Beta: QAI521
Sophia
"I won't tell you again," Sophia snarled, forcefully gripping her friend's shoulder. "Back off of Hebert."
Emma glowered, frustration and anger twisting her pretty face as she bit her lower lip. "Why?" She spat. "Lost your nerve, predator?"
Sophia's eyes narrowed, feeling her temper rise, but she quickly suppressed it. She was all too aware of the onlookers near the school's parking lot and gate entrance. They were too public. This was not the place to create a scene.
"As I've told you a thousand times, I can't say. Leave that weakling alone, or we're done."
Her friend's eyes widened in hurt at her words. Guilt tugged at Sophia's heart for a second, but she forcefully quelled it. She had no choice. It had to be done.
When she first met Artoria, she thought the girl was a senior. The latest Ward exuded a sense of maturity that made her seem more like an adult than most adults she knew. So, it was a surprise to learn that they were the same age— a fact that was both welcome and inconvenient.
If they were in different grades, Sophia could have continued her usual routine of putting Hebert where she belonged, and Artoria would remain blissfully ignorant due to the separation. But Artoria would be joining their class, and unless she was blind, would notice what was happening.
Everything had to stop. And if Emma endangered everything because she was obsessed with her past friend… well, Sophia would have to sever ties. That way, she could at least deny responsibility.
"Fine," Emma agreed through gritted teeth, tossing Sophia's hand off her shoulder. She shot one final glare before storming away.
"Emma," Sophia called out. Her friend halted, turning around, attempting to appear indifferent. But Sophia could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Make sure the others get the message."
The hope faded, replaced by resentment. With an angry huff, Emma continued on her way.
Sophia sighed, watching her depart. Emma was… a friend—someone who shared her perspectives. Seeing her like this was disheartening, even for Sophia.
If she explained everything, she was confident Emma would understand. However, doing so would require revealing Artoria's status as a Ward. Something that was rather risky, considering said person had whooped Lung's ass sideways just a few days ago.
Artoria… Sophia wasn't sure what to make of her yet.
She was different, of that Sophia was certain. It wasn't just Artoria's strength that intrigued her. It was also her mindset—the willingness to do whatever was necessary to keep someone down. Even now, Sophia could still vividly recall the shiver that ran down her spine when the petite blonde beheaded Lung. There was no hesitation in that strike, no pointless contemplation. Artoria understood what needed to be done and acted without a second thought.
It was then that Sophia realized she was looking at someone who wouldn't flinch under the judgment of others, but someone who genuinely comprehended the ways of the world.
However, despite her strength, Artoria had chosen to join the Wards. Sophia couldn't fathom the reasoning behind it. Artoria was virtually untouchable unless she started indiscriminately slaughtering people. The PRT was pragmatic in a manner that was both repulsive and admirable. So why would-
The roar of an engine jolted Sophia out of her thoughts. She glanced to the side, spotting a helmeted figure, evidently a girl, riding in on a motorcycle.
She raised an eyebrow in amusement. Seriously? A motorcycle?
The ride looked impressive, even to her untrained eye. It had sort of a retro feel, and looked like something that would be popular in the 90s. But although the design looked old, the machine exuded quality. A glance was enough to judge that it was expensive.
Unfortunately, the rider must either be stupid or new in town to think that bringing in something so valuable and portable to this area was smart. It would likely end up stolen before the first school bell even rang.
Sophia briefly considered warning the soon-to-be victim, but dismissed the idea. Judging by the rider's appearance, they seemed capable of taking the loss. This world was harsh, even for the privileged. This event would serve as a valuable lesson for- wait, that's Artoria!
The diminutive girl had already stolen countless eyes with her ride. Now, she stole it with her striking appearance. As Sophia approached her teammate, she couldn't help but notice how Artoria effortlessly claimed the spotlight.
It wasn't just her appearance that held allure; it was also how she moved, carried herself, and the confidence she naturally bled. Artoria was perhaps the most photogenic person Sophia had ever encountered in her life. Not even the likes of the Triumvirate could have compared.
"Nice ride!" Sophia called out. Her blonde teammate paused, turning, her helmet slung under her arm.
"Sophia," Artoria greeted with a smile. "It's good to see you again."
"Ditto," Sophia grinned. "How have you been?" Even at this close distance, she couldn't detect a single flaw or blemish in Artoria's features. They almost seemed inhumanly perfect, something borne from the brush rather than by nature. Initially, she assumed it was due to makeup, but none existed. She had spent enough time with Emma to recognize its use.
"I am… adjusting."
