In hindsight, Emiya Shirou should have expected it.

The world would never countenance the existence of a "hero". The world had no patience for so-called Saviors. They would dismiss such claims by any individual with contempt and skepticism. "How dare you," the lot of them would think, "—Put yourself above us all? You are not our better!"

His other self, the one he had summoned to Chaldea, had warned him of this. He might have averted some of his fate by becoming involved with the organization and its various duties of saving the world, but he was heading to that same conclusion regardless.

"The You of this place, Emiya Shirou, is in a position to achieve a lot more than any of us would ever dream of. Yet that does not change the fact of your fate—that should you continue to hold on to those ideals, this World will ever feel insulted that it owes you a favor, no matter how many times you've saved it." The man's voice had been sardonic, but his smile had been kind.

In the first place, wasn't it okay for him? Shirou had wondered to himself. He had helped save the world many times over, but the world would never know it. He was like the man traveling through time, stopping crisis after crisis that history would never record, because he had been there to cause them to disappear. For the most part, he was content with just that. He did not desire acknowledgment of his deeds, and he recognized that this was all for his own self-satisfaction.

However, that was all before his struggle had ended. After one, grand, final conclusion, he and his comrades had severed the calamity at its roots, and had finally bought peace for the World. As ever, no one would ever know how close Humanity was to extinction for so many times; nor of the great struggles that had been endured to ensure that it would not careen headfirst into the abyss. No one needed to know how much he'd fought, how much he'd sacrificed, because at the end of the day, Emiya Shirou was satisfied to board a plane back to the restored Earth, and see the smiling faces at the airport. All of them were utterly oblivious that Chaldea had saved them, that they had barred the horrors at the gate, and driven them off with might and steel and blood.

Had he been able to do things differently, he would have prioritized his private investigation into the rumors swirling around Chaldea. As an organization now nominally subordinate to the Mage Association, there were certain expectations for each of its members going forward. While they were certainly grateful that a crisis of annihilation had been averted, they were less sanguine about proposing any actual rewards, even for Rin, who was already an accomplished magus in their ranks. In another case of hindsight, that should have brought up alarms in Shirou's head.

But he had merely assumed, and Rin and Luvia had backed him up on this, that this was all just the normal case of high-level politicking that consumed the Departments on a daily basis. He could not expect anything more than a pat on the back for what he did, because it was also not as if he had done it all himself. Chaldea was an organization, staffed by mages from all over the world, each belonging to different departments. That it had ended up triumphing meant that the Association also considered it its own win, and the three Masters of Chaldea were merely the most stand-out participants.

Of course, when one recalled the saying about nails that stood out from the rest…

Fortunately, the contingencies that surrounded the Masters during the time of the crisis still applied even during "peacetime". That is to say, he and Ritsuka still had the authority over much of Chaldea's systems. Somehow his credentials survived the transition to the world's normalcy, allowing him to continue building up in secret; all while his gut was telling him that something bad was coming. And he always trusted in his own instincts that saw him through what felt like a life-threatening situations.

The hammer fell, quite unexpectedly, one day.

One by one, some of his Servants started to disappear, as if their energies had been cut off from their source. As he was no longer supplying them with mana, they had to rely on the energies within Chaldea's reactor, which provided an almost unlimited amount.

That they had been so suddenly terminated only meant one thing—someone with more authority than him had turned off the tap.

It was honestly agonizing to think that he had lost friends, comrades, and some of his lovers without being able to say good-bye, at least. They had all been minding their own business somewhere around the world, free to enjoy a sliver of life as summoned familiars. The status of their continued summoning had been something of a debate. He suspected that this might have been one of the factors that had turned the Association on them.

The Servants who managed to survive were the handful that had been with him when it unfolded. Quickly, he and Ritsuka and Rin had formed provisional contracts with the help of Sakura, anchoring them to this world through their own mana instead of using Chaldea's systems.

Now fully realizing that the Association was coming for them, he and his lovers instantly "went dark" for many long months. They disappeared underground, using Caren's connections to move from place to place, all while making sure to keep away from the eyes of both the magical and non-magical communities. For someone who was used to such privations during their path to save the world, this was nothing. Yet some of them were still understandably peeved that this had happened at all.

Had they not saved the world? Had they not been forced to sacrifice many things to accomplish that? Were they not at least entitled to some peace and quiet?

