Merry Christmas, everyone! Have an early chapter as a gift!

Ch. 108 - Casters

There is much he had seen and experienced during his time in the Clock Tower. Magecraft of all different types. Different people both inferior and superior to him in myriad ways. Compliments and insults both earned and undeserved alike. And of course, the politics that ever encompassed the Moonlit World. Though he was adept at navigating such a labyrinthine society, it was still tiring and straining, enough that he picked up the habit of smoking – both for stress relief and for his own protection. Thankfully what he earned more than covered that particular vice.

Still, despite it all, he found a few joys in his life. Thanks to his king and general, he fully delved into video games, a hobby he never expected to gain, and immersed himself in them as both a way to hone his mind and for his own enjoyment. Researching magecraft had always been his specialty and it ended up being his passion – to the point he became preeminent in the field of magical theory. It certainly made him a lot of allies, enemies, and everything in between.

But the greatest joy he had was teaching. As much as his students annoyed him at times – or rather, most of the time – he couldn't deny their talent and their eagerness to learn. He made sure to beat the fundamentals into their head as well as theory. He himself may be talentless as a magus but that certainly didn't mean one couldn't learn or teach concepts. He wasn't sure if it even would bear fruit – but it did. And so he continued.

Funny how even though he was a Servant now how little things had changed.

"Rough," he criticized, looking over Ren. "There's room for improvement. There are still plenty of gaps and empty spaces that can be filled up, as well as others that could use more magical energy. That being said, you picked up the concept astonishingly quickly."

Ren chuckled a bit, looking over his arms. Circuits, glowing green with prana, ran through his limbs. "I just kinda… felt it out and do what felt right, I think," he responded as he flexed his hands. Even he hadn't expected to get the hang of it so quickly. "But yeah, I can still feel a few places where I think I can keep going. I'll probably have to test it out a bit."

Waver nodded. "As you should, Amamiya," he agreed. "Using your instinct to find gaps of magical circuitry in your body and test how much energy can be outputted is a testified method of learning the nuances of one's body as a system of magecraft. The key is to repeat the process until you can achieve your results via instinct and reflex instead of conscious thought – then apply a similar method to other parts of your body. Further understanding of anatomy will aid you in this matter, so we will review later what requires improvement."

The Phantom Thief nodded in understanding. Waver had taught Ren and Morgana several basic fundamental mysteries in magecraft to form the foundation of their education: Structural analysis, formalcraft, and more. Though they were capable and eager students, they still took time to understand and properly utilize said mysteries. That was within expectations: up until they reached Chaldea they had never even heard of magecraft, let alone practiced.

And even before that, he had to teach Ren and Morgana how to properly utilize magical energy to begin with - A form of self-hypnosis, followed by utilizing a trigger and an aria. Ironically enough, that part had already been mostly done for him: Their personal steps for actuating their Persona magecraft. It had been a simple matter of transferring that knowledge to other magecraft instead. All in all, things were proceeding apace and Waver had to admit, he was satisfied with their current progress.

That being said, he hadn't inspected Reinforcement to go so well with Ren. It was a 'simple' yet incredibly useful mystery: Simply fill in any 'gaps' in a specific part of one's body with magical energy. The concept of imbuing one's own body or other objects with energy was a key foundation of many other more complex mysteries. And even excluding that factor, it could be honed to grant objects or oneself capabilities far exceeding what can be normally achieved.

Waver had only been teaching this mystery and the concepts surrounding it for a few days, yet Ren could already use it in a practical manner. It had been a major surprise.

"Reinforcement has many uses," the Caster continued as Ren walked over to a target dummy. "What we're going over is the absolute basics, where all you'll do is increase the durability of your arms. More advanced usage will allow you to improve the functionality of what you reinforce. For example, you will be able to see incredible distances with your eyes or pick up scents as good as a bloodhound. No doubt you see how useful it is."

"For sure," Ren agreed as he took a stance, then punched the dummy at half force. He felt the vibrations jar through his entire arm and body, but they were far reduced than what he expected. In fact, despite how hard he hit the dummy, his knuckles didn't hurt at all. He checked his hands out of curiosity and indeed, they were utterly unharmed. "Huh," he mused. "So when are we going to get to the more advanced applications?"

"When you have mastered how to properly gauge how much magical energy to utilize to fill in the gaps," the lord answered. "While theoretically a simple concept, the execution is a different matter entirely. If you get it wrong, you could very well destroy the body part or organ you are reinforcing. Many magi have been crippled or even died from such accidents."

Ren smirked. This time, he punched the dummy with full force. The vibrations from the impact jarred through his bones once more and caused the rest of his body to ache. He would probably have to reinforce the rest of his body to properly withstand the backlash. "Well, not too much of an issue considering I can heal," the Phantom Thief replied with a grin. "Might as well test the boundaries now and get used to it."

Waver scowled. "Don't make light of magecraft," he snapped. "Your powers are considerable, Amamiya, but that doesn't give you permission to act like an idiot. Even if they could restore your organs, the sheer pain you would undergo from the implosion would disrupt what concentration you would need to heal yourself – or possibly make things even worse. With that in mind, I'm forbidding you to practice outside of my observation. It seems I need to be wary of you taking shortcuts."

The Phantom Thief had been punching the dummy a few more times before a small stinging pain caused him to stop. Checking, he saw that the skin on his knuckles had started to tear. With a breath, he released the magical energy he had been keeping in his limbs before tearing off his mask in his mind. "Pixie," he intoned. The fairy persona came forth and once again healed Ren up with a green light.

"Not the first time I played around with such risks," Ren pointed out as the persona sat on his shoulder for emphasis. "Getting thrown into the deep end is honestly how I learn the fastest. It's how I learned how to use personas, navigate palaces, and pulled off all my heists. Heck, it's pretty much how I've learned how to be a Master here. And besides…"

He turned to Waver, giving a confident yet exhausted smile. "We don't have a lot of time for traditional methods, do we?" he asked quietly.

