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Nagoya Sublimation I: Declaration of War
The Duat
A Long, Long Time Ago…
Far from the light of the Lake of Fire and Osiris's resplendent palace was a place that no mortal being had ever reached. One of the many destinations on Ra's nightly voyages, it lay nestled deep within the Duat.
The Ninth Region of Night.
Sailing across the oil-black waters of this forsaken realm was a small reed barge. It was impeccably crafted, without a single fray in the hull's weave. At the center of the barge, held up by four stakes, was a white tent. Along the ends and sides, a total of four lanterns were affixed to the boat's sides. There was some degree of natural light within the Ninth Region, but the small dancing blue lights did little to push back the shadows. They were melancholic wisps, the splintered fragments of ancient Gods who once dwelled within this place. But they were dead, lost to time; only a scant few Gods remained to recall their era, which predated even Neith, the Great Weaver.
On the deck, a single being hefted a large oar through the dark water. Although the vessel's lanterns and the soul lights provided some degree of illumination, it was still suffocatingly dark. He steered with caution, lest he wreck the ship against the countless statues that were half-submerged by the water. The being was mighty, and was without a doubt, a God. He stood twice as tall as a human man, and his entire upper body was that of a golden crocodile. His hair was like a nest of black-scaled vipers, and the only clothing he wore was a coal-colored shendyt.
He was Mehen, the Coiled One, one of the many autochthonic Gods that formed within the lands of Egypt. He was raised by Isis, Goddess of Magic, and trained in both combat and spellcraft. For the past century, he had served the vital role of Ra's boatman, helping protect the Sun Barge on its nightly journies through the Duat.
He was an honored deity amongst the Gods of Egypt, but not all Gods were happy with him at that moment. From a bit farther down the vessel, a scathing voice called out to the crocodilian God.
"Can you hurry this trip up, Mehen?"
Such complaints were not new to Mehen. Over the centuries that he had been the boatman, this particular God never ceased to complain when it was his turn for guard duty. Although Mehen was not one to voice such preferences, he much preferred when Sobek or Bastet were the ones present. This particular God was a bit too indulgent for Mehen's tastes.
He was a demonic-looking deity around the same height as Mehen. His skin was red and tattooed with countless black hieroglyphs. The God's head was a disturbing fusion of a horse's and a jackal's.
He was Set, God of Storms, the Desert, and Foreigners.
Despite his many transgressions upon the lands and Gods of Egypt, Ra still found a use for the rebellious deity. As a result, he remained a part of the Sun Barge's regular guards.
Choosing to ignore his fellow deity's inquiry, Mehen continued pushing the barge through the abyssal waters.
Before Set could respond to being ignored, a resplendent voice came from the entrance of the barge's tent.
"Now, now, Set. You know we cannot force the River of Night to carry us any faster than the cycle of hours."
Upon hearing the voice, Mehen bowed his head and Set kneeled without hesitation. Speaking softly, the gravelly voice of the reptilian God was barely perceivable, "My Pharaoh."
Stepping out of the tent was a God that radiated power. He was human-like in appearance, although far taller, and had the same sun-kissed skin of Egypt's people. Although more aged than the deities tending the barge, he was unquestionably handsome. His garb was not much different from Mehen or Set's. He was devoid of extensive jewelry and even a crown, but he still carried himself with the regality of a true king. His shoulder-length mauve hair was flecked with streaks of gray and orange, and his ears were pierced with fiery-colored Bennu feather earrings. Like a living star, his very presence caused the darkness of the Ninth Region to recede. With the shadows dispelled the beautiful starry waters of the abyss were properly visible.
He was Ra, the mighty Sun God; the leader of the Egyptian Pantheon, a God who was old since humanity was young.
Although he had retired his kingship to Osiris's lineage, many of the Gods of Egypt still regarded Ra as their true leader. Regardless of Isis's schemes or his cyclical senility, there was no Egyptian God who could hope to match his pedigree.
Behind Ra were five other deities. Four of them were identical goddesses with oil-black hair. Each of the goddesses wore kalasiris dresses woven from darkness and jewelry made from ice. They were part of a set of twelve sisters, each who held open the doors that divided each hour of the night.
The fifth deity was a lanky male god with dark blue hair. His shoulders were covered in grass and flowers and his face seemed stuck in a perpetual scowl. In his hand was a lantern similar to those affixed to the papyrus barge, but it had no flame inside it. Instead, the light within came from a golden beetle, Khepri, who illuminated the lantern like a firefly. He was the god Heka, Ra's court magician.
As the Sisters of Night and their master surveyed the abyss of waters, Heka looked disdainfully at Set and Mehen, "You two dishonor yourself before our Pharoah's great battle. Know shame!"
Set stalked towards the blue-haired deity, "And what would you know of battle and honor, Heka? You're a cowardly sorcerer who has never seen what a clash with Apep entails!"
"I– How dare you! You would slander me before Lord Ra? I know that whatever terrors Apep might unleash, I would not be—"
Ra interrupted the spat by setting a hand on Heka's shoulder, "Heka, enough. Your role is not to battle, but to protect Khepri, no?"
Set snickered, "See, coward? Even Lord Ra agrees!"
Ra turned towards the red-skinned deity, "And Set. Do not disparage my court magician like that. He may not join us for battle, but his role is a vital one. If Khepri were to perish, the cycle could become jeopardized."
Set sputtered, "I, uh– yes, my Pharaoh."
Ra turned towards one of the sister deities, "Now, Pesedjt. How much longer do we have before the Tenth Gate?"
Pesedjt lowered her head as she answered, "We have processed thirty-five minutes, Milord."
"I see. Heka, you should make for the mortal world."
The God of Magic bowed deeply, "My sincerest apologies, my Pharoah! Your humble servant Heka shall depart at once!"
In a flurry of flowers, Heka transformed himself into a creature that resembled a frog-faced bird. Flapping his wings, the god began his long flight through the layers of the Duat. In his talons was the lantern containing Khepri, which would see Ra resurrected at the dawn of the new day.
