Hello there.
Big thank you once again to everyone for the continued support. Seeing the positive feedback and talking with the readers is always such a joy, and I can do the latter any time of year.
I finally have a chance to better concentrate on writing again, but the world doesn't stop for anyone, sadly. Only just finished an almost year-long production cycle, and more recently endured a sudden death in my brother's extended family that's devastated everybody. We're all holding firmly to the fact that they're with God now, but we were not ready to say goodbye to them. Not at all. It goes without saying any more that things of late have been pretty rough.
Even with all that, just know that I'm genuinely trying to keep this story going, and that I'm working on it every chance I can find.
To the 'guest' whom this may concern: Thank you for the compliment, and yes, my general idea was for things to start slow, then build up for the protagonist. That's why if more than one Servant will appear, they won't all appear at the same time. That would be way too much too soon. I have to see what kind of relationship I can build with just one before I make a decision on the other two that I have in mind.
In other news, I got an AO3 account going and have already cross-posted the story up to this point. There won't be much of any difference besides changes in the authors' notes and the addition of pictures. As it turns out, I already have an Imgur account that I'd completely forgotten about since 2014. Heh, whoops. But anyway, I've got a way to link pictures on my profile if you want to see them. Or just swing over to AO3, whatever floats your cardboard boat.
Now, enough gab, let's continue!
Disclaimer: I do not own High School DxD, nor do I own Type Moon, any of its intellectual properties, or any other property used in this work.
Published: September 1, 2022
Updated: May 18, 2023
…
Chapter 13 – Arrive
In the pitch-black emptiness of the space they occupied, the fledgling Devil stared up in trepidation at the beast of legend while the dragon looked back down at him.
It wasn't the first time one of his hosts had been taken under the ownership of a Devil, and it wouldn't be the last. Not that he really cared about that anymore. If he was honest with himself, he couldn't care less what form of creature his hosts started out or ended up as, so long as they boasted the strength to wield his power correctly and strike down his rival when the time came. That was all that mattered.
He had many titles besides his own name; his personal favorite was gifted to him the moment he first drew breath. Throughout the following centuries, that title alone was more than enough to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies and draw strong rivals to test his power.
After all, what more did Y Ddraig Goch need than Red Dragon Emperor of Domination?
This host, Issei, as it called itself, was… below average… far below average. Even as a Devil, the boy wielded barely any magical potential with only the physicality of one who lived a carefree life until reincarnating, and a mind far too easily distracted by matters of the flesh. And while he had an ultimate goal that he made no secret of striving to achieve, progress toward that goal was stunted by his contention to 'play house' with his master and fellow servants.
Being a fledgling Devil, this ordinarily wouldn't be such an issue, but there were other factors hampering his potential. For one thing, he suffered from an inferiority complex, which was a result of constantly comparing himself to the other Devils in his little group. Unfortunately, it set the tone in his mind that he couldn't escape the fold. Pawn/servant/mediocre. Weak! This would never do for someone who wielded Ddraig's power.
In addition, the loss of memory caused by his traumatic death prior to reincarnation was beginning to affect the boy in other ways that needed to be immediately addressed. While he had an idea for fixing that problem, there was something that he needed to make sure of before proceeding.
Ddraig could scarcely remember having a new host with so many issues from the start, and yet… he rather liked the challenge. There was something to be said about working from the absolute bottom and going nowhere but up that filled Ddraig with pride every time he was awakened.
While he reminisced, the boy finally gathered the courage to speak, only for the dragon to cut him off.
"In case you're wondering, no, I'm not going to eat you," he dismissed the question he knew was coming, having heard it too many times before. "My appetite disappeared along with my real body eons ago. No, you're here right now because I need to speak with you about the future. Your future, to be precise. Or perhaps even our future."
"W–Where even is here? Where are we?" the boy said, finally finding his voice.
"You are currently asleep, and we are in your subconscious mind. I didn't want any distractions while we talked."
"So… I'm dreaming?"
"When you're dreaming, are you aware that you're dreaming?"
"Uhh… no, you're not?" was the response, phrased more like a question than a statement.
"Then you're not dreaming." He bit back a grin at the boy's flummoxed expression.
"Okay, hold on. If I'm not dreaming, and you're real, then who are you? What are you?"
"I have many titles and monikers that I would proudly waste time listing for you, but they're neither here nor there. We need to get to business: Tell me, have you been experiencing… episodes, lately?"
The boy blinked. "W-…What do you mean 'episodes?'"
"Headaches, dizziness, maybe some bouts of forgetfulness or déjà vu within the last month or so?" Ddraig offered.
"Well, I…" the boy looked to his feet as he thought back on recent events. "I have been struggling a bit in school… I keep thinking that I've seen things or thought about them at certain times and places, but I don't know how. I thought that it was just because I was tired or I was having troubling adjusting. You know, to being a Devil."
"Even you know that's not true, hatchling. You have long since adapted to becoming a Devil. What you're experiencing is not normal, and now that I've heard it from your standpoint, I think I know what's going on. You may recall having a certain void in your memory from that night, am I correct?" Issei nodded, catching the meaning. "Well, it's my theory that this gap is actually starting to create even more holes in your mind. The reason you're seeing and hearing things that seem familiar is because you've already seen or heard them, but you have no recollection of them. In short, you've been having memory blackouts."
