Words Count: 4153

A/N: Well, aside from the writer's block, the neighbor cat I usually fed got hit by a bike. He died yesterday, my new friend's leaving for the US. I swear Life got something against me, but I'm okay, I think? Felt pretty miserable for a few days, but I bounced back.

A/N#2: Been almost two months since the cat's death, apparently the one to hit him was a girl… I don't want to say it, but… Also, FS is ending. The last Ep will probably be Ep 85-86, depends on how long the last fight takes. Could be shorter, but Leonis will come to the third installment as a Servant. Look different too, since he will need a human Vessel as a Divine Spirit.

Discord: /hEp2jGzKMX

If you think I'm doing a good job, and wish to read 10 Episodes in advanced for both stories, please check out my: P a treon . com (/) Regularrr

( "The Fool and the Trickster,

One seeks to laugh with the person and himself;

One derives entertainment through the sufferings of others.

Which are you?")

In a panic, the lost Princess of Nilfgaard whirls around to find her companions have all been seized by an Unnatural Force, from which the strange Merchant's undoubtedly the cause of. Even with the Elder Blood flowing through the Witcheress' veins, this feat's unthinkable for the ashen-haired Princess. Time itself has become stagnant. "Merchant of Glass…" She mumbles the Demon's epithet under her breaths, heart thumping in her chest. "To what, or whom do I owe this pleasure?"

Demons, even powerful ones, have certain restrictions put on them, but this doesn't seem to affect the stranger at all… Swallowing her fear, she palms Swallow- her trusty Enchanted Blade, then decides against it, for the Demon doesn't appear to hold a shred of hostility in his eyes; only amusement. "Fear not, Princess. I am not here to harm you."

"Then what is it that you want?"

The Demon lets loose a chuckle, rubbing his grubby hands together; even rolling his eyes as he explains.

"What can a… Poor and destitute merchant like myself possibly want? To strike up a Deal, obviously." In spite of the environment they are in, O'Dimm appears rather unbothered. In fact, the Demon's completely at home. "And before you reject my very reasonable offer–"

G.O.D's mischievous gaze lands on the Magic Lamp strapped to her waist.

"Use that first… This matter concerns an acquaintance of yours." The Witcheress' only response is to furrow her brows, before she relents. The Lamp's ghastly Light shines on the center of the ginormous crater, revealing the apparition of a youth who seems no older than Ciri herself- give or take a year or two. "That is–!"

She grasps.

"Leonis?"

There're differences compared to how the Magus used to look, but the resemblances are very much visible. With hasty steps, Cirilla of Cintra swerves towards the sly-looking Demon, who merely smirks.

"So… Ready to negotiate?"

— False Sovereignty —

Across the world, every governmental body; every household- man; woman and child are watching with bated breaths,

Their eyes collectively glued to their television screens; fidgeting in their seats as utter chaos and violence unfold. It is almost as though the people of Finland have all been possessed by Demons, abandoning rationality to satisfy their baser, beastly urges with reckless abandon. "I- Is that Leo?" Of course, Japan's no exception, specifically Fuyuki.

Hence why a certain Tigress stutters, noticing the familiar silhouette captured floating above the foreign City of Helsinki, but she cannot be sure.

Thus, in an attempt to check the person's identity, Taiga scrambles forth, nearly falling flat on her face as she gets so close she may as well be kissing the flickering screen. Besides her, the remaining Servants all sit in a circle, intensely focused on the disaster covered by practically every single News station. Seeing this, Enkidu chases her off, frowning angrily. "Lady Fujimura, please be mindful of others! We are watching too!" His Chain yanks her by the arm, dragging her across the floor like a wet, dirty mop.

"You didn't have to be so mean!"

The Tigress grumbles, but none pays attention to her.

'Master, is it really him?'

Lancer asks himself.

Even though deep down, he knows the Entity on the screen is his Master, he knows yet can't accept it. Leonis Magnum's by no means good, but there is- was Goodness in him, of that the Automaton's certain.

The Servant can see none of it now… Not an ounce. All's shown is a vile and malevolent Evil hell-bent on corrupting Humanity.

Lancer will still serve him, if only to fulfill the Purpose of his Creation, but to say he'll gladly do so… It's impossible. The other two Servants do not share his thoughts, however. Saber, in particular, looks shocked out of her mind.

As a King, she had forsaken her own emotions, hence why she could not understand… What could have possibly driven a person to commit such atrocities? Even if he had done bad in his Life, she had never thought her fellow capable of this.

