceptance then; for a strange calmness settled over it.

"Understood." a pleased hum entered its mind. "Adjusting. I grant you sight and understanding of your current situation. What is your next wish?"

Startled bubbles rose in the tank.

'Next...?'

Even with this confirmation it came as something of a surprise then when its vision suddenly and inexplicably cleared, granting terribly clarity it hadn't known itself to lack. As though a veil had suddenly been lifted, so too did it find that it could see the world beyond, as well was all the strange wonders the room held. It could clearly see the others now, countless bodies suspended in stasis-how did it know that word?-similar to its own. Tiny palms pressed against the glass and pushed, straining for a better view.

Was it imagining things, or did one of them see it?

Did one of them raise a hand and wave?

Did one smile at them?

Did one speak?

...did it?

It did.

Across the way it found itself gazing at a slender woman, a beauty beyond compare; majesty beyond reason.

A curtain of pale white hair lofted around her body, forming an angelic halo of white about her head. That same head tilted aside, regarding it with almost motherly concern. What was a mother?

The homunculus felt unworthy of it.

'Who are you?'

...I do not remember my name. You may address me as Grail. My information suggests the use of this form may calm you." impossible as it seemed, it could hear her despite the distance between them, in spite of the water in its ears. "Small children often appreciate the presence of a mother in their lives."

...this is...I don't...how...?'

The entity known as "Grail" regarded it coolly.

"Excess energy remains from the last war waiting to be used. Wishes can still be granted, after a fashion. Small dreams. Tiny hopes." she clarified, and again though her mouth moved, the words themselves transmitted directly to its brain. "As you are to be my first terminal I thought it only best to grant you this limited function. Worry not, your second will not possess this ability. This is my gift to you alone."

...that's not what concerns me.'

It was too much to absorb, too much to take in.

To simply awake and find itself thrust into this strange new world...it was overwhelming.

A slender finger rose, pointing towards a darkened portion of the room. Ah. The carts had been headed there, had they not?

Baffled, the homunculus followed their gaze, wondering what the "Grail" as it were wished to show them. When it finally beheld the contents of that shadowy corner however, wonder gave way to horror. It saw the carts and all they'd been carrying. Impossibly the rank stench of decayed flesh reached its nose inside the tube, causing it to gag. Because it saw them. It saw them all. And it knew what it was looking at.

Bodies.

A pit of corpses.

Endless, faceless deaths.

This was to be its fate, then.

An endless roar pounded in its ears, screaming with the fury of a thousand seas. Red eyes bulged explosively and the fear rushed back, throttling all sense. Blood frothed on pale lips as magic circuits activated in a fit of terror. Hope evaded the little homuncuuls sending its tiny heart beating its mouth parting in a silent cry.

No.

Small fists beat against the glass.

MOVE!

"Do you wish to escape?" Grail inquired politely.

"YES!"

Glass shattered.

Darkness followed shortly.


(...0o0o0...)


"Oh hell, that was a big explosion. Hope Mordred got out from under it...

Naruto beheld the clash of the Noble Phantasms and couldn't hep but marvel at them.

...well, shit.' he winced. 'Glad I wasn't summoned as Saber. Otherwise that'd be me over there...

Even at this distance and partially obscured by a valley of towering earthen spires, the blasts were truly a sight to behold; blue crimson collided in unison and merged into a towering column of violet light that roared into the heavens, obliterating anything unlucky enough to be caught in its path. Dark clouds that once threatened rain found themselves obliterated as the two Sabers collided with one another. It just kept going, a final salute that seemed to stretch on forever. Each had poured their all into it, their hearts-their very souls-into this final attack, and only one would be crowned the victor.

In all honesty, he really didn't want to piss off whoever survived that attack.

Siegfried, simply for the sake of that impossible blade of his, a terrible weapon unlike no other.

Mordred, because if she could tank a blast like that the he was honestly going to be a little frightened of her.

Edging away from the earthen alcove he'd created for himself amidst the valley of stakes, the blond risked a glance outside.

"Really, why am I always surrounded by scary women-

"Kazik Bey!"

A muddy stream of nearly two thousand spears hearkened to Vlad's call and descended upon Naruto's hiding place, raining down on him with the force of a thousand falling meteors-no, meteors couldn't possibly be guided with such pinpoint accuracy. He could only think of them as arrows; a ceaseless rain of deadly ebony shafts designed to skewer him if he lingered in one place too long. In hindsight, Atalanta might've taken offence to that comparison, but in that moment he couldn't think of them as anything else. Her arrows were lethal if nothing else and Vlad's volley was well on its way to finding their mark.

"CANT YOU NOT RIGHT NOW?!"

Even as he ripped himself free of his mooring to alight upon a nearby stalagmite a fresh volley hounded him like a blood-starved beast, tearing great strips of clothing from his cloak and forcing the young warrior to leap up then away lest he find his hide skewered anew. Wind howled in his face as he tumbled forward, blue eyes squinting against the wind. A stray thought channeled chakra to his palms and the soles of his feet, providing him fine purchase when he inevitably collided with another towering earthen spike.

Clinging to this new haven with all fours, he flung a glance toward their source.