Ddraig had been watching for some time now, several weeks in fact. Throughout his observations, he noticed that there was always one common factor to these blackouts: For whatever reasons, Issei's mind would wander to the events of his murder and, in doing so, would briefly dissociate itself from reality. It only lasted until something broke his train of thought, but it would leave him unable to accurately recall whatever he saw or heard in that window of time. His brain would hold the memories of sensory input, but his mind couldn't make the connection.
At first glance, it wouldn't seem like anything particularly dangerous. However, the boy had been getting lost in thought much more frequently in recent weeks, and that opened the door for him to lose track of time and experiences more and more. The last thing the boy needed was for this to happen during a life-or-death battle.
Issei's confusion morphed into panic as his eyes widened.
"Calm down, hatchling. It's not so severe that you'll forget how to breathe or eat or whatnot. The things you're forgetting are more short term."
"W- Well, that's still just as bad, don't ya think?!" Issei sputtered indignantly. "We've got a rating game coming up, and I'm not up to speed with the others yet! I can't be forgetting everything I learn here! And my name is Issei!"
"I concur," he replied without skipping a beat. "This has to be dealt with, and soon."
"Y- Wha- Gah! So how am I supposed to do that?!"
"You tell me, boy," the dragon said plainly. "I've been hosted by hundreds over the last few millennia, and I've rarely ventured beyond this point in meddling with the mental state of said hosts. I'm no doctor of the mind, that is not my niche. Too much can go wrong if you misplace something. I learned that the hard way more than a few times. Fortunately for you, I have an idea that will possibly help with these newer holes in your memory."
Issei perked up. "You do?"
"Yes, but I'll need some time to make the necessary adjustments for it to work properly. Moreover, this is merely a 'band-aid solution,' so it won't solve the original problem. If that's not taken care of, the issues you're seeing now will just keep coming back, maybe even get progressively worse. That means you've got to do your due diligence. Find a solution for the gap that's causing all of this, and keep up with your master's training in the meantime.
"Worry not, Issei. When the time is right, you will hear from me again, and then, you will come to understand what it means…" Ddraig dramatically unfurled his wings to their full width, "to dominate."
"H-Hey, wai–"
Before the protest could finish, the Great Dragon flapped his wings and engulfed the space with fire once more, consuming the boy's form and leaving not a trace behind. He wouldn't die, but he would most definitely wake up with a jolt. When he did, there would a special surprise waiting for him in place of the 'Twice Critical.'
Ddraig had of course failed to mention several things about this new accord between the two, but he had his reasons. He didn't want any distractions after Issei reported to his master what had just occurred, so he kept quiet about the ability to speak telepathically through the Gear. There would be time to change that later, but more important tasks required his attention in the now.
'Time to get to work.'
*THUM THUM THUM*
A loud knocking interrupted the peaceful slumber of the young woman. With a gasp, she sat upright in the bed and grabbed the sheets previously covering her unclothed body. Someone was at her door, and sounded like they were–
"Buchou, are you awake?!"
It was Ise, Rias realized, and let out a sigh of relief. In her moment of panic, she had thought it was… someone else.
"I am now, Ise. Geez, you scared me!" she replied.
She heard a timid 'sorry' through the door, invoking a giggle from her as she pulled herself out of bed and slipped on a bathrobe from the nearby lounge chair. As funny as her Pawn's hormonal teenage reactions were to the sight or the very thought of the female body, breasts in particular, he was up awfully early just to catch a glimpse of hers.
Well, if it would get him motivated for the day, then she would oblige with a little show of cleavage. Of course, after telling him to not scare her awake in the morning. Rias Gremory was not a morning person.
Upon opening the door to her room, she was greeted by her newest peerage member, wide-eyed, sweaty and clad only in a pair of his boxers. The look of shock and excitement she was expecting flashed across his face at her state of dress, but, much to her surprise, it quickly vanished. Something must've been wrong if he didn't go ramrod straight and start babbling.
"Ise, are you alright? What's going on?"
"Buchou, my Gear isn't what we thought it was!" the boy blurted.
Rias blinked, now more confused than ever. She was, however, wide awake at this point. "Huh?"
"Look!" Issei then brought up his left arm and summoned his Gear.
The familiar flash of green light emitted from the boy's arm, but died down to reveal a completely different form. His entire left forearm, wrist, hand and fingers were fully covered by a gauntlet with red plates resembling dragon scales. Several of the unique features from the previous form remained, such as the green jewel on the hand and the gold spikes, but were now much more pronounced.
Rias stared for a moment, then looked back up to Issei.
"What happened?"
Issei began to explain, starting from the moment he fell asleep the previous night to his conversation with a dragon that apparently had been sealed within his Sacred Gear the entire time. Halfway through his description of the reptile in question, Rias' eyes widened as the realization dawned on her.
"Ise, that's…" she interrupted, a broad grin blooming on her face. "Your Gear isn't a Twice Critical at all! That's the Boosted Gear, one of the thirteen Longinus! The vessel of Ddraig, the Welsh Red Dragon! This changes everything! If we revamp your current training routine to account for the Boosted Gear, we can–"
"Buchou, I… I don't know if I can."