Waver's eye twitched slightly as his frown deepened. As much as he wished to disagree, he couldn't. Everything about Chaldea's circumstances was far too different from the Clock Tower. There, time was simply another resource to utilize. How much or little everyone had of it depended on proper usage and investment. But here, a singularity could hit at any time. It was an understandable concern.

Finally, the Caster sighed aridly. Only Flat was more unreasonable as a student. "At the very least, do any experimentation or training with my supervision," he growled. "If we're taking such shortcuts, then we might as well be intelligent and cautious about it."

Ren nodded in agreement. "That works for me," he accepted. That had been his plan to begin with anyway. He remembered what Olga had said about magecraft – 'to walk the path of magi is to walk alongside death'. She wasn't the type to exaggerate like that, despite how panicky she could get. And he had absolutely no intention of wasting his insurance just from some experiment that went horribly wrong. No, if Waver hadn't insisted on it first, he would've done so himself.

In the meantime, he turned to his best friend. "How's it going, Morgana?" he asked.

The catlike being scowled as he glared down at his own limbs. "Awaken," he growled out, trying to push magical energy into the gaps like he had been taught. His circuits flickered on his diminutive limbs for a moment, then they went out again. "Rrrgh, it's still not working!" he groaned in frustration. "I don't know why! I can't feel out these 'gaps' or my magical energy just… disappears! What the heck!"

Waver frowned as he pondered. "We did go over both human and cat anatomy in preparation," he muttered. "But even then, I was admittedly unsure about you, Morgana. You are a type of being that admittedly I have not encountered before." He pondered further, thinking what the next step would be. "Do you mind if I perform structural analysis on you?" he asked. "That might give me some insight as to your anatomy and how we can proceed with reinforcement from there."

Morgana's eyes widened before narrowing. "That sounds pretty invasive," he remarked suspiciously.

"It is," the Caster agreed without any hesitation. "Most magi would utterly refuse even at the cusp of death for fear of any of their secrets being discovered, including and especially their crests. However, I believe that your inability to use reinforcement may be because of a far more fundamental issue, one that we would need to keep in mind from now on."

"And that would be…?" the Thief asked.

Waver raised an eyebrow. "That you are no ordinary cat," he concluded. "At least, that is the base reason I surmise. Without further research, it is merely a hypothesis that cannot be properly concluded without evidence. So, will you allow me to perform structural analysis and share my findings?"

Morgana gulped, trying to make up his mind. "And there's no other way?" he pushed.

The Caster shook his head. "Others, but they'll either be more intrusive or more unreliable," he answered. "Even structural analysis would be little more than a preliminary scan for information before we can proceed with further investigation."

The catlike being didn't like the sound of that. He glanced over at Ren, who had also been listening intently to the explanation, and silently asked for a second opinion.

"You're not taking this as an opportunity to plumb for secrets, are you?" Ren asked jokingly.

Waver smirked. "I would be more subtle about it if I wished to," he retorted before shaking his head. "No, I do mean what I say here. We are all aware Morgana is a fantastical being, one that defies most standard conventions or definitions we can muster. Bluntly speaking, I'm surprised he could even use conventional magecraft. But we have reached the point where more information is required so I can adjust the lessons accordingly."

He looked over at Morgana. "That is all I ask for," he concluded. "No more, no less."

Ren glanced silently back at his friend, who debated with himself a moment longer before finally sighing. "Fine," he grumbled. "If I can trust Medea even a bit, then I'll trust you, El-Melloi. Do what you gotta do."

The Caster nodded, understanding his skepticism and not taking it for granted. "I'll make this quick," he reassured as he knelt down. Staring hard at Morgana, he muttered an aria under his breath as he activated his own circuits and quickly performed structural analysis on the catlike being. He expected to see mutation of a cat's anatomy or even some regular innards. Instead, the findings were… far different than what he expected.

"Well?" Morgana asked anxiously. "What did you find?"

Waver paused, considering how to word this appropriately as he stood back up. "You are… incredibly different, in every sense of the word, from a regular cat," he elaborated. "To start with, you are not composed of flesh and blood. Rather, you are composed of the same particle that composes Ren personas: What you call magnetites and what magi call spiritrons. I posit all of that is bound together by some sort of 'core' – most likely a soul - though I cannot confirm without deeper analysis."

"Secondly, your structure is nothing like I've seen before," he continued. "It feels more akin to… I would say looking at a piece of code in a program as opposed to any anatomical structures. I do not know how to describe it any better. And rather than having a solid form like almost any other living being, yours is… more fluid, for lack of a better term. The closest comparison would be spirits, but the fundamental structure is still markedly different. Bluntly speaking, I have never encountered a being like yours before, Morgana, and I very much doubt I will encounter another."

Morgana and Ren traded glances at Waver's answer. They had forgotten that Morgana wasn't so much born as he was 'created'. Igor had created Morgana from the hopes of humanity as a companion and helper to Ren and the rest of the Phantom Thieves. Even if on the surface he was similar to a regular cat, that didn't change he ultimately was an entirely different being.

"So what you're saying is," the catlike being concluded slowly. "It's not possible for me to use reinforcement."

"Not the practical form I teach," the Caster corrected. "It may be possible for you to still utilize it, but it will be a different method that I cannot conceive of. The basic form of reinforcement is filling the gaps in your body with magical energy, while the advanced form is improving on the 'concept' of it. How that will work for you, I cannot imagine. But regardless, I can still instruct you on the theory and further your understanding."

"Heh, doesn't sound too far from what we're doing to begin with," Ren commented with a grin. "Creating a foundation of magecraft so we can explore what ours can do further, right?"

Waver nodded. "Correct," he replied. "As you have emphasized yourself, Amamiya, we don't have the luxury of time for a formal magi education. Thus, I am laying out the fundamentals for now and proceeding from there." The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smirk. "I'm rather curious to see where this goes myself," he finished.