Aided by Pesedjet and her sisters, Ra sat himself upon the barge's fiery throne. At his command, the white cloth obscuring it was removed, so that he might survey the abyss.
Watching his magician depart, Ra shook his head, "I apologize for his behavior. I know Thoth is not exactly the best role model, but Heka's attitude never improves."
Mehen spoke again, his quiet voice audible against the shadowy silence, "It matters not. We will complete our task. Heka's words have no bearing on our mission."
Ra chuckled, "Isis truly did guide you well, Mehen. I do wonder why she did so sloppily with Horus's attitude."
The conversation slowly tapered off, and Ra noticed the nervous glances of Sia, a newcomer to his barge.
"Young Sia… what is the matter?"
"It's… just a silly question, my Pharoah…"
Ra laughed, "Worry not, Sia. It is good for a young god such as you to be curious. What question weighs upon you?"
"Milord Ra… why must we fight Apep every night? I understand it is dangerous… but why do you have to die each day too?"
Rising from his throne of carved fire, Ra walked over to the youthful god. Settling down on the deck, he put his hand on Sia's shoulder.
"It's an intriguing tale, I must say. Thoth would tell me to lie, that the secret must be kept. But to be honest, I tire of such intricacies."
Sia looked puzzled. Ra looked more aged than usual— as if the memories themselves drained him of strength. Pausing for a long moment, the Sun God finally spoke.
"Long ago… before even I, there were those whose souls rested in the waters around us. Shapers of primordial water, visionaries who crafted the Duat in the image of the planet's Inner Sea."
"The Ogdoad?"
"Indeed. The first Gods of Egypt, the beings who guided the primal era. Shapers of life, who carved the Nile to bring Egypt to prosperity. It was from the lineage of Nun that Neith, my mother, and Ptah, my father, came forth. They were footnotes, but they were indeed a part of that era."
Ra breathed a heavy sigh before continuing.
"The era of the Ogdoad… it was a time of pure creation. Perhaps it was only fitting that the end of their reign came in the form of an opposing spawn of creation. A serpent of red scales, kin of the Sea of Stagnation."
Sia nodded with a hint of inquiry, "Apep?"
Ra nodded, "Apep, or Apophis as it once called itself, invaded our lands. Attuned to primal waters through its blood, the Ogdoad could not hope to defeat it. Even the destruction it wreaked had the lingerings of primordial creation… they could not harm Apophis. It was only after my birth and rallying of the Gods that the serpent was beaten back. But even then… Apophis was mighty. At the climax of our battle, it was poised to swallow me. My blade had encroached toward its heart at the same time. We reached a stalemate."
"Was that when Thoth arrived?"
"Indeed. Just as it seemed I would perish with the serpent, wily Thoth cast a powerful enchantment upon us. A binding of souls… the creation of the nightly cycle."
Ra reached out to touch the soul lights above him, his eyes distant, "It cost the living access to the Duat, and the mountains of Manu and Bakhu became no longer tethered to the mortal world. Although our great enemy was contained, Apep had stolen away all that remained of the Ogdoad with it. As for me, I am bound as well. Each night, I will continue to fight the serpent to the death. Both to live, both to die."
Sia looked at Ra with condolence, "And this will continue… forever?"
Ra shook his head, his sight settling on the titanic obsidian gateway barely visible ahead, "Not forever. One day, the Age of Gods will come to an end. When that time comes, both Apophis and I will fade alongside the Duat itself. Such is our destiny."
Having concluded his tale, Ra returned to his throne.
After a while longer, Pesedjt stepped away from her sisters. Rising into the air, she began to chant. Her spells pierced the shadows of the abyss, unlocking the Ninth Gate of Night. As the groaning of one of Kekui's Gates filled the air, the gods aboard the barge prepared for battle.
Pesedjt's sisters, Medjut, Medwat, and Mesenwat, each formed staves of glowing water. Set, a bloodthirsty grin on his jaws, conjured a pair of platinum Khopeshes. Mehen heaved his oar from the water. With a single stroke, it transformed into a glistening silver spear.
Standing back up, Ra himself held out his hands. Then, with a crackle, his throne lost its shape, becoming a set of two raging fireballs that floated to each side of him. Grasping the flames, the Sun God pulled forth his own weapons: the crook and flail, the sacred armaments of the Pharoah.
Through the sliver between the door's two halves, Ra could see the fearsome red glow of the Tenth Region of Night. The red terraces of the domain were not yet fully visible, but already Ra could hear the distant hisses of his fated enemy. The serpent could not attack until they had completely passed through the doorway, but Ra still wanted to be ready.
Even though he battled Apep every night, the tension before their bouts never seemed to lessen. Thoth had said that one day their battle would end when the era of the Gods had ceased. In that human era, Ra and Apep would become mere records engraved within humanity's legends.
'It sounds like a far more peaceful era… one without us. I can only hope that Apophis finds no way to return after that final day. For if it were to emerge upon the mortal world, and I was not there to stop it… all of creation might crumble before its chaotic power.'
Fuyuki City, Japan
Present Day
On a mountainside road, a lone taxi cab pulled to a stop in an empty parking lot. Next to the lot was a small open area, where stalls would be installed during summer festivals.
Turning to his passengers, the middle-aged cab driver spoke to the two men sitting in the back, "Here we are, Mr. Rohngall, Mr. Dioland. Ryuudou Temple."
Handing the driver the appropriate payment, a slim man with blue-gray hair stepped out of the cab. He appeared to be in his twenties and wore a large dark purple cloak that covered his whole body. The man's name was Faldeus, an American-born Magus of the Dioland Family.
Walking around the cab to the other side, Faldeus set down the two large leather briefcases he was carrying. Opening the left rear door, he helped an elderly man out of the vehicle. The older man, clad in robes similar to Faldeus's own, was hunched and wrinkled. His white hair was mostly hidden by a tan cap with a silver ring around its hem, and his face seemed set in a perpetual scowl. The man's name was Rohngall, an investigator and professor of the Clock Tower.
