Two new Servants gained from negotiations.

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God, it's been more than 3 months.

Never knew high school would be so busy.

But I've finally got this new chapter out, hope you lot haven't forgotten me.

If the dialogue is weird, apologies as I'm not all that great with character analysis.

So, enjoy. Leave your thoughts in the comments.

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Oh, and I forgot to mention.

All the Angels described in my work take inspiration from Peter Mohrbacher's Angelarium series.

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In the beginning, there was Da'at: Nothing.

After the Infinite and his children shattered the Tower of Babel, scattering humanity across Gaia's skin, there was still Da'at: Nothing.

Yet Da'at saw the humans suffer; he heard their endless screams of regret at what they could not do as the one called Dͣᶻeͬaͣtͤᶫh took their rainbow-colored souls back to Ein Sof's embrace.

Even Da'at's hollow heart could not idly slumber.

For Da'at was Keter's, the soul who traveled down from the crown, shadow.
For Da'at was Ein Sof's, the Infinite that birthed the original humans, shade.

The feelings of the two that cast the void named Da'at bled into Da'at's soul. Although consumed by the emptiness, their nature still reached Da'at's heart and weaved themselves into his essence.

Da'at was Nothing, yet tainted by the knowledge of sin by the first two humans, Da'at learned the concept of Greed; he now knew what it meant to wish for more than he already had.

Da'at was Nothing. He had none to lose, and everything to gain.

As the shade of Ein Sof, the Infinite, the only one no chain can restrain, Da'at held limited authority over the concept humans call Genesis. Using the void that absorbed the original Light of Creation that birthed the world, Da'at created a golden chalice that granted any wish.

Thus, Da'at wished.

He wished for a foundation.
He wished for a will that endured all hardships,
a heart that felt empathy,
a body that held all beauty,
a radiance that submitted the chaos,
a sense that judged right from wrong,
a mind that held all knowledge,
a soul that deciphered all wisdom,
to walk upon the Kingdom called the Earth,
and finally, for a Crown to rule humanity.

Da'at wished for life.

That wish was trivial to grant.

Da'at already had a soul, but he was trapped in the emptiness cast by Keter. All he must do to gain life is to be touched by Akasha's embrace.

The golden chalice heard its creator's deepest desires. Drinking greedily from the unlimited void that consumed the light of creation, the grail transformed into a gateway to the Origin. In response, Da'at constrained his soul into a measurable vessel and sent himself through the gate to Ein Sof's arms.

Bathed in the Swirl of Origin as a soul, Da'at was ushered into Rͫeͤiͭnͣcͭaͬrͦnⷫation's arms. Having consumed the shard of every angel that shall ever be born, Da'at was seen as a slain angel by Rͫeͤiͭnͣcͭaͬrͦnⷫation and sent back into the Seven Rings. Once there, he was reborn as an angel.

Da'at's authority was Nothing. Hence, he had no authority and was considered the weakest angel.
Da'at, the eleventh hidden Great Seraph, was born with but one pair of wings.

Da'at was Nothing. His True Name was Nothing. Thus, Da'at had no True Name, no purpose given by the Infinite. With no shard of Ein Sof to fill the void in his soul, Da'at's sole pair of wings faded to black. Accordingly, Da'at was a Fallen Angel. A Daemon.

Yet copied from Mⷦeͤtͭaͤtͬron were twelve wings with golden feathers taken from the Fallen Angels that abandoned them during their rebellion. Only the purist of the Seraphim were permitted to have wings of colors besides pure white, and with thousands of shards of the Infinite granting their luster, Da'at must be a Pure Angel.

When combined, his wings numbered fourteen: two black as obsidian, twelve blinding as the stars. Only the Infinite was privileged to have more than twelve wings. Therefore, Da'at's power was equal to Ein Sof.

Da'at appeared in Ein Sof's arms.

Ein Sof gazed down at the infant, nameless angel sleeping in his embrace. This was an anomaly. By Ein Sof's own laws, this angel was his equal, having the potential to do what the one called Pride, now known as the Morning Star, and thousands of others who followed his path, could not.