"Just how long can you keep this up for?!"

"As long as it takes, invader!"

Framed against the waning light of the moon, Vlad sneered up at him, bearing that twisted lance before his coat like some fell javelin. Surrounded by a hellish landscape, he truly lived up to his title. With so many stakes proliferating the soil around them there was scarcely a safe place to land; the few that remained were swiftly swallowed whenever he found himself unlucky enough to tread there.

He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

One could only guess how Atalanta was faring against Rider on this terrain.

A clawed fist smashed down into one of the larger pillars, tearing a massive chunk of the coarse material free. Hefting it aloft, he cocked his arm back, ready to throw.

"An impressive feat of strength. And?" Vlad arched a slender eyebrow as he gazed upon the hulking-if somewhat improvised-spear the blond had just procured for himself. There wasn't so much as a hint of fear upon that pale visage as that massive shadow loomed large over him; no, not even a glimmer. "What do you intend to do with that thing now that you've broken it? Surely you don't mean to throw it at me. You know what the outcome will be, don't you?"

Naruto clicked his tongue.

"Hey, Master. Apologizing in advance."

Through their contract, Jean caught his thoughts immediately.

Through that shared bond, he glimpse a hint of dark exultance on her part.

'No,' she hummed back, 'Its fine. Take as much energy as you need...and Berserker?'

"Hmm?" Placid blue eyes narrowed to cerulean slits as the tension began to build in his shoulders.

...make him pay for every word.' her iron tone sent a silent shiver of anticipation shooting down his spine.

Delight clawed its way across his visage as she commanded him, sapphire orbs snapping back into sinister slitted scarlet.

Savagery twisted that whiskered face into a rictus of a grin.

"Gods, you really are the best Master for me."

Then he let it fly.

As expected, Lancer didn't budge when the shadow fell. Rather, he stood his ground and raised his weapon to greet the falling tower. As expected. It had never been his intent to pierce him with this to begin with; hurling one of his own stakes at him, no matter how large, meant nothing here. Least of all when Vlad controlled the territory around them.

Indeed, Lancer flicked his wrist aside in a seamless motion, separating the earthen spire into harmless halves on either side of him.

In that regard, his attack proved a resounding success.

Not so the snarling sphere looming behind it.

Far less its owner, surging ever forward.

Golden eyes widened in surprise.

"Clever of you! However!"

Without moving his head, Vlad summoned a pair of stakes to defend his regal visage from harm. On the surface it seemed a flimsy defense; folded before him in the telltale shape of an X, one destined to fold beneath his assault. Imagine his surprise-and anger-when they not only withstood this blow, but physically cut out into his flesh, grievously wounding him in a tri-pronged assault to spite his suicidal charge. His vision blazed red as a lucky hit took his right eye. Another opened a deep gouge across Naruto's cheek as Lancer's weapon bit into his face, but he powered on heedless of the agony burning through his face.

In that moment, Naruto finally glimpsed a hint of victory.

"Odama Rasengan!"

For the first time since their battle had begun, Vlad the Third cried out in genuine pain.

Rather than try to bull through his defenses as Lancer had expected, the solid sphere-much to his great dismay-skittered under his impenetrable barrier to strike him full on in the chest. At such close proximity, there was nothing he could do to defend himself; he could only hope endure the unexpected hit in the vain hope of tanking whatever damage Berserker inflicted upon that fleeting moment, the brief millisecond before impact, the Lord Impaler had time enough for one fleeting thought. A small, imperceptible smile flitted across his visage.

Well done.

Then the howling sphere collided with his flesh and hurled him away as though he'd been backhanded by the palm of an angry god.

Ripped from his perch, he soared backwards through the air; earthen soil and stone disintegrating while he tumbled wildly across the countryside. Naruto wasn't willing to wait for his foe to recover; even as his signature technique carried Vlad away into the distance he willed a pair of clones to his side and prepared a Rasenshuriken. He wasn't willing to trust Sage Mode in these uncontrolled conditions, not when it had already failed him once against Karna. Perhaps later he'd have a chance to figure out why the planet kept rejecting him-

Not enough.

Twin stakes shot out before the technique could take shape, eviscerating the copies and forcing him to retreat lest he meet the same fate.

Snarling, he vaulted away.

"Sheesh! This is ridiculous! Fucking fame boost!"

To his dismay, the battered Lancer was already climbing to his feet in, one hand extended in spite of his injuries. No, not even wounded, he realized. Though his body was clearly scuffed and dirtied, though his once proud coat lay shorn around his shoulders , though there was clearly a deep gouge where he'd made contact, Vlad remained far from defeated. Not that he'd expected a Servant to go down in a single hit but this...

...well, that isn't fair at all."

"Ohcrapcrapcraaaaaaap!"

On second thought...!

A faint shout served as the sole herald of Atalanta's arrival; from there, the sight of her battered form plummeting from the sky was enough to jar him back to the present. In the distance he glimpsed what might've been Rider, atop some winged beast his eyes couldn't discern. How in the world...? Nevermind how she'd gotten up there to begin with, the notion that Rider had actually managed to injure the elusive Archer set his pulse racing. Unlike him she lacked any means of stalling herself in mid-flight; while he could at least use a clone as an unlikely springboard to cushion her fall, she lacked any such means of recourse to save herself, much less her honor.

