Somewhere in a place where the stars align, an old man caressed his chin, staring down at a book. The book flipped pages at a rapid pace, yet the elderly man followed along like nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. Aloud he read. To regular people, his words would sound intangible, demonic, or as a member from the Church described it: "like Tongues."
From his left, the creaking sound of a door broke the silence, but didn't stop his speech. Once the door fully opened, the old man stopped. His eyes squinted and he wrapped his cloak around himself as if a vampire.
"You called me?"
A tall man stood at the doorway, a recently lit cigar in hand. Smoke crawled its way out from the now blacked, charred tip. The smoke ascended into the air then drifted towards the man's face. His grim expression was enhanced by the smoke, giving it an almost reaper-like appearance that would send lions dashing for safety.
"Take a seat," the old man demanded.
"There's no chairs in here…" The tall man scanned the room for anywhere aside from the floor to sit. "Your chair is the onl—"
"Take a seat."
"Sir, ther—"
The old man cut him off again. "Take a seat."
Slight rage welled up inside the tall man for being cut off. He clenched his fingertips, which in turn, caused the cigar to snap in half. Sweat dropped from cheek and he let out a deep sigh to show his passive aggressive frustration. Despite his anger, there was no choice but for him to comply. Allowing his irritation to escape would only lead to the same outcome—getting cut off again—that made him despise listening to his boss's call. Letting out another sigh of annoyance, the tall man closed the door. He walked in front of the old man, plopped down onto the hard, cold floor.
"You know what this is, am I correct?"
Weird creatures escaped from the shadows, four of them. The little monsters varied in size, but all struggled the same way when lifting the object in question: a human skull. In fact, the skull was fractured, although was heavy enough to cause four similarly sized monsters to struggle beyond comprehension. Being too much for them to handle, the creatures let go before stepping away from the skull. Each of them stood still, awaiting for a command.
"Uh…"
The tall man couldn't think straight. His attention was too fixated on the creatures becoming aggressive with one another. They began fighting like cartoon characters. The tallest one wounded up a punch by spinning his arm, then locking it straight onto the smallest one's face, knocking it off the table. The other two monsters slapped each other around until one gave out and fell off the edge. His brow raised upon witnessing the last two standing.
"They high-fived? What the fuck…"
"Am I correct, El-Melloi?" The old man asked.
"What? The skull?" He squinted. "Looks like an ordinary man's skull to me. Just broken."
"Think harder."
"Wha—" El Melloi let out a scoff. "Right. How could I be so blind? It's got to be a Cath Palug…"
The old man chuckled. "It belongs to Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia." He rose up from his seat, robe still wrapped around him like a cocoon. "I'm sure you remember the Greater Grail War, no?"
Now how could he forget? Lord El-Melloi II was well aware when the magi hunters were sent to Trifas to exterminate the Yggdimellnia clan. That was until the specialized magi were killed in the process; the Yggdimellnia had only left one alive to deliver a message of their declaration of war against the Mage's Association. From there, it remained history.
"What of it?" Lord El-Melloi asked. "Wait, wait. First… Did you just say that's Darnic's skull?!"
"The Greater Grail has returned. This time around, it's not in Trifas. It's similar to the case with the Fuyuki Grail Wars. Within the Far East. Between Tokyo and Yamanashi." Finally putting the floating book to rest, the old man grabbed it and threw it toward the monsters. "I was planning on getting you to send a squadron, but my insight tells me this war won't be the same as the last."
"You didn't even— You want me to find someone trustworthy to send?"
"Correct. And I believe…" The old man's voice trailed off as he looked at the door. "We've already found him."
Lord El-Melloi didn't need to change his line of sight. A certain feeling creeped its way up his spine, toward his brain. El-Melloi knew this trigger for angered emotions better than he knew his main motivation in life. That student was somewhere near him. Somehow, that student found out where he was, now watching the defenseless El-Melloi like a falcon stalking its prey. That student, a prodigy to both his own family lineage and the Mage's Association. It was none other than…
"We're not leaving this up to Flat," El-Melloi spat.