Ursurp Yahweh: the one called Gͤoͥdⷫ ˢᵒᶠ.

But the Infinite was intrigued. Never before has there been born a being even close to matching his power. Now, he was presented with such an angel held in his arms, Ein Sof felt hesitant to extinguish his ember of life. He wanted to watch this frail bud bloom into a mighty flower.

This was his child, after all.

But as per Ein Sof's laws, he could not remain in the Seven Rings with his wings colored of coal. Da'at must be cast down to the Earth.

Ein Sof thought about what to do for an eternity and an instant.

The solution was simple.

Ein Sof had chosen a king for humanity: a son of the first king of Israel, David. Not yet born, yet life already meticulously planned, a "Perfect King" meant to usher in the Age of Humanity.

Upon his coronation, the king shall be bestowed ten rings that held dominion over all knowledge and Mystics. The Infinite originally planned to order Mⷡiͤcͣhͧaͭeⷱl to deliver the rings and then directly interview by giving counsel, but perhaps this nameless angel could in his stead.

The ten rings had already been carved and polished, and ten Seraphim blessed the golden shells. Choosing the one touched by Mⷦeͤtͭaͤtͬron, Ein Sof bound the nameless angel's soul to the ten rings.

Da'at was consumed by the tenth ring, slumbering and dreaming of Nothing as he waited for the time of coronation.

May the Time of Coronation come.

May the Time of Descendence come.

"Forgive me, for I have made you wait. I had a strangely realistic dream last night." He knew his reason didn't explain his delay, but Ritsuka didn't care. Turning his gaze from the shattered mosaic window to the wary green eyes of the man sitting in the wheelchair, he smiled while stretching to rid his muscles of their soreness.

"You may be at ease. No one can harm you here."

On guard, the man didn't seem that impressed with his display.

Well, Ritsuka would not fault him for being weary. His soul was damaged, pride bruised and left in pieces. He was akin to a hapless lamb or newborn child. But even if it was futile, Ritsuka would strive to calm his mind. The formalities called for it.

"Hmm... Since you're contracted to Diarmuid, you must know how much we heroes value the chivalry you dismissed as foolishness. As an angel, I am bound by the teachings of the Holy Father." Ritsuka spread his wings before repeating himself. "You may be at ease. No one will harm you here."

The night sky was heavy with darkness as it always was, Liliel's veil wrapped suffocatingly around the world. Yet Ritsuka's luster lit up the decrepit, abandoned church, akin to a star fallen to earth.

It did little to ease the paranoia of the magus before him.

"Father..." Kayneth began slowly, unsure what to call this being. Before this war, he never believed in God, as the only one mages like him worshipped was the Root. But now, with an angel standing before him, the mystics he previously overlooked came back flooding into his mind.

The best way to describe his state was unconscious fear. He was too proud and arrogant to consciously admit his past sins, yet his soul understood his current position. Even if his magic circuits weren't atrophied, he was nothing against the judgment of a Divine Spirit.

"...why have you called me here?"

It didn't make any sense. If this angel wanted to kill him, there was no need to call him here personally. With the power he wielded, he could smite a skyscraper with his holy light. If Lancer's report was accurate, at least.

To form an alliance? That chance was even slimmer. Kayneth, at the moment, was but a shell of his former self. His lower body was paralyzed, and only with help from a doll-maker in Japan had he regained use over his arms. Not a shred of that child-prodigy nobility could be seen in him any longer. His pride had been consumed by helplessness at his current situation long ago.

He tapped his fingers anxiously on the rubber wheels of his wheelchair. The bruises and shards of broken bone on his left little finger ached in protest, a pain that made him both annoyed and relieved.

"Oh, many reasons," Riitsuka informed him. "But first, as an envoy of the Clocktower, you should know that the fuss caused by Caster is being covered up quite nicely. I helped alter the memories of most of the witnesses, and your "friends" convinced the local hospitals it was all just a huge gas leak."

Zachiel's Authority was handy in altering memories. He was the angel that governed them, after all.