Morgana mused. So his structure wasn't anything like a regular person's, meaning he couldn't learn traditional reinforcement. However, that didn't mean reinforcement was impossible – though what form that would take he couldn't even guess. He would have to experiment a bit and learn the theory, but he was eager to find out. Another tool to his already amazing skill set would be great. That said, something the Caster said stuck in his mind. "Wait, you said my structure is more… fluid?" he asked. "Does it have to do with my shapeshifting?"

The Caster immediately whirled around on Morgana. "Your what now?" he asked quickly, his surprise plain to see.

Ren couldn't help but laugh. "Ah, knew I forgot to mention something during the new Servant orientation," he joked. "But yeah, Morgana can transform between his Metaverse form – what you see now – and his cat form."

"And I could even transform into a bus too in the Metaverse," Morgana proudly piped up. "And once into a helicopter!"

Waver's mouth hung open. He was halfway caught between his overwhelming curiosity and an enormous headache that yet again threatened to pound in his brain. The concept of the Metaverse, the collective unconsciousness, personas, and magnetites was already much he had to wrap his head around. While in comparison a transforming, talking cat wasn't that far out of the ordinary, it still hit like a football – and he had experienced that once before.

Regaining his composure, he looked over to Morgana. "Show me," he said.

Morgana grinned. Accessing his circuits like he had countless times before, there was a flash of light. And when it faded, he was back to his cat form. He chuckled at the Caster's shocked expression. "Surprised?" he asked mischievously. "Normally I can't transform outside of the Metaverse, but I'm guessing my crest allows me to turn back and forth between this and my magnificent Phantom Thief self."

"No bus though," Ren sighed.

"No bus though," Morgana agreed sadly as he transformed back with another flash of light. "It would be rather cool to have another mode of transportation though and… El-Melloi? What are you thinking?"

Waver, who had been pensive, looked back up. "Amending what sort of lessons need to be taught," he answered. "While I had not considered transformation a key part of your education, it seems I will have to amend that. That said, it does share some concepts with reinforcement – in this case, imbuing your body with magical energy – though the process afterward is considerably different. I'll have to redraft the lesson plan to account for your structure and your proclivities."

"But in the meantime, let us continue," the latter declared. "Even if you are unable to perform reinforcement in the traditional manner, the theories and concepts behind it are still essential. Amamiya, continue working on filling in what gaps you can find in your arms for now. Morgana, we will be going ahead for a bit and teaching you the more advanced theories and concepts behind the mystery."

Both of them nodded. "Yes, sensei," they chorused. Waver watched as Morgana scurried off to grab his notebook and pen while Ren proceeded to focus once more on his magecraft. Once again, he could feel the corners of his mouth lift in satisfaction and contentment. He was the host of a Heroic Spirit far more competent and fitting than he was. Furthermore, he was summoned in an alternate timeline where the world was different yet incredibly similar to his own. Yet here he was, teaching fledgling mages as he always did.

'I wonder what you would have thought of all this, my liege…?' he thought to himself. A booming laughter deep in his memories was the only response.

Within Chaldea, there was a certain section that was entirely unoccupied. It used to be another wing of the living quarters, meant to house some of the hundreds of staff that worked in the observatory. The myriad rooms were all just as spacious and comfortable as the others, yet they haven't been touched for a long time. Not even Servants occupied this wing, nor did they currently need to. There were plenty of unused rooms in the current living quarters, after all.

Unofficially, this part of Chaldea was known simply as the graveyard. Many of its occupants had perished from the bombing, and the few that remained soon moved to be with others, unable to withstand either the solitude or grief. Occasionally, one of the staff wandered here to pay their respects or simply to remember. Most of the time though, only the robots rolled through, keeping the hallways and bedrooms immaculate while following the instructions of their former occupants as they had always done.

In the middle of the wing was a large storage closet. Normally it held cleaning supplies and miscellaneous tools, but it had since been repurposed. Now the shelves and floor were lined with countless boxes, each of them labeled and clearly marked with a name and department. Every parcel bore the possessions of those who had passed on: Their tools, personal effects, and other such items – proof that they had once lived. They sat there silently, awaiting the day they would be distributed to owners' next of kin.

And that was where Joan found herself, staring at the countless boxes. She heard nothing around her and saw nothing but the names listed on each one. None of these names were familiar to her, not even the ones the staff rarely whispered to one another. They mean nothing to her. They should mean nothing to her. And yet…

Finally, she sighed. "What the hell am I doing here," she muttered to herself.

"That is what I want to know as well."

The incarnated Lancer whipped around to see Tamamo materializing, a frown clear on her face as her tails waved in irritation. "I do hope you're not considering disturbing this place," she said warningly. "I had believed you had since moved on from desecrating the dead."

Joan scowled. "What the hell makes you think I'm doing such a thing?" she snarled. "You wanna accuse someone of something like that, then go find Loki. Like hell I'm doing anything of the sort."

"Then what precisely are you doing?" the miko asked in turn, her eyes burrowing into Joan.

"Why is it exactly any of your business?" the former doppelganger snarled in turn. "Last I checked, you aren't exactly in a position to throw stones yourself even if I was."

Tamamo scowled at the insinuation. "Regardless, I ask that you explain yourself, Joan," she snapped. "Unless you wish for the situation to completely devolve – and I assure you on that front, I have no trouble casting stones if need be."

The two women glared at each other for a moment, then Joan sighed angrily. "I wanted to see what peoples' lives were like," she snarled. "There, you happy now?!"

The unexpected answer blasted away the Caster's anger, with pure astonishment and confusion taking its place. "I… beg your pardon?" she asked, unsure if she heard correctly.

Turning back around, she looked around in the room. "You know what each of these boxes hold?" she elaborated. "The things of each deceased person. Apparently, that bombing in Chaldea we were told about took out most of the staff here. Aside from their ashes, whatever's in here is all that remains of them."