As the cab drove away, the two men surveyed the area. Not far from the public restrooms were a set of picnic tables. Seated at one of these tables was a man.
He appeared in his thirties, although his face had aged in a way that he could easily be mistaken as older. His black hair was long, extending far down his back, and he was dressed in a sharp charcoal-colored business suit. Over the suit, he wore a green overcoat, a variance from his usual red-colored one.
The man's name was Waver Velvet, or as he was more commonly referred to now, Lord El-Melloi II. Like Rohngall and Faldeus, he had been set by the Clock Tower to investigate the forming situation with the Holy Grail. It had not been his first time in the city. Although Waver did not advertise it, doubly so to his own students, it was common knowledge in the Clock Tower that he had been a Master in the Fourth Holy Grail War.
Fifteen years later, Waver still felt a sense of nostalgia for the city. He had dropped by the home of the Mackenzies earlier today, enjoying a pleasant home-cooked lunch with them. Although their role as his grandparents had only been a hypnotic sham he had used for free housing during the Fourth War, he truly loved the elderly couple as family. Of course, neither Glen nor Martha knew his true identity as a Magus. As far as they knew, he was a history lecturer at a prestigious private school in London.
The truth was much more cruel. Presently, Waver would be considered an "indentured Lord" of the El-Melloi family. Due to circumstances involving the Fourth War and his former tutelage under the late Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Waver had by technicalities become indebted to the high-ranking Magi lineage. In an unusual choice, the El-Melloi had forced Waver to become their de facto representative amongst the Twelve Lords. Although unorthodox, it was a necessary move. The present heir, Reines El-Melloi Archisorte, was not yet of age, and the El-Melloi did not want to risk being absorbed into another bloodline. Thus, Waver, a Magus of mere Fes rank, became one of the Clock Tower Lords and the new head of the El-Melloi Classroom. Despite his own shortcomings, Waver had become somewhat of a celebrity amongst the institution. Known for being a teacher capable of bringing out his students' hidden talents, he managed to accrue a positive reputation that even more haughty Magi were acknowledging. Of course that did not raise Waver's spirits, knowing that his destiny was to forever be outperformed by his students.
In addition to his role as a teacher, the Clock Tower recognized Waver's value as an investigator and detective. That, along with his experiences in the Fourth War, was why he was deployed to Fuyuki on this top-secret mission.
Looking up from the video game magazine he was reading, El-Melloi stood and welcomed his compatriots.
"Ah, Mr. Rohngall. I see you and your apprentice have arrived safely."
The elderly man nodded, "Indeed we have. Although I must say, that 'airplane' we used to get here was most horrible. I do not understand how you can stand them, Lord."
Waver chuckled, "I suppose they are an acquired taste. However, I appreciate the convenience they offer, even if their security makes it more troublesome to transport our Mystic Codes."
Rohngall grimaced, "I'm lucky I managed to hypnotize those guards when my body set off the metal detectors they use. I suppose that is one disadvantage to using a puppet."
Although it was not easy to tell unless you observed him carefully, the elderly man currently standing in front of Lord El-Melloi II was not a real person. Rohngall, whose true body was somewhere back in Europe, was known for going on missions in a puppet body. Although he did not measure up to Touko Aozaki, whose puppets could even pass a DNA test, Rohngall was plenty confident about his abilities. Trying to compare himself to Scarred Red would have been a fruitless envy, and his creations were impressive enough by being able to mostly pass as real people.
"Did you use a bit too much metal in that body's construction?"
"Yes, I wanted to include recording implants that would work even if this body was destroyed. But it was a minor trouble in the end."
"And you brought all the instruments we'll need for this?"
Rohngall gestured to Faldeus, who opened the suitcase to reveal a variety of Mystic Codes.
"Your fellow Lords spared no expense. Hopefully, we can provide them with a successful report."
"Yes, we can hope."
When Luviagelita Edelfelt reported the theft from Zelretch's workshop, the Twelve Lords had quickly convened to question the Wizard Marshal. Although they had not managed to pry the full story out of the vampire, they did manage to learn one thing.
Whoever the thief was, they intended to transport the Greater Grail of Fuyuki to an unknown location. While the larger Magus world did not care much for the fruitless endeavors of the Einzbern, Makiri, and the Tohsakas, they liked to be in the know. If the Grail was missing, it could potentially be discovered by ordinary people and the secrecy of Magus society would collapse. Thus, Rohngall and El-Melloi had been enlisted to deploy a set of Mystic Codes that should theoretically allow them to lock the Grail's location to Fuyuki.
As Rohngall signaled to close the suitcase, El-Melloi's attention was drawn to the puppetmaster's apprentice.
"I don't believe we've met, Mr…"
Seeing Waver's outstretched hand, the young man completed the handshake as he introduced himself, "Faldeus. Faldeus Dioland. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord El-Melloi. I'm Mr. Rohngall's apprentice."
El-Melloi turned to the elderly puppet, "I'm surprised to hear you took a second apprentice, Mr. Rohngall."
Rohngall was one of those mages in the Clock Tower who rarely took apprentices. Rumour was that his primary apprentice, Christophel Beilman, was only taken on as a favor to Beilman's father. Although Christophel was not a member of the El-Melloi Classroom, he attended several lectures Waver had given. If he recalled correctly, his student Caules Forvedge collaborated with Beilman on a paper submitted for his "Magecraft in the Modern Era" course. Faldeus, however, was not someone Waver had seen in any class rosters. In fact, he hadn't heard of the Dioland family name being in any major circles.
Seeing the investigative look El-Melloi was giving, Faldeus laughed.
"My family moved to America a little under a century ago. I really wanted to improve my puppetcraft, so I came to the Clock Tower and sought out Mr. Rohngall's tutelage."
If Faldeus's words were intended to ease El-Melloi's suspicions, he had severely miscalculated. Waver knew Rohngall was not someone who was just "sought out". If Faldeus truly was looking for an apprenticeship, he expected him to seek out more approachable avenues. This Faldeus fellow stank of suspicion. However, El-Melloi's thoughts were interrupted by the grumbling Rohngall.
