It is said that the definition of insanity is to repeat an action hoping
for a different result. Yet no matter how many times you flip a light
switch, the rock on your cup won't turn into wine. And yet, human
beings are arrogant enough to believe it'll be different if it's me and it
won't happen to me.
And if the average human is arrogant to the point of self-deceit, what
of those with access to unique means and knowledge? Indeed,
Magus have turned arrogance into a way of life, secure in
the knowledge that they and only they can take the flawed knowledge
that led to a failed attempt and obtain the perfect result.
Because surely this time, the rock will turn into wine.
[Saber, have you found her workshop yet?] Shirou asked over his
link with Artoria, easily dividing his attention between it and
scanning his surroundings.
Clarissa Shadehill had stolen the research of a censored magus
family and decided it would work for her. Because of course, it
would! As the heiress of the Shadehill family, she was the ultimate
recipient of nine generations of her family's research, and her Crest
carried dozens of spells crafted by the peerless genius of the
Shadehill family.
How could she find anything but success?
And yet, Clarissa's flawless security measures proved ultimately
insufficient to contain every test subject, with two spiders escaping
their terrarium and jumping onto an unfortunate cockroach, which
fled into the town's sewers and, already half dead, was promptly
cannibalized by its peers.
[No, not yet. Possibly underground?] Artoria sounded calm and
collected on their link.
Soon, large and aggressive mutant vermin swarmed out of the
sewers, attacking everyone and anyone in the little town before
moving to the nearest town, and endangering the secrecy of magic.
And while the Clock Tower didn't care about a few hundred normal
people dying for the sake of Clarissa's research, they at least
understood that thousands of people would be curious about their
fates, a situation that could easily endanger the secrecy of magic.
And that couldn't be allowed.
Of course, Shirou was much more worried about the villagers.
[What about survivors?]
[Unfortunately not.]
Thankfully, while she never planned for her work to get out of
control like this, Magus are nothing if not paranoid and distrustful,
a trait that meant Clarissa was ready to collapse the entrance into the
valley, preventing the ghouls from spreading into the outside world.
Not that it was any comfort for the poor bastards trapped with the
things.
As a ghoul pounced at him from a tree, Shirou spun and cut its arms
off before following the swing and loping off its legs in an effort to
immobilize and study the mad thing.
On the floor, the limbless ghoul continued to twist and contort in an
attempt to reach Shirou with its mouth.
[Found a ghoul. It was smart enough to try and ambush me. Fast
enough to be a threat against civilians, too.]
[Same.]
The sound of a crumbling house told Shirou that Saber had run into a
group of the things. There was simply no way a single ghoul would
force her to collapse a building on its head.
He looked around, half expecting to see a horde of monsters rushing
him now that he had taken down one of their number. Apparently,
that was too much to ask for, and the things were not interested in
avenging their companion, or did not think of each other in such a
way.
With a sigh, he pinned the squirming ghoul against the ground and
immobilized it with a few black keys before attempting to use
[Structural Grasp] on it. Unfortunately, it didn't tell him anything
new.
the ghoul had been male, somewhere in his mid-thirties, and its body
was...
[Uh. They've grown a second brain in the middle of the chest.
Beheading won't be enough to kill them, though it'll be enough to cut
their sight and hearing.]
[Like cockroaches?] Arturia sounded genuinely repulsed by the
news.
[...pretty much.]
[That is absolutely disgusting.]
Despite the situation, Shirou couldn't help but feel the corners of
his lips twitch up a little bit. In the half-decade since the end of the
Grail War, Saber had grown deeply fond of documentaries on all
topics, from history to nature. The thought reminded him of evenings
spent lounging at home, cuddling on the couch with Saber and
Sakura while watching something about penguins.
Or was it about owls? It was bird-related, of that much he was sure.
As if his use of magecraft had rang a dinner bell, ghouls began to
emerge from houses and gardens, crawling or running at him in
whatever position they were likely to have been at the time. It would
have been humorous in any other circumstance, but right now it was
downright bizarre; some of them were trying to run sidewise or
backwards, just as naturally as if they were facing forth. As if the
idea of turning and reorienting themselves towards him was too
advanced a concept for their brains.