Tamamo frowned. "That is… a rather pedestrian reason to come here," she commented, a note of disapproval and puzzlement in her tone. "Surely such a question could be answered by anyone else? Ren Amamiya, for instance."

Joan groaned again in frustration. "No, you don't get it!" she snapped. "Just…. picture it like this - I'm not a Servant or a Heroic Spirit or any kind of entity like that. I've been incarnated, given a second chance. And that means I can be killed – by anyone, by anything, if they can get past every kind of bullshit I can throw at them, assuming I even can."

She jabbed a finger at the boxes. "If that's the case, then what would my box be filled with?" she asked rhetorically. "What the hell would anyone put inside there?"

The Caster frowned as she crossed her arms. "I believe that would be a monk's goal," she couldn't help but remark. "But I believe I get the gist: You are worried what traces of your life you will leave in the end, correct?"

"Not just traces," the Lancer corrected. "Just… something. Anything. Ren had a point about one thing: Aside from atoning for all that I did, I basically got… well, nothing. After I'm done – if I'm ever done – then what's next?" She sagged against the doorframe, all her anger and energy burnt out of her as she ran a hand through her white hair. "What the hell do I do after?" she murmured.

Tamamo's eyes softened. Despite their initial hostility, even she couldn't help but be a bit sympathetic to her situation. "And so you have come here to find some sort of clue or idea," she concluded. "It makes… a certain form of sense, I suppose."

The former doppelganger shot a halfhearted glare at the boxes. "Does it?" she scoffed. "Because now I'm wondering if I'm just wasting my time. All I'm doing is going through dead people's crap for my own curiosity and problems." She stared them down a moment longer, then let out an irritated breath. "Screw it, this is pointless," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Turning around, she made to leave-

Only for Tamamo to brush past her as she stepped in and walked toward the boxes, to Joan's surprise. "Hey, weren't you the one getting on my case for possibly desecrating the dead?" she asked.

"Yes, but you were not," the Caster answered as her eyes scanned over the boxes. "And neither am I. Reflecting on the past – be it your own or others' – is a way of memorializing them, no? In that regard, what is being done here is respecting and celebrating their lives." As she spoke, she selected a box. With her slender fingers, she slid it out with ease and placed it on the ground.

Joan's eyes widened as she quickly checked outside in concern. "Are you serious right now?" she hissed.

The miko frowned as she looked back up at the Lancer. "If that is your goal, then do not proceed halfheartedly," she chided. "Either decide whether you can find some sort of hint here or not at all. And as I am already here, then at the very least I do not wish to find my time wasted accusing someone for nothing."

The former doppelganger struggled with herself, then finally groaned in frustration as she stepped back in, closing the door behind her. "Just as long as we don't break or take anything," she grumbled.

Tamamo scoffed again. "Perish the thought," she replied dismissively. So long as it wasn't particularly useful or interesting, anyway. "Now, let us begin."

Joan frowned, then crouched apprehensively next to the Caster as she cut the tape with an elegant stroke of her nail. Opening it, they looked at its contents: balls of yarn and knitting needles, with a barely started article of blue cloth, as well as a locket. "… Huh. They liked knitting," she could only comment.

The Caster nodded in agreement. "So they did," she murmured. Picking up the locket, she carefully opened it – and her eyes widened slightly. "I see."

The doppelganger glanced over in curiosity. There were two women beaming at the picture, one elderly and one much younger – a brunette in her twenties seemingly. "Didn't realize they employed anyone that old here," she commented.

The miko shook her head. "It's not the older one who was employed," she replied. At Joan's questioning look, she pointed at the picture. "Look – the older woman is wearing a woolen sweater and the younger one isn't. It is more likely the younger woman knitted it for her, given what we see here." She nodded over to the balls of yarn and the partially knitted cloth. "Perhaps it's her mother or even grandmother? At the very least, it's someone worth the incredible effort."

Joan stared down at the picture in the pendant, then at the yarn. Loved ones, enough that they were worth the effort and resources for. Did she have anyone like that? Would she be able to dedicate something similar if she ever found someone like that? Who would even qualify for such a thing anyway?

A certain saint immediately in her mind – and Joan just as promptly shoved the thought out of her mind. Not her.

"Nothing here," she growled.

Tamamo raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless nodded. Taking one last glance at the picture within, she closed the locket, placed it back in the box, and with a bit of her arts sealed the box once again, like it had never been opened in the first place. Placing the box back where she had found it, she selected the next box. "Let us see what this one holds then," she stated.

They continued through box after box of the deceased ones' possessions, Joan gradually losing her reluctance while Tamamo became more and more curious as to what they held. Most of them were fairly innocuous: a few contained portable gaming consoles or DVD players, many contained books of varying genres, various figurines or dolls, and even more miscellaneous items.

Some boxes they unearthed even had items of… questionable natures. Joan could only stare at these, slack jawed. "How the hell did they even manage to get these in here?!" she spluttered, barely able to suppress the redness in her cheeks. "W-was the security that crappy or d-did they just not care?!"

Tamamo huffed in disappointment. "It seems men are the same no matter where they go," she remarked with annoyance. Inwardly, she couldn't help but be curious as to said contents. At minimum, it all seemed rather educational and at most, it seemed rather entertaining to experiment with. Perhaps she could look into these a bit further when she had the spare time…

"It's a woman," Joan corrected, double checking the name on the box.

The Caster stared back down at the items in a new light at the information. "Hm, so it is," she commented. Even better.

In the meantime, they continued going through all and puzzling out more of the deceased's possessions. The miko hummed as they looked through the latest box, filled with various car and motocycle magazines as well as figures. "Nothing here either," she mused. "Well then, best we move on to the next one," she stated matter-of-factly. She sealed the box up and repaired the tape once again with a quick use of a talisman and witchcraft before placing it back up with the others. She looked over at the other boxes, then began sliding another one out.