"Oh, I see... That is... delightful to hear." The once-mage responded through hesitance. Though he wanted to get through this quickly, Kayneth knew angering Ritsuka was not wise. "Is there anything else, Father?"

"Just a few minor details to smooth out." Ritsuka walked to the bench next to Kayneth's wheelchair and sat on the miscellaneous splotches of soft lichen and moss. "Do you mind if I sit?"

It was a formality, a meaningless question undeserving of even one thought, but the magus' head still wobbled sideways to send his message. No risks can be taken when in the Workshop of another mage, the church of an angel.

"Wonderful, then let us begin." An unsettled shiver crept up Kayneth's back as those kind, innocent, yet weathered eyes turned from the stained glass window to his equally old-seeming figure huddled in a wheelchair meant for those with one foot in the grave.

"Tell me, what is your wish? What would you ask of the Cup of Christ if it were placed in your palm?"

The question hung in the air for seconds in silence, Kayneth using this time to formulate his answer. It was an easy question, one that didn't merit much thought. A mage who lost their Magic Circuits should know precisely their priorities when granted an omnipotent wish granter. But whether or not this answer would change how this angel viewed him was another story.

Was the angel judging him? To evaluate his wish and, in turn, his soul? To see whether or not this person before him was worthy of claiming the cup of his brethren?

Weighing his options, Kayneth, hands sweaty in trepidation, slowly answered.

"I would wish...for my circuits to be restored."

The angel's eyes flashed in understanding, and he nodded as if in acceptance.

"I see. So is it my understanding that your sole reason for participation from this moment on shall be the restoration of your soul?"

Kayneth nodded.

"Then, if I were to restore what was lost, would you be willing to withdraw?"

The mage froze in incredulous disbelief, his ears grappling between the impossibility of the angel's words and the sincere expression on his face. As his almost hopeless mind finally saw an impossible slimmer of light in the darkness, he barely squeaked out a "what," not much louder than a whisper.

"You don't need to answer. That burning desire in your eyes tells me all I need to know." A mystical sigil appeared above the angel's hand and collapsed, with Kayneth recognizing it as the Cube of Metatron from the details he glimpsed from the few moments he had available to him. A cube emerged and expanded upon the point of convergence before shattering to reveal a scroll with words seemingly inscribed in crimson blood.

As a mage, Kayneth immediately knew what the Ritsuka had pulled out.

A Self Geass Scroll.

The rolled and dog-eared piece of yellowing parchment landed on Kayneth's lap when the angel flicked his finger as he saw how limited the mage's movements were.

"You're free to read the terms and conditions and make your decision for as long as you want. Oh, and ask me if there's anything you fear might be a catch. I did try to word it as clearly as possible, though."

Hands trembling as he unfurled the roll, Kayneth spent more effort reading the words of blood than he had creating any mystic.

As Ritsuka said, it was easy to understand with no funny wording and straight to the point.

The gist was if Kayneth handed over the Command Spells and swore never to participate in a Holy Grail War again until the Fourth Holy Grail War ended, Ritsuka would restore his entire body, circuits and all, to how it was before the Origin Bullet.

"I understand you do not hold the Command Spells right now, but the Grail chose you as its original Master." The angel glanced briefly at Kayneth's bare hand before speaking. "So long as you sign this, the Command Spells shall return to me. Do not ask your fiancee to participate in your stead. You should know very well what shall happen if you do."

The scheme hadn't even crossed Kayneth's mind. All other thoughts lost importance when the angel pulled out the Self Geass Scroll. It meant the angel wasn't bluffing. Why would he risk binding his soul to a contract he could not accomplish otherwise?

Ritsuka could see the anticipation in Kayneth's eyes. The only thing holding him back was an instinctive fear of binding his soul to accomplish a feat on par with a miracle. Then, to seal the deal...

"Shall I offer you a preview of what happens when you sign your name?"

Without waiting for permission, Ritsuka placed one hand on Kayneth's temple while the other pressed his forehead.

