Prologue

In our world this is all fiction. But we already knew that. This first layer of knowledge is part of our layer of absolute Truth. The assumption of what we consider real.

So knowing that little fact beforehand, one can make some assumptions once they enter the world of the unreal. Some jumps of logic here and there to expand the horizon of what making fiction into reality entails. Something that wouldn't work for anyone following the setting's actual rules, because in their perception, their fiction has always been reality. Their layer of existence is set as an iron clad rule for them. For an observer with a fourth wall perspective this isn't the case. The need to be able to deduce the confines of the new reality by using both what was shown and what was not. All this comes from the derivation of a single question.

"If a tree falls and nobody is there to hear it, does it actually make any noise?"

Following this train of logic a watcher stuck in a different layer of reality may ask to themselves:

"If it was never shown, did it actually happen?"

or better question to stretch and rewrite what could be considered possible on the undefined outlines of the transmigratory path of parallel lines:

"if it was never directly disproven, does it mean that it could be possible?"

Could a series of events be a part of the canon despite nothing hinting of its previous existence? Could one use a technicality to guide Fate itself into making impossibilities into realities using the already established rules.

This is all set up, it's not only a simple handwave not to explain what shouldn't be expanded upon, but an excuse to justify a mystery working despite all laws saying it shouldn't. Those are the rules established in the setting before my arrival. This, of course, wouldn't work without an external justification confirming this extra layer of existence to transform the mystery into an actual working concept. This is why, before I even woke up and regained consciousness, my soul became entangled this proof of concept, for now I am bound by the concepts of the root and my origin since I was not connected to them when I was in a world without them.

But as I said before, this is all just set up, a flimsy justification to ask the world itself to capitulate to my poorly thought out demands. Justifications that I use to deceive myself, since I woke up on the other side of the screen.

My name isn't Fujimaru nor Shirou, but nonetheless I woke up in a white corridor, on a white station, located on a white plateau of ice on a snow mountain, hidden on the white continent. This is Chaldea, I know as such because as I start to blindly stumble through the corridors of the facility I can see the logo stamped on the walls. My obvious first thought is not "how did I get here" or "I don't belong here" for those are not practical thoughts. Whatever brought me here was not a part of my previous world, so no answer really matters. In this context I just need the acceptance that shenanigans from this other side are at play. They were what made me cross over and move on; on the same vein of thought; "belonging" or "interrupting a story" is none of my concern. I hold no attachment to the thought that "things MUST be certain way" or "the existence of a script I must not change" because my existence is not being ensured nor safeguarded by it, so that line of thought is also disregarded before it can even form. Instead, my first thought is a more crude one. A thought of practicality, of instant awareness. The first thing that really came to mind as I realize where I woke up at was "God fucking damn it! That is Lev Flauros."

On that first meeting we lock eyes in one moment of surprise that seems to have caught him off guard as much as it did me, if not even more so. I see his face freeze for a second of surprise only for it to then form a grimace of frustration and confusion. I see him tilt his head, scrunch his eyebrows and form many wrinkles on his nose in what otherwise would be a comical scene of someone trying and failing to remember something they don't know. He does not know me.

My peripheral vision tells me there are two blurs on the background walking down the corridor away from us, but that thought is discarded as soon as the acknowledgment of when I am registers, for I have no time for it, my eyes don't leave the thing in front of me.

I see Flauros look down at his watch, a marvelous piece of magecraft and technology. I see him scrolling through a list of employees and master candidates searching for me, and not finding a match.

He does not know me.
Chaldea does not know me.
But I do know him,
I do know Chaldea.
A thought occurs to me.
I have options.

I could come out clean with him, tell him I require an audience with his king, the fact that he is not aware of me signifies that I was not part of the future Goetia foresaw with his clairvoyance. I know I could talk with Goetia, he requires someone to justify his actions, that is why he tries to convince Mash during the assault towards the temple of time.

On the other hand, I know that Flauros would not take my foreknowledge as well as Goetia would. If I open my mouth now, instead of passing on the message he would ensure my death instead. The bombs are already planted and ready to go off later today. He can disregard my existence if I play it off since he assumes I will die anyways, but if I open my mouth I would only ensure my demise. Having to work with humans for so long made this particular pillar distasteful of humanities' continuous existence rather than pitying.

So having this avenue of action considered and discarded a solution for it comes to mind. Goetia will personally attend the London singularity, I can meet him there and talk with him, I only need to survive until then to make contact. The beast of Pity may have been the final boss of a game that required a fight as part of gameplay conventions, but with my interference those story conventions no longer confine this world's existence. All can be fixed then.

But I'm rambling in my head, my train of thought is going too much into future scenarios. I can tell because Flauros is now looking back at me, having given up on the database he was browsing until a moment ago.

My focus is now forcefully pulled back into the present as I must deflect whatever he is going to ask before he gets the opportunity to. I see him opening his mouth, starting to formulate an inquire I really don't have the luxury of answering. So I blabber out my first words since coming to this place, shutting him and this conversation down before it can even start.

My voice squeaks out "Where is the bathroom?" with enough urgency to excuse whatever rudeness may be present. Hopefully this shameful scene is enough to distract him into forgetting my existence as one more of the future corpses of this place. Before I he can formulate a coherent response, I can see him extending his finger towards a certain corridor almost reflexively.

I take the chance and with a hurried "thanks" I run past him, leaving him behind with no small amount of dread. He lets me go. But I know this is not over. I

can just tell I already fucked up.

"I'm screwed."