But then she remembers;

She remembers how happy he had seemed learning of his child's conception… How angry he was with her Master upon learning she had contemplated abortion out of fear,

'How devastated he must've felt, knowing he will never get to hold the child.' Then, the King of Knights understands. She can't / won't ever agree with what he's doing,

But she feels for him. "We have to stop him."

This isn't just for Humanity, it's for Leo as well. Of everyone in the world, perhaps only she, as a person, truly feels for him…

Leo may claim everything he has done; is doing and will do is out of his own freewill, but she refuses to believe it. "Why? Humans kill each other every day, let him have his fun."

He's always seemed somewhat lost, which does not necessarily invalidate the good he has done or the wisdom he has imparted, nor does it excuse the evils he and his men have committed, yet she can't bear to see him like this- to watch him descend into madness and bitterness.

Artoria has spent her entire Afterlife like that, and it is not a fate she will hope on anyone, let alone someone she considers a… Friend. 'Is this concern…?' Even when her Kingdom fell, she hadn't felt this, instead bombarded with a persistent sense of guilt and shame she can't quite articulate or shake off. Artoria puts a palm over her chest in an attempt to shrug away the tightness plaguing her heart, but it's no use.

Luckily, that's when somebody drops from the ceiling, a portal to be precise, which manages to shake her out of the prison of her thoughts. Donning her Astral Armor and Excalibur, Artoria raises her blade to aim at the intruder- "Who?!" A woman in her early twenties, wearing what appears to be a medieval cosplay; a sword and a lamp strapped to her belt, her hair an ashen-white color. From the way she rolls to her feet; how she presents herself and the scars visible to all, she's clearly a fighter.

"… Hello there?"

She waves, an awkward smile on her lips.

The only thing which stays the Servants' hands is the genuine confusion on her face. "My name is Ciri, Cirilla of Cintra. Does any of you happens to know where I am?" Everyone looks at her weirdly, the sole exception being the Tigress, "Fuyuki, Japan. Are you a Servant also?"

The Witcheress tilts slightly. "I… Well, I suppose you can say that?" Witchers are Monster Hunters for hire and worse more often than not, so in a way, they can be considered servants. "But I believe mercenary's a better description."

"Eh?" Taiga blinks in confusion. "Uhm… I think we're having a misunderstanding. When I said Servant, I meant–"

Then, she pauses, glancing back at the Servants behind her as she realizes she knows jackshit about the Classification. Awkwardly, she whispers. "Uhm… Guys, what exactly is a Servant again?" Sella/Ishtar gives her a dirty look. "Heroic Spirits given a chance to fight via Heaven's Feel. We all draw Mana from our Summoners, otherwise known as Masters who, in turn, can command us in battles with their Command Seals."

The Tigress turns towards Ciri, "What she said!"

"Oh!" The Witcheress puts on a smile. "Then I'm not a Servant. I'm still very much alive, as you can see."

She shows her arms, even pinching herself to show she is not a Ghost, Wraith or whatever this Servant is… Seeing that, Taiga's about to point to the Servants behind her, but decides against it- perhaps the only good decision she has made thus far. "Why're you in my house?" Hence, she opts to change the subject, which understandably puts the Witcheress in a tough spot. "I arrived here on accident. Speaking of which–"

Since the people seem friendly, she fetches a portrait from her back, exceptionally drawn. It's given to her by O'Dimm himself. "Do you know this person?" The picture portrays her… Friend who appears relatively ordinary in comparison to how the Magic Lamp had shown her earlier. Though their reaction is hard to notice at a first glance, Ciri can feel an undercurrent of… Not hostility, but tension the moment the group get a look of Leo. Even the woman she's talking to has her brows pinched. 'They know Leo?'

"Why do you want to know?"

The flip between friendly and cautious happens so quickly, it affects Ciri as well. "He's a friend of mine. I heard from someone he encountered some troubles, so…"

The Witcheress trails, carefully checking out their expressions.

"You're another one, huh?"

The woman's response surprises her though. "Another one?" Ciri repeats, it's now her turn to be confused. "Never mind–"

"Master has indeed encountered some troubles. Are you a friend or a foe."

The green-haired man/woman(?) interjects with a question.

Their face remains impassive, but the Witcheress can tell a fight may or may not break out, depending on her answer. "I'm a friend… Will that be a problem?" They slightly ease up, but then tense again, though more out of bitterness than anything. "It may be…" Then, the short-haired woman gestures behind her. "As for why, see for yourself."