Not well enough if she thought bringing that overpriced-looking two-wheeler here was a good idea. Artoria had struck her as a rich girl from a well-bred and well-adjusted family, so her ignorance about life in the lower rungs didn't surprise her.
Sophia wasn't interested in Artoria's circumstances or why she was in a place like Brockton Bay. However, if Artoria didn't wise up, her life would quickly become inconvenient, as she would soon find out in a few hours. While a warning could save her a lot of trouble, where was the fun in that? Besides, it was a chance to see her mettle and gain an accurate grasp of her character.
She considered it a favor, honestly. This would serve as a valuable, much-needed wake-up call.
"That's good to hear. Look, I got to get to class, but if you need help, let me know," Sophia offered. "As Wards, we'll help each other out." Depending on how things went, she may need to shop for a new best friend. Luckily, she had a good candidate in front of her.
"That would be appreciated," Artoria said, smiling. "I shall greet you later."
"Er… Artoria?"
"Yes?"
"A bit of advice, but you should fix how you talk," Sophia tipped. At first, she had assumed that Artoria was roleplaying in her cape identity. But her way of diction and speech had not changed even out of costume.
The way she talked was… fancy. It was the kind of talk she would expect from a movie set during the medieval periods, not something to be heard in the modern day. She didn't strike her as a weeb, but even those Brits didn't speak English like she did. But then again, she had heard that some old aristocratic families were famously stuck in the past.
She had heard that Artoria was a foreigner. Her accent wasn't British or anything she was familiar with. It was strange. But for some reason, it sounded pleasant to the ears. In fact, it sounded natural. Only when she concentrated could she realize that something was odd.
Artoria frowned. "Is there a problem with my speech?"
"Yeah. Nobody talks like that. People will make the connection if you sound like that in both your cape and civilian identities."
"Ah… Secret identities," she muttered.
"Yup."
"I will take your advice to heart."
"No… Just no," Sophia rolled her eyes. "Just say 'thanks for the tip' or whatever. None of that crap you're doing is going to fly here. I never thought I would say this, but you literally sound posh."
Artoria sighed. "I understand. I shall- I'll do my best."
"Better.
Artoria
"So… What do you think about the school so far?" Principal Blackwell questioned after the tour had been completed. She squirmed nervously with a forced smile pressed upon her lips; discomfort was palpable as she awaited a response.
"It is horrendously ugly," Artoria stated unapologetically, refusing to temper her ire. "Never have I observed such squalor in an institution dedicated to education."
Sophia's earlier advice about adjusting her manner of speech flashed through Artoria's mind. She had heeded her ally's words. But Blackwell had been notified of her status as a Ward, although she had yet to 'debut', and she couldn't bring herself to hold back her thoughts.
Also, she did not particularly care if she was 'outed.'
Clean and orderly. Those had been the defining characteristics of Shirou's school. Winslow, on the other hand, was anything but. Trash littered the floor, drawings and stains vandalized the walls, and the stench of rot permeated the air. She had yet to see the classrooms' interior, but the halls' defining feature was the filth.
She had not meant to sound so condescending, but her disappointment seeped into her words, stripping away any pretense she might have maintained.
The blunt honesty seemed to catch Blackwell off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. "I'm aware that our school is… lacking in many ways, but-."
"I do not require your excuses or explanations," Artoria cut off, causing her guide to flinch. "Do not misunderstand Principal Blackwell. It was not my intention to levy criticism on your person," she consoled, her tone softening. "I am sure you have done what you can."
In a place where banditry ran rampant, it was only natural that public infrastructure and services would suffer as well. The pathetic state of the school was likely a symptom of a larger ailment gripping the city, rather than a result of deliberate mismanagement. It had not been her intention to humiliate Blackwell personally for circumstances beyond her control, but the disappointment had shown as vitriol in her voice.
"I..." Blackwell started, but her words trailed off into a sorrowful sigh. "Artoria- Ms. Pendragon… I'll admit that we are in dire need of funding. Honestly, I was hoping that with a new Ward, the PRT would give us a bigger cut…."
"I cannot presume to speak on behalf of Director Piggot, nor do I wield any significant authority in matters of finance. However, I will convey your concerns to the appropriate channels," Artoria promised. Discussing matters of monetary nature during their initial meeting was a rather blatant breach of decorum. It was also peculiar that Blackwell had directed her request to Artoria instead of the designated liaison from the PRT.
Nevertheless, she sympathized. A mere glance at the forlorn corridors and weary halls was enough to convince her of the school's reality. While she entertained the possibility of corruption, Blackwell's eyes lacked greed. And in its place was defeat.
Even the most tempered of persons would find their tempers flaring if another insulted their work. Yet, Blackwell showed no such signs when Artoria criticized the state of the school.