He tried, he really tried to push aside the cockroach comment Saber
made less than a minute ago, but knowing that they had an extra bug
brain and seeing them move in such an inhuman manner.
'Well, so much for their humanity.' He thought.
Swords began rushing through the air as soon as they came into
existence above him. It had been years since he needed to hypnotize
himself to do this, a testament to the effectiveness of Rin's genius in
treating and rehabilitation of his once undeveloped magic circuits.
'They're dead already,' He told himself, 'you can't help them, so at
least put them to rest.'
It wasn't just people, either. Cats, dogs, and somebody's pet snake all
came at him, The snake was particularly bizarre, as it moved more
like a caterpillar than a proper snake.
On the plus side, it meant he could still freak out. He was still
human.
Shirou started to move around the town, projecting simple weapons
and shooting them through the head and chest of the rushing ghouls.
No need to trace a powerful Noble Phantasm to take down the
magical equivalent of a violently convulsing corpse.
[Shirou, I found a Bounded Field.] Artoria reported over their link,
and he was happy for the sound of her voice in his head.
It was a clear sign that she may have found Clarissa's home. True, it
maybe a different magus, but the association didn't say anything
about other magus families living in the area.
[Which way? Landmarks?] He asked.
[There's a ...I think it's a school building, just across a plaza from it.
To the east side of the valley.]
[Alright, I'll head over.]
The day should have been clouded, grey, and cold. But no, it was a
sunny, warm day with clear blue skies. Not what anyone would
expect when thinking of a ghoul infestation. Could he have waited
for the night to go into the town? Yes, and if he wasn't looking for
survivors, he would have.
He made his way in as visible a manner as he could, hoping for
anyone to call out to him, yet nobody tried, and he soon joined Saber
at the edge of the Bounded Field.
He actually smiled upon seeing her serious yet beautiful appearance.
It had been years, and the heroic girl had grown into a stunning
woman. Tall and statuesque, with a presence that radiated strength
and femininity in equal measure.
Much to Rin's chagrin and Sakura's quiet amusement, she had filled
up and gained curves in all the right places, making it impossible for
anyone to mistake her for a man. Not anymore.
"Shirou." She greeted him, looking as radiant as the sun, and
effortlessly condemning the butchered corpses of dozens of ghouls
to irrelevant background noise.
He smiled and walked over to her side. "I assume Miss Shadehill
hasn't tried to contact you?"
"No, and I flared enough magic to pull in every ghoul in the area, so
either she's dead, gone, or hoping we'll simply go away if she
ignores us hard enough."
"...I wouldn't be surprised."
He could smell the Bounded Field, and though he couldn't actually
tell what its functions and limits were, he didn't really need to,
anyway.
"Rule Breaker." With those simple words, he projected the colorful,
seemingly useless idea of a weapon, and stabbed the Bounded Field
in front of it.
There was a sound as if someone had sucked all the air in the area,
and the normal-looking house in front of them faded away like a
mirage, replaced by a large manor with at least six floors and three
wings, plus a greenhouse and a gazebo.
Admittedly, most of the manor and all of the gazebo were on fire,
though.
"Do you think she's dead?" Shirou sounded downright hopeful.
"..."
"Yeah, me neither, but I can hope."
If Clarissa Shadehill was already dead, that meant she wouldn't flee
and try the exact same thing somewhere else. If she's still alive
though, then it was Shirou's business to 'fix' that.
A younger, more naive part of him wished he could save her too, but
he had interacted with way too many magus already to remain
ignorant of their ways.
Then, a veritable lance of blue flames burst into existence on the
third floor, flaring upwards for a moment and tearing a long, thin
hole through the outer wall of the manor.
"I didn't think we were getting help on this job." Said Saber while
taking the sight on.
"We weren't supposed to, or at least I wasn't told to expect anyone
else."