"Come..." He murmured, summoning the Authorities of his sister. "Rͬaͤp̾hͭaͦeͬlͣ.ͭᶤᵒᶰ"

One of the four most famous Seraphim, along with Michael, Gabriel, and Uriel, and the Archangel of healing.

"Gghh-Wha-?" Kayneth groaned in confusion as light originated from the point of contact between him and Ritsuka. It invaded his soul, scorching yet somehow not painful. It spread across his body, akin to the basic spell Reinforcement, and when it finally died and cooled, he felt as if his mind was somehow less muddled than before.

"There." Ritsuka retracted his hands. "I have restored half of your family's Crest and given you a means to verify my work. Though I have to wonder why you did not hand it to your fiancee for safekeeping."

Kayneth almost couldn't believe it, but nothing could compare to the exhilaration he felt when a single blue line ran across his arm, sympathizing with and connecting to the legacy of his ancestor mages. His body was racked with pain as his soul was still damaged, but the sensation was so vivid, unlike the dull ache sent to his brain by atrophied nerves.

It was true, he realized with elation. This angel could restore all that he lost.

Ritsuka already had a pen prepared, and Kayneth grabbed it faster than he could blink and began frantically scribbling his name onto the soul-binding contract.

Who cares about a fancy familiar anyway?

"Oh, and I must warn you: do not bite the hand that feeds you," Ritsuka commented as he finished scribing his name in the blank space provided. Two hands repositioned themselves on Kayneth's head as he spoke. "I gave you light out of kindness. Never forget I can take it away just as easily."

Temperature declined as altitude rose. That was a scientific fact even primary school students knew. But humanity, with its current technological progress, could only build structures barely taller than one thousand meters. Even with such daunting heights, the temperature change would only be approximately ten degrees Celsius. Not nearly enough to cause a supernatural being discomfort.

It was safe to assume the chill Ritsuka felt was not from the ambient temperature, as the building he was on barely reached thirty meters, but from the gusts of gale blowing ruthlessly around him and the ominous premonition his Clairvoyance granted him. Standing up from sitting, he shivered as another breath of wind whipped past his ear and allowed his eyes to flicker to his target.

Sight, to mages, is considered the first magecraft. By that logic, angels, beings of pure Mystery and faith, should have among the most mystic eyes in the world only known by Phantasmles.
Even hundreds of meters away, every detail of the Matou mansion was as clear as day.

Ritsuka admitted it was inconspicuous. At the very least, it was as discreet as possible for a mage's workshop and residence. An uninvolved person would believe they were a wealthy family, looking at the Châteauesque designs with rounded turrets and steeply pitched rooflines. Perhaps they would pause and stare in envy as they wondered how many lifetimes they would need for their nine-to-five job to get them the money to pay for such luxuries, but those whimsical emotions would fade as quickly as morning mist with a phone call from their boss asking why they're late for work.

Yellow leaves fell from the branches of two trees of unknown species growing in a large patch of grass before the manor. Carried by the wind, they added color to the dull grey stones of the pathway leading to the entrance, along with the streetlights illuminating the dull night.

"I suppose I've waited long enough..."

Fourteen Command Spells manifested, the three Ritsuka used previously replenished from the ones he acquired from the Lord of Mineralogy. But 3 sigils weren't the only thing he received from this equal trade.

Three of his fourteen crimson wings glowed dull white as he sent a telepathic message to his new Servant.

"Come, Lancer."

Space contorted and air bent as magical energy concentrated behind him, constructing a body identical to blood and flesh. With a confused disposition and alerted face, Lancer allowed his eyes to scan his surroundings, eventually landing on the figure of his new Master, looking down at his kneeling figure.

"Pretty cold night, isn't it?" Ritsuka asked.

"Ruler?" Disregarding the question, Diarmuid focused on the situation he was in. "What is the meaning of this?"

Where was his Master, Lord Kayneth? Moreover, why was the Master-Servant bond he felt different?

Ritsuka's three glowing Command Spells changed from faint glimmers to bright phosphorescence in response. Seeing this phenomenon and suddenly sensing a strengthening of the Master-Servant link, Lancer put two and two together and closed his eyes to confirm his suspicions.