There was only acceptance in those eyes. They were the eyes of a person who had given up—someone who refused to try because they believed the effort worthless. Seeing such a look in a person responsible for hundreds of youths was worrying.
"Thank you, that's all I can ask. Now… That should cover the initial introduction. Come visit me in my office if there is anything you need."
With those final words, Blackwell took her leave, leaving Artoria standing alone in the empty corridor. The morning classes had yet to conclude, granting her a brief respite before her first scheduled lesson. After thirty minutes of a guided tour, twenty minutes remained unclaimed.
Though she questioned Blackwell's imprudence in leaving her charge unattended, she appreciated the solitary interlude. It provided her with an opportunity to collect her thoughts and explore these halls at her own unhurried pace.
Admittedly, there was little to behold in terms of aesthetic appeal. The walls and structures bore no trace of beauty or grace, tainted by the pervasive filth that enveloped the surroundings. Yet, despite the disappointment, Artoria found it difficult to suppress the joy that welled within her chest. After all, the opportunity for a second chance at life was a rarity bestowed upon none.
However, happiness was not without its accompanying price, as all good things in the world often demanded. Initially, she had harbored concerns that her presence in this realm had usurped that of another, replacing their existence. Yet, the sight of her cherished Yamaha V-Max nestled within the garage of her new home allayed those fears.
This machine was no mere replica of her beloved steed that had raced against Iskandar's chariot—it was undeniably the same one she had ridden during the Fourth Holy Grail War.
The inexplicable presence of her motorcycle, like her own existence in this unfamiliar world, presented an abundance of unanswered questions. The circumstances surrounding her arrival remained shrouded in uncertainty, and her carefully constructed identity was alarmingly suspicious at best. However, she found solace in the absence of any apparent malevolent intent.
Her optimism was not born from misguided naivety. It was a testament to the meticulous care taken by whoever had orchestrated her arrival, not to mention that anyone so capable could kill her without a need for such an elaborate trap. They had ensured that her needs would be meticulously met. Not only did she possess a fully formed identity with a history, but she now dwelled within a residence akin to a mansion.
The generosity was overwhelming. So much so that she began to suspect that whoever orchestrated her arrival within this world was someone she was familiar with. One particular name stood out from the rest, but even he could not have done this by himself. At least, not without help.
If it was truly him… Artoria smiled. It seemed like the troublesome magus was doing well for himself.
But amidst the abundance of blessings, a sense of unease still lingered. In the past few days, Artoria had dedicated herself to meticulously investigating every fragment of information she could acquire. Thankfully, the internet facilitated her research, accelerating its progress. Yet, it also exposed her to the disconcerting realities of this unfamiliar world.
Parahumans… The idea that ordinary men and women could gain supernatural abilities overnight was worrying. Not just because of the destructive potential of parahuman abilities, but because powers often came at a cost, such as when an origin was forcefully awakened. While no such thing was reported, Artoria could not help but be wary.
Even more disquieting were the Endbringers—entities that manifested as catastrophic disasters given form. They were dangerous. She had little doubt of that. Dozens of heroes fell to the beasts every few months. But she did not deem them as major threats. If the Wyrm could supposedly stalemate one for several hours, they would fair far worse against her.
The one of most concern however, was the Simurgh. She wasn't particularly concerned about the Simurgh's 'master' ability. Her magic resistance should be sufficient to defend against mysteries of that nature. But her precognition, on the other hand, was a lethal threat- one that could not be cut down with a swing of her sword.
But, what troubled her deeply was the inexplicable response of Excalibur itself, the legendary sword vibrating and shuddering with an eerie resonance at the mere thought of engaging these beings in combat.
The last time her holy blade had acted as such was when she had faced Caster's abomination during the 4th Holy Grail War. But that thing was an alien god, a threat to humanity. Thus, the implications of another reaction troubled her greatly.
Artoria paused, her steps coming to a halt at the sound of weeping. The lamentations reached her ears with a subdued and stifled tone as if the afflicted soul thought to stifle his sorrow. At that moment, she found herself suspended in contemplation, weighing her options with care.
Chivalry compelled her to investigate, but she was well aware that such individuals often wished to be left alone. After several additional moments, she made her decision. Intrusion could be unwanted, but even the slightest bit of help could change a person's life.
Though she doubted her capacity to alleviate a person's anguish, unless it originated from a foe she could strike, she still recognized the worth of offering solace even if it meant nothing but lending a shoulder to cry upon.
With measured resolve, Artoria followed the cries until they led her to the entrance of the men's bathroom. A brief hesitation flickered in her eyes but was swiftly replaced by determination as she steeled herself to cross.