Three years ago, Clarissa Shadehill successfully made away with
the discarded notes of an apprentice for the Wizard Marshall. On it,
she found references to a minor ability of the Kaleidoscope known
as 'Plunder'. The ability to bring objects from different worlds. Of
course, the fact said student successfully earned himself a Sealing
Designation after pulling in a Phantasmal Beast that proceeded to
tear apart two small towns before a squadron of Enforcers managed
to bring it down just didn't register with Clarissa. As the genius
daughter of the Shadehill family, she'd make it work.
And up to three weeks ago, it looked like she was right.
Now, in the middle of a ghoul outbreak and with someone having
just popped her family manor's excellent Bounded Fields like they
were nothing but a bunch of balloons, what little subjects she had
retained control over were running free. And that included a very,
very pissed-off caramel-skinned beauty with long pink hair.
As soon as the extremely dense magical field that had kept her weak
and nearly flat on the stone slab her captor decided was a proper
surgical table went away, Ingrid rolled to her left and threw herself
unto the floor, gasping for breath until the world stopped spinning
and she felt strong enough to stand.
Ingrid wasn't hypocrite enough to feel righteous indignation from
being 'merely' tortured or abused. After all, she had done as much to
traitors and betrayers.
No, what pissed off Ingrid so much she skipped over 'angry' and
went straight to 'apoplectic', which was the cold and dehumanizing way in
which her captor had repeatedly cut her open to study her organs for
days at a time, then stitched her back together before leaving her to
rest for an arbitrary period of time before doing it all over again.
There was no anger, jealousy, or even malice. All Ingrid could see in
that woman's face was curiosity and after what felt like several
months, boredom. As if tearing Ingrid apart to examine her organs
was nothing beyond a dull chore, as if Ingrid herself was nothing
more than an old, dull lesson she could learn nothing more from, or
perhaps a worn-off toy.
In all this time, the woman hadn't even bothered to talk to her, let
alone introduce herself!
Thus, it was with more than a little vindictiveness that Ingrid began
tearing through the manor she found herself at the moment she left
what passed for a laboratory in this madhouse.
As soon as she made it into the hallway, a magic construct-looking
like a bear made out of brown wood swung at her, knocking her
along the length of the hallway against the far-off wall before
charging at her. Ingrid raised her head to look at the thing, and even
as she arose to her feet, focused her flame into so dense an edge that
the thing fell apart in clean, coal-black slices that somehow managed
to twitch for several minutes after Ingrid walked past it and further
into the manor, kicking open every door, looking for something she
could dress herself with.
BLAM!
'You cannot be serious.' She thought as soon as she laid eyes on her
sword and part of her clothes, seemingly preserved behind a magical
field similar to the one that had, up to a few minutes ago, kept her
prisoner of the mad witch that owns this place.
The sheer arrogance in keeping a prisoner's equipment right next to
their holding cell was just... mind-blowing.
Ingrid considered the magic field she could feel around her sword. If
it was her, she'd use an impenetrable barrier, or maybe something
that would seriously hurt a would-be thief.
But then she thought about that woman's attitude, about this room's
closeness to her own cell, and decided to gamble on her conclusions
about her captor.
'She's arrogant enough to keep me captive with nothing but
spellwork when a few cuffs and chains would have been a cheap
and easy way to add an extra layer to my imprisonment. Arrogant
enough to keep my sword in the adjacent room. I think... this isn't so
much a security field as it is for preservation. After all, I'm nothing
but a specimen for her.'
With that, she decided that even if she was wrong and she was about
to be fried the moment she reached for her sword, it would still be a
far preferable fate to going back to being that woman's lab rat.
And to her mild surprise, nothing happened to her, though she could
sense a magical impulse race off into the depths of the manor.
'At least she was careful enough to set an alarm. The bitch doesn't
seem to think I could possibly escape her grasp, but I guess she's at
least worried about thieves.'
To be fair, that was a preservation-oriented Bounded Field, as
Clarissa simply wanted to make sure all her precious samples were
in good condition when she studied them, and she certainly didn't
expect someone to just pull a Noble Phantasm out of nowhere and
Rule Breaker her family's Bounded Field. As such, the alarm had
been a secondary thought at best, just something to let her know if
the field failed for whatever reason, such as an earthquake shaking
things up.