"Alright, enough with the introductions. We should get moving to the evocation site."
While the puppetmaster was not wrong, it was very clear he was not particularly fond of his new apprentice. Whether it was general dislike or annoyance at Waver's focus on Faldeus, the topic of introductions had clearly soured his mood.
Taking Rohngall's discontent in stride, Waver nodded, "Of course. Follow me."
Walking up the steps to the temple, Waver looked carefully at the left side of the stairs. Just about halfway up, he stopped. Ascending up the steps, he was pleased to notice the weathered carving of the Tohsaka family crest. Looking to the left, he saw what he was looking for, a small trail leading through the trees.
Faldeus marveled at it, "Is this the path to the Greater Grail?"
El-Melloi nodded, "Yes. If the information we were provided is legitimate, this trail should lead us to the Grail's location."
Carefully moving through the brush and woods, the three men began their trek up to the cavern. Passing through a bounded field that repelled those without magic circuits, El-Melloi knew with certainty they were in the right place.
It was a trail no one had walked in several years. The location of the Greater Grail below Ryuudou Temple was a secret guarded by the three families and various pacts prevented its monopolization.
Given that tampering with the Grail could mean the collapse of the Holy Grail War as a whole, these pacts remained upheld. If the Einzberns or the late Matou had been aware of this secret mission, there would have been quite a bit of chaos. Even so, they had to move quickly. There was no guarantee they had not already triggered a bounded field that informed Jubstacheit. Hurrying towards the cavern leading into Mt. Enzou's depths, the three Magi anticipated their upcoming task. Their mission to anchor the Greater Grail of Fuyuki had begun.
Córdoba, Spain
Present Day
Thousands of miles to the west, in the country of Spain, an elderly priest opened the door to a mountainside monastery. Nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Morena, it was once used as a training site for executors. It had been decommissioned several decades ago, but it still was used by the organization as a retreat for off-duty agents.
On this particular afternoon, the monastery was almost entirely empty. As he made his way toward the vestry, the priest had only seen a single blonde-haired nun doing some cleaning. The priest's name was Delmio Cervantes, a veteran of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. His face had dozens of wrinkles and liver spots, and his gray hair was quite receded. Despite his elderly appearance, his physique was quite powerful, and he was certainly no helpless old man. Nonetheless, age had begun to catch up to Delmio, who willingly retired to more managerial roles within the Sacrament.
That was precisely why Delmio had made the long trek up the mountainside today. Although in this instance, the mission was one he felt almost sorry to assign. While the Church had accepted the existence of alternative timelines and worlds, for there to be an incursion of realities was a concept Delmio had trouble swallowing. In comparison to what the situation was now, the halted Snowfield case seemed incredibly small.
Normally, the Church would have never accepted a request for assistance with one of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors. However, for reasons Delmio was not privy to, the Church had ultimately agreed to Zelretch's request, and so an overseer was to be deployed to this alternate world's Holy Grail War.
As fate would have it, that overseer was to be Delmio's own foster son, Hansa.
In all likelihood, the decision was one primarily of efficiency. Hansa had already been assigned as Snowfield's unofficial overseer, so deploying him in this instance would require minimal logistical change.
Passing into the vestry, Delmio made his way to a meeting room, a small chamber with a single open-air window. In one of the two loveseat sofas inside the chamber, sat Hansa Cervantes.
Hansa was a Spanish man in his mid-thirties, with wavy black hair and a prominent mole under his left eye. He wore a black cassock like his foster father, but his muscular build was much more apparent beneath the fabric. He was a striking figure, with a distinctive metal-ordained eyepatch covering his right eye. His remaining eye, however, was not focused on Delmio in the slightest. Instead, Hansa's focus was solely on clicking away at a small flip phone in his hands.
"Hansa… I haven't seen you in some time. Must you really continue to play on that phone of yours?"
Receiving no response, Delmio tried again to get Hansa's attention, "Hansa!"
Delmio was not a stranger to Hansa's antics, but the phone was certainly a newer one. Hansa, a survivor of a Dead Apostle attack, had grown up alone in the wilderness of the Sierra Morena. Eventually found by a Bishop named Dilo, the wild boy had been given to a wholly unprepared Delmio to raise. Although he had trained Hansa in martial arts and taught him scriptures, their relationship was still more akin to master and student than father and son.
Still lounging on the sofa, Hansa Cervantes continued to ignore his foster father in favor of his flip phone.
After Delmio called his name out one more time, Hansa finally gave a rather dismissive response to the elderly priest.
"Hmmmm… sorry Father, did you say something?"
Fed up with Hansa's behavior, Delmio walked over to a nearby candelabra. Carefully removing the unlit candles, Delmio whipped his arm in a throwing motion. With the speed of a pro baseball pitcher, the elderly priest set the three wax rods rocketing toward Hansa. However, the eyepatch priest continued to type away, unperturbed. Just as it seemed the candles would strike him, Hansa clicked his phone shut. Reaching his arm back at an unnatural angle, Hansa grabbed the wax in midair before sending it right back to its thrower. Catching the three candles, Delmio quietly set them back into the candelabra.
"Throwing candles are we now, Father? You're losing your temper in your old age."
Delmio grumbled, "If you had the tact to pay attention to something other than your phone, I would not have had to. That device will rot your brain, Hansa."
Hansa smirked, "Then I suppose my brain is already plenty rotten. Now, what brings you here, Father? I know you aren't the sentimental sort. You would not come up the mountain just do a welfare check on me."
"You have a mission, Hansa. One related to that False Grail."
Hansa turned his phone in his hands absentmindedly, "I thought that we departed Snowfield because that whole debacle was called off? I was under the impression my appointment as Overseer was no longer necessary."
Delmio looked at Hansa pensively, "You aren't going to Snowfield. The situation has become far more complicated, it would seem. The Third Apostle Ancestor has requested the Church's assistance personally."