She opened the door, and almost immediately, the sobs subsided as if the person was struggling to stifle his emotions upon detecting her approach.
Despite his efforts, he could not conceal himself. Artoria stood before the locked door of a stall, deliberating on the best approach to initiate a conversation. However, she found solace in the fact that she didn't need to be the first to speak.
"What do you fuckers want?" The boy growled, his voice tinged with sniffles. "Get out. GET OUT!" He screamed, pounding the wall with his fists.
"I am unsure to whom you are referring, but I am quite certain that I am not one of them," she said.
"What the?" The door swung open, revealing an Eastern teenager a few inches taller than her. His reddened and bewildered eyes fixed upon her. "You're a girl," he dumbly said.
"I am aware," she replied.
"That's not what I- this is the boy's bathroom!"
"I am aware," she repeated.
The boy's eyes darkened as if a shadow had passed by them. "So, here to make fun of me, huh? You Empire?"
Empire? As in-
"I am not a white supremacist!" Artoria snarled, scowling in displeasure at the mere thought of her past humiliation.
The boy flinched, having not expected such a strong response. "Then what the fuck are you doing here?"
Artoria sighed, killing her exasperation. "Why are you crying? In here of all places?" She asked, her words direct and unadorned.
The boy averted his gaze. From shame or embarrassment, she could not tell, but the difference was narrow. "None of your fucking business."
"I am not here to ridicule you, nor will I ask meaningless questions such as asking if you are all right," she assured him. "I simply want to know if there is anything I can do to assist."
"Assist?" He echoed, his voice shuddering in fear. "There's nothing you can do. Just go…"
"I would not be so certain," she countered. Artoria's eyes honed in on a gash on his scalp concealed beneath a curtain of hair, but the stitched mark did not elude her. Had he been a victim of abuse? If so, the solution was simple, but she could do little without cooperation. "Human beings are capable of achieving remarkable feats, even those that seemed impossible, simply through words."
"他妈的多管闲事 (Mind your own fucking business)," he cursed.
"他人的痛苦,也是我的事 (The pain of others is also my concern)," she replied.
"The fuck-," he started, startled, but his words were swiftly interrupted by the resounding slam of the main door being flung open.
"Come on, the chink's probably still—" a dirty blonde boy trailed off, his eyes widening with surprise as he and his companion caught sight of her. "Oh shit, she's hot!" He exclaimed, approaching her with his friend. "I'd ask what you're doing with that guy in the men's bathroom, but I'm not even mad!"
"Fuck you, Vincent," the boy snarled, his eyes still glistening with tears. "Leave me the fuck alone, asshole!"
"And miss the show?" Vincent laughed, callous disregard in his voice. "Come on, fess up, Zao. What's got your panties in a twist? Did your mom finally end up in that brothel?" He leered. "Maybe I should pay her a visit. It's been a while since I've last seen her."
"混蛋! You slept under the same roof as us, you piece of shit!"
"Worst years of my life," Vincent sneered. "What, did you expect me to lick your fucking shoes for your shitty charity? Get real. I've got a family now. A real family."
"I've heard enough," Artoria interjected, stepping forward. "It is clear you are not wanted. Leave."
"Girl, the only one who's out of place here is you. And I'm not saying that because you're in the wrong bathroom," Vincent retorted, grinning. "Ditch that ABB douchebag and come with us. There's no point in staying with someone like him. Trust me, I would know. You'll do better with our kind. The proper kind."
"Proper kind? I see… you're white supremacists."
"Tut, tut. We don't appreciate that kind of language here. It's racist, and that is far from what we are. We're just… a family united against a common enemy."
"Does the common enemy involve everyone not of your skin color?"
"Of course not! We can't forget about the blood traitors and Jews, can we? Who do you think we are, the KKK?" Vincent mockingly gasped. "Come on babe, leave that chink where he belongs or… well…" His laughter echoed through the room as he continued. "I did say that the Empire has little tolerance for traitors. With Lung and Lee out of the picture, nothing will stop us from giving them their due."
Artoria sighed, having heard all she needed to hear. The two seemed to have shared a common history bound by strife. The hate in Vincent's voice was palpable, almost physically so. He was angry, furious even, about something that transcended mere differences in skin color.
It was plausible that Vincent bore the weight of victimhood. His grievances were genuine, even if they were misplaced. But she had chosen a side even if the truth eluded her. She could not bring herself to stand on the side of fools who thought themselves special because of something as mundane as the color of their skin.