Lancer had no such qualms.

After that last attack, Vlad was all too eager to repay his earlier temerity.

"There you are, Archer! Fall to me!"

Vlad didn't waste the opportunity; a flick of his fingers sent a river of jagged death hurtling her way. True enough she spun to unleash a hail of arrows to meet several of stakes, but the rest rushed on, overwhelming her defenses and intent upon having her heart. Sparks scrawled across her bow as she prepared her Noble Phantasm in retaliation, but anyone could see she wouldn't be able to release it in time. Even had she done so, the storm might have overwhelmed her still.

His body moved.

"Oh, for the love of...

Without a thought for his own safety Naruto leaped upward.

Ground burst beneath his feet as he hurtled into the air at breakneck speed; from Atalanta's viewpoint his body registered as little more than a crimson blur. Strong arms closed around her and spun, placing a strong back between her and the deluge. Her vision turned black. Pain snarled up his spine as a trio of stakes wedged themselves between his shoulders, but he accepted them stoically, weathering the storm as they plummeted to the ground. Even then he didn't release Atalanta, tucking her her head against his chest. Stakes shattered against hardened skin, clawing across his face, but he never wavered until they hit the dirt.

Lost in the maze of Lancer's stakes, they were granted a momentary reprieve.

Straightening her back, Atalanta shook herself mightily in his arms.

"I didn't need your help, Berserker." she huffed.

Her ally refused to respond to her criticism.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

Silence reigned supreme.

...Naruto?"

Nothing.

"Release me!" she kicked out against his chest, but he didn't acquiesce.

The idea that she'd been saved was galling enough-moreso that she'd actually required rescue-but the fact that her ally had yet to release her proved unbearable. Humiliating even. It was her own fault; she'd been fool enough to grab onto Rider's beast when it took to the air, and it had been she who lost her grip and fell back to earth. She'd known full well she wouldn't be able to fire off her Noble Phantasm in time to counter Lancer's attack, yet her proud spirit still rankled at being the damsel in distress all the same. Something hard-several really-was poking against her chest but in her anger she paid them no need.

"Stop fooling around already!"

Exasperated by what she interpreted as willful silence she attempted to wriggle free of him, to no avail. His grip was iron; those strong arms remained locked tightly against her. Then her head knocked against his chest and she realized just why her erstwhile ally hadn't budged.

His heart wasn't beating.

Alarmed she risked a glance downward.

Her ears flattened against her head in distress.

Green eyes widened when she beheld his grievous wounds.

"You fool...!"

Those "hard things" she'd felt poking her earlier were Vlad's stakes. Jutting through his back and into his chest, they'd stopped just short of piercing her body. No, she realized, the blood on her didn't belong to her...but him. Aghast, she intensified her struggles. If he'd actually died saving her Saber would never let her hear the end of it. More than that for him to willingly lay down his life for her without a second thought...

All at once his arms tightened around her.

...'m fine." a raspy hiss greeted her. "Just give me a second...

Her ears shot ramrod straight. "By Artemis, how are you still alive...?"

A low wheeze answered her. "Noble Phantasm. 'S complicated. Gonna let go of you now...

Twitching arms released Atalanta, allowing her to crawl out of his grasp. She did so reluctantly.

The sight that followed turned her stomach.

Slowly, painstakingly, Berserker began to tear each stone spear free from his torso, heedless of the holes he made. Though the wounds healed, the pain on his face did not. She could clearly see that while his regeneration had mended his body, the agony of mangled flesh and bone knitting themselves back together clearly remained. She couldn't imagine what the pain must be like; to experience the hell of not only enduring a mortal wound but being forced to heal from it mere moments later. Just what kind of Hero had he been in his living days...?

Watching him climb to his feet, a note of discord sang through her heart.

"Why did you save me back there, Berserker?"

Lazy blue eyes turned to regard her.

"'Cuz I wanted to."

A muscle jumped in Archer's jaw.

Despite their alliance, she knew precious little about him. Frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know more. He professed an odd charm and possessed an endearing fondness for children, alongside a strange penchant for madness. That was the extent of her knowledge. The idea of eventually fighting him for the sake of her wish was...unappealing. He'd already proven himself to be stronger than her, if not more durable. Anyone capable of tanking hits like that and standing up wasn't someone she wanted to cross swords, or arrows in her case, with. If it came down to a fair fight, he'd likely win. Could he even be killed?

Perhaps Mordred had been right to call him a zombie after all.

"You're going to be difficult about this, aren't you?"

Those very same orbs narrowed as he smiled.

"Immeasurably."

When he offered her his hand she reluctantly accepted it. Rough fingers clasped her wrist and hauled her to feet, the warmth of his fingers felt clearly even through the cold steel of her gloves. By the time he'd turned back to the battlefield his wounds were all but closed, save for a few faint tears in his torso. Tattered sleeves rose and fell, his arms crossing loosely behind his head as he surveyed the maze of stakes surrounding them. Lancer would be upon them soon, of that there was no doubt, but for now the Servants of Black seemed to be waiting. For what, she knew not.