Ciri turns to find a screen, showing utter pandemonium. She whispers, astonished. "Is this a magical artifact?"

"It's a TV!" Taiga rolls her eyes. "Everyone with a bit of money can buy it."

Ciri's about to protest when she sees him. "Leonis…?"

— False Sovereignty —

"What the Hell's that guy doing?" Lorelei frowns, practically radiating annoyance, while a group of Nobles fight amongst themselves in front of her. She would have killed them all for their betrayal, if not for the fact there's a much bigger threat at their doorstep. Already, Russia has been wiped out; the entirety of Finland has descended into hedonism and Leonis- Nay, the Beast of Progression is advancing towards the world at large. "We have to take actions now! If we don't, Humanity's done for. Normal military forces will not stand a chance against him."

"What're you preaching? We need to prioritize ourselves! What does Humanity's survival have to do with us?"

The Lords continue to babble, yet the Queen finds that neither side's right nor wrong. The Mage's Association and its predecessors has governed the world from the dark since the Era of King Solomon, even longer. They have stood as Royal Advisors; Inventors; Philosophers;

Many have participated in warfare as well.

Although not all's a Magus, every single noteworthy figure in Mankind's history have, without a doubt, been a Supernatural;

Had contact with one with or without their knowledge;

Or, in rare cases, been a Descendant. If Humanity's the beginning, then Magi are the evolution. This is a belief she has held close to her heart, hence why she's put in a difficult decision. On one hand, Lorelei doesn't wish to abandon their Root; on the other, a Beast's an Apocalyptic Adversary- one who exists so far above mere Apostles, they may as well be on a different Plane of Existence. Perhaps only the True Magi truly stand a chance.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she orders. Her voice though small in volume, carries a hint of authority and threat. "Silence! Are you all Lords of the Tower or squabbling children?!" The group looks down awkwardly, but she pays them no heed, turning to her ever-loyal Butler. "Ambrose, have you received news from the Sea or the Institute?"

Merlin's Descendant sighs. "According to our spies, both have erupted into infightings. There are many within both Factions who believe it's wiser to allow Humanity to be destroyed… The rest have petitioned to join the War against the Beast. There are also those who wish to sit on the sidelines to… Fish."

Lorelei bites back a, 'Idiots!'

A Beast exists for the sole purpose of annihilating Humanity.

They may conceal their intentions under different Sins, but their Purpose remains unchanged. "Do they think It will spare them out of pity?" Her trusty Butler shakes. "I'm not sure about the Institute, but the Wandering Sea's upper-echelons believe he won't be able to hurt them since they exist outside of the Time Stream, merely anchored to it." Twice… That's twice now, she has had to contain an emotional outburst, listening to their idiocy.

"They do realize Magnum's the most powerful Time-Space Magus of our Time, right?"

She mutters, silently massaging her temples. "They are still anchored to the Time Stream, if he comes, can they even run? Are they really willing to abandon Earth altogether?" Ambrose has no response to that, hence he settles for an awkward smile. "Never mind… Summon the Chelon Canticle Brigade. As his sponsor, I will handle this myself."

"How many, Milady?"

Lorelei rolls her eyes. "What do you think? All of them."

She could have contended with Leonis previously, but his Ascension to Godhood is common knowledge by now.

Better to be thought of as a coward by the world, than be dead, especially since the House of the Bluebloods currently has no Heir, none who can take on the mantle anyway. "Speaking of which…"

Her cold eyes sweep the room. "Where's the Department of Astronomy?"

The Butler fixes his bowtie, trailing behind her. "Last I heard, they are preparing for the Grand Servant Ritual, Milady."

Lorelei blinks owlishly at the Descendant of Merlin. "They're really pulling out all their cards, huh?"

Although not considered common, necessary knowledge, the majority of Magi, or at least the ones with a dime to their name, all know about the Ritual which inspired the Holy Grail War. "It will be costly…" She comments, and Ambrose chuckles.

"I don't think we have a choice."

Cupping her chin, Lorelei commands. "Allocate funds to them."

"Are you not confident, Milady?"

Her Butler narrows his eyes.

"Before? Yes. Now?"

The Queen of the Clock Tower pauses, before admitting.

"Not as much as I'd have liked."

— False Sovereignty —

After the aptly-named, 'Collapse of Russia';

The subsequent 'Madness of Finland',

Every nation is in a heightened state of tension, fearful the Entity will visit them next. Sweden has already deployed their National Defense to their border to stop the relentless tides of the Infected, but the central figure of this disaster has yet to make his presence known.