"Sure you can! You just do what you did before! Twice Critical was basically modeled after the Booster Gear, so they should operate on the same conditions. If your will is strong enough, then–"
"The Gear's not the problem, Buchou. It's me."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Ddraig said that there's something wrong with my head, and it has to do with the night I was… er, I died." He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably as she stared at him. "From what he told me, I've been having moments where I just forget where I am or what I'm doing, and he's right, there's… there's these blank spots in my memory from the last couple of weeks. He wasn't very specific, but he said he had an idea that could help with that, and he needed time alone to make it work."
While he talked, Rias' mood had gradually transitioned from confusion to shock and finalized on outrage.
"Did he not give you any details at all? Like what you could expect to see from this, or what his plan involves?"
"Not… not really," he answered sheepishly, rubbing a hand on top of his new Gear. "Only that it was a patch, I guess. He kicked me out before I could ask. He didn't even tell me about this thing. Sorry."
Rias put her hands on her hips and cast a glare toward the nearest wall.
"A patch," she mumbled to herself, "Good grief. You'd think that, as his new host, he'd be a little more forthcoming with your mental health. Why the secrecy? He's the Red Dragon Emperor! It wouldn't look good on him for his host to have such a…" she stopped herself from saying the word that came to mind. She continued to scowl for a short time before shaking her head. "Well, I suppose it's better than him just outright ignoring it. Alright, I'll call Sir Mathers and we'll see what he says."
"Sir Mathers?"
"He's my elder brother's Bishop, and a very accomplished magician," she clarified. "If anyone can help, it's him."
"You have a brother, Buchou?" Issei continued curiously.
"Yes, have I no– Oh, that's right. I haven't told you much about my family, have I?" He shook his head. "Hmm. Well, you'll meet my brother soon enough, along with my parents, especially now with the Boosted Gear. But there's something else I need to ask you, Ise."
"Uhn… Yes, Buchou?"
"Why didn't you tell me about your memories? You told me that you would, right? You know that I would help you in a heartbeat." She hadn't intended to sound hurt with her question, but it must have come off as such because he looked down and clenched his fists.
"I … I-I don't know. I didn't know what to do, and I still don't. I just… I'm just in the way," he lamented as the corners of his eyes began to moisten.
"Ise, what are you–"
"That's all I am! The more I think about it, I can't stop thinking about it, Buchou! I'm nothing but dead weight going into this game! What could I possibly do except act as a meat shield?! I'm not strong, I'm not fast, I've got nothing going for me, and there's no time to change any of that! And now there's this whole crap with Ddraig and my head! I…" his shoulders began to heave. "I can't keep up. I don't know what to do…"
The frustrated quiver in his voice nearly broke Rias' heart. Her Pawn was here, feeling like the whole world was weighing down on him, and the sudden realization of her oversight in not seeing the truth sooner only compounded her anguish. Of course, perception is everything. Circumstances behind his reincarnation aside, did he really believe that she would think less of him by talking about it? How long had he kept this bottled up? How short-sighted was she to have not noticed the signs?
No more, she decided. Enough was enough. She'd place the call to her brother's servant this very morning. She would get to the bottom of this mess, whatever it would cost her.
She moved forward and cupped her hands against his cheeks.
"Ise, look at me, please." she requested gently. To her relief, he did just that.
"You are not dead weight, nor are you in the way. I will say this as many times as I have to until you believe me: My peerage members are my family members. That's not just something I say because it's nice to hear – I mean it! If you're struggling, I'll help you. If you feel like you're falling behind, I'll teach you. If you're in trouble, I'll protect you. If the entire Underworld looks down on you, I'll stand by you.
"A King protects their own… and I clearly haven't been doing that for you. I haven't been there for you like I should've been, and I'm so sorry. So, let me promise you right now: I'll find a way to help you through this. We all will. Whether Ddraig's idea works or it doesn't, we'll find a way. And don't you ever think of yourself as useless. Do you understand?"
Issei still didn't seem entirely convinced, but the release of the tension that he had been feeling for quite some time came from hearing what he needed to hear, and it did wonders. He relaxed and nodded in her hands, then stepped back slightly to clear his eyes.
He took a deep breath and nodded again. "Okay… Thank you, Buchou."
"Call me Rias when we're in private. Don't worry about the title."
"Yes, Bu- I mean,… Rias."
The redhead smiled in turn. As much as she liked the sense of authority that 'Buchou' brought, it was always nice to hear someone else say her name every now and then. And certainly more refreshing than reaffirming it to herself in the mirror.
Shifting gears once more, she stepped back and crossed her hands behind her back.
"So what was your new friend like?" she asked, giving a tell-tale sarcastic inflection at the word 'friend.'
"Ddraig?" The Pawn scratched his cheek, trying to find the right to describe the encounter. "Umm… honestly, Buc- er, Rias,… he's… he's kind of a…"
"Yes?"
"…Lazy smart-ass."
…
…
The heiress and her servant would never forget the silence that preceded the most unladylike belly laugh Rias had ever let out in her life at his assessment, with Issei joining after she snorted like a pig and laughed even harder because of it. It shouldn't have been that funny to her, but the timing was perfect and the deadpan serious look on his face made his delivery amazing.
What a wonderful way to start the morning.
Connor sat on his couch, absently watching some TV program that he couldn't rightly remember the name. There was too much on his mind, and he needed a little white noise to distract him.
It wasn't working.
He could no longer deny it. Thanks to the Graal, his days of invisibility were now a hopeless chimera. The only thing left that he could do was to prepare himself for whatever chose to bother him next. Be it the Devils or the Grigori or some other monster straight out of his nightmares.