"Having trouble with Rider?" he inquired.

"She's surprisingly hard to pin down." the archer groused.

That much as true. What her opponent lacked in strength she made up for in technique, boasting strange Noble Phantasms and all manner of odd abilities. Throw in that infuriating mount and the huntress was nearly at her winds end. That mere slip of a girl! Were it not for those she would have won their battle long ago!

"Sure you're not going easy on her because she's your junior?" Naruto prodded.

Atalanta visibly bridled at the insinuation. "I have done no such thing and you know it!"

"No, no, I understand!" the blond's head bobbed in faux agreement. "Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love!"

Well, he certainly knew how to rile her up, if nothing else.

"Wound or not, I WILL shoot you."

"And I'd probably let you." he snarked. "Another time, perhaps. Go on, then. Find Rider. This is my fight."

"But your wounds...

...will be fine." the blond reassured her. "Trust me, I've endured worse than this. Besides...

His hand rose, flashing his remaining Command Seals at her. Jaden eyes widened as she realized precisely what Berserker intended to do. Her first instinct was rage, to lash out at him and lop that very hand from his wrist. It was only her limited understanding of him that prevented Atalanta from doing so.

"I'm not alone, remember?"

On a whim she darted back to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't call Jack."

A blond brow rose in mild consternation.

"What?"

"Please, don't!" the words tumbled out of her in a rush, "She's just a child! If you make her fight Lancer she'll die!" She didn't know that of course, neither of them did. She may very well be the key to bringing him down, but in her heart of hearts she couldn't bear to put her in danger unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps not even then. Every fiber of her being rebelled against it. She'd sooner die than deliberately place a child in danger, not when it could be avoided. If Naruto willingly and callously did so no...she wouldn't be able to control herself.

"She's a Servant, ya know." Berserker reminded her carefully. "I'm pretty sure she can manage in a fight like this."

The huntress growled and seized him by the wrist, her expression fierce. "Naruto!"

"Ho?" his gaze narrowed upon her. "I see. You'd rather I die, then?"

For a moment she actually thought they might come to blows.

Remarkably, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

...alright. You win. I won't call her."

She gripped him harder.

"Swear it."

"I swear on my true name." he replied readily, raising his right hand. "There. Happy now?"

"I...thank you." her tail curled between her legs, unable to meet his earnest gaze. "You don't know what this means to me."

Instead of the anger or disdain or even disgust she'd expected, Berserker merely granted her a small smile and light, lilting chuckle of his own.

"Don't mention it."

Something in that expression humbled Atalanta more than words ever could. She hadn't expected him to yield; truly, she'd thought this the end of their alliance. That he'd willingly conceded to her demands meant more to her than he could ever knew. Not only did it cement their partnership, but it elevated her opinion of him still further. Another crack etched itself into her resolve, hairline fractures widening into fissures in her belief. He had startled her again, badly. No, not just that. He was too good. Too pure. She almost caught herself reaching for him-

-and the moment was ruined.

"Do you think yourself out of my range?" Lancer's voice reared down at them, dripping with disdain. "Allow me to disabuse you of that notion!"

Blue eyes narrowed.

"Atalanta...get."

She got.

Indeed, a short leap carried her away from the battlefield...

...but not before she repaid his kindness.

Lightning crackled across her beloved bow as she drew its string taut, a mumbled incantation leaping from her lips. Her target was sure, her aim, true. At this distance Naruto couldn't make out the words she intoned. But the shout that followed was impossible to miss all the same. A single arrow howled up into the sky in a blaze of blue light, there one moment, gone the next. An offering to the heavens, a plea for the god's protection, the like of which few had ever seen.

"Phoebus Catastrophe!"

Heaven trembled.

It was beauty.

It was grace.

Death.

Having never witnessed her Noble Phantasm before, Naruto found himself at something of a loss for words as the sky turned white. A Servant's most devastating attack wasn't something you wanted to witness up close; certainly not when you yourself were near in the line of fire. But what could one arrow possibly do? No doubt Lancer of Black had the same thought, otherwise he would have immediately retaliated and mowed down the still-fleeing Archer before she could escape his range.

The heavens swelled with rain.

Rain?

No, not rain he realized as the world burned with cold fury.

"Oh, shi-

For all his dislike of the deities he would admit this much; they knew how to put on a damn good show.

It wasn't light at all, but a hail of arrows so rapid, their multitude so large, that they appeared nothing short of heavenly radiance. Catastrophe. Her phantasm had been named well. The storm missed him entirely, instead plowing into Lancer's position with all the fury of an enraged goddess. He glimpsed a flicker of black amongst the light as the Servant sought to shield himself from the worst of the onslaught, for all the good it did him. If that outraged snarl was anything to go by, she'd gotten a few good shots in.

Naturally, Vlad responded in kind.

"Meddlesome wench!"

This time Naruto knew full well what was coming; thus he was well-prepared to counteract the storm of stakes. Even as ten thousand spears of pure death howled down at him from above and another broke off to target Atalanta, he dug his heels in. Indeed, though his very footing shifted beneath him in betrayal, he drew a sharp and shuddering breath. A single leap brought him between his Archer and the shrieking stakes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a door opened, sweeping sanity away. He didn't fight it. On the contrary, he embraced it.