"You..." Diarmuid's eyes opened, filled with incredulous incomprehension. The bond no longer pointed him toward Kayneth. Instead, he was tied to the youth with black hair before him. "You are my Master?"

"Yes," Ritsuka answered.

"Wh-bu-h..." Lancer spluttered. After a few moments, he formed comprehensible words, a dangerous underlying tone to his voice. "What happened to Lord Kayneth?"

In his mind, there was no way for Kayneth to have given up his Servant willingly. Then, the only options were that he had been killed or that Ruler somehow stole his spells.

"Nothing. That I can promise you." Ritsuka hummed, looking up at the sky as if searching for something, "though he's probably on a plane back to London right now."

"What are you saying?"

"Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald has abdicated his right to participate in the Fourth Holy Grail War. He has given his Command Seals and Servant to me."

"B-but why would he..." Lancer stuttered, trying to apprehend his former Master's decisions.

"In exchange," Ritsuka added further, "I restored his body and Magical Circuits to their former state. It was an equal and voluntary contract. I can show you the Geas Scroll if you want?"

A contract tied with fraying threads and scribed with words of blood appeared in Ritsuka's hand as he handed it to Lancer, who undid the knot and quickly skimmed the contents.

"It's true, then..." Diarmuid murmured as he saw Kayneth's name written in black ink. "Still, why would he..."

Doubts crept into the green spearman's head. Did he disappoint his former Master so? Had he failed as a knight?

"Please don't doubt yourself." A warm hand found itself on Lancer's shoulder, and he looked up to see Ruler's reassuring face. "You didn't error as a knight. Have you noticed how your former Master never fully comprehended why you value chivalry?"

Difficult to admit as it was, Diarmuid nodded in confirmation. Though he tried to suppress and reject the feeling, the curtness and efficiency that Kayneth had used to address him was more suited for a tool than a person.

"It is the same for you. Knights and mages have diametrically opposite beliefs. To mages, their Magical Circuits are worth more than their riches and soul combined. If you were to offer a mage to choose between better quality circuits and all the gold and riches in the world, I can tell you they would choose the circuits every time."

Ritsuka paused, letting Diarmuid assimilate the information into his mind.

"Now, I want you to put yourself in the shoes of your former Master. Remember, as a mage, you value your circuits above everything. You entered the Holy Grail War with no wish, only seeking glory and recognition, thinking it would be an effortless victory. But in a recent skirmish, you lost your ability to move and even use magic. Luckily, someone just offered to restore what you lost in exchange for your Command Seals and Servant." Ritsuka looked Lancer in the eyes. "Tell me, being in your former Master's position and having his mindset, what would you do?"

Diarmuid went over the information and scenarios. If what Ruler proclaimed about mages and their values were true, then the only logical choice would be...

"I would...take that person's deal," he admitted.

"Good, then you understand your former Master's reasoning."

"But Ruler," Lancer inquired, "Why did you want to acquire me? From my impressions, you did not lose anything for helping Kayneth. Shouldn't saints grant salvation without asking for anything in return?"

Ritsuka nodded in understanding before answering. "I get what you're saying, but taking his Command Seals was part of the salvation I offered him."

"Could you elaborate?"

"No offense to your previous Master, but he's too prideful." Ritsuka shook his head in exasperation. From the records of the Clocktower he's seen in Chaldea, he knew plenty of how mages operated. "He's not going to learn his lesson and will keep participating, possibly ending up killed by the same Mage Killer that almost took his life. So you see? This was the most rational way of sparing him from a painful death. I'm also eliminating another competitor from this Grail War and bolstering my forces, preventing even more possible casualties. As a Servant, that is what you want, right?"

"I...your reasoning is sound, Ruler." Lancer nodded in acceptance. As a Knight of Fiana, preventing deaths has been his duty since knighthood. "Very well. I shall accept you as my new Lord and serve you."

"Good. Ready your spears, Lancer. We're going to exterminate a persistent bug."