"Oh, what!" The voice of a young man whined from the doorway. "Please professor! Let me participate! Mr. Zelretch agrees too, right?!"
"Why of course."
El-Melloi shot a glare at the old man, Zelretch. "I'm not putting my trust in this fool. Let alone, allowing him to participate in a Grail War. You might as well recover Kairi's deadass body. Use him as a puppet. There. Much better idea!"
"Flat is one of your greatest students, El-Melloi. The amount of potential in this boy is far beyond the vast majority of mages in practice."
Flat jumped in front of El-Melloi with glee. "See?! What he said! I'll get to meet all kinds of people and do whatever I want! Oh… I'll even get to see the Grail! Maybe even touch it!" He started vibrating. "I can even become the next Great Big Ben London Star!"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" El-Melloi shouted. "And how the bloody hell did you pronounce a drawing of a star?! I ought to have your head for talking shit!"
Zelretch found the banter between the two amusing. It had been a while since he experienced the humorous entertainment. Fellow mages always looked so highly at Zelretch that whenever they made contact with him, they completely changed as a person, acting serious and sophisticated out of fear of gaining Zelretch's disapproval. In truth, the old mage preferred visitors to be themselves. Especially light-hearted airheads like Flat.
"Settle down. El-Melloi, the odds of us winning this war are far greater when having Flat participate," Zelretch stated. "He's needed. Although, I've already decided who I'd be observing."
"It's not Flat? Oh, thank god. Wait! He's necessary?!"
"Flat is important. Alas, the one I shall observe is a young woman." He grabbed the book and flipped through the pages. Once stopped, he handed the book to Lord El-Melloi. "Miss Hitori Gotoh."
Yamanashi Prefecture, Japan.
Unspecified location.
Cold and devoid of life. A brisk breeze would strengthen to heavy gusts, causing leaves to flutter around at a rapid pace. There was no sign of wildlife aside from vegetation; an endless row of aquamarine flowers continued from the bottom towards an upper, unseen altitude. Peeking from the corner while being illuminated by the minimal shine of a full moon, the tip of a structure could be seen by a passerby. Alluring it was, yet filled with mystery reminiscent of a crime scene within a horror film.
Following the row of aqua-colored flowers, a lone man made his way up the floral pathway, his clothes being berated by the neverending winds and their unwelcoming, violent attempts to withdraw the man from his journey. Up he went—ignorant of the forest's pleading cries for the man to exit—through the steep sections of the valley. There he could see it. Peeking from the corner, the tip of a structure hidden away by man, watched him as he continued to approach without regard towards the terrifying atmosphere.
"Why?"
A hint of sourness tainted the blank state of his thought process. The man knew it'd take a bit to compose himself, tired from walking along the dreadful paths most daredevils wouldn't dare venture through. He felt his body try to lean into the corner, so with one final step, the man rested beside the corner, admiring the view before him. A Church. A Church found deep into the forested areas around the Yatsugatake Mountain Range.
"Why put it all the way here? Why?! What's the point?!" He complained. "Ugh, whatever. Just gotta keep going!"
Another long journey cursed the man, but with the determination comparable to a full-time 7-Eleven employee and the dedication of a frat boy, stopped midway, dropped to the floor, and laid dead as he groaned like a zombie. What he was after wasn't worth it. Nobody would want to walk non-stop for thirty-two kilometers with no water.
Heavy footsteps—once distant—were growing close at a slow, yet consistent pace. A sigh found its way escaping the depths of the man's lungs. The thought of someone finding him deep into the forest was one he wouldn't expect. Not to mention, past the corner he rested at, a bounded field was placed. Despite the bounded field being weak, it was strong enough to ward off regular people and animals who weren't familiars.
Said footsteps reached a halt once right beside him. It'd been a few minutes of the man laying still on the ground, anticipating something to happen. Alas, nothing occurred, leaving the man confused but cautious. Internally conflicted, the man came to the decision that he wasn't in sudden danger.
"May I ask why you're just standing right beside me?" He asked.