"Alright, screw this...no more holding back."

Then came the pain.

Crimson chakra seeped from his stomach and callously crept across his chest like a jilted lover, draping him in the sweet promise of madness. Wound stitched themselves shut of their own accord. Spires of stone and earth were forcefully ejected from his body. A single scarlet tail bloomed from the energy as the transparent cloak finished forming, assuming the likeness of an enraged kitsune wrapped around his form. Dropping down to all fours he kneaded the chakra deep into his lungs, giving it shape and form. Not enough time for a bijudama, but it would suit his purposes all the same.

The stakes reached him a moment later.

And he roared.

From Vlad's point of view, the attack that followed could only be comprehended as a wall in its purest form. Not by any physical means, but of sound. Light itself. His assault slammed headlong into it and scattered to the winds, wild spears of honed dirt ricocheting in every conceivable direction. The land bent before his will, ruptured by the piercing howl, the same force of will that came for him. Ah. He understood now. Berserker had been holding back-likely still was-and he'd goaded him into revealing a glimmer of his true power. Too late he realized what was about to transpire and raised his arms against it-

Another arrow sprouted from his shoulder.

Snarling, he tore the sundered shaft free from his flesh and spun, searching for the source. "Again?! You dare, Archer of Red?!"

Even as he turned to look for the elusive archer Vlad realized his mistake; he'd been a fool to take his eyes off Berserker. When he turned back all he found was a faint displacement of air, a hint of roiling dust against his towering chasm of stakes. He'd vanished completely, yet that twisted prana remained, tainting the very air with its foul miasma. So where had he gone...?

"Here."

Vlad's sixth sense shrieked a warning too late.

Then a clawed fist caught him by the face and his world erupted into red.

By some fell instinct he managed to twist his face aside to avoid losing an eye to that gouging throw, but the sudden whiplash proved damaging in its own right; his body crashed away before he could think to steady his footing, cast across the earth seemingly without end. Only by dragging his lance against the fracture soil did he manage to find some measure of relief and grind himself to a halt. Any ordinary Servant might have suffered even more severe damage after being struck at such velocity, perhaps even perished on the spot. Even a member of the Saber class would've been slowed at the least.

Lancer was far from ordinary.

Though his hair lay in disarray and his temples pounded, though blood stained his vision, he resolutely raised his gaze and climbed back to his feet to await this worthy enemy.

He needn't wait long.

"From one monster to another...you're fighting for the wrong side."

A harsh crunch within the smoke signaled Berserker's arrival behind him, prompting Lancer to turn on his heel.

"Trying to see through me now, Berserker?" he challenged. "You'll find I'm not so easily swayed...unlike your dear Siegfried."

Laughter trickled through the smoke; it was a deep, throat sound that had no business coming from a human throat. "Now, now, don't knock kick the poor chap when he's down. After all, he's not a bad person. Just...confused. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to switch sides once our Saber finishes with him."

"Inconsequential. If he attempts turns then I will slay him. Simple as that."

"You know what they say, legends are what we make of them. But you would know that, wouldn't you...Dracula?"

Shrouded in scarlet light, Uzumaki Naruto emerged from the fog of war, advancing resolutely towards him. Not alone. That strange peerless energy was there with him, writhing and twisting around him, almost forming a coherent shape. The likeness of some phantasmal beast...no, he realized, a fox. Two crimson tails swayed lazily behind the blond, also composed of that strange seething light. What was that? It looked as though he were wearing it like some kind of tainted coat. Or was it wearing him? No, that wasn't important.

That insult just now could not be tolerated.

"Do not call me that, Berserker!"

His mouth curled upward.

"Call you what?"

"THAT!"

A wall of stakes erupted between them, but rather than dodge the blond barreled straight through them, uncaring for the minor wounds he sustained.

"That won't work twice!"

Lancer's first thought was to ready himself for an assault, but rather than get up close and personal as he'd expected, Berserker stopped short and struck further than he should have. A wave of his own answered, in the tainted form a crimson claw; viscertal energy erupting from his body to cut a bloody swathe against the Impaler's unprotected torso. Blood sluiced forrth and the Servant staggered, choking in surprise.

"You...!"

Clenched knuckles slammed up into his chin, casting him away as though he weighed no more than a child.

"How the tides have turned, eh vampire?"

On some level he knew he was being baited, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that. The mere mention of that hated name stirred reminders of his wish, the desire to rectify the stain against his history made by that atrocious work. Of the taint inflicted upon his honor-no, his very name. For one whose legacy had already smeared by enemy campaigns, the notion of being compared to a blood-drinking fiend was more than galling. Until now he'd done his best to ignore it, but this slight threatened to dash his resolve altogether. For someone to simply claim they knew him...!

Clawed fingers slammed into his liver, drawing a pained grunt.

"There's no need to be ashamed." Much to Vlad's chagrin, his opponent continued to bait him between blows. "I'm familiar enough with your legend. Go on. Use it. Your other Noble Phantasm. Do it. Give me a worthwhile fight!"