It was this comment that got Hansa's dismissive attitude to crack. Putting his phone in his pocket, he leaned forward, his interest piqued.
"So, the Old Man of the Jewels is asking for the Church's help… I'm surprised the Cardinals accepted."
"Their reasons for complying with the Wizard Marshal's request aren't important. The issue is that the Grail is in jeopardy."
"Well… well… does this relate to Snowfield then?"
"Yes, you could suppose your mission is resumed in that regard."
"So, where am I headed? I'd say London, but an executor doesn't exactly stroll up to the Clock Tower."
"Zelretch provided us with that information. Seems you'll be heading to Monaco."
"And that means Van-Fem."
"Correct. You'll be attending a meeting on his casino boat. You are under strict orders to not attack either Ancestors or any of the Demonic Castles. Are we clear?"
"I hear you, Father. No killing the vampires… who would have guessed it? Maybe I'll try some gambling while I'm in that area…"
Delmio wanted to sigh in frustration. Hansa had already developed a strong interest in the casinos back in Snowfield, and Van-Fem's were going to be dozens of times worse than any ordinary gambler's den. But there was little the elderly priest could do on that front, so he decided to move on.
"You will need to pack quickly. The meeting is tomorrow night. And Hansa… be careful. This mission is nothing like anything you have dealt with before."
"What do you mean, Father?"
"I'll let the file the Compilers put together speak for itself."
Setting a pile of documents on the table, Delmio took his leave. Until Hansa was ready to depart, he might as well help with the cleaning of the monastery.
Delmio smiled with slight amusement, 'Maybe this mission will be just what he needs to overcome those gambling and technology addictions of his. Oh, what a day that would be.'
Back in the vestry, Hansa picked up the papers Delmio had left for him to peruse. Steadily flipping through the pages, the eyepatched priest's lone eye widened with each paragraph. Swallowing, he let out a peal of nervous laughter.
"Oh boy…. what did they sign you up for this time, Hansa?"
Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture
Day 3, Morning
Francesca Prelati was bored. Although the first night of the Holy Grail War had been exciting, and the Avenger servant had entered the fray as well, the second day had been annoyingly quiet after Jester and Berserker's battle concluded.
"It's just no good! This will be the First Holy Grail War all over again! Everyone is just too cautious!"
If Sigma were here, Francesca could have talked to him to alleviate her boredom. However, she was running frighteningly low on snacks. As such, her lone subordinate was currently out shopping for her cravings.
'Entertainment-less and snack-less? This is just the worst!'
"You know, if you need entertainment, perhaps dying can cheer you up."
"I'll have you know that I don't actually enjoy…"
Pausing mid-sentence, Francesca spun around in surprise. Setting her eyes on the doorway, she watched a figure step out of the shadows. With his fangs displayed in a chilling grin, Jester Karture's gray eyes stared back. His expression would have terrified most people, the same predatory look a wolf gives its prey. The Dead Apostle's entire body oozed with sickening mana. Although faint, Avenger's red sand could be seen swirling around him.
"I suppose I should introduce myself to the overseer of this little farce. I am Jester Karture, Dead Apostle of the Six-Hearted Revolver."
Maintaining eye contact, Francesca fired her magic circuits. Although it wouldn't fool him for long, an illusion could potentially buy her the precious seconds needed to escape. But Jester had already caught on to her scheme.
"If you are going to try and use those illusions of yours, I would give up. Such trifling visions have no effect on Avenger's eyes."
What the Dead Apostle had said was correct. If she had been a Servant, Francesca might have been able to deceive Avenger. In fact, her Noble Phantasm in such an incarnation could have potentially fooled even Gaia's senses. But in her current state, no illusion Francesca could conjure would be strong enough to fool Apophis's senses. With illusions off the table, Francesca chose to utilize her other remaining ability: her Quirk. The vampire had been foolish enough to step into her range, and he would pay for it.
As the multi-colored limbs of energy reached out towards Jester, the vampire pulled a blue toy-like wand out of thin air. With a single wave, Francesca's attack was instantly obliterated by a blast of rainbow-colored light. As Jester twirled the Kaleidostick in the direction of his opponent, Francesca still was processing what had happened to her Quirk.
'Kaleidoscope?!'
As Francesca's brain processed the scene before her, her eyes widened at the sight of the item in Jester's hand. Although she did not recognize the Mystic Code, the comical appearance and rainbow light pointed to one man. Whatever that wand was, it was a creation of Zelretch himself.
Jester smirked, "You know, Prelati, I imagine that old Zelretch is quite pissy right now. After all, there's not just your meddling, but mine as well!"
To Francesca's dismay, Jester's attack had made her realize one of the downsides of her Quirk. She could feel the number of limbs she could still conjure had dropped significantly. While she was confident they would regenerate given time, it was time Francesca no longer had. As Jester continued to monologue, she decided to conjure forth another illusion. Although it wouldn't fool Avenger, it might be just enough to allow her to escape. Even though Francesca no longer feared death, she knew that she could not allow Jester to steal the Lesser Grail she had absorbed. She could feel the churning of Sakura Matou's mana within him. If he managed to absorb Fillia's essence too, he could forcefully conjure the True Grail.
While Francesca's Holy Grail did intend to resonate with the Greater Grail in Fuyuki, she suspected Jester's goal was to ungracefully drag the Grail into Olkoth's World. However, neither this world nor the Grail was constructed to handle such an event. The resulting Grail War would not be in the form Francesca intended. It would be an amalgamation, a clashing mess of various Grail contingencies.
Escape though, would not be possible— not in the presence of Avenger. Manifesting in a burst of red sand, Apophis swept its tail towards Francesca. She tried to use her Quirk again, but Avenger had no magic circuits for her to disrupt. Unable to stop the Servant's attack, the heretic girl found herself trapped in the crushing coils of the serpent's tail.
Jester laughed at Francesca's futile attempt at escape, "Hahahaha! Did you really think Avenger was not poised to catch you? Was 500 years not enough for you to learn when things are futile?"