It took less than thirty seconds to reach the Matou Manor. That was expected. Slow, even. The speed of Heroic Spirits was not to be underestimated, particularly when blessed by a Child of Heaven.

Ritsuka grinned. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop wasn't dissimilar to how he crossed the floating stones in Babylonia to strike Tiamat's forehead with the golden dagger. Lancer kept up his pace, tailing Ritsuka closely behind. Talisman shrouds abandoned, his spears gleamed under the moon's pale glow.

They slowed on the shingles of the mansion's pointed roof, the tiles producing a clear ring as their soft footsteps paused in their progression.

"Master, just to make sure I understand this mission." Lancer's gaze flickered around the Workshop's territory. "We are to infiltrate this mage's lair, slay him, and rescue a girl he has imprisoned?"

"Yes," Ritsuka nodded, poking at the roof with his foot. He paused once he heard a faint echo. "Though she wasn't kidnapped. Her father gave her up willingly. Ugh. Mages and their heirs."

Diarmuid found himself agreeing with his new Master's distaste. Abandoning one's own flesh and blood... It was just morally wrong.

"Brace yourself."

Ritsuka only gave a brief warning before he acted. But for Diarmuid, that was enough as he positioned his spears and hands to protect his eyes from the inevitable debris.

"Branches of Ein Sof!"

Ritsuka swung down at the roof. At first, it didn't seem there would be any effect as he was standing, but halfway down its trajectory, a golden spear resembling a tree branch with various leaves appeared in his descending hand. Exploding on impact and shattering into motes of golden mana, a large hole was blasted in the roof, and the two Heroic Spirits fell into the chamber below.

They landed in a medieval-fashioned room dimly lit by candles, though those had been decimated by the explosion, their embers passed to a table cloth. A table and some chairs lay in smithereens, and the sole piece of somewhat intact furniture-the cupboard-had its legs missing and doors blown off their hinges.

Shards of shattered porcelain plates clinked as they were pushed against silverware by the two Servants' feet. Their mindset became oriented toward combat almost synchronously.

"Diarmuid."

"Yes, Master. I hear it, too."

The faint buzz of insects. Akin to obnoxiously loud mosquitoes.

From the cracks in the ceiling, from the seams in the wooden floorboards, they emerged from everywhere at once. Abnormal insects fit to be hell's messengers, with wings sharp as knives and needle-like tails.

"Diarmuid, handle them. They should be no match for your spears. I'll offer support from the back."

"Understood, Master."

Ten pairs of wings were immediately severed from their carapaces as the insects who owned them dissipated into green specks of light, leaving not even their shells to clatter to the ground. Gáe Dearg proved invaluable as its two-meter effective range and anti-mystic properties shredded the defenses of the grotesque familiars.

Lancer effectively used his A agility as he ducked from the stings of a swarm of magical insects, efficiently retaliating as his spears drew wide arcs in the air too fast for the naked eyes to see. Spinning one-eighty, he then focused on the insects that had arrived behind him.

"Emergency Evade," Ritsuka commanded as he saw a bug slip past Lancer's view and position its stinger at his back. The magic spell kicked in as the insect struck, moving Diarmuid an inch to the left and allowing his Yellow Rose to make quick work of the worms.

"Many thanks, Master!"

"Don't sweat it. Keep your guard up." Ritsuka noticed that the swarm was thinning. "Try moving towards the door. Our destination is the basement."

With one final thrust, the final insects turned into foul kabobs only the devil would desire to savor, disintegrating into dust. Looking around to ensure no more danger was present, the two Servants proceeded out of the dining room and into the hallway.

"Diarmuid, the stairs are here," Ritsuka called as he descended a shadowed stairway.

Lancer, eyes still weary and scanning the surroundings, followed his lead. His back was straight as a board as he prepared to engage in combat the moment suspicions arose. Those insects had done nothing to ease his paranoia.

The stairs wound further and further down. Finally, when Ritsuka had long tired of descending, they became straight and led into a stone brick chamber. The floor glowed an ominous gree, doorway-shaped holes lined the walls, and the nauseating sound of thousands of constantly skittering insects echoed within them, each reverberation causing the static to grow louder and louder.