"No."

She stopped and glanced up at the Lancer in surprise. "Oh?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow. "I thought we are well past any further arguments about desecrating the dead. Unless you speak of something else?"

Joan shook her head. "It just… doesn't feel right," she muttered. She rested against the boxes while looking at the filled shelf across from her while Tamamo simply put the parcel back in its place. "Just… trying to figure out these people from what they had kinda feels… shitty," she muttered.

She looked up at the myriad parcels. "I'm going through the belongings of the deceased and we find out a few things from them, but that's it. It's like being given a riddle, except several words are missing. 'I play games and read in my spare time, and I blank and blank and do blank. Who am I?' And now I just made myself look and feel like an asshole."

The former doppelganger could only sigh. "This was a waste of time."

Tamamo hummed. "Maybe so," she admitted. "You cannot judge a book by its cover, or a person by what they possess, after all. Well, perhaps you can, but it's hardly an objective measure."

Joan groaned in frustration as she ran her hand through her hair again. "So in the end, I'm back where I started," she snarled. "Wonderful. Just. Fucking. Wonderful."

"Calm yourself," the Caster chided with a frown. "You get worked up over the smallest matters without good reason." She looked over at the boxes. With how they were each marked with a name and how they bore the owners' belongings, they certainly did feel like graves. What they did was rather disrespectful, and the negativity they would garner if they were found out would be rather inconvenient to deal with.

But, well, disrespect and negative opinions meant nothing compared to what needed to be done when necessary.

"Tell me, what do you feel is so abhorrent about going through the possessions of those who have passed on?" Tamamo asked, earning Joan's confused stare. "It is not something utterly unfamiliar to you if I recall your tale correctly. You did not mind it then, and those who've passed away certainly have no need for any of this. Why do you mind it now?"

Joan was about to snarl back in anger when she noticed the fox miko's golden eyes bearing down at her without judgement, insult, or malice, just questioning and curiosity. This wasn't some pointed statement – it was a genuine question. "Because… look, the dead deserve some respect," she growled. "It's… I don't know how to phrase it better, okay? It's just wrong to do so. Even if I want to find some sort of answer or hint, this isn't the way to go about it."

The Caster nodded sagely in satisfaction. "Then there you go," she concluded.

The former doppelganger blinked. "There… what goes?" she questioned, confused.

"You have set standards for yourself," Tamamo elaborated. "You draw the line of what is right and what is wrong – not simply with morality but also practicality. It is quite surprising how many people forget one or more aspects of that." She smiled as she leaned against the boxes across from Joan. "What answers do you think you can find here?"

The Lancer was silent for a moment as she stared at the graves. "None that are worth it," she answered, her voice quiet.

The Caster's smile widened. "Then perhaps seek your answers from the living, rather than the dead," she suggested. "And if you wish to seek answers from those who are gone anyway… I'm sure you can find some other methods."

Joan narrowed her eyebrows. "Like…?" she asked.

The miko fixed her a flat, annoyed stare. "I'm not here to baby you," she replied curtly. "You can find that particular answer yourself. Now if you're done here, leave. I'm sure the others would appreciate a quieter rest at this point." She nodded over to the boxes behind Joan to emphasize her point.

"You're the one that's being loud," the Lancer muttered. Nevertheless, she stood back up. Tamamo was right: If she had no reason to be here, then she shouldn't linger any longer than she needed to. And she had another point: she could find the answers to such questions herself. To hell with getting help where it wasn't necessary, not when she needed to find her own path. Just as she was about to walk out the door, she stopped. "… Thanks," she murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

The Caster didn't react, save for a slight twitch of her ears. A moment later, Joan was gone.

Finally, the miko breathed out a heavy sigh, dropping her composure as a scowl appeared on her face. She had expected troublesome circumstances when she had first been summoned here to help save humanity and the world, but this was getting ridiculous. Almost everything around her was outright ridiculous. Incarnated Servants, Personas, her (grudgingly) peer, and her Masters.

Or that is to say, Master. Ritsuka and Morgana were rather straightforward as far as Masters go; the former was a girl who was far too in over her head and was doing her best to learn and compensate, and the latter was a being who was perfectly content being a subordinate. Neither of which she found fault in – if anything, she found it endearing, understandable, and most importantly, she could easily work with it.

Ren Amamiya, however, was an anomaly. Tamamo never encountered someone who stepped on, straddled, and danced between as many different lines as the Phantom Thief. It was incredibly difficult and frustrating to get some sort of reading or bead on him. He was a man filled with all sorts of different contradictions between virtue, sin, and desires and yet somehow made it all work regardless. How was she supposed to deal with that?!

Still, there was one particular trait that she could at least somewhat understand, and even that was fraught with its own complications: His desire to help people beyond himself. From what she could tell, he helped people out of a selfish desire… to see people be better by their own steps? One could argue that it was a selfless desire but that was what Ren wanted for himself as well. It was such a paradox that she found herself with a headache even trying to think about it.

Even then, she couldn't help but find it intriguing in its own way. And if he could make such a confusing hodgepodge of morality and selfishness work, then she might as well emulate that – and Joan happened to be there. Ren had been doing what he could to assist her in finding her identity, so she might as well give a small hand in that.

She smirked to herself. Well, Joan found out what she didn't want and was taking steps on another path. And it only took rooting through the possessions of those who couldn't really stop them. This was certainly a win in her book.

Taking a casual glance back into the closet, Tamamo idly pondered whether she wanted to get those particular items out of the box for herself, then shook her head. No need for now. She would simply keep them in mind and find other methods. Ones that would create less complications and inconveniences for her. Reaching in, she simply turned off the lights and closed the door before departing. A cup of freshly brewed green tea was called for here.

And with any luck, she would encounter that rather confusing Master. At this point, it was about time she got some answers about him.