Two days of combing through every piece of research material he either knew by heart or had at his disposal had yielded only mixed results.
In the supernatural world, magical energy could actually take physical form through a process called crystallization. Much like how common substances in the chemical world could change their molecular structure due to heat or pressure, he theorized that magical energy from the Graal had compressed itself enough to crystallize after traveling from its original vessel (Valerie) into something much smaller (him). He was more than likely wrong, but still, it was about the only reason he could think for it happening the way it did.
Magic circuits being what they were, essentially a second nervous system, it was entirely possible for them to suffer damage in similar fashion as natural human nerves. Even worse, if the magus was not careful with how they utilized the circuits, burns and necrosis were disturbingly common occurrences with mishandling of the flow of Od – the fingers were typically the first body parts to be lost. So it was a wonder that Connor's entire arm didn't suddenly decay or otherwise burst into flame from the sudden intrusion.
What struck him as odder still was that the effect of the magical energy compression and transfer wasn't immediate. There had been about a half-second to a full second before the burning pain lanced through him. He knew this because he remembered thinking to himself how perfectly the serene smile on Valerie's face suited her complexion.
Dhampir or no, that woman was gorgeous.
Then there was the 'vision' he witnessed. He'd never read or heard about anything like that in his life, and he didn't even have enough time upon seeing it to form a question before the whole thing disappeared. It almost made him wonder if his mind was just playing tricks on him, but the sudden loss and reappearance of his senses had disproved that. Obviously, the Graal had somehow acted on its own; however without further contact with Valerie, he didn't see a way to find out more. At least not without Lavinia's suggested plan to bring in more research material.
Troublesome as it had been, he had managed to divert attention from his hand while at school on Saturday but only for a couple of hours before Reya asked him what happened. He claimed that it was a slight burn he gave himself while making tea, and had even dressed it as appropriate for burn treatment. To sell the deception, he went the extra mile of acting as if the pain and irritation from the 'burn' was real. He could tell that she wasn't convinced, but she kept silent for the time being.
There was only so many times that he could use the same excuse before people would stop buying the lie, and he half expected for Sona would grill him about it at some point soon.
As if right on time to break him from his thoughts of Sona's impending interrogation, the Field around the complex notified him of two familiar magical presences.
Connor was glad that the agreed upon meeting place would be his apartment. Sure, it could have been anywhere in town that was very sparsely visited by the normal folk, but that also meant fewer witnesses in case of a backstabbing. Here, he was largely more secure; he had sensors in place, traps, soundproofing, some new items with which to bring to bear in a pinch, and neighbors, just in case.
He waited for the doorbell to ring before getting up to answer. Opening the door, Connor was greeted to the sight of Tobio and his senior team member. Lavinia was sporting a white blouse, light blue long-sleeved shirt and a straw sun hat with a rounded top while Tobio went with a simplistic dark gray T-shirt and button-up black jacket. Both were wearing blue jeans and tennis shoes to complete the spring casual attire quite common in Japan.
"Good evening, signore Connor." Lavinia greeted.
"To you as well, miss Reni. I'm guessing Tobio showed you the way?" he asked as the young men wordlessly nodded to one another in greeting.
"Indeed, he did."
"Anyone see you coming?"
"Really?" Tobio asked.
"Right, stupid question. Still, though…"
Lavinia giggled. "Oh my! You two really are friends, aren't you?"
"Baby steps, nee-san."
"Yeah, on LEGOs. Anyway, come on in for a little bit while I go grab the merchandise." Connor stepped aside to allow her to pass.
"Grazie. Such a gentleman~" she tittered, Tobio coming in right after her and shutting the door.
He rolled his eyes and left the chuckling pair at the tiled entrance, proceeding to the living room where two of the undead beast bones lay propped up against the wall in the corner. The largest of the three, the femur, would be staying with him, kept secure in the bedroom closet until he was ready to work with it, while the others would be his payment for the thesis Lavinia was offering. He had never actually specified how many he was willing to trade, so squirreling away just one for himself wouldn't be a deal-breaker, and what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
The moment his hand curled around the beastly tibia, a cold dread began to slowly creep up through his fingertips. The layered curses emanating from the bones hadn't abated in the slightest since the battle that night, so they still maintained their abnormal rigidity and gave off a disturbing chill when touched. Curses and their after-effects typically did not go away with anything less than a strong enough spell to completely overwhelm the curse (or multiple in this case), and while Lavinia's boss could probably break that cipher within a week, Connor wanted to find his own way with the femur.
The magus suppressed a shudder before picking up both articles and returning to his two guests. He came back to the sight of Lavinia trying and failing to get her tennis shoes off while balancing on one foot. Tobio, meanwhile, stood by and watched with a smirk as she hopped here and there.
"Don't bother with the shoes, this won't take long," Connor announced, catching the woman's attention.
Upon her first glimpse of the bones, Lavinia froze. Tobio's amusement died a sudden death when he turned around to follow her gaze.
"What are those?"
"Limb bones from a hapless creature mutated by half-assed necromancy," he answered bluntly, earning looks of surprise and shock from the agent and magician respectively. "Don't worry. The idiot responsible for it is dead, and the documentation of his process has been destroyed. There won't be another one, trust me."
"I would hope not," Tobio interjected. "Jin's growling up a storm, and I can almost see the malice coming off of those. It's like a gnawing hunger."