Diarmuid almost took a step back in horror. Appalled, he searched the darkness below. The righteous fury in his eyes grew as the seconds passed.

"This is disgusting. What...what kind of sorcerer has a workshop like this?!"

Ritsuka couldn't agree more. He'd seen many horrifying things, but this was still enough to cause him to become nauseous, and that rage and disgust were multiplied by a factor of ten when he saw the poor girl amidst those insects.

"So, the mastermind's away. There's no way we'd have infiltrated this lair so effortlessly otherwise." Ritsuka murmured. "Diarmuid, step back for a moment."

Confused but obliging, Lancer retreated to the top of the straight flight of stairs. Without warning, a sudden scorching light blinded him as Ritsuka's Clairvoyant eyes opened on his wings. Even when he covered his face with his arms, it still felt like being scorched by a summer sun.

"Not good..." Lancer made his way to Ritsuka's side after the light dimmed. Wings still hanging limply from his back, he muttered frustratingly under his breath. "Those worms already have her heart."

"Master? What is it?"

"Those things," Ritsuka pointed at the skittering maggots, "though she's only been exposed to them for less than a year, they've already wrapped themselves around her heart. If I try to exterminate them, they'll murder the girl."

"Then is saving her impossible?"

"No." Ritsuka grimaced. "It's going to be painful for her, but I have many ways of parasite extraction. Considering the circumstances, the easiest method would be..."

As if finally having his inner mind reach a consensus, Ritsuka allowed Clairvoyance of Mimicry to not just search within his soul but also beyond it. The blessings of the ten Seraphim weren't the only Authorities he held. No, he had many, many more.

Ten bubbles rose to the surface of his Spirit Origin, accompanied by a thousand more. A minuscule patch of sea foam, propelled by the wishes of the vessel, reached and broke free from the tension of film, spreading its contents across his soul.

When the fallen crossed the void to reach the Earth...

Diarmuid tensed at the sudden change in his Master's aura. He further shivered as he saw Ritsuka's body morph, flesh becoming ribbons that thinned into threads before weaving themselves into a new body wholly unlike before.

...they abandoned to it their holiness, their divinity.

Tattered grey cloth wrapped around Ritsuka's body, loose and fraying, they appeared to rip at the slightest air current. Entangled with them were rotting branches and roots, securing the fabric to his lower body. Minimalistic shoulder pads anchored a shaw around his head, preventing his pale silver hair from spilling down his back.

Lancer took a step back as white wings spread lethargically, crimson eyes the color of fresh blood glistened dully, contrasting with the sinister green glow of the chambers below.

Lancer didn't attack this frightening being before him due to the sole reason that he still felt a connection between them.

"M-my lord, what is this?"

Ritsuka's now crimson eyes turned to him. They tried to appear gentle, though that only made them seem more awkward than anything.

"Ah, right. I've never shown you this ability before. Don't worry. I'm still me. I'm just borrowing the authority of another angel."

Though Lancer was still disturbed, he didn't inquire more.

Turning to the insects that also sensed his intimidating aura and were now racing to kill him, Ritsuka didn't even bother summoning a weapon and used his nails to make a large slit in his palm.

This was the authority of a fallen angel, a Watcher. But in Ritsuka's possession was the shard of Ein Sof that the Watcher relinquished when he fell from the Heavens to lay with mortal women.

Thus, from his understanding, his Common Sense, this was the power of a pure angel.

"Take it. Take it, and drink from it. My blood, my fury, my curses, my undone sins."

Slow at first, blood began to pour from his open wound into the chamber. The insects that touched the vermillion, cursed liquid writhed in agony, screaming to form a single cacophonous note in Ritsuka's mind as they were consumed by a sea of red.

"Zⷬaͧqͬiͥeͭlⷱ."

The Angel of Purity, the Watcher who taught humankind to disinfect.