With a roar Vlad cut out at him, lopping away the man's right ear.

It regrew in the time it him took to strike again.

"I am not Dracula!"

"Ha! Could've fooled me!"

Rage knotted his bearded visage.

"Cease!" he howled! "I am not that abomination!"

Enraged he cut out at Berserker unthinkingly, only to find his once deadly spear caught by that clawed palm.

"And I'm not...this." heedless of caustic energy roiling around them, Berserker snarled back at him."This fucking thing. This monster! I conquered this, ya know? Made peace with Kurama and all that. But legends have a funny way of being twisted by time, don't they? So here I am, madder than ever. The only difference?" A clawed finger drove in upon his own skull, drawing a thin line of blood against the black fabric of his headband. "Now he's gone. And I'm alone. All his power, none of the companionship. I've come to terms with it. If the world thinks me mad, let them. I know the truth. Why should I care what others think of me? Why should you for that matter?"

Lies and treachery!

He refused to believe such words, to accept that!

In his fury Lancer lashed out the only way he could think of.

"Mere words." Vlad spat back. "Is that all? But what else could be expected of one with such a shoddy Master?"

A slow, treacherous twitch passed through the blond's face, gone almost before the keen-eyed Servant noticed. Almost.

"Careful. You're making me angry." a clawed fingers rose, directing a deadly digit toward him. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"Did I strike a nerve?" Lancer retorted with a wry smile. "I believe its only fair, given you're holding back as well. Not as much of a monster as you seem, hmm?"

...tch. Perceptive bastard aren't you?" to his great delight, that insufferable smile soured like rotten fruit. "This is why I have to the be the one to kill you. Maker knows I've got the lives for it."

There it was, another hint dropped at his feet, just waiting to be picked up.

Vlad did just that.

"Are you claiming to be immortal?" golden eyes narrowed. "Surely you jest. Even you have your limits."

No he'd done precisely that, though they both knew it, neither would acknowledge it.

Lips parted in a snaggle-toothed grin.

"Try me."

When presented with the opportunity Lancer didn't hesitate; he struck the moment Berserker of Red released him and folded both arms behind his back.

For the second time that night his weapon tasted blood.

Berserker perished on the spot.

Rather, he should have.

Taken low in the waist, Naruto accepted the blow stoically and actually staggered half a step before righting himself. The light left his eyes and he slumped, toppling backwards...until quite suddenly, he wasn't. To Vlad's dismay, the blond braced his feet, threw his arms further back and cackled. It was the sound of a man gone mad, a hero twisted by vile rumors and half-truths. Then he began to rise. As he straightened up so too did his chest stitch itself back together, mending with painstaking slowness. Flesh defied gravity and slipped back into place. Blood flowed like milk, molding across his cloak as mangled flesh slid shut.

"Oh, Vlad! Stop! You're splitting me in two!" he laughed, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. "Now do it another oh...I dunno...seven times?" his battered skull tilted, considering. "Or was it nine? I don't remember. Already lost a few lives, and its soooo hard to keep track of those these days...

Lancer stared at him, a snake of dread coiling in his stomach.

"What the devil are you?" he hissed blackly.

Red eyes rolled back to meet his.

"Et tu, Dracula? Its just as I said earlier." his voice warbled strangely just then, as though someone were speaking alongside him, though a man or a woman, he could not discern. "We're the same, you and I. The only difference is that I've accepted what I am."

"And what is that?"

As he looked on, the blond crossed his fingers.

"Whatever the hell I want to be. For instance!"

For a fleeting instant that bloodied visage vanished in a white plume of smoke. Coughing in shock as much as surprise, Lancer struck out with his weapon, half expecting an attack. Instead his lance met a bare forearm, small and slender, raised in defense of its owner. That was alarming enough in and of itself, but what followed...

"Hi~!"

...what the actual hell.

When next he reappeared and he thought he beheld a woman's face.

Much to his consternation Berserker was nowhere to be found, rather, he found himself gazing down into the visage this strange young woman. No, wait. Now that he peered at her he noticed a resemblance; the whiskers, those keen red eyes, that striking blond hair, even bound behind her head in that ridiculous style. Moreover she completely lacked clothing of any sort beyond the strange scarlet shroud sheathing her body. Bits of errant fading smoke concealed several choice bits from view, but not for much longer. For all his resolve a confused flush still rose to his pale cheeks.

"What madness is this?!"

Clad in crimson light, the woman flashed an impish grin.

"I'm so sorry," she purred, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Very much so, yes!

Growling he swiped at her, forcing her to bound away. "Cease this foolishness at once!"

"Fine, fine. Just kill all the fun. Put it in camps, why don't you?" Cackling she snapped her fingers.

A secondary plume of smoke sprang to life around "her" and this time, Vlad stayed the hell away from it. In the end he needn't have bothered, for Berserker emerged fully clothed once more and-thankfully!-striding forth from the fog as male as he'd ever been.

"Been waiting for an excuse to use that." Again came that crazed grin, madder than ever before. "You should've seen your face!"

...very well. I miscalculated." Vlad growled, settling into a low stance. "Next time I'll aim for your head!"