In the depths of Medea's workshop, the Caster did one last scan of her list to make sure there weren't any details she had excluded or any loopholes she had been missing. It was a list of the changes she had made on her bedroom, including general descriptions of the magecraft she had utilized to create her workshop. There was also a list of various tools and items she either created, would create, or requested for her work – again, also written in generalized statements. The last thing she wanted to do was give away her secrets.

The list was simply a normal courtesy when setting up within another magus's territory to work. It was a matter of respect and a mutually beneficial partnership, a tradition any magus worth their salt was familiar with – and especially those who learned directly under Hecate. And Chaldea was Da Vinci's territory. While other Casters had been summoned before her, she had no information whether they did something similar.

Well, that mattered little either way – what mattered right now was establishing a decent rapport with the overseer of the facility.

The Caster pointed at a nearby candle on the desk, causing it to burn more intensely and give off more light. She was never taught this process back during her childhood. She was meant to be a priestess, after all, not just a magus. She was typically removed from most politics, at most a piece to be married off at most or simply dedicated to a temple, out of sight and out of mind. However, she had ascended to the position of queen multiple times, enough to understand matters of bureaucracy and how high-ranking magi worked.

It was headache inducing, to put it mildly, but social graces often did. By establishing herself with a friendly rapport with Da Vinci, the plan was to gain her goodwill - enough to work with and allow for some flexibility in her present and future actions. Starting off on a cordial relationship never hurts, after all, and unless they were betrayers like Jason, things should work out well. And if they were betrayers of such caliber…

She sighed aridly. At this point, she was running herself in circles. The most she can do is have preparations and contingencies in case things went wrong, as they often did in her life. Otherwise, she had better things to do.

Standing up, she straightened out the papers and walked through a door that led outside – or rather, a bounded field designed to emulate the outside. The afternoon sun shone brightly in the near-cloudless sky as a warm breeze gently floated by, ruffling her robes and the grass around her. This particular bounded field has been designed to emulate her homeland of Greece, down to the soil composition and weather patterns.

A pang of nostalgia rang out in her heart. It had been a long time since she had been home. Still, it wasn't because of sentiment she created this bounded field.

Shoving such feelings aside, she strode over to a nearby tilled flowerbed, neatly partitioned into four quadrants. This was where she had been growing the silphium her Master had given her. One quadrant she allowed to grow naturally, watering them and using fertilizer. The only magecraft used was simply designed to accelerate their growth rate so they would reach maturity in a week rather than months. That was her control group. The other quadrants were where she had been experimenting, using various forms of magecraft and magical energy to alter their growth and properties.

Kneeling, she checked on the various sprouts that popped out of the dirt. A scroll and quill appeared nearby at a mental command. "Quadrant two is showing accelerated growth rate," she murmured as she critically looked over a stalk. "However, it is showing signs of early withering. More nutrients may be necessary. Will need also need to analyze the soil chemistry and check for ambient mana levels – the current amount may be insufficient for its accelerated growth."

The quill dutifully wrote down Medea's findings, analyses, and ponderings. So long as she had these seeds, there was no reason why she couldn't experiment with them. It was a good way to spend her time, as well as prove her usefulness to her Masters. She already had a few ideas in her mind what kind of potions she could brew with just the control group, but having more ingredients and samples never hurt. She would need more catalysts and reagents before long, but that could be discussed with Da Vinci as well as Morgana once she had something to present.

Nodding with satisfaction at the current growth of the silphium seeds, she stood back up. As the scroll and quill vanished and stored themselves away in her workshop, she pondered as she made her way to the door. Though she knew a decent amount about botany and alchemy, they weren't her strongest suits. More research and experimentation would be required if she wanted to utilize them to their true potential. It was something she was admittedly looking forward to.

Walking quietly through the halls, she noted the reactions of those she passed by. The robots didn't care about her presence whatsoever, simply on their way to or dealing with their assigned tasks. What useful automatons they were. It reminded her a bit of her dragontooth soldiers, albeit with more utility. She barely trusted those things to wield their swords properly, let alone clean up some corner of her home. One or two of her own in her workshop to keep things tidy would certainly be helpful.

The staff… some of them looked away from her as they passed by. Others nodded respectfully in greeting, a courtesy she returned in kind. Yet in each and every one of them, she could see the light of apprehension in their gaze. They were unsure what to make of her: Would she betray them if it suited her? Were they nothing more than pawns or even experimental subjects in her eyes? Nothing more than bodies to be carved up like she had once done to her own kin?

She could only smile bitterly to herself. Well, that was the reputation she had garnered for herself, after all: The Witch of Betrayal. At least it was something she was more than accustomed to and it meant they would stay out of her way. Just as she wished.

"And so the legendarily mad sorceress deigned to step out of her hidey hole for her own purposes. What were they? Beneficial? Nefarious? Or perhaps both? Only she would know, and she didn't feel particularly like sharing."

The Caster whipped around at the sudden mocking narration, a magic circle appearing in the air out of reflex beside her – and she came face to face with a brunette woman with a sardonic grin, dressed in suit-like clothes. "Bravo for the reflexes," she remarked. "Though quite unnecessary in this case."

Medea's frown deepened. It was clear that this woman was a Servant like her, but she couldn't glean any details here. "I don't believe we have been acquainted," she stated, keeping her tone as neutral as possible as the circle fizzled out.

"I'd be surprised if we did, given I was under house arrest until recently," she answered, grinning as the witch's eyes widened. The woman bowed towards the Caster. "I am an Avenger class Servant – Loki," they introduced themselves. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Medea of Colchis."

"… charmed," Medea replied, trying to maintain her composure. The Norse trickster god here, of all places? And what is this form they had taken? Was it simply a whim of theirs, or was it a mortal being the host of a god? Knowing the proclivities of gods, it could very well be a myriad of answers, and none of them were to her liking. "I had not expected such a presence here, I must admit," she commented neutrally.