Shirou had no answers for them.

Eventually, their months of living on the run culminated in one destination: Chaldea itself, in the Antarctic base. It had been a long road, but he and his remaining comrades knew that they really had only one choice between this and capture. And so, Shirou used his credentials to bypass the security, while the others took care of those guarding this place. In doing so, they reached Chaldea's depths, where they rescued Mashu Kyrielight from the cryogenic slumber she had been placed for many months.

Realizing what had happened, she agreed with everyone plan, and then helped them activate Da Vinci's final invention, and was also their last resort.

Prototype Moon Diver: Shambhala. It was a one way device, that was only to be used for extreme emergencies. Using it meant a fail-state, had they still been on their mission to save humanity. Activating the device meant that Shirou was effectively giving up on humanity's future, and was now forced to survive and hope to become the seed of something new in another place entirely.

What that was place was, no one knew. Perhaps it would merely lead to a singularity, which meant that they were all destined for annihilation in a short while. Or maybe it led to places outside the Tree, some worlds they would never even comprehend. The nature of the magecraft that was involved with the device necessarily meant that they could not be deterministic about their goal. They were effectively leaving it all to Fate's guiding hand.

They all strapped themselves in quickly. They had no doubt that the Association was alerted to their presence, and were even now hastening as fast as possible to detain them. Mashu was the designated pilot. As one final insult, they sabotaged all of Chaldea's systems, as a tribute to those who had fallen in the service of saving the World. The organization's purpose would not be perverted by those who would use it for their own selfish ends.

"Senpai, when you're ready, press the button, and give the command."

Shirou took a deep breath. He looked at Ritsuka, then at Rin, his fellow Masters. They had bled together, and almost died together. They would not be rewarded this way. And he was glad that they were all of one mind regarding this decision.

"From now on, we are no longer Chaldea. We are just a group, a family looking to survive." He looked at each of them, at their determined faces, all willing to do whatever it took to be with him instead of seeking the easier way out.

"Yes!"

"Alright then." He pressed the button. "Moon Diver, launch!"

Space and time broke, allowing a tiny needle to pierce through, launching itself on threads of fate and imagination; to distant horizons unknown and unseen.

"It was attested in those days that a bright star fell from the sky, streaking through the firmament when the day was yet westering. All marveled to see it, for it was not a distant thing, like a comet, but something near and apparent, as if it had been launched from the bowstring of the divine. It burned, like an arrow, and soon plunged far away into the eastern horizon, beyond the Narrow Sea. The Red Arrow, as it was soon to be known, was taken as a sign of ill portent, and whispers abounded of much devilry and sorcery. In the court of King Aerys, however, the cackling of the Mad King could be heard for miles around, as if the Arrow had tickled him to the bone, though none could fathom why he had been amused so."

-From the Journals of Grandmaester Pycelle, Year 279 of the Old Era

"Woke early from sleep. Dothraki shouting like maddened mules. Damn brutes. Roused whole camp. Captain wanted to scold them, but we all saw the cause. Funny, it was almost like we were staring down an arrow, all of us. For a moment we thought some other group had launched some rocks at us. Big, firey thing went right over our heads, shooting up over Maelys' Tits, and then a boom, like the loudest thunder I ever heard. Captain was proper spooked. And I didn't grumble none when he ordered us decamp and walk away. I know a few other groups, thinking themselves the smart types, went over to have a gawp. Poor sods. That there was demons' work, and you'd be daft to take it up. Very likely to be dead, or cursed, or worse. I'd heard all about Valyria. Of course, years after the fact, we'd known them to be peacable types. But I'm still alive, and I doubt I would have been if the Captain had told us to go towards the fallen star, than away. Poor, poor sods."

-From the journal of an unidentified soldier of the Scrawny Bastards mercenary group, collected into the Scrawny Bastards official registry, published Year 23 of the New Era

"The geological feature known as Shirou's Scar was considered at the time to be a very significant event that drastically reshaped the land. It was fit to sit at the table together with its peers in the Fall of the Valyrian Peninsula and the Breaking of the Arm of Dorne. It should further be noted that in all three instances, magic was heavily involved.

"Sprouting from within a once barren vale, a giant jagged crack had been sliced into the earth on the coast near the Narrow Sea. Thus was formed the Free Delta, so named by the polity that currently dominates this now crucial entrepot in southeastern Essos. The event had disturbed some sort of underground reservoir, which had helped birth it, and it was from this source that the Delta poured its water out to Sea.