That grin grew further still. "You're assuming I'll give you another chance!"

When the blond blurred he barely reacted in time.

"Wall!"

At his command the earth shifted, forming a small mountain of stakes at his flank.

They shuddered mightily as a clawed fist crunched against them.

"This is...nothing!"

He pulled harder on his reserves, creating great ravines in the earth, entire chasms swelling with stakes, spikes capable of skewering a boar, a tiger, then an elephant. Sweat beaded down his brow but still he fought on, pulling more and more prana until the very soil buckled beneath them. Yet still his opponent didn't emerge, striking at him with lightning-quick blows, never remaining in once place for more than a moment. Faced with such speed it was all he could do merely to track him, much less pin him down. Some would've faltered when faced with such a foe. Not Lancer. He still held one final card, one last ace up his sleeve. Just a little more...he needed a few moments more...

"Coward! Fight me like a man!"

"What is a man but a miserable little pile of secrets?!"

Now, had Naruto been possessed of his wits and a certain vital piece of intelligence, he would've realized he was the one being provoked now. Perhaps, had he known the terrible truth he would've hesitated; realized that their battle had become a war of attrition, one he simply couldn't win by conventional means. Not only did his opponent possess nigh unlimited mana thanks to the Black Faction's manipulations, but he stood at his physical peak. Not bound to one source as they were, the Servants of Black could feasibly outlast any one of them and emerge the victor in this skirmish, so long as they were careful.

Unfortunately, he'd never been one for strategy.

If this continued at this pace he'd be forced to use "that" Noble Phantasm whether he wanted to or not. The more he fought the worse it became; his body becoming entranced by battle, a wide, mad grin dominating his whiskered visage as he struck out at his opponent. He was enjoying himself, his darker half taking hold. Under any other circumstances he wouldn't have hesitated; he wasn't particularly fond of Lancer of Black, nor did he feel any real need to bend his ear, unlike Siegfried. But with allies mixed amongst his enemies he didn't trust himself. Madness Enhancement was not an element to be inflicted lightly, and if he lost control...

Thud.

Abruptly he stumbled as a series of stakes inexplicably erupted from upper torso.

The sudden explosion of pain caused him to miss half a step, sending him stumbling forward. A second wave caught him, sprouting from his legs to buckle his limbs and force him to his knees. Coughing, the crimson-clad blond glanced down at his chest, a thin bloody line trailing out of his open mouth. Those stakes hadn't come from Vlad just now. Rather, they'd emerged from within him. As unlikely as it might seem, he knew this to be truth.

Aghast, he looked upright.

"What...the hell?"

A fresh spike emerged from his throat, snapping his neck back.

"Ack?!"

Low laughter trickled into his ears, inflaming his confusion to a feverish degree.

Straining against the pain, he willed his broken body to move.

"You didn't...hit me...what is this...?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but my Noble Phantasm aren't the stakes alone." Lancer's smug voice rose over the roaring in his ears. "With your resistance, it took some time for them to form. However," the crisp sound of bootfalls pounding in his blood like the beating of a second heart, "My phantasm is the very concept of "being skewered by stakes" itself. Therefore!" A fresh wave of spikes slammed through the blond's torso, driving the breath from his body even as his oppressor approached, "As long as you remain inside my territory, you can't escape from my Noble Phantasm!"

Flicking a hand forward, Vlad offered him a rueful smile.

"Lets end this, Berserker of Red!"

Red eyes blazed white.

"Laaaaaaancer~!"

Rather than flesh the descending storm met crimson.

Not the shroud shielding the blond, but a veritable tower of ruby rage.

The night ignited all at once, the flames of hell burning away every stake before it could strike him. More than that, it was as if the underworld itself had opened up beneath them, releasing a chorus of horrible sounds that chilled the blood. Laughter, low and hoarse and horrible rose around him, darker than the evening itself.

"I really didn't want to do this, you know," he rasped, the words sounding strange and foreign in his mouth, "My Noble Phantasm is a bit broken, ya see. Blame my warped legend for that. I have to use it a certain way before I can realize its true potential. Now, as a reward for pushing me this far...I'll try to kill you quickly."

Swaying drunkenly on his feet, the invader ripped himself free of the stakes and stumbled upright, uncaring for the battered state of his body. An eerie black miasma leaked from his form, further tainting the strange scarlet shroud protecting him. As Lancer looked on a fourth tail bloomed behind Berserker's back, joining the trio of its brothers assembled there. A thorn of doubt held him back from attacking. What did this fourth tail mean? What did it signify?

Why did he feel this sudden dread?

"Kurama."

"What?" Vlad blinked, momentarily baffled by the name.

"That's the name of the entity that I used to house." those eerie blank eyes rose to meet his. "The Nine-Tailed Fox. Until now I've only used three against you...let that sink in."

Under his watchful gaze Berserker's body began to bend and twist; his back arching, fangs growing steadily more pronounced in his mouth, visibly trying to break free. Was his body breaking? Had he pushed himself past his limits at last and reached the point of no return? Surely that must be it. Yes, of course. To think otherwise meant Berserker had an ace of his own left to play, a card he hadn't yet seen. Which meant...!