"That pretty well sums up the encounter," the magus affirmed, then looked to Lavinia. "Your director still want these?"
The blonde magician hesitated, obviously not wanting anything to do with them herself, but she managed to choke down her nerves and nod.
"Yes… I think he'll be very interested in them,… unfortunately."
"Good. Now then, can I see this thesis?"
Lavinia nodded. Without preamble, she brought her hand out, palm facing the ceiling. The same personalized magic circle he'd seen previously appeared above it, and from that circle came a clean manila folder with a stack of papers neatly tucked inside.
'No incantation? Curious.'
"This is everything I could find in there about the Graal," she explained. "I know it's not much, but you won't get much better anywhere else. I tried to have some other things printed for you as well, but the director didn't want me giving out anything extra for free that wasn't strictly reference material."
Connor shrugged. "Fair enough, I got what I asked for. Just do me a favor and don't do anything stupid with these."
"Oh, believe me, I won't," the woman replied firmly, handing the folder to the magus.
"Alright, here you go." Connor held the bones forward in offering.
Slowly at first, the blonde magician reached to take them, then none too quickly grabbed and nearly dropped them from shock before shoving the items into her magic storage dimension and closing it. She gave a full-body shiver, then started wiping her hands against her pants as if to get the numbing cold out of them. If only it were that easy.
Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she turned once more to Connor and smiled, though it was a little forced.
"If that is all, then I bid you 'good day.' Good luck in your search, signore." With yet another wordless wave of her hand, her magic circle appeared beneath her feet, allowing her to seemingly sink into the ground and vanish.
In her haste to leave, she had placed the two men in an awkward silence.
"She doesn't deal with curses very well, huh?" Connor asked.
The remaining agent shook his head. "Not in the time I've known her. Well, see you around."
"Yep."
Tobio snapped his fingers, and a black portal whirled to life beside him. He gave one last glance to the magus before he stepped through and the portal closed behind him.
Just like that, Connor was left alone again. He sighed, glad that it went the way it did. For these kinds of interactions and deals, the lack of threats and/or memory manipulation made for a good day all around.
He ventured back to the couch and sat down, extracting the folder's contents and spreading them on the coffee table. Sifting through the excerpts and notes, he found the paper that seemed the most detailed about the Graal and began from the top. Luckily, the writer had the common courtesy of using English. Or at least, this translation was in English.
"The Sephiroth Graal, or the Holy Grail of the Secluded World as it is known in some circles, is the chalice believed to be used by Jesus of Nazareth at the famous Last Supper, which was then sent into the hands of God shortly before Jesus' crucifixion. It is perhaps the most coveted Sacred Gear out of any known today, including the True Longinus, because of how infrequently it manifests.
"Among all the other Sacred Gears known today, there are three that bear similar origins to the Graal, and are thus classified as the Holy Relics: the True Longinus, the Alphecca Tyrant, and the Incinerate Anthem. Curiously, the Shroud of Turin, the linen cloth thought to be the burial wrap of Jesus, has only ever surfaced as a museum piece instead of a Sacred Gear, despite its contact with the Son of God.
"All three of the aforementioned Gears are clearly recorded as weapons capable of destroying gods, and have frequently been spotted in the hands of warriors and magicians alike throughout history. The Graal, on the other hand, is more emblematic of life, and one needs to look at Scripture to learn the reason why.
"The Graal represented Jesus' life, in both the figurative and supernatural senses. By handing it back to God in the garden of Gethsemane, he signified the beginning of the end of his mortal life. An act of symbolism at face value, but in the book of Luke –chapter twenty-two verse forty-four in some later versions– it states that as he prayed, "his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground." Now, whether or not the disciple Luke was simply waxing dramatic to make up for falling asleep on the job or the Son of God actually did suffer a conveniently chronic case of hematidrosis remains unclear. I highly doubt the latter, myself.
"But the overall point is this: Without a concrete connection to the other Relics, who's to say that those sweat drops from Jesus actually were his blood, and that, instead of falling onto the ground, they fell into the chalice as God took it back?"
An interesting theory. If this was correct, then the Graal came into contact with the blood of Jesus while he was still fully alive and well, whereas the True Longinus and the other two had to have been coated with it while he suffered and died on the cross. It stood to reason that such a difference in how the blood touched these relics would affect their power accordingly, and why there were no others like them.
"It's well documented how destructive the Tyrant, Anthem and True Longinus can be in the hands of a skilled enough wielder – tied to the ending of life as they are. But what about its creation? What could the Graal accomplish if it truly held power over the very concept of life itself? For instance, from simple things such as prolonging one's own life, healing mortal wounds and otherwise cheating death, to the realm of impossibilities like the creation of souls, transplanting souls into vessels or perhaps even calling upon souls that exist beyond the cycle of reincarnation. If one were to get really creative, one could very well become a god with that kind of power!
"Sadly, it seems that everybody who possesses the Graal dies in short order and takes it with them into death. As a result, there is no factual evidence to support any ongoing theory at all, so there exists only possibility. I eagerly await the day when this changes."
Connor huffed and leaned back into the couch, setting the paper aside.
He knew it was a long shot, but he'd been hoping for something to at least give him a clue about the Graal. All he seemed to have gotten for his trouble was the ramblings of a loony spellcaster. While the history lesson was certainly a nice read, everything else just brought up even more questions than he had before.