Before Francesca could reply, Avenger sent a spasm through its tail. With a sickening crack, the bones in Francesca's body broke from the pressure. She was alive, but her body was wracked with pain.
Unconcerned, Jester continued.
"You know, I've had my eye on your actions for a while, Francesca Prelati! Your work in Snowfield seemed so intriguing, and my disciples and I just yearned to take part! But then you vanished, and I did not know what to do! So I took a visit to Snowfield, and absorbed some rather informative souls!"
Jester's appearance quickly flickered to the form of Orlando Reeve. Although Orlando's corpse could not speak, Jester had taken care to absorb the memories within his soul. As Orlando was not made into a concept core, the transformation was only temporary. Jester was quickly forced to revert to his normal appearance, but the message had been made. Francesca may have slain her collaborator, but she did not properly silence him. There had been a body for Jester to steal from the Snowfield Morgue. That was something Jester had taken full advantage of.
"Do you have any last words in this body, little Miss Prelati?"
Francesca resigned herself. It was going to be such a mess, but at the very least, Jester's actions would still help Foreigner manifest properly. In a last act of contempt, Francesca stuck out her tongue at the vampire.
With a swipe of his claws, Jester severed Francesca's head from her body. It would not truly kill her, he knew that much but that wasn't his prize anyway. Just as he had done to Sakura Matou, Jester reached into Francesca's body. After fishing around, he pulled his arm back; in his hand was an artificial heart. Jester knew this was not Francesca's, but the heart of an Einzbern Homunculus the girl had murdered. With a small push to his magic circuits, Jester's vampiric mana linked to Fillia's Lesser Grail.
As Jester's mana poured into the Lesser Grail, he steadily attached the flow to Kaleidostick Sapphire. The streams began to merge, and the Mystic Code cracked from the magical pressure. The air was thick with energy, and globules of red, black, and gold magic began to float around the Dead Apostle. Then, with a surge of power, the Lesser Grail linked to the Greater Grail of Fuyuki. Having pushed through the dimensions, Jester invoked the power of the False Grail. What was once a mere primer was now a tether dragging the True Grail into Olkoth's World Egg.
As Jester's mana overflowed, Avenger felt its own strength grow. Although it did not match the power it had in the Age of Gods, it was still a satisfying feeling. Empowered, Avenger's form began to expand, larger and larger until it was too great. As concrete and glass broke in its wake, the penthouse floors of the highrise exploded in a vast cloud of dust. From below, the people of Nagoya watched in awe and horror.
Coiling around Jester, Avenger began to gather the energy from within. While the Kaleidostick alone would not be sufficient to ensure a continuous link, Avenger would aid in its work.
I AM THE SERPENT OF DEATH.
Within the minds of the people below, Apophis' terrible voice called out. It was a soundless roar, a thought engraved upon the greater human psyche. Each line carried a primal fear to the hearts of humanity.
THE WORLD-ENCIRCLER, THE LIFE-UPENDER.
Even beyond Japan, people felt their stomachs churn in unease, their breath caught in fear. It was as if a blanket of foreboding had been cast upon the world. The dreaded arrival of a great predator, a beast who threatened to swallow the anthroposphere.
It was the invocation of a Noble Phantasm far worse than the one Assassin had unleashed a day prior. A power given the rank of "Anti-World". It was a terrifying power that no sane mortal would ever have wished to witness. Like a supernova, a dark cloud began to expand across the skies of Nagoya, flashing with red lightning.
MY BREATH INVOKES THE ECLIPSE.
The penthouse was in ruins, everything but its foundations disintegrated by the power of Avenger's Noble Phantasm being activated. At the center of it all stood Jester Karture. As reality itself was strained, the Dead Apostle could feel the vast magics of two Grails beginning to bind together.
UNCOIL THE DUAT: CHAOS STORM ISFET!
Like a wave, Avenger's evil intent washed over the land. A proclamation for all to know: the final battle of the False Holy Grail War had begun.
League of Villains Hideout, Kamino
Day 3, Morning
Demented laughter filled the empty bar as a wrinkled young man with ice-colored hair clutched a single piece of paper.
Walking over, a second man resembling a cloud of purple mist in a butler outfit carefully grabbed the schedule from the hand of the laughing man.
The young man growled, "Ehhh? Kurogiri? What do you think you're doing with my key item?"
"I am keeping this schedule safe, Tomura. We risked much to get this from U.A. and it would not be wise to let you destroy it."
"So, you think I'm clumsy, Kurogiri? Maybe I should grab your face and you can tell me how it feels to be dissolved!"
"Young Tomura…"
Slamming his fist on the table, Tomura Shigaraki cursed, "Goddammit! I just want to kill some heroes already!"
"Be quiet, will you?"
Suddenly, Shigaraki went flying as a bare foot slammed into him. Turning in surprise, Kurogiri looked at the yawning woman who had come down the stairs. Her skin was the color of sienna, and her long yellow hair seemed to glow like flames. Her beauty was ethereal, the sort to draw the eyes of men and women alike. However, there was a clear inhumanity to the woman. From her head grew a crown of obsidian-colored nib-shaped horns, and behind her swung a dark-purple reptilian tail with periwinkle spines. What was also quite noticeable was that the woman was only wearing a set of lacy black underwear.
Tomura let out a pained moan as he sat up and yelled loudly, "Fucking exhibitionist lizard! You kicked me into the wall!"
Kurogiri sighed, "Lancer… must you really be so violent with Tomura? And where are your clothes?"
Ignoring the matter of Shigaraki, Lancer looked quizzically at her attire, "Does this not count as a proper outfit? It covers the important parts, does it not? I really don't understand this whole 'modesty' thing you humans care so much about."
"Lancer, please."
"Fine, I'll get dressed. But you owe me a free mocktail."