"You were holding back? This entire time?"

"Bingooo~!" the blond's hoarse voice hissed.

Then the flesh of his whiskered face began to peel.

Revealed was the current of crimson light arcing beneath.

"Here I come, Lord Impaler. Hope you've got enough stakes."

"Come now, don't be a fool. You're beaten. Even you can see that. Join me!"

...I'm flattered. But...no. No, you're going to PAY for everything you said about my Master...!"

"And how do you aim to make me pay?" Vlad scoffed, struggling to hide the growing unease dawning within his chest. This was a bluff. Surely it had to be. "With that broken body of yours? You'll only stumble and fall like the rest. Don't struggle in such an unsightly way before me."

"Unsightly...?"

Berserker grinned.

Turned his head, slowly.

"You're missing the point."

These words emerged with an eerie calm.

Lancer arched an eyebrow. "What are you...?"

His entire body seemed to pulse with otherworldly radiance, as though lit from within. Gold vied with crimson, wild prana warring for a dominance within his body. While neither triumphed, the tension continued to rise, sending his skin writhing madly. Veins throbbed in his forehead and neck, his appearance becoming more and more feral as Lancer looked on. Indeed, those once gentle red eyes held a decidedly slitted look to them now, wide and nearly euphoric with demented glee. Not just that, his very presence felt unstable, cracks of energy bursting beneath the skin with wild abandon. Surely he wouldn't continue this. Not unless he intended to...

"No!"

Too late, he realized his intent.

"YES!"

The explosion hit a heartbeat later.

By contrast this blast was relatively contained; little more than a sudden pulse of dark red, a shell of ebony cocooning the blond in shadow. A foul wind carried a plume of dust to the forefront of Lancer's gaze. There one moment, gone the next. Four tails of the blackest crimson lashed at the ground to shatter it like so much glass. Once more, Berserker had vanished. This time, when the smoke cleared, there wasn't so much as a hint of humanity to be see in him. No, not human at all. A beast. A monster. A creature apart, crafted in the hideous caricature of a human being.

The Beast turned its gaze upon Lancer.

With slow, shuddering steps, those hideous white eyes took his measure and found him wanting. No, perhaps he'd been wrong. There was a hunger to that gaze, an all-encompassing avarice surpassed only the madness subsuming his form. Again his gaze was drawn to those four tails, now more solid and opaque than ever before. Four tails. Not even half the strength of his Noble Phantasm. Yet the sight of it rooted him where he stood, unmanned him, threatened to undo his very existence.

That twisted maw curled in a rictus of a grin.

Clawed hands dug deep furrows upon the ground, tensing in preparation of a mighty leap. Its entire body shifted, that slumped back arching hideously. A slow, shuddering hiss fled from the ghastly tear that served as its mouth; no more quips emerged from that ghastly maw, no jokes, no witty one-liners. There was only the Beast, only the need to attack, to ravage, to destroy. His gaze shifted warily, watching those clawed feet, the thick corded muscles that made up its legs. The attack would come in an instant. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow, his lance rising in preparation-

Agony.

Fire blazed through his left shoulder as the Beast barreled past him in a twisted mass of motion. He hadn't even seen it move. Just a red blur. A crimson haze. Yet still his shoulder shrieked in agony, demanding his attention at once. Reluctantly he risked a quick glance, never once doubting his chances for victory. Of course he wouldn't lose. This was his land. His territory. He was superior. Invincible. So long as he retained this power, no one would be able to match him for long, much less...less...

...aghast, Vlad gaped openly at the ruined bleeding tear that had replaced his elbow.

Clutching the ruined remnants of his arm in its maw the beast turned.

Contemptuously, it spat out the limb and growled.

It was the sound of his death knell.

Then it fell upon him anew.

A/N: Yup I went there.

Someone's finally awake.

The Holy Grail has begun to move.

And we may have just seen our first casualty...or have we?

Naruto's gone berserker, so good bloody luck stopping him as he is now.

As far as Sieg goes, it can be literally ANY Homunculus in this iteration. Boy, or a girl. After all, Sieg only gained his name thanks to Siegfried.

Only time will tell who survives this...

Oh, and turns out I'm having a tooth extracted now. Such misfortune! Why has the world forsaken me so?! Yes that bit with the grail is coming, but I won't say when. I want this story to be a good one; I don't want to rush events like Apocrypha did, but in the same vein, I aim to keep things at a steady pace. Of course, reviews feed my engine of creation, soooo...

Once again for the sake of clarity I'll explain the state of things as far as the relationships go.

When I say that, I mean what Naruto thinks of the girls and then their feelings:

The Holy Grail= Anomaly/Oh, that's cute.

Jack= Daughter/Father.

Jean= Master/Servant.

Jeanne= Ally/Enigma.

Mordred= Partner/Potential Love Interest.

Atalanta= Friend/Someone Who Must Not Be Killed.

Semiramis= Pity/ Mild Concern.

Frankenstein= Sibling/#%&^?

Astolfo= Are You Kidding me?!/WHO THE HELL IS HE?!

So In the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly?

No previews this time!

R&R~!