"Elsewhere, the great event had depressed the earth at the initial impact point, causing a mass of impassable cliffs to surround the future sight of Haven City, capital of the Kingdom of Novara. It formed a natural shield, which helped in the city's defense during the earliest parts of its existence. The northern cliff directly cuts into the former Valyrian road that linked Myr with Tyrosh. The eastern cliff buttresses into the border disputed between the two same nations, while the southern cliff, which was the longest, intersected with the long-disputed border between Tyrosh and its sister Lys.

"The eventual formation of the city of Haven was therefore a challenge to the long-simmering conflict between the former Triarchy of the Three Daughters, upsetting the status quo that had been present for decades since the Dance of Dragons. It would not take long for these three slighted nations to turn their resentful eyes to this interloper, and their subsequent actions would start a conflagration that would consume Essos, and arguably the world."

-excerpt from "The Cry of Freedom: History of Novara", written by Sir Percival Emiya

The good news was that after experiencing what seemed to be the worst airplane flight any of them had ever experienced, they all seemed to still be alive. Their surviving the one-way trip was estimated at a very low percentage. So far, so good; that meant that Moon Diver had fulfilled its intended purpose of transportation.

Then there was the concern of their arrival. Yet again there had been very low chances of being sent to a place where they could actually live. The Moon Diver could have excellent durability only for it to land them somewhere inside a star, or straight down the mouth of a singularity.

Judging by their initial readings, though, they were two for two on the survival front. Even better, they had arrived at a place that was equal to or almost equal to Earth in terms of habitability. And that was the most important part.

Before they could do much of anything, they sent out some of the Servants to scout out the immediate area. While doing so, the rest of them performed some diagnostics of the ship's systems, concerned about anything they might be able to salvage from the Moon Diver's wreck. For there was no question that the thing had served its duty well; and that it had done exactly as it had been meant to do: to deliver them to a different place. And then, right after, its body would be spent, having achieved its one purpose. It was a sad note, for another thing born of Da Vinci's genius to be lost forever.

Mashu was the first to report that ninety-percent of the Moon Diver's systems were inoperable, irreparable, and furthermore unable to be salvaged.

"There are plenty of black box systems here that we've tagged in the 'unknown territory', which Da Vinci might have helped to analyze, if she were here," Mashu explained. "Unfortunately, without her, they're all in the pile marked 'inoperable', and obviously unusable."

Most of those were things that governed important systems like the onboard life support, which morbidly implied that if they hadn't been able to arrive at an Earth-like place like this, they would have all quickly suffocated as the life support failed in minutes. It was a pretty gruesome alternative to contemplate.

Shirou did his own diagnostic on the ship's structure which largely confirmed what had been initially established. There were a lot of cracks and faults in the ship's material: the "skin, bones and muscles" that made up the totality of its frame. Near all of it had some sort of catastrophic fault or inexplicable anomaly. Cracks and seams appeared all over the walls which his mind could not identify—while more conventional bending and collapsing seemed impossible for him to even reinforce. It went against everything he knew as a magus of some ability, with his own unique brand of magecraft.

The ever reliable Rin had an explanation for that on hand. "You've got to remember that this entire thing took us through the unknown boundary that exists over everything."

"Over the universe?"

"Over everything—" Rin made a vague gesture with her hand. "Everything that we literally knew. Our current grasp of magecraft might have only allowed us small jumps, as we had done before at Chaldea. Even the Rayshift process was far simpler, almost like child's play. This Diver… this truly was something remarkable. A once in a lifetime invention, and now it's destroyed."

"That still doesn't explain Shirou's dilemma."

"Ugh, you two still don't get it?" Rin asked with a roll of her eyes. "We passed through an unimaginable border, where the fundamental order of our reality is rendered murky and unclear. We're talking worse than being dragged through a black hole. We might have crossed through a bubble of pure, undiluted space-time or a wall made out of God's spit, for all I know. And what's more, we passed through it intact. Relatively intact. So just be happy that we managed the trip, and don't question the strange things you see too much."

"Well, you think it's going to be dangerous? For us, in the long-term?" Shirou asked.