Why did this guy think that the creation of souls was even remotely possible, when spellcasters everywhere had tried for thousands of years to no avail? How did a relic made by the God of Abraham have anything to do with reincarnation, a man-made concept? And was the translation off, or was this guy smoking something when he wrote some of this drivel?
The transposition of souls into new vessels was nothing new; that could be done any number of ways with magecraft or magic, and had been done since time immemorial. However, that was typically done to seal souls into non-living vessels. Even with everything going right for you, transposing a soul from one body to another was exceedingly risky. It was like transplanting internal organs; there always existed the possibility of rejection. Did the author think that the Graal could mitigate or even eliminate that risk?
Connor didn't believe in reincarnation, be it from the human philosophical context or the Devils and their phony rendition of it. Despite his disbelief, he had studied it for a short time in the States, if only to understand what it meant.
The Devils' Evil Piece system was practically trademark theft to the very idea of reincarnation because even after the body had changed and become something completely different, one's identity remained the same. That was nothing more than a transformation with extra baggage, as far as he was concerned. Conversely, in true reincarnation, sometimes known as transmigration, the soul's existing sense of identity was seemingly lost as life started over and new experiences replaced the old ones. There were supposedly exceptions to the rule called 'old souls,' but proving the validity of that was about as easy as explaining the precise reason Schrödinger used a cat for his infamous thought experiment. (1)
Connor gave the passage of theories another once over, just to be sure. There might have been some nugget of gold in that hogwash he just wasn't seeing.
'Creation of souls, nope; transplanting, total waste; calling souls beyo-...'
"Wait…"
'Calling… He's talking about it like 'calling something over'… Like beckon or summon… Summoning? If that's possible, then… no, my body would be more like a tether, in that case; an anchor to the physical plane. So then, wouldn't that make this… the conduit?'
"Conduit…" he repeated aloud before his eyes widened and he jumped up from the couch. "Wait. A. Minute!"
If someone were to witness Connor's mad dash for the bedroom in that moment, they would liken him to a scientist rambling about jigawatts and someone named Scott. Almost sliding to his knees at the side of the futon, he rummaged through his school bag until he pulled out his grandfather's weathered notebook, then flipped quickly yet carefully through the familiar texts and diagrams until he found the one that had just come to mind.
With his right index finger, he jabbed at the top left corner of a page, then glanced down at the dark red pattern on the same hand.
In the past, he'd only ever read this far into the notes for the sake of killing time due to lack of resources to pull off what was described in the text. Now, however, he possessed a key component that could make or break the deal: Crystallized magical energy, courtesy of the Sephiroth Graal's mark.
The corners of Connor's lips tweaked upward slightly as he got an idea. An awful idea. The magus got a wonderful, awful idea.
'This… this might just work.'
Another three days had passed since Connor's revelation about the mark, and he was just about ready to see if this theory would bear fruit.
"Let's see…" Connor muttered to himself, running his checklist out loud. "Ring of purification, check. Purging circles, check. Primary sigil, triple check. Leyline connection, solid. Magical energy, optimal efficacy in… ten minutes." With all other preparations in order, he took a seat on a toppled shelf and began reading over the incantation again to make sure he had it down perfectly.
He'd spent the first day scouting around town for places to perform the ritual. It had to be somewhere that he could apply the proper safeguards and wards to keep away unwanted visitors or bystanders until and during the appointed night.
Luckily, the warehouse situated right next door to the Ishikawa factory lacked the hanging odor of blood and viscera, and there was plenty of space to work. From the inside, it looked like something had been there recent enough to knock off the layered dust and put a rather conspicuous crater in the wall, but a quick search of the area showed it to be empty. Whatever force of nature that went through there before had moved on.
From there, he went about about hunting for materials. According to the notes, the ritual he was attempting was rather bare-bones regarding what was needed beyond the circle's layout. Strangely enough, the caster's blood was not a necessity for the process, and as much as he wanted to skip using it after the debacle last week, he deemed it too much of a risk to go without. Smaller items like chalk for the circle and a little bit of incense to dispel the musty scent of the warehouse were as easy to find as a quick trip to the market district, and for roughly a few thousand yen.
Another full day was spent drawing the diagram down to the finest detail. He wanted to get it done right the first time.
Additionally, he had to consider the use of a catalyst, or a relic of some kind that held a significant link to a time, place or person in history. The thing about catalysts, though, was that they could be literally anything, from refuse items to everyday tools and even the most expensive or valuable trinkets known to mankind, the range was limitless. That is, unless the spellcaster knew exactly what it was they wanted out of the ritual.
Connor had pondered for a while on what would be an appropriate catalyst and, in the end, he decided just to use some of his runestones. It couldn't have hurt to try; he had an abundance of them, and this was all just an experiment for the sake of proving his wild theory anyway.
If the ritual worked and he achieved his goal, fantastic! If not, then the only thing wasted was time.
On the subject of time, he checked his phone and read the clock to be 1:59 A.M. The moment of truth was at hand. He inhaled deeply, taking in the rich scent of sandalwood one last time before approaching the circle and lightly dragging a sharpened runestone down his left forearm, allowing the fresh blood to drip onto the diagram's epicenter.
"Alright…"
With only a few ticks left on the clock to 2:00 A.M. precisely, the magus raised his marked hand and counted down to begin.
'4,... 3,... 2,... 1,... Now.'
"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let blue be the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."