"You don't pay for any of them anyway…"
Smirking at Kurogiri's comment, Lancer lightly waved her hand upwards. Within seconds, her torso was covered by bundles of dark scales. Once the entirety of her upper body was covered, the scales shattered to reveal a black mini-dress. The dress was slightly reflective; as if woven with obsidian and gold. At Lancer's waist was an indigo tiered skirt, and around her neck was a black boa.
Lancer looked at the amorphous bartender with a huff, "There, all clothed. Are you happy now, Kurogiri?"
Kurogiri nodded. The outfit still showed a lot of skin, but not to the point of indecency. The bartender could tell Lancer was annoyed, though, and he'd prefer that his bar remained intact. However, he forgot about the third person in the room.
Shigaraki, having picked himself up (disintegrating a chair in the process), strode over to Lancer and grabbed her by the collar of the dress. "Dragon bitch! I really will kill you this time!"
Despite his full five fingers being in contact with Lancer, she did not disintegrate. Lancer laughed, "Don't you ever learn, Tomura? Your Quirk will never work on me."
Grabbing Shigaraki's arm, the villain felt the bones strain against Lancer's strength. Looking at the draconian woman's face, Tomura could see her pierced lips set in a frown as she glared at him with contempt. In Lancer's view, he was nothing more than a worm for her to crush underfoot. Her voice was as cold as ice, "Now remove your hand… or lose it."
Shigaraki let go, backing up as he breathed heavily. Lancer simply looked at him unimpressed, "Seems you at least have some knowledge of where you stand, child."
Lancer was about to speak again when a wave of malice, resonating from somewhere in the distance, washed over the room. Turning to the southwest, Lancer grinned while Kurogiri put a hand to his gaseous head and attempted to recollect himself, "What… was that?"
As Shigaraki recovered from a similar disorientation, Lancer answered, "A challenge."
Materializing a bronze trishula in her hand, Lancer's body oozed with glee, "Seems something is happening in the southwest. Don't stop me from joining in, Master."
From the other side of the crackling radio on the bar counter, All For One said nothing. Taking the silence as permission, Lancer gestured at the bar, "Kurogiri, make me a portal."
Still shaken by Avenger's wave of terror, the gas-headed bartender nodded.
It was time for the League of Villains to make their first move.
Shie Hassaikai Main Compound, Osaka
Day 3, Morning
When Francesca Prelati recruited the six Masters for the False Holy Grail War, she informed them about most of the mechanics of the Grail War system. However, one of the things she neglected to mention was the dream cycle, the sharing of memories between Servant and Master.
At this point, however, Ryumatsu Nagamasa was no longer surprised by the nightly memories, which had begun soon after he had summoned Archer two weeks earlier. And so, Ryumatsu dreamed of Archer's past.
Over the course of many nights, the boss of the Shie Hassaikai had observed much of Heracles's life. The tragic death of Linus and the madness-induced familicide orchestrated by Hera. He watched his Servant become bound to the whims of Eurytheses, forced to slay, steal, and slave in Hera's name. Ryumatsu had watched him complete labor after labor, achieving the impossible every single time.
But this time, the scene was different. It was still certainly a memory of Heracles's, but this time, Ryumatsu found himself amidst the friendly bustle of a busy port.
"So, you're Heracles, huh?"
Turning at the sound of a voice, Ryumatsu saw Heracles standing in front of a skinny young man with blonde hair and twinkling green eyes. The Yakuza boss watched as the man swiveled around Heracles like a curious child.
"You're certainly the rumored monster!"
Although it was only a theory, Ryumatsu felt confident of what exact moment he was seeing. Based on his studies of Heracles's legend, this matched up to a very particular point in the demigod's legend.
'So this is when he joined the Argonauts? Which would make this young man Jason of Iolces. He seems like a tactless individual at first, but…'
Jason coughed, apparently realizing the rude phrasing of his comment, "But don't worry, I'll put you to good use! As long as you're with me, you won't be a monster any longer! You'll be the great hero that shall protect the king of the future!"
Ryumatsu gazed intently as Jason's rambling yet kind words caused Heracles to smile warmly. He could see why the dream cycle had shown this scene. It had been the demigod's first meeting with one of his most cherished friends.
'Jason… he seems like he was a good man. I can see how he got so many heroes to join him on the Argo.'
But Ryumatsu's viewing was shattered as a strange wave of evil wretched him from the realm of the unconscious. Sitting up from his chair with a start, the elderly man panted. It took only moments for Archer to arrive.
"Master! Are you alright?"
"I will manage, Archer. Now, what was that?"
"A wave of evil energy. The work of a powerful monster."
"A monster?"
"Yes, but not like any monster I've encountered. Not even Ladon or Cerberus would have produced such a vile intent. It's like a beacon. There will be a gathering."
Ryumatsu's brow furrowed in understanding.
'The other Servants!'
Archer, aware of what his Master was thinking, nodded, "That wave of malice is something no Heroic Spirit will ignore. The Servants will be gathering."
Ryumatsu's expression hardened, his words filled with conviction, "Then go, Archer. Face whatever lies ahead, and win."
The Servant of the bow nodded, "Thank you, Master. On my pride as Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, I will do everything in my power to slay the source of that evil."
Dematerializing, Archer phased his way out of the compound and moved swiftly toward the dark clouds on the horizon. The hero's mind was composed, yet roared with a readiness to act. It was time to slay a monster.
U.A. High School, Mustafu
Day 3, Morning
Looking at the destroyed barrier, Power Loader confirmed the U.A. staff's fears, "It's as it appears. The barrier was completely disintegrated."
Principal Nezu looked at the scene with a serious expression, "No ordinary reporter could have done this. Someone instigated this whole affair."
Behind him, the teachers gazed with their own calculative expressions as Nezu continued to ponder, "Did some evildoer manage to slip in? Or do they intend to wage some greater war…?"
Thirteen looked at Nezu with concern, "We'll need to check the entire campus. There's a chance that…"
At that moment, the aura of Avenger's Noble Phantasm passed over the whole of Mustafu. Despite being seasoned heroes, the teachers were all shaken by the sheer malice within the invisible wave.