'Alright,' Ingrid grinned as she picked up her sword and swung it a
couple of times, then looked around the room. 'where are my
clothes?'
She managed to find her boots and panties, but nothing else. No
matter, she'd fought in less before.
Arturia and Shirou broke in through one of the first-floor walls, fully
expecting the Shadehill heiress to have the actual doors reinforced
or trapped in some way. They weren't interested in the manor itself,
so why bother to keep damage low?
Instantly, they were attacked by an upholster, a small wooden table
and a wardrobe, forcing them to do a double-take at the sight of the
little table dashing towards them while keeping low to the floor in
much the same manner a pouncing tiger would have done, while the
upholster and the wardrobe thundered forth in a much slower but
seemingly irresistible charge.
Of course, it was the weird factor that made them pause. The danger
of hostile furniture, not so much.
After living in the modern world for about six years, and growing
'domestic' to a certain degree, Arturia felt almost guilty as she sliced
the little table in two. To be fair, she wasn't really sure how it would
have actually attacked if it had the chance.
Was it just meant to ram her to death? It would surely prove
somewhat dangerous against a regular familiar, but against an
invading magus, it'd barely be anything but a waste of time.
Shirou was of a similar mind, having a rather frugal lifestyle and
being used to manage their house's finances. In the end, he projected
Gáe Deard, the Spear of Exorcism, and simply tapped each piece of furniture
to break whatever enchantment animated them.
"I thought we weren't worried about property damage?" Arturia
raised an eyebrow.
"If a simple tap is enough to solve the issue, isn't that actually faster
and cheaper than projecting something to smash them with?"
"...Alright, point. Now give me one so I can do the same. No need to
announce our presence with the sound of battle and shattering
furniture if we can just walk down the house."
"I feel like we're cheating." Announced Shirou, even as he complied
and handed the spear to Arturia, then projected another for himself.
Rule Breaker would have been both inconvenient, given its small
size and lack of reach, and gross overkill when all that was needed
was to disable minor enchantments from (admittedly quite a few)
pieces of furniture.
Diarmuid would have still coughed blood out of sheer anger at the
way they were using his Noble Phantasm, but thankfully the lancer
wasn't around to see.
Clarissa cried out in rage and pain. Like every other magus, she was
somewhat connected to the Bounded Fields around her home, and
the sensation of them popping into unreality felt like having a toe
caught in a vault's door.
"Aaagh! Who-!?" She whimpered/cried at the sensation, and had to
catch herself or fall onto the floor.
To be fair, the floor caught her fall. Literally, as her family's
magecraft specialized in manipulating organic material, and thus the
wooden floors in her room and workshop were like fluid extra limbs
she could command at will.
A large, light-brown colored hand of wood rose from the floor to
catch her in a gentle, supportive hold, then sink back onto the floor
as she steadied herself.
Any intruder would have to fight every piece of furniture, statue,
roof beam, and even the flooring itself to reach her. In short, she was
the closest thing to a reality manipulator within her home, as
everything in sight was made from some manner of wood.
And that's why she was completely unprepared for the intruders to
just 'tap' their way through her domain, and her experimental subject
to just incinerate her way to freedom. It's not that she was
incompetent, it was simply the worst match she could ever get.
"How are they doing that?" She could 'see' through the wooden
beams on the hallway roofs, and the ridiculous spectacle of the
statuesque blonde in the armor and the tall redheaded man just
gently tapping their way through whatever she threw at them was
infuriating beyond measure.
So focused was she, that she was caught completely by surprise
when the crowning achievement of her studies into the
Kaleidoscope simply kicked the door to her chambers and looked at
her with an expression that could sour lemons.
Ingrid had blasted through the third floor and upstairs into the
fourth, anger and resentment fueling her failing body as she slashed,
cut, and incinerated her way up the wooden stairs. As a superior
devil, she was capable of sustaining herself on magic for an
indefinite period of time, but that didn't account for a need to
regenerate after being cut open, disassembled, and haphazardly put
back together day after day for months at a time.