"I expected you to speak. A mage doesn't walk to the Church found deep in the forest in the middle of the night without a good reason." The male voice took a pause. "I was… being cautious."
Groaning, the man came to know who the young-sounding individual was. That individual was none other than the mediator of the Grail War soon to take place.
"Oh, this is a rare occasion. I never expected the Einzberns to make a male homunculus. Let alone allow him to participate in a Grail War. Are you certain you're an Einzbern?"
"What part of red eyes and white hair don't you get?" The man responded.
"Albinism."
"What fucking albino person has crimson-ass ey—" He stopped himself. The Einzbern man forgot that he needed to act with proper mannerisms within a place of prayer. Maybe the frustration from the long walk took a grand mental toll on him. "Mind my manners, father Merryweather. Think of me as… Whatever. I'm here to reclaim the Greater Grail."
"In-game?"
"In-game." After a few moments, he finally began to question what in-game meant. "Wait what? In-game?"
The man watched as the priest stood up. Once having a confused, yet stern look on his face, had been replaced by utter distress comparable to someone who'd seen a monster. He could feel his muscles stiffen from the heightened feelings of disturbance which he reacted to by gripping the sides of his seat, force beyond that of a regular man. Seeing the priest stand was something the Einzbern man had already witnessed, but it felt as if he were experiencing it for the first time again. Cautious, he watched the priest—far taller than even the likes of Goliath—stretch his back.
Like many other fathers of worship in the Catholic Church, the priest—Father Merryweather—he wore proper clerical attire. His cassock was unbuttoned, revealing the black shirt underneath; from his neck hung a necklace that had a golden cross hanging from the end. Nonetheless, he had an unholy appearance. The entirety of his face (aside from his eyes) were covered by black bandages that seemed to be worn out, likely meaning the bandages might've been attached to Father Merryweather for a while. From the bare amount of skin that was shown around his eyes, it was pale, reminiscent of a corpse.
"You've gotta be a golem or a homunculus," the Einzbern man said.
"I am but a man, Vaas."
"Man my ass! The tallest guy was like nine feet! You're a whole twelve foot giant!" The man, Vaas, exclaimed.
The priest rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Now then, here's the catalyst the Church promised you." He grabbed something from the front pew, revealing it to be an old, worn book. "I don't know why they would give something to a mage for this war, let alone an Einzbern."
"Ah, yeah that." Vaas took the book and inspected it. "Let's just say, one of my seniors struck a bargain with your peeps. In exchange, they gave us a little something to make the cheat code a bit easier."
'Cheat code' was a strong phrase to use, figuring the last time the Einzberns attempted cheating, they summoned the ruler class servant: Shirou Amakusa Tokisada. While the Ruler servant was strong and proved himself far above worthy, his master was killed in action. Through unknown means, the Ruler remained materialized, joined the mediator of the Third Fuyuki Grail War, and eventually became a participant in the Great Holy Grail War.
Vaas began to pray. "Dear God. Please don't let me end up like that poor sap of an Einzbern from World War II. If I end up like her, I will kill myself in the afterlife. Amen."
"Amen? You can't die in Heaven…" While confused, the priest decided to shrug off the prayer. He couldn't tell if Vaas was being blasphemous or serious. "Anyway, you should be off. You're welcome to summon in the forests surrounding the Church. As long as I can't see you."
Somewhere in Shimokitazawa.
"C'mon Ryo! I won't let you mooch off of me any longer!"
The blue haired girl grabbed a hold of the blonde's shoulders. Her grip was beyond anything the young blonde woman could imagine; even an elephant would have trouble escaping the grasp of such a monster. When the blonde changed her focus, the eyes of the bluette pierced her soul free soul, trapping it in place.
"R— Ryo?!"
"Bocchi will engage in a war involving the supernatural. Of which, the odds of winning will be very unlikely. There will be many obstacles in her way, so she must think like a talented magus as her own life and the lives of the innocent are at stake. May Bocchi take the Grail," Ryo explained. "Will she win this battle royale of death? Please pray for her success, Nijika."
Nijika blinked. "Wh— What the fuck does that mean?!"