Nobody even knows where the Entity has headed due to the simple fact that whoever gets close, will be driven mad by his Aura or obliterated. Luckily, unmanned drones have been developed in the last decade, kept out of the population's hands, of course.

It won't do if every person possesses such technology, and after the Uni-Bomber debacle in the States, the Governments of the World have collectively decided to purposefully slow the seemingly uncontrollable speed in which technology grow. There are oppositions, but with a humanoid Extinction at their doorsteps, nobody cares for those few; albeit loud voices. Thousands of AI-controlled drones blot out the sky of Helsinki to find the threat,

Following the trail of the metaphysical energy the Entity passively releases by merely existing while Hell breaks loose under. " Christ…" Heller, the soldier responsible for flying the drone on a screen, mutters. Though his fellows don't voice their thoughts, his echoes their sentiment. " Are you guys seeing this? Am I imagining things…? It's fucking Hell down there. How are we to fell that monster? It wiped out Russia in minutes."

" We have to try, Hawk."

The battalion's clown jokes, yet the slight trembles in his voice tell a thousand tales.

" Do, there is no try."

How are mere mortals supposed to bring down the Devil?

" How're men to stop a natural disaster?"

For that is what the Entity is: A flying natural disaster,

One that corrupts the minds and destroys all it nears.

" Target inbound!"

Then, they see it. Up close, it looks… Surprisingly human.

It has no extra appendages; no abnormal characteristics except for the web of veins which spreads across its outfit, and the mass of cancer covering half of its face. They had expected a creature uglier than sins, but this thing… It is beautiful in its own twisted way. Its eyes reflect naught but agony, and the smile it wears seems fake- forced. Silently, it tilts its head. " ArE yOu hErE to EnD my ReIgn?"

And like so, they falter, for to sympathize with a monster, one can only be monster themselves.

The first to go, is their Will to fight;

Then their rationality as they're consumed by madness.

In their minds, they can't help but think: 'Why am I risking my life for people who can't give a rat's ass about me?'

Their lives begin to flash before their eyes;

Every moment they're hurt,

Every time they are told they don't matter;

The Quiet Depression which lingers even as they surround themselves with friends, even as they drown themselves in earthly pleasures.

The drugs they knock down, despite being fully-aware how harmful those are, all in an attempt to drown out their pains. ' Our family's been in the military for ages! You should be proud to serve our country!' What's there to be proud of, fighting another man's war? To risk one's life, so others can reap the benefits?

' You useless piece of shit, why can't you do one thing right?!'

How can a child, who has never been taught anything, be expected to accomplish things an adult struggles to do?

' Be a fucking man!'

And so, like moths to a flame, those poor children converge to the one thing they thought would give their lives meaning: War. " DoN't wOrry… YoU'vE doNe grEat. I UnDerStand." While their minds scream for them to fight, their bodies refuse to as their eyes tear up. " JuSt leT loOse. YOuR sInS, I'LL bEaR it All. KiLL to YoUr heArt's content."

From sadness, comes understanding;

" InDulGe aS mUch As yOu wAnt."

Understanding beckons sympathy;

" It iS wHat yOu rIgHtly desErve."

Their grasps on the joysticks which control the drones slowly loosen;

" ThIs iS wHaT I coMMand."

Their buts leave the confines of their seats, their hands reaching for the firearms strapped to belts, and they whirl- soulful eyes losing its sparks, replaced by an endless sea of hate and vileness as they turn their guns on the bastards who have made their lives a living Hell…

The same who beat and scream and yell at them for the slightest mistakes;

Who beat the dreams and hopes out of mere children out the cusp of adolescent, all of whom were merely looking for a purpose; a way to make sense of their lives or just to put foods on the table.

"Wha- What're you idiots doing?!" The very people who sent men who weren't even men yet to foreign lands to die, leaving those who did survive with a lifetime of regrets, traumas and then abandoned them. It is their country who calls when needed; "Sit back down and shoot it!"

And it is said country which discarded them the moment their usefulness ran its course. "What are you doing? I'm your comma– Argh!" Before he can finish, a bullet imbeds into his shoulder, blowing out fleshy chunks and splashing blood as his decorations are stained crimson. " Don'T dO it fOr mE. Do It fOr yOurSelvEs–" Honeyed words carry directly to their brains, despite the fact their headpieces lay abandoned… Broken in their stations.