"I would say that is a definite 'maybe'. It might be carrying some lingering particles from the journey that wouldn't play well with the local reality. There's nothing we can really do about it but pray to the local gods or something. And seal it off, of course. It might well be a ticking time bomb that'll show up in the future, but that is the price we were willing to pay for our freedom, right?"

"Right," Shirou said. "And we're here to make the best of it."

Certain things did pass through unscathed aside from themselves. First, their stockpile of rations had come through intact. It had ample supply enough for the three humans to live on it for about three months. They could not rely on it for long, obviously, so they had to seek better sources as soon as possible. Ritsuka had rightfully wondered out loud if the food had been contaminated during the journey, another concern which they hoped would not lead to anything bad.

Perhaps more importantly, the small reactor, a mimic of Chaldea's own, and which had been used to power the Diver, was still whole. Unfortunately, it might take a while for anything to make use of it. But Rin had said that for the time being it was a good, portable leyline to carry around with them, with a small amount of theoretically infinite energy that could supply their Servants.

Shirou found that to be really good for them, because the Servants sent to scout would soon report contact with the local reality's inhabitants. And judging from their reports, it became readily apparent that he and the Servants would be sorely needed.

It was a strange sky. It was a strange sun. It was an alien-looking place that did not stir any of the memories of her previous life, nor of the impressions granted to her by the Grail when she had been first summoned. The latter event seemed like a lifetime ago now, according to her impression.

That told her that, like some of the places she had visited before with Master, this was not a place that was on Earth. That was easy enough to make a conclusion. With that said, after confirming that humans could breathe here, she sent back the report of the all-clear before continuing with her assigned task.

She had been the first to glimpse the outside of their ship which had arrived in these lands like a star fallen from heaven. The immediate ground around the broken ship was shattered and molten, almost as hot as the mountain's heart. Choking, poisonous smoke rose as a forbidding pillar towards the sky, like the wrathful seething of some fiery djinn. Hot steam rose from a shrouded location west from her position, assuming this world's sun still obeyed the same rules. She could sense a great rumbling from deep within the earth, as if a great many demons had been stirred from the underworld to make mischief.

Some distance away from the ship itself rose several tall cliffs, jagged in appearance, and seemingly newly formed judging by the way the ground still seemed warm to her feet. As a Servant, she had no difficulty climbing the surface of the cliff. In due time she had scaled it, allowing her to have a better glimpse of the greater landscape beyond their point of arrival.

It was a mild surprise to her to see that the land surrounding their arrival site beyond the high cliffs was just as bleak and ashen, as if it were on the slopes of an active volcano. She took a quick look around to see if said volcano did exist, only to find nothing. So the land was this way, perhaps for a reason. Something to take not for later.

She did not have the eyes of an Archer, but she was still able to see as far as the horizon, which indicated a long, almost featureless plain extending in three directions from their point of arrival. The only difference was the west, the one direction where the steam was rising, from where she could sense a familiar scent.

The faint, salty tang of the sea carried on the breeze.

It was also fairly close, judging by the hint of blue. This meant that they had landed very close to the sea. There were advantages and disadvantages to such a location, and she could list them out—but it was only her Master who would decide what to do with it.

Her communication pod beeped. "Serenity, do you copy?"

"Yes, Master."

"Anything pressing to report out there?"

"No Master. For the moment, everything is all clear. No hostiles sighted. However, environment may be of great concern to you."

"Thanks. Please tell me your preliminary findings."

One good system that survived their arrival was the communications hub they were able to share with their Servants. It was an advanced form of magecraft that linked all Servants and Masters together in one single communications web that was almost virtually immune to external disruption and infiltration. Anyone who managed to overhear them only detected garbled, encrypted transmissions. Anyone who could either disrupt or decrypt this Chaldean invention meant Serious Fucking Shit with emphasized capitals, in their long experience.

For the moment, the preservation of such a powerful system was treasured, and the others quickly worked to test its structure for any perceived flaws. They didn't expect it to last for a long time, but Rin hoped they could jury rig something similar, if very much inferior to Da Vinci's version.

In the meantime, Shirou was getting a better picture of their immediate surroundings from the scouts he had ordered sent out. Another thing that hadn't made it were the powerful surveillance systems that previous Chaldean machines had employed. It would have allowed them to have a peek at their surroundings for many miles around without needing Servants to personally scout. And of course, the Diver had no drone system to supplement it further, which really hammered in the need for Servants. Well, they had to make do, and make do they would.