"Higari."
Hearing his name, Power Loader looked over to Principal Nezu, "What is it, sir?"
"Prep the Hercules. Shota, Toshinori, I want you both heading for Nagoya. Whatever this situation is, your skill sets will prove useful. Besides, it's only a matter of time before the HPSC clocks you in, Toshinori."
Nezu didn't like the HPSC's policy to throw All Might at every single major incident, but in this situation, he wasn't going to argue with their methodology.
Nodding, all three heroes rushed off towards Power Loader's storage units. As the trio headed off, Snipe glanced around before posing a question to the principal, "What about the rest of us, sir?"
Nezu turned back to the rest of the staff, "I want the school to enter emergency mode. Gather the students in the gymnasium, and secure the grounds in case of any intruders."
The teachers nodded as one, "Yes, sir!"
As the staff rushed back towards the main building, Nezu turned to follow them. But just before he left, something caught his eye. By his foot, having just floated to the ground, was a feather. But most curiously, a quick mental review did not match against any bird species Nezu knew of.
Leaning down and picking up the feather, the principal of U.A. turned it in his paw. It might have been nothing, but his animal instincts were telling him the contrary.
'For some reason… my mind is telling me this feather is important. But… why?'
U.A. High School, Mustafu
A Few Moments Earlier…
In the 1-A Classroom, Momo Yaoyorozu and her classmates felt their hearts twist in fear and trepidation. No one knew what was happening. As she recovered from the wave of evil, Momo felt like she might throw up. The memories had all come rushing back. It was like she was back at her family's mansion, facing her parents' killer. As Ojiro and Kendo rushed over to the panicking girl, she sent a heartfelt plea through the link in her Command Spells. Although her words puzzled her two classmates, Momo didn't care about secrecy. It was too late for that anyway.
"Rider… please…"
Above the building, Astolfo heard his Master's words. Staring at the red clouds in the distance, the paladin cracked his neck and stretched.
"I understand, my Master! Fear not! Astolfo the Paladin will go and save the day!"
If the teachers had been less distracted, they might have seen the pink-haired youth jump off the edge of the roof. As he leaped, the uniform Rider borrowed from Momo faded into armor. In mid-air, Rider grabbed the reins of his materializing steed. With the teachers below none the wiser, the Hippogryph flew forward. Faster than a jet, Rider rode through the skies of Shizuoka, moving ever closer in the direction of the darkening storm.
Nagoya, Aichi Prefecture
Day 3, Morning
It had been an ordinary day for Umi Yamane, at least until the wave of terror had carried itself across the third-floor commercial studio. As Umi's hand shook, one of the crew members jumped back from the window in fright.
"Wha… what happened to the sky?"
Moving to the window, Umi glanced up to see the sky was covered in dark clouds, a churning whirlwind of black and red. 'This must be the work of a Servant… are they targeting Francesca?'
Unlike the rest of the masters of the war, Umi had a more active communication with its overseer. Serving as a test driver for the war's systems, she had been the first to get Command Spells and the first to summon a Servant.
This is why Umi knew, without a doubt, that Francesca was in danger. Her penthouse was in the direction of the storm's center. Sending out a mental probe, the Snake Hero reached out to her Servant. 'Saber. What's the situation down there?'
In the streets of Nagoya, Saber looked around at the confused crowds of people. Many were just staring up at the red sky, but several had taken out their phones to post about it online. Pushing through the throngs of people, Saber made his way to a large intersection, where people exited their cars to observe the strange event. 'It's madness down here. I'm having trouble making my way to Francesca's hideout, but I'm not sure I should dematerialize with all these people around.'
Uwabami considered what to do, and settled on a course of action, 'Keep making your way over. But if the citizens are in danger, I give you permission to do as you see fit.'
Saber smiled, 'Understood, Master.'
Cutting off the telepathic link, she moved away from the window. Focusing on the panicking studio, Umi used her vibrissal serpents' hypnotic abilities to calm the room. It was not time to panic; it was time to kickstart the evacuation.
U.A. High School, Mustafu
Day 3, Morning
Standing between her classmates Kinoko Komori and Jurota Shishida, Ibara Shiozaki walked with the rest of Class 1-B towards the U.A. gymnasium. The moment the teachers had come back into the building, secure campus procedures had begun.
Near the front of the line, Sen Kaibara questioned their instructor, Vlad King. "Mr. Vlad, what's going on? And why is 1-A with Lunch Rush instead of their teacher?"
Vlad King glanced back, "No questions, Kaibara. Silent and single-file, everyone."
Although she did not understand the situation, Ibara knew something disastrous was happening. Between the sinking feeling from earlier and the red skies to the west, the vine-haired girl knew a calamity was coming. She had already received a message from Caster who was en route to Nagoya. It seemed that Yaoyorozu's Servant, Rider, had departed in the same direction.
As Class 1-B entered the gymnasium alongside the rest of the students, Ibara only half listened to Vlad King's instructions. The rest of her thoughts were focused on the disaster unfolding in Nagoya.
'The Servants are gathering. This is the work of the Holy Grail War.'
As she sat on the cold floor, Ibara put her hands together in a small prayer.
'O' Lord, please watch over your children in this time of tribulation.'
To be continued in Chapter 7: Disastrous Horizon
Servant Profiles: Avenger [Incomplete]
Bio:
Class: Avenger
Master: Jester Karture
True Name: Apophis
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Stats:
Strength: A+
Endurance: A++
Agility: A
Mana: A++
Luck: D
Noble Phantasm: EX
Class Skills:
Avenger: C
Oblivion Correction: B
Self-Replenishment (Mana): A
Personal Skills:
Cloud That Covers The Sun: A
Nega-Genesis: D
Great Desert Serpent: A
Lord of Chaos: EX
Noble Phantasms:
Chaos Storm Isfet
The Red Winds That Break the Earthen Mound
Rank: D - EX
Type: Anti-World
Apophis's Second Noble Phantasm
No Data Available At Present