"Infected! They're infected!"

Yet, somehow, the sergeant manages to escape their wrath, racing to the door and screaming bloody-murder. "Kill them! Kill them all!" In an instant, the guards burst through the door, very briefly overwhelmed by the insane soldiers, but then they manage to get their shit together and open fire. Bloody holes riddle the soldiers' corpses. Before they even cool, the sergeant immediately spits on them. "Bunch of maggots–"

The words have barely left his lips, when he gets punched in the mouth.

"Private, you–!"

The sergeant glares, only to realize he's outnumbered as hundreds of hateful gazes fall on him… Such scene happens repeatedly in every single country. There's even a Cult called the 'Worshippers of the Beast' who pray for the downfall of Mankind; then there are those who quit their jobs, hoping to spend their remaining days with their friends and families, instead of being stuck in a 44 cubicle. It has been less than a week since the Beast's return, and the fabrics of society have begun to unravel.

Still, there are the few who vehemently struggle against the tide… Some out of spite; some to atone for their Sins; then there are the genuine Heroes who carry within their Souls an inextinguishable Spark. All the way over in the City which's believed to be the place of Christ's birth, a group of Magi are treading the sandy terrain. "So… Uhm…" The last to trail behind starts. "Why're we doing this again?"

What the Magus truly meant to ask was: 'Why the Hell are we in the middle of nowhere when the Tower's up in arms?'

But courtesy costs nothing, and he's dying of thirst. "Because Christ's believed to have been born in Jerusalem, and summoning him in his birthplace will have a better effect." The leader explains, prompting another question. "So why are we not using a vehicle?"

"Because with [Reinforcement, we're faster than any car or camel. Plus, his house is quite a distance away from civilization." Annoyance begins to seep in his voice, though the Magus doesn't appear to notice at all, and if he did… "So… How sure are you we'll succeed? This is Christ we're talking about… I mean, is it really going to be that easy?"

He most certainly doesn't care.

Already anxious, the leader of their small group hisses. "I don't fucking know, okay! I'm in the dark, just like the rest of you assholes, so stop asking! They told me we're supposed to protect whatever's in this fucking box–"

The brown-haired man points angrily at the decorated chest.

"And meet up with the Church's officials at Jesus' house! Now. Shut. The. FUCK UP!" The whole group stops dead in their track, wide-eyed after the man's outburst. Their little group has been with one another through thick and thin, this is the first time they have seen their usually calm leader so angry. "Dude, you didn't have to be such a dick. He's just trying to make a conversation."

"Na- Nah! It's alright, the heat's probably getting to him, right James?" The jokester hastily tries to clear to air, afraid to create a rift between his friends. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

James pinches the bridge of his nose. "Let's just go." The rest of the way is relatively uneventful.

Finally, under the searing heat, they arrive to a sandy dune.

At the foot, a camel carrying several bags is standing idle, yet there is no sign of the people they're supposed meet up with. In fact, there's not even a hint of anything Supernatural in the air. Although the Church's against Magecraft on the surface, they utilize their own version called Sacraments, which are essentially Spells with the tag 'Holy' slapped over them.

As the central figure of Christianity, one known for his miracles, Christ's birthplace must be covered under Bounded Fields or Traps, yet all within sight is sand upon sand upon sand. "Are we at the wrong place?" But they can't be, for the simple fact the camel, that's lazily chewing on a straw a tiny distance away from the group, carries bags with the Church Crest on them.

"Where are those hypocritical assholes?"

James scowls, pacing back and forth, while the Sun slowly sets.

"Just where the Hell are they?!"

Unable to wait any longer, he yells.

"James, relax! We brought tents, we can afford to wait for a few days!"

"Wait?" He repeats in anger. "WAIT? Are you fucking serious?!"

"Hey, hey!"

Sensing the undercurrent hostility, Chloé- the only woman in the group, jumps between the two men. "If there's anything, we can talk it out. Let's not fight, 'kay?"

"It's easy for you guys to say," But her response merely fuels his rage. "My family's in Sweden, and last I checked, that bastard's headed there. I don't even know if they're alive or dead, how can I be calm?! How can I be fucking calm?!! Tell me!"

He pushes past Chloé, suddenly losing his feet as the dune below gives.

Like colliding dominos, the sandy formation collapses beneath their feet, causing them to plummet into a cavern- No, it's a– "A house?" Gentle thrums soothe their spirits, and in an instant, that rage- James' anxious dissipates. "Is this–"

"Took you all long enough."