He'd already drawn a rudimentary map on his mind, which was already giving him all sorts of scenarios that had him furrow his brows.

"Shirou-san, what's the sitch?" the bright-eyed maiden (self-proclaimed even after she shared his bed) said as she bounced on her heels towards him.

"Apparently our arrival has created something of a local cataclysm in the landscape around us," Shirou said. It sounded pretty far-fetched, from what he knew of the physics of impact craters. Their small craft should not have made something larger than the South African crater. And yet the after-effects were also very much small and localized. So either the scientists had it wrong back home, it was some magic influenced from the Diver itself, or there was something weird with the local lands.

Earlier, Mashu had checked the conditions outside through the basic sensors still active, and most of this planet or timeline or whatever this place could be considered "Earth-like". There were only some minor and subtle differences in the magical substrata, which Rin and Luvia promised to study for later, once they'd gotten themselves squared away.

"Oh? Will it be a problem?" Ritsuka asked.

"It might be, judging from initial scouting."

"How so?"

"Well, depending on how the evaluation of the Diver goes, we either need to start running away from it as fast as possible to a place as far as we can get; or it doesn't matter and we just need to sit down and pray to whatever god suits us. Best case, the Diver is fine for the moment, and we have more options."

He rubbed his chin. "Now, even in the best case scenario, our arrival's kicked up a lot of dust, and then some. Number one: we're not sure how much of the local landscape we've disrupted. The first scouts are reporting that we don't really need to worry about having disturbed a sinkhole or anything like that, but it's still the very first hour so things can change. Number two: even if this feels like Earth, it's not guaranteed to be like Earth. Do humans even exist here, or are we in a completely alien environment? These two points are important because we do need to set up some sort of temporary shelter for ourselves. We can't stay inside the Diver, no matter that Rin concludes it's safe."

Another hour later, and they had a better picture. The whole place outside was a seething wreck, and it was very worrying to Shirou that they were still sitting in the center of what was essentially ground zero of a large-scale disaster. If one put aside whatever the Diver was radiating, there was an ongoing concern about what the blast impact's lingering after-effects might be doing to their bodies.

It was here that Rin and Shirou had another debate: the very first since they'd arrived here. Rin was still diagnosing the systems and trying to determine the Diver's condition. Shirou in the meantime wanted a complete and total evacuation. A convoy would have to be assembled, carrying what few systems could be taken off from the Diver and then transporting both the Masters and the Servants to another location.

"It's very careless to just be abandoning the Diver like this!" Rin exclaimed. "If there's some sort of leak going on, we can't just leave it be for later—the consequences might be worse than whatever's going on outside."

"We can still come back to the Diver afterwards," Shirou insisted. "At least if there's some sort of anomaly going on, we'll be far enough away if it ever ignites like a leaked fuel line. But we cannot ignore the ruin outside, Rin. For all we know, the ground beneath us is about to sink down many miles, or a tsunami's about to come up from the sea that's literally within walking distance. We have to evacuate, now."

In the end, Ritsuka was the tiebreaker for the informal vote that ensued, and she threw her lot in with Shirou. Rin was furious about it, but their arrangement always ran this way—even if going all democratic wasn't always the right answer during crises like this.

Their makeshift convoy made ready to leave the Diver almost immediately. They were bringing everything with them that hadn't been bolted down, and that was including their whole supply of rations. Luckily for them, they had brought the mother of all pallets—several portable wagons that expanded from within a compressed dimension. Usually self-driving and self-propelling after an injection of magic, this time a team of Servants had to take up the task of pushing and pulling the enormous loads—a task that was naturally easy for them. Though some did complain of being reduced to mules.

Shirou's first glimpse of the world in which they'd arrived confirmed the scouts' first impressions—in that aside from the remnants of destruction that surrounded them it still seemed as if they were back on Earth. The stench of sulfur and ash was strong, necessitating the use of specialized breathing apparati that was miles better than normal magecraft. It would quite literally have allowed them to breathe in a zero-G vacuum, though that was until the internal energy ran out. They also had to use protective enchantments to cover their bodies, as the outside currently felt rather hot to the human skin, almost like they were walking through a sauna; and it was considered inadvisable for the Masters to be exposed to the heat and the radiation. These wouldn't last long though, so Shirou immediately sought a way to get out of the location quickly.