Connor hadn't even finished the first verse when he saw the chalk that made the summoning circle begin to glow an eerie blue, glimmering as if a hole had opened up in the earth to reveal a pool of water just below.
A good start.
He issued the mental trigger to activate his magic circuits. The chains snapped, the floodgates burst open, and a rush of Mana coming from the leyline suddenly inundated him, overtaking his Od and spreading like a wildfire to every part of his body. The shock almost made him lose his concentration on the spell, but he pushed through. If there was ever any doubt about the leyline connection's integrity before, it was gone now.
The mark on his hand started to pulse and give off heat, though not uncomfortably so. It was a very bizarre feeling, nonetheless.
"Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill, Fill. Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."
With every utterance of 'Fill,' the Mana in his body surged like flames propelled by a burst of hot, dry air. The sigil on the ground glowed even brighter, and the surrounding rings followed suit while a mote of light manifested just above the diagram, growing with each passing second. Arcs of Mana scattered and flailed about like rampant bolts of lightning, and a powerful wind began to blow directly from the dot and sent all of his nearby tools and utensils across the floor as it picked up speed, but he didn't care.
By the Root, this was actually working! Mounting exhilaration bubbled in the magus' gut, a feeling he hadn't experienced in quite a while. Bracing himself against the growing gale, he continued.
"I hereby declare: Your body shall serve under me, my fate shall be your sword. If you abide by this will, this reason, then respond!"
The light at the diagram's center did just that, becoming so bright that Connor had to bring his left arm up to shield his eyes against it. This had the unintended effect of sending a bit of still-dripping blood onto his nose and left cheek due to the wind. Through the near blinding light, he could make out something taking shape within the circle. The more he spoke, the more the outline of something humanoid in structure grew and grew. Was it a creature or a person?
"My oath to be sworn here: I shall attain all virtues of Heaven. I shall have dominion over all evils of Hell!"
The mark suddenly got hotter, and his heart pounded in his ears even as he shouted into the oncoming tempest. He was so close now! One last verse!
"You seven heavens, clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance!"
No sooner had the words left his lips, than the light detonated and a far more powerful gust almost pushed Connor off of his feet. A wave of dust kicked up and blew into his face and eyes, blinding him to the immediate aftermath. He coughed and spat, rubbing his eyes and scolding himself for not doing just a little bit more to clean up the place beforehand.
As the dust began to settle, he saw a lone figure standing to its feet in the circle's epicenter.
It was a man; light-skinned, tall and dressed in loose-fitting sky blue robes, the upper and lower halves of which featured white and gold decorative arcs respectively. Underneath a tattered shoulder cape and fur-lined cowl obscuring most of his head, a form-fitting black shirt with golden trim across the top covered his abdomen and most of his chest, while fingerless black sleeves did the same for his arms. Open-toed greaves adorned both of his feet, and a metal bracer covered his left arm while a single metal band hung on his right wrist. All four of these pieces were thematically etched with wavy black engravings.
In his right hand, a wooden staff was leisurely held like it were a weapon of a different sort. One end of it was slender and capped with a spear-like tip, while the other was intricately carved and fashioned into multiple sections of metal and wood. Sitting atop the business end of the staff, the club-like head held an amber-colored sigil and a metallic loop, from which dangled a trio of similarly metallic drop-shaped pieces.
With his free left hand, the man lowered his cowl, revealing a mature, angular face and a full head of dark blue hair that flowed past his shoulders underneath the hood. A pair of silver earrings dangled from his earlobes, identical in shape to the pieces on his staff, and deep red eyes curiously scanned his surroundings. From the structure of his face and build, he seemed to be somewhere between his late 20s and early 30s. A far cry from any preconceived image of a bearded and graying old man in similar garb.
All in all, he bore the resemblance of a druid, yet stood with the confidence of a warrior in his prime. (2)
The man's gaze shifted to the building's other occupant, then toward the circle and his own left hand. Regarding said appendage with an unreadable expression, he turned it over several times and flexed his fingers as if testing them.
Connor slowly stood back up, rendered speechless by what had just occurred before him. He wouldn't have believed the result if he hadn't seen it for himself. Summoning a semi-sentient familiar through a tried-and-true circle and using a more mundane power source would have been one thing, but this… this was…
The man looked away from his hand and back up to Connor before the magus could finish his thought. Those predatory red eyes made his breath hitch in his throat.
"I take it you're the one that summoned me?" the man asked in flawless English, his voice deep and level, bearing a tempered youthfulness.
A long moment of silence followed before Connor answered.
"Yes… yes, I am."
"Hm. Alright," was the calm reply. "Before we go any further, I need to ask you something."
"So do I, but… you can go first."
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?! HOW THE HELL DID YOU SUMMON ME?! AND, OF ALL THINGS, WHY THE HELL AM I A DAMN CASTER?!"
Caught off guard by the explosive barrage of inquiries, Connor took a step back, his ears ringing slightly from both the increase in volume and equally loud echo in the warehouse.
"I… er… what?"
"A Caster!" the man resumed his tirade, "I'm supposed to be something completely different! This is not me! It's a complete waste! I've got way better things I could be doing with my time than sling spells around like candy all damn day! Just because I was taught magecraft by the old hag doesn't mean that I…" He trailed off and his eyes seemed to lose focus, before he groaned and brought his left hand to his forehead.