Eventually, Ritsuka's wound became a fountain with blood replacing water. Not a single Crest Worm remained, and half the basin had been filled with liquid. Lancer looked worriedly at the girl whose face had now been completely submerged and readied to jump in to save her. But Ritsuka held up his free hand to stop him.

"Wait and watch. If her heart and soul are pure, my blood-Zⷬaͧqͬiͥeͭlⷱ's blood-shall do her no harm."

Blood began to bubble and boil as Ritsuka closed his bleeding fist. Red phosphorescence surrounded the wound for a heartbeat before unblemished skin replaced scarred tissues. Seeing his Master begin to walk down the stairs, Lancer hurried after him. The blood tide receded as they descended, eventually gurgling away into nothing, leaving a girl sleeping on cold, unforgiving stone.

The transformation faded, and Lancer watched the Master that he recognized-the youth with black hair and blue eyes-manifest a blanket from who knows where and pick up the young girl.

Brushing aside a lock of violet hair, Ritsuka examined her face with a lengthy, relieved sigh.

"Everything went according to plan. The worms have been banished from her body. Now, then..." He reached inside his Second Archive and pulled out a gift from a homunculus-turned-fake-demon. "Time to blow this place to the ground! Time: Set. 60 seconds. Parasitic Bomb!"

A different yet similar chitter-chatter filled the unofficial echo chamber. More mechanic than organic, beetles with a clock on their caprice scuttled from the open gate, finally awakened to do their duty. The clock's second hand's ticking combined with the rattle of their steel legs, making for an unpleasant combination. They climbed into the holes of the compartment, the cracks between stone brick, and some hurried to attach to the structural support of the building.

Already climbing the stairs, Ritsuka called to the green knight, who looked in morbid fascination at the insectoid bombs.

"Diarmuid, let's get out of here. This place is gonna blow soon. Oh, and help me grab a few books from this residence's library. They've got some pretty informative tombs for such an unnerving family."

The explosion was louder than he anticipated, causing a shockwave to tremor the ground and shake the clouds. Those bombs Mephistopheles gave him sure are potent. Ritsuka reminded himself to thank him when he returned to Chaldea, and assign a few Servants to restrain his bomb-making activities.

They stood a distance away, watching the residence be consumed in flames and burn to the ground. A fitting end, perhaps too grand. Ritsuka allowed himself a short prayer.

At least he managed to store their entire library in his Second Archive before the miniature reenactment of the burning of the Library of Alexandria.

"Master, someone is coming this way," Diarmuid informed him.

"I know." Ritsuka hummed. He's heard footsteps since a few moments ago. "Don't attack yet. Let's see what he wants."

A slouched and pale figure eventually appeared before them, silver hair muted and eyes glassy; he was limping more than walking.

"You..." Kariya hissed at them, "What did you do to the manor?"

Ritsuka sighed. "No need for hostilities. Kariya, was it? Your reason for fighting is her, is it not?"

The pale young man finally noticed the girl sleeping in Ritsuka's arms. "S-Sakura?!"

"Oh, she's called Sakura, is she? I drowned those families in a sea of blood and cursed their owner. I also purified Sakura's body and mind. No more worms reside within her, and she won't remember a second of her torture. It'll be as if she's been in a one-year-long coma."

"But..why would you..."

"To make a trade with you, Kariya Matou." Ritsuka pointed at the Command Spells on Kairya's hand. "Give me your Command Spells and Servant, and I'll give you Sakura and destroy the worms inside you."

Expectantly, Ritsuka waited for his answer.

"Well? Do we have a deal, Master of Berserker?"

Kariya obviously didn't comprehend the current situation, but it was still enough for him to decide. "Yeah, alright. Take the Berserker and my Command Spells."

"Very well." Transforming once again into Zaqiel, Ritsuka made a slit in his palm. As the blood poured down Kayria's throat, he felt as if he was being destroyed from the inside. "This will be painful, but clench your teeth and bear it. It's nothing compared to the torture you put your body through this past year."

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Well?

How was it?

If there are any suggestions, leave those in the comments.

Well, see you all in the next one.

It's winter vacation now, so I'll probably have another one done by the end of it.