After identifying a path, their convoy therefore immediately made haste towards one of the forbidding cliffsides, due north, where some of the scouts awaited. That direction was chosen because of the availability of a path that, while treacherous and unstable, was nonetheless their only option to leave this "death valley" of the epicenter.

Leading up the rearguard, Shirou cast his eyes back towards the direction of the Diver, as well as the curtain of steam that was still somehow rising in the distance beyond it. Because the scouts had reported that they were actually close to the sea, Shirou saw another worry of this place somehow being inundated, though he really couldn't be sure if it would happen. Still, it was yet another reason to flee to a safer distance, where they could take better stock of their situation.

The caravan's ascent up the cliff was treacherous and hard as expected, but Servant willpower and stubbornness, as well as his own contribution of a few projected swords to clear a better path, saw them reach the top after only an hour or so of travel.

Now that they were up here, Shirou was able to get a further glimpse of their new home as he surveyed the land using his enhanced sight. He was surprised that the surrounding land was actually rather bleak and featureless, with barely a glimpse of vegetation to be seen for miles around. It was to the west that he saw the sprawl of the nearby sea, and he was a little gratified to see that its surface was a deep blue—just like Earth.

He looked back at the Diver, at the black pillar of smoke that continued to rise from the seething depths of the enormous crater, and hoped that they hadn't just accidentally doomed an entire world by their arrival.

The scouts who had been ordered to find a temporary location for them to plant their roots now returned with more interesting news—they had found evidence of this land's inhabitants. Tellingly, it was his favorite Hassan, Serenity, who lifted up the gruesome fruit of her travels for all of them to see: a bleached, hollowed-out human skull.

"I found many. Along with the familiar skulls of horses. The remains of weapons. Faded, dusty banners. Blood, long-dried, years perhaps. And… other things I cannot explain myself."

That confirmed it for them—as far as they knew, humans existed in some manner in this world. Whether that was the limit, or if there was something more to be discovered, would be a matter for next time.

Serenity further specified that she had found the skull in an area that seemed like some sort of old battlefield, which was replete with such macabre ornaments; testaments of a bloody past.

"The swords," Artoria inquired, with a frown. "What was your estimation of their age?"

"Perhaps only a few years or so."

"And there were plenty of them?"

Serenity silently nodded without hesitation. Artoria gave him a meaningful look.

"Very likely informs us about this world's level of technology," he said. The others nodded along, each perhaps having arrived at that conclusion separately from him in their minds.

Battlefields were not unheard of in their old world, but it was only during the most gruesome of atrocities that corpses were left to rot until they were literally dust.

Battlefields such as Serenity described were only attested in the tomes of history—for time had respectfully buried them a long time ago, requiring keen-eyed scientists to excavate them many centuries after the fact. That there also seemed to be an abundance of swords, which had not been plundered or otherwise rusted away to nothing while exposed to the elements, indicated the possible level of technological progress of this world's human inhabitants.

Other scouts came to report of their own observations of several military camps, which had been long abandoned, and in various states of disuse and ruin. More evidence of the human presence. One camp was highlighted in particular on their rudimentary map. This place was located at a shallow valley surrounded by several hills, which served to hide it from easy sight.

"Alright then, let's make our apologies to the former owners and use that place as a temporary staging ground," he decided. It was a bit far enough from the Diver's location, while also close enough to allow them to observe it intermittently.

The caravan started moving again, though this time there were even more scouts sent out to watch their perimeter. Already a bigger picture was beginning to form both in Shirou's head and on the map they were tracing.

Once again, it was Serenity who made a landmark report. "I have sighted the humans of this world. Riders. Perhaps scouts, judging from their bearing, and their overly inquisitive eyes. Very likely drawn to our arrival, Master."

Soon after, more of the scouts also reported the same, as they saw groups and bands of horsemen bearing various armor, of the type often seen in medieval pictures (with a side-eye at Saber herself) riding cautiously towards the great, smoking crater.

At the same time, their convoy finally arrived at the abandoned camp. A quick scan of the whole place was made first, to determine if there weren't any hidden surprises that the former occupants left behind. After determining that all was clear, they immediately got to deploying what they'd brought on the portable wagons, while Rin immediately went to setting up a ritual to determine the closest leyline. Most of their systems relied on mana, which the reactor provided in small amounts, but it was considered better to find a local source to draw from; so that magi like Rin and Luvia could cast the really large and powerful rituals that might aid them in surviving this place.