Vanity was not foreign to her. Even some of her knights had fallen victim to it. However, their pride had been earned through deeds of valor and accomplishments.
To witness such misplaced pride stemming from something as trivial as the color of one's skin was disheartening. It was an attribute bestowed at birth, an arbitrary characteristic that held no inherent significance. Those who found pride in something so mundane were those who lacked true achievements, and whose self-worth relied on superficial notions.
"Hey, you listening-."
"Leave," Artoria commanded, her voice infused with the full brunt of her [Charisma]. It surged forth like a relentless wave, crashing upon the ears of those present with the power of a hurricane. It was a sound that could quell the fiercest of conflicts, instilling a silence that pierced through the chaos of any battlefield.
Vincent and his friend flinched, as if physically struck, visibly shaken as the color drained from their faces. Both were struck silent for several moments as their tongues were taken from their gullets. They glanced at each other nervously. But while one's gaze morphed into fear, the other became one of anger.
"Fuck!" Vincent snarled, his defiance masking his fear.
She had suppressed her Charisma to ensure she could have an unbothered experience at school. It wouldn't do to be stared at every step of the way. But confronting someone like the one before her called for a different approach. She supposed a light beating would also fix his attitude, but it would be uncouth for her to raise her hand against a child, nor did she wish to strike him.
"Just what about his misery do you find so amusing? Do his tears bring you happiness? Does it right a wrong? Leave," she said again. "I shall not ask thrice."
She saw fury engulf Vincent's eyes and for a moment, she feared that he would commit to a truly foolish course of action. But fortunately, his friend was gifted with better sense.
"Vincent, stop," the fool's friend interjected, his voice laced with worry as he warily observed Artoria. "Something's not right. Let's just go."
"Fucking pussy," Vincent growled. "You want to run from a damn 5-foot tall girl and her pet chink?"
Nick's expression hardened as he firmly grasped Vincent's arm, forcefully dragging him away. "No, you idiot. I want to live," he retorted, his voice exasperated. With that, one hastily retreated while the other was forced out.
"Zao, was it?" Artoria called out, her voice gentle.
Startled, Zao snapped out of his reverie, his wide eyes meeting hers. "I understand that seeking help can be daunting, especially when you believe nothing can be done. But you can never know unless you try. I will not demand an answer from you at this moment. After school ends, I will be waiting at the school's rear exit for an hour. If you change your mind, come find me there," she offered. With those final words, she turned and walked away, leaving the bewildered boy staring at her retreating figure.
Her use of charisma had been far from subtle. Vincent did not seem to realize that something was out of the ordinary, but his friend seemed far more perceptive, meaning that she had potentially outed herself. While she understood such an event would be worrying for most 'capes', it was more restrictive than s for her.
She had no friends or family to protect, and she would not stand by and watch injustice be done just because she was not in 'costume.' It was only a matter of time before her identity was exposed, but she had not imagined it would be on her first day of school. It seemed that she would have to distance herself from Sophia.
Sophia…
Amongst the Wards, she had been the most proactive in approaching Artoria, not out of malice but out of a genuine yearning to establish a meaningful connection. Over the past few days, Sophia had proven to be amiable and supportive, extending her assistance without hesitation.
At least, to Artoria.
To others, there was a casual disregard that disdained those she deemed beneath her. Even among her fellow Wards, Sophia's conduct bordered on cruelty, frequently engaging in verbal barbs with allies who would be fighting alongside her.
There was something… broken in her. Twisted. The wound she carried was not of the kind that would heal with the passage of time. It would fester and decay, rotting from the inside out until the bearer became something irredeemable. The wound had to be treated while it was still in its infancy.
Sophia had many flaws. But she was still young. She had a chance to grow and change. While Artoria would have to avoid her in public, she would still help temper the maturing girl.
By the time she arrived in class, the bell was seconds away from ringing. Despite lacking nine years of standardized education, she felt surprisingly calm. The Holy Grail had provided her with the necessary knowledge to bridge the gap. Her command over the English language, and every language in existence, was flawless, and her understanding of ancient history was comprehensive. While she still needed to catch up on modern history, she believed it wouldn't pose a significant challenge.
The Grail had even granted her knowledge of basic sciences, allowing her to grasp the fundamentals of modern technology and medicine.
The only department that the Grail had neglected was mathematics, but Artoria remained unfazed. Numbers were her strongest suit, honed over decades of managing logistics and finances. She disregarded the collective stares she received from her classmates and settled into her seat, ready for her lesson.
However, her brows furrowed in confusion as she noticed something unexpected on the board. This was supposed to be a math class, yet… why were there letters on the board.
…
As usual, all comments and reviews will be appreciated.