Especially considering how mana-starved her new world appeared to
be. In fact, ever since whatever enchantment kept her bound in place
came out, she had to admit it had also contributed to keeping her in
a mana-rich environment she had simply considered natural at the
time.
And after using her flame multiple times and enhancing her body
with what little mana she had left, Ingrid felt as if she had wandered
through the desert for a week.
'It's been barely three hundred feet or so, and I can tell I'm about to
die.' She thought with grim finality. 'But before I go, I'm going to
eviscerate this bitch.'
She laser-focused on Clarissa and charged against her in a straight
line, flames rising to burn through the two titan-sized brown hands
emerging from the floor to get in her way.
She surrounded herself with a ring of blue flame, then stretched and
sharpened it into a fiery chakram, almost instantly setting it to spin
like a buzzsaw around her charging form.
The closest, enormous wooden hand in her way was sliced apart
right in the middle of its palm by the horizontal ring of sharpened blue
flame, its fingers falling back as the half-hand now sported a
perfectly smooth, coal-black surface where it was cut. And yet that
wasn't enough to stop the thing's momentum, and Ingrid had to jump
over it to continue her charge, right into the closed first of the second
hand.
There was a sound like that of a ton of wood impacting a fleshy
body and Ingrid was punched into the wall behind her so fast it
almost looked like she had teleported there. By the time she fell
forth, she had left a bloody imprint on the wall, but still she forced
herself to roll forth in order to dodge the incoming wooden spikes
that her captor had fired at her, seemingly conjuring them out of the
furniture in the room like water from a well.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The spikes were nothing graceful, but they were clearly dangerous
by how deep they pierced into the wall, right where her head, heart,
lungs and stomach would have been if she remained in place for half
a second longer than she had.
Some part of the Demon Knight noticed that the furniture in the
room seemed deflated, almost melted, but she decided to archive that
in the 'later' section of her mind. Assuming there'd be a later, as she
found herself running so low on mana that she was having trouble
keeping herself from gasping like a fish out of water, desperately
trying to breathe despite being outside the world it had evolved for.
Clarissa noticed, though. How could she not, when she had spent
months studying the Phantasmal across the room?
'It can't survive in our mana-scarce environment. I just need to push it
back for another couple of seconds, and it'll literally asphyxiate to
death. Dammit!' Someone else would have been happy about an all-but-guaranteed win, but all Clarissa could think of was that whoever
the intruders were, they'd basically killed her most prized specimen
when they popped the manor's Bounded Field. 'Normally, connecting
the artificially enriched bubble to the house's supposedly
indestructible Bounded Field would have been the right choice,
but...'
Even now, Clarissa thought of Ingrid as nothing but an 'it', and her
most valuable lab specimen, but nothing other than that. She had
examined, vivisected, and put 'it' back together again in the name of
advancing her research, and that was all that mattered to her.
'If only I had a few more months. I could have learned to manipulate
flesh.' In her opinion, that would have allowed her to 'fix' anything
on her body, extending her life for long enough that her research
would eventually let her reach the Root.
That according to the definition of such things, she'd become
dangerously close to a Death Apostle and earn a Sealing Designation
didn't seem to register with her.
Ingrid gasped and could swear she felt the world robbing her
personal mana out of her breath. She felt as if she was fighting in the
ocean's depths, holding her breath with the weight of the world
above her shoulders, with the surface and its promise for air an
impossible distance away.
'I'm going to die.' She wasn't whining, she was merely upset. As her
lord's blade and as a knight, death on the battlefield wasn't a maybe,
it was a when. Merely a point of fact and an observation.
No, that wasn't entirely true. She did have one complaint. Before her
death, she wanted to kill the bitch, stab her through the head with her
sword, and then collapse over her corpse. 'I have to reach her
somehow.'
To be continued...
Commissioned by Me
Written by Madlad (Maglad)
If you wish to read the rest and the mature scenes please visit
P*a*t*r*e*o*n . com (Slash) SeraphimofScales