While they did that, Shirou set about assigning teams for defense of their new base; even as Ritsuka set her mind to actually setting up the actual base. The former owners of the camp had left quite a bit of junk and waste and detritus behind, which necessitated a lot of determined clean-up from Ritsuka and the others before she could put down the very first prefab domicile.

Another Chaldea standard, the small house was like a balloon that inflated from within the tight dimensions it had been bound. It possessed four walls and a roof, and had enough space to house four beds in a cramped formation, or a kitchen area all by itself. It could be sealed from the inside to provide protection from even the harshest blizzards or the unforgiving desert heat—as long as there was enough energy for the magecraft at least. In an emergency they could even deploy it in outer space if it was linked to the reactor. But without a means of propulsion, and limited space for any essentials, only the likes of Servants might be able to survive floating helplessly in the void, while Shirou or the rest could only look forward to a slow and painful death.

As more and more houses were established, Shirou was busy watching their small map expanding as the Archers were now able to get a bigger picture of the situation. Now they saw that this whole desolation stretched on for many miles in at least three directions aside from the coast to the west. Furthermore, they were able to report the presence of camps that were actually still manned by actual people—almost ten of them and counting.

Estimates put each camp's population from just under a hundred to ten times that, along with horses and strange-looking beasts of burden. The inhabitants were also reported to be universally outfitted as a fighting force, wearing all sorts of wargear; and with each camp having banners featuring various sigils. These were recorded by Shirou as a precaution.

Seeing bands of armed men scattered all over this area had Shirou puzzling about their nature. They couldn't exactly be soldiers from someone's nation living off the land—as the land looked pretty lifeless. It was very likely they were subsisting off rations somehow, or were butchering what they had. Still, the fact that these groups were scattered, and perhaps held different allegiances, meant that they were here for some reason—and that was before factoring in their arrival.

They could be bandits and outlaws, living out here on this no man's land where no nation's law held sway. Bandits with an obsession for heraldry and pretense, at that, judging from the ubiquitous usage of banners. Charitably, then, the assumption was that these were organized gangs, coming from some sort of local culture that valued pomp and artistry to some degree.

These might also be mercenary groups camping out here, but it seemed unlikely. It was hard to justify their staying here in a practically inhospitable area, when there were plenty of other places that he knew a mercenary might prefer, such as in the area close to a prospective employer. He couldn't really see a mercenary outfit living out here, unless there was a purpose or if there was something to be gained—some form of pride or punishment perhaps, or a method of testing loyalty.

One point for their being some form of professional group of lucre warriors, was the fact that despite their rough appearances, they appeared to be rather disciplined in some way. He even had the scouts check for that. Though there were some discrepancies here and there, all of the groups sighted displayed degrees of camp discipline, and the layout of their camps spoke to some form of order and purpose. There was always a blacksmith or two, a quartermaster, a central camp for the presumed leadership, and even a designated mess area. Bandits camping out here shouldn't even bother with such pretense, unless the culture here was completely different.

Turning his attention to their scouts, he tried to figure out how they were supposed to deal with their curiosity about the Diver. Initially they might be deterred by the sight of the devastation if they had healthy survival instincts. But sooner or later, that wouldn't be the case—unless the Diver had a catastrophic meltdown—and the scouts would be able to satisfy their curiosity when the situation calmed.

So what was going to be done about them?

Peter Small's troop had never ceased their daily patrols to scout out the pyroclasm that had so much disturbed the Disputed Lands. Nearly every mercenary group worth their salt, even the Golden Company, had sent out bands of scouts for days to keep watch over the smoldering ruin. Some did it on behalf of their masters in the Daughters, while others were driven more by a morbid curiosity or by a pull in their spirits that no amount of prayers to any of the gods could quench.

Of course, theirs was one of the few bands who stuck it out with investigating day by day. The others, fearful of the sight and of the omen it brought, quickly decamped and left for relatively safer pastures. No one expected the Golden Company to be part of this ignominious retreat, as word had come of their vaunted banner sighted near Qohor.

Pirates and slavers from the sea had investigated the disturbance in their own way, and their plight made Peter glad he hadn't taken up with a crew long ago. The few ships who had dared to dock close to the pyroclasm had been suddenly pulled down into the sea by freak currents that no mariner could explain. It would only be hours later that the corpses of the fallen and the detritus of their broken ship would appear nearby, as if each ship had been chewed up, swallowed and digested by the sea itself before being spat back out. Since then, no other sea dog dared to make a landing, sufficiently spooked.