Loki chuckled. "Most haven't, and many still don't," they agreed. "Even I'm still surprised by my presence here, yet here I am. I have no doubt it's due to Ren Amamiya that I'm around. It's rather amusing in a way how much he warps everything around him, even just his presence alone."

That caught the witch's attention. "Are you saying your presence here is because of Ren Amamiya?" she asked sharply.

The Avenger raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile stretching across their face at the sudden curiosity. "My presence?" they echoed. "Ah, if only it were that simple. It would be more accurate to say my very existence is because of him. It was a conundrum that had only recently been ven halfway resolved and I must say, even now, I find it deeply amusing." Their grin widened. "I admit, it is rather amusing bringing newcomers up to speed. The expressions are always amusing."

Medea's lips pressed into a hard line in irritation. "And I suppose you will not inform me of how your existence came about?" she asked rhetorically.

"Now why would I do that?" the trickster god replied with a broad grin. "If you wish for answers, then perhaps you should speak to our dear old Master. Of course, I make no promises that said answers won't leave even more questions for you, but that's half the fun of figuring him out, I say."

The Caster scowled at the evident amusement of the Avenger before collecting herself. She was getting absorbed in their pace thanks to her shock – a simple mistake she shouldn't have made in the first place. She needed to focus. "Do you happen to know where Leonardo Da Vinci is?" she asked calmly, hoping to at least get one straight answer.

"And now we've come to the crux of your matter," Loki remarked. Before Medea could fully lose her temper, the Avenger jerked a thumb down the hall. "Last I saw, she's at the command center. She'd be delighted to meet you."

"I'm sure," Medea replied automatically. She had entertained this fool long enough. "If that is the case, I bid you good day, Loki."

"And same to you," the trickster god replied in turn. They silently stared at Medea as she walked off, bundle of papers in hand, and smirked. Well, this ought to be an amusing turn of affairs whenever she encountered Ren. They hoped they would be around when it did occur.

The Caster scowled to herself underneath her hood as she considered Loki's words. From even scant observations, it would seem that Ren Amamiya was the very crux of this facility. Morale, combat effectiveness, interpersonal relationships – he was at the center of them all like a spider on a web. A single pluck on a string from him would send ripples through, attracting more flies or predators as he willed.

That stare from him when she was first summoned, like he was dissecting her with just his vision alone. Before she knew it, her scowl grew deeper. As if she needed yet more reasons to dislike the boy.

That said, she would also be a fool to take the Avenger's words at face value. Even if they had not lied, that didn't mean it couldn't be spun into some form of deceit or trickery. No, the only way to figure out anything about Ren Amamiya was to look into him herself. But that came later. For now, she needed to establish a foundation. She had time and resources. There was no need to rush it.

As a pair of staff talking about getting some alcohol later passed by her, she entered the command center. As always, it was buzzing with activity: The staff were at their computers, working and monitoring, while CHALDEAS was currently lit up like a gigantic fireball. She couldn't help but look about in curiosity. While she had been here once from the tour, she hadn't had much of a chance to explore Chaldea properly, as busy as she was with her own work. That was yet another thing that needed to be rectified.

She found her quarry almost as soon as she stepped in: Da Vinci was at the main console. She was leaning back in her chair at ease, sipping at a cup of coffee and despite her smile, was seemingly wincing at the taste. The monitors had dozens of windows and programs on display, showing all sorts of data that the inventor had no trouble at all observing. Occasionally, she leaned over to tap on the keyboard, showing different windows or different sets of data before sitting back once more with a contented smile.

Medea observed with some curiosity. Though admittedly everything she saw was unfamiliar to her, she had seen types like Da Vinci before: Those who are confident in their skills and knowledge, utilizing them with a simplicity and ease that belied the underlying mastery. Granted, it was possible she was simply very good at acting competent, but as a Servant, the witch highly doubted she would have such a high position if she didn't have any iota of skill.

Putting her observations aside, she stepped forward, her cloak gently fluttering with each step. Da Vinci glanced over in surprise and beamed. "Why, Medea!" she chirped. "This is unexpected. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Medea stiffened slightly before forcing herself to relax. "I have taken the liberty of writing down the bounded fields and mysteries I have enacted on my bedroom to turn it into my workshop," she reported, handing over the list. "As well as a few requests that I seek permission for."

Da Vinci raised an eyebrow as she took the list. "Oh?" she hummed in curiosity. "Well, I'll admit you are the first Caster to have come to me with such a thing – though I do greatly appreciate the courtesy."

The Witch frowned slightly. "They haven't?" she echoed.

The inventor shook her head as a pair of glasses appeared in her hand. "Tamamo has simply enacted her own bounded fields in her bedroom without consulting anybody," she answered as she began reading. "While El-Melloi has seen no need to – most of what he asks for is on a per-item basis. Considering his tasks in Chaldea, he hasn't had much reason to fashion his own workshop aside from your standard sealed cabinets."

Medea barely mastered her expression from the pure shock she felt. The thought that Leonardo da Vinci was an utter fool floated in her mind for a second before she dismissed it. The Renaissance period was known not only for its breakthroughs in art, sciences, and mathematics, but also for its political intrigue and backstabbing throughout all social classes – commoners, merchants, and nobles alike.

"That… seems like a risk," the witch noted in as neutral a tone as possible.

"Oh, it is," Da Vinci agreed without hesitation or looking up. "But life would be rather boring if it was always safe, and even more so when it's bogged down by red tape and bureaucracy." She flipped to the next page on the list. "Especially when we have all been summoned for a common goal, after all."

Medea frowned slightly. "A common goal doesn't guarantee trustworthy allies," she pointed out. "Even one person going amiss could easily jeopardize the entire mission." She knew all too well: the Argonauts may have been a singular crew filled with some of the greatest heroes in Greece but despite their clear objectives, they were at each other's necks more often than not. Most of it was because they were hotheads but Jason certainly wasn't the greatest help either.