"You know what, forget it," he suddenly resigned. "It's just like me to have this kind of crap luck. Now that I'm here, I can't really change anything about it."
"I– I'm sorry, but… what are you talking about?" Connor asked, unable find any kind of traction in this conversation. What was a 'Caster?' For that matter, who even was this guy? Had the ritual actually succeeded in summoning another magus? He was much the same as this man in thinking, 'What the hell was going on?'
"Look, kid, I'm getting bombarded right now with all manner of facts and information that I can't set straight, so can we hold off on that for a bit? I need time to think." The man's hand hadn't left his forehead from the moment he put it there, and his face was beginning to tighten from agitation.
"Umm… sure, I guess… there's not a lot of places to sit down in here, but if you–"
"I just need some time to think, so stop talking," the man barked.
Connor's teeth almost clicked as he snapped his jaw shut. He backed away and took a seat on the same toppled shelf as before, keeping his eyes on the man the whole way.
'Well, crap. There goes the joyous rapture of a successful experiment.'
For several minutes, the man, or 'Caster,' paced back and forth. Every now and then, his feet would come across a small something laying on the floor and send it skittering elsewhere, not that he paid any of it much regard. Even with the dim lighting courtesy of the moon through the warehouse's broken windows, Connor could make out the muscles in the man's face twitching from time to time.
Connor, meanwhile, was starting to get drowsy. He could feel himself begin to nod off as he waited, and his limbs felt excessively heavy. The ritual must have taken more out of him than he first thought, but then again, he did get flooded with Mana straight from a leyline.
Finally, the robed man stopped his movements and looked up, breathing out heavily.
"Is everything okay now?" Connor asked.
"It will be, once I get all the important stuff figured out. Sorry for snapping at you, kid." The older man looked to Connor and noticed the younger male's exhausted state. "Hey, you alright?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Or so he said, which the man clearly didn't buy. "So, can you give me an idea of what just happened?"
"Well, to sum it up; You summoned me from a plane that exists beyond life and death," the man explained. "It shouldn't be possible, but here I am: a fragment from the past, now here in the present."
'Fragment?'
"Are you saying you're… a ghost?" Connor ventured.
"Something to that effect." 'Caster' smiled. "Heh, actually doesn't make a lot of sense out loud, does it? I mean, ghosts don't have real physical bodies, right? Bodies composed of magical energy, but still. Anyway, I'm here right now because of you. That ritual you just did was a form of a contract that's bound me to you, but we still have to fully seal the deal if either of us wants me to stick around.
"The rest is gonna take a while to explain, and I'd rather we talk about that someplace where you can sit down and rest. You're just barely holding it together," he finished with a look of sincere concern.
Connor let out a tired sigh, which turned into another yawn. "Right,… we can talk and walk, then. So, what's your name?"
The man cocked a curious eyebrow.
"Oh, er…" the teen paused, realizing he'd asked that to another magus without thinking. "You called yourself 'a' Caster, so I'm guessing that's either a title, or there's more than one, right?"
"Yeah, it's just a title. It annoys the hell outta me, but it's safer to be referred to that way. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have a problem with people knowing my name; I'm not ashamed of who I was and what I did in life." 'Caster' paused for a moment to look analytically into Connor's eyes. "But I get the feeling that you'd take issue with the attention my identity could bring your way. So, for the time being, let's just agree to keep the matter of my true name a secret. I'll tell you eventually, don't worry, but there're some things I need to make sure of first."
Connor nodded understandingly. A lot of magi lived double lives as a way of maintaining secrecy, so having an alias as one's public identity was a very common occurrence. In fact, it wasn't out of the question for a magus to go by three or more different names if they had their hands in enough pies.
Still, his curiosity was piqued. What about this man's identity could be so important –or dangerous– that it had to stay hidden? While he could very well force the subject by way of this 'contract,' it would be a black mark going forward for them. Even for magi, a modicum of trust tended to go a long way.
"Alright, so what should I call you in lieu of 'Caster?' Oh, I'm Connor, by the way." The magus held out his right hand.
'Caster' gave him an appraising stare, then smiled and clasped his hand in the younger man's own. The strong grip almost completely eclipsed the slight tingle Connor felt from the mark.
"Connor, huh? Well, if you really need a name for me,… I guess you can call me Grímnir."
…
(1): Either Schrödinger believed rats would be less memorable of a test subject, or he hated cats with the intensity of a thousand suns. Who knows?
(2): Artwork by Kei-suwabe at is linked on my profile.
…
There you go.
Believe, and you shall receive! The Servant has arrived! For those that have already figured out who it is, you just had to know it was someone from that particular sect of mythos and legend. All things considered, I figured that this Caster was the best possible match for Connor, and a lot of you all did, too. Again, I need to see how well this works out before I do anything more along the lines of more than one Servant.
Like I said at the start, now that work has slowed down some, I can put more focus on writing, so updates shouldn't take more than two months. Hopefully. No telling when things will start back up with the next cycle, but I'm gonna make the most of what I've got right now.
Also, with the next update, I'm thinking about changing the story into a DxD & F/SN crossover. I've integrated enough Nasuverse lore that I believe it warrants the change. Won't have any effect on the story except where you go to find it.
If you enjoyed what you read, leave a favorite, a follow or a review to let me know. Any advice or support that you could give would be greatly appreciated. If you'd like to take a shot at the challenge listed in chapter 1, send me a PM, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.
As always, thank you for reading!