Peter could admit to being nervous about it himself. Aside from its mysterious and unexplained provenance, the very sight of the pyroclasm gave him nightmares of old tales in his childhood, told by torchlight, of demons from the hells emerging from the earth to drag them all down into their fell dominions, as they had done to blighted Valyria.

Gregory, one of his companions on scouting duty, was of the mind that this was but a natural occurrence, more akin to the breaking of the Arm of Dorne than anything magical or demonic or divine.

"Was always a matter of time for something to happen like this," he pronounced sagely. "Soon enough, it'll end up just being your normal sort of hell-hole, and not much else."

Still, for whatever Gregory might claim, it was difficult for anyone who called themselves pious not to think that their gods were at work whenever they saw the very tall, dark hills that had been pried upward, each looking like they were made of the fabled dragonstone. As someone put it, it was as if the Father of the Seven had slammed his fist into the shore. The resulting devastation was, if nothing else, majestic to behold, even from afar, and Peter could feel something within himself stir with unease and wonder whenever he had to ride back here with the others.

Today was supposed to be just another day. There had been grumbling at camp with their commander, with the whispers that they had been tarrying overlong watching over the pyroclasm and not earning much coin. And then, just yesterday, an emissary had arrived at camp, who had brought some things that put a smile on everyone's faces. Gold jingled in a chest lifted by four heavyset slaves, food were dragged in several carts, and more importantly, ale caskets arrived by the dozen. It seemed their group had been given an official reason by a generous patron not to depart yet, and naturally they, as respectable sellswords, would endeavor to accommodate their desire.

That quieted the whispers for the moment, though there were still a fraction in the camp who would mutter about staying too close to such unnaturalness. Much talk had been bandied about concerning the pirates' failures, which grew tall in the telling to include the wrath of the Storm God smiting them for their trespass (for it was his wife giving birth inside the desolation or so it went). It was hard not to keep talking, not when the large column of smoke still stood in the distance, as if rising from a cauldron that continued to boil.

Peter was content with his share of the gold, and the addition of ale after every scouting trip. The scouts were given just a little more, even if no one said anything about it, if only because theirs was the more perilous job.

As their horses crested the last ridge, they once more beheld the great, looming hill of the devastation. There wasn't a name yet that had been agreed upon. Other groups called them many things, as did theirs. He rather liked "Maelys' Torment". The man had been slain in battle by Ser Barristan the Bold not too far from the pyroclasm, which had interesting implications for those seeking a connection between coincidence and fact.

"Let's try to move closer, as we agreed," Peter called out. They'd wanted to move closer to the base of the hill, and bring back an interesting rock—or really anything interesting at all—back to give the lads at the camp something to ogle.

It was then that the horses started buckling beneath their arses. They all stopped, looking down in wonder and cursing as their horses cantered to a stop and began moving their head from side to side, whinnying all the while. It was almost as if they were refusing to make even one step, despite the urging of their riders. The hairs on the back of Peter's neck rose, as nothing this unusual had occurred when they'd ridden here before. Wretched hells, he could even see the little stone landmark they'd set up in the far distance, to mark where they'd last been.

"Turn back."

The voice that came made him yelp out a scream. Swords were drawn. He looked to the side, and saw that Gregory was just as pale and wide-eyed as him. So he too, and apparently the rest of them, had heard the voice.

"Turn back," the voice came.

"Who the fuck are you?" They all wheeled around, heads moving back and forth over the barren landscape. "Don't think a little mummer's trick will save you when we lay hands on you, scum!"

"This land is sacred land," the voice continued to say. To Peter, who had regained his wits from behind the frozen lake of terror, the voice definitely sounded like that of a woman's. "No longer is it yours, or anyone else's. Our masters have decreed it."

"Show yourself!"

"Poor fools. I speak with no mouth, though you refuse to believe it. Your steeds betray you, though you refuse to believe it. Know then, that I can kill you without a weapon, and perhaps you would still refuse to believe. Obey your instincts, and turn back now. Or you will then only believe on the very the last moment that is left to you in this wretched life."

"Fuck this!" one of the men said, who wheeled his horse about and fled.

"Bastards!" Peter shouted, but it