"That's true," the genius admitted easily. "But it's because of the mission's importance that there needs to be a foundation of trust. We are hardly going to get anywhere if we must look over our shoulders or each other's work all the time." She flipped over another page before adjusting her glasses. "The ragazzo's situation – Ren's – has made that exceptionally clear."

That boy again! It felt like everything here revolved around him! "It's rare a Master is so venerated in any locale," she remarked, staring up at the burning orb that is CHALDEAS. "Are they simply so respected in this time and circumstance? What of the other two Masters, Ritsuka and Morgana?" Speaking of which, she would need to find that catlike Master and report to him how the seeds were doing. She mentally filed that task away for later.

Da Vinci glanced up with a knowing smile. "How diplomatic of you, Medea," she purred, amused. "But no, Masters aren't especially 'venerated', per se. It's more that the ragazzo is… singular, would be the best way to put it."

"Singular?" The witch echoed in question.

The Uomo Universale's smile widened. "Speak with him some time," she answered enigmatically. "And you'll quickly find out. I don't believe words are enough to truly describe him." Meanwhile, she handed the list back to the witch. "Looks good to me," she replied cheerfully. "And a few of these requests… I shall leave up to your discretion."

That caught Medea off-guard as she took the list back. She had included a few requests that were obviously completely unreasonable for any self-respecting magus, or even a regular person, as a test. She wanted to know how they would deal with disagreements or conflict, as well as testing the boundaries of both the facility and of Da Vinci. "You don't wish to discuss the matter further?" she questioned.

"More like there isn't a necessity," Da Vinci replied as she took off her glasses. "You created this list and sought me out with your own initiative, did you not? You also showed concern when you heard that other Casters hadn't done something similar while gauging the circumstances of your own summoning and Masters."

Her smile became wry as her eyes glittered with amusement. "I understand your caution and diplomacy, but I did just say there needs to be a foundation of trust, no?" she pointed out. "I'm sure you're aware of what happens if such a foundation is undermined – and especially if one is found out to be the cause. I doubt that will be a problem in this case, however."

The witch blinked several times. Then a small, amused smile creased her lips. "You are quite a formidable woman, Leonardo Da Vinci," she commented.

"Same to you, Medea of Colchis," the genius complimented easily.

Suddenly, the monitor flashed red, immediately catching the attention of both women. Da Vinci immediately slid back to the computer, her smile gone as she rapidly opened up a new window – and her eyes widened. "Damn," she cursed as she activated the intercom. "Chaldea, we have a breach in High-Security Storage Unit 1-H!"

She noticed Medea sidling up beside her and opened a map, indicating where the problem was. The witch looked it over, then dashed off, disappearing into golden dust. "I repeat, breach in High-Security Storage Unit 1-H!" Da Vinci continued. "All available Servants and Masters, head over and intercept the breach! This is not a drill!"

Meanwhile, Medea moved at full speed towards the indicated room. As she did so, Da Vinci's words rang out in her mind – mainly because they were the same as what Morgana said to her. Trust? They bandy that word about so freely, yet it wasn't careless. Was that truly some sort of foundational tenet of this facility? The core between their relationship between Master and Servant? It was truly naïve – she knew all too well how easily trust could be taken advantage of and broken.

Then for a moment, the image of a dead-eyed man in a green suit appeared in her mind. Well, sometimes it could work out.

It wasn't long before she reached the indicated storage area – at the same time as Artoria, who materialized right outside as well. They both stared at each other in surprise, then turned back to the door. This wasn't the time for personal issues or conflicts. 'We have arrived at the storage unit, Masters,' Artoria reported telepathically. 'Medea is on-site as well.'

As the Saber reported, the Caster quickly analyzed the structure of the storage unit. As she expected, there were multiple bounded fields and seals in place to keep spiritual beings out. While someone of her caliber could subvert the protections, it would take time and care to do so. Alternatively, one could simply brute force the protections – a mid-level Servant could simply blast themselves through with sufficient enough power.

Only…

"There's no signs of a breach," she murmured, catching Artoria's attention. "All the protections are still in place, and obviously there is no sign of forced physical entry either. And even if they put the protections back up, that would take time and care – which means they wouldn't have tripped any sort of alarm either."

"So the alarm has been tripped but all the protections are still in place," the king murmured slowly. "I do not think the facility would have faulty alarms, especially in such a secure area. Thus, the only conclusion would be…"

Artoria's words trailed into silence as both her and Medea's eyes widened. 'Masters, find Da Vinci and have this door opened immediately!' the king thundered. 'The infiltrator is inside the storage unit!'

There was a brief but panicked pause over the mental connection. A moment later, the door snapped open and both Servants immediately rushed in, weapons at the ready.

"-told you, we don't need to take all of them! Just one!"

"Oh hush, darling! They were here, were they not? There's no reason not to take all of them if there is the opportunity!"

"And now we've wasted too much time here! Er- ah, crap."

The infiltrators were not what they expected. Inside was a tall, buxom woman with long, flowing white hair and startlingly pale blue eyes. She wore a simple white dress that exposed a surprising amount of her chest and left her bare-armed, her pale skin practically glowing in the dim light. On her shoulder and arguing with her was what appeared to be a stuffed bear wearing a caveman loincloth.

For a moment, the four all stared at each other, Artoria with her wind-coated invisible blade and Medea with her staff and two arcane circles glowing ominously midair. Then the unknown woman was the first to act as she reached over and grabbed-

"DARLING, PROTECT MEEEE!" she cried as she thrust the stuffed bear toward them.

"Eh?! Oi, oi!" the stuffed bear cried in an obviously masculine voice, flailing its stubby limbs helplessly. "What the hell are you asking me for?! Aren't you the one with all the power here?!"

The two Servants shared a bemused look about the whole situation. Finally, Medea cleared her throat, though neither of them dropped their guard.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, Lady Artemis?"

If you have any questions about the story or background lore, join the Discord! You'll get more than you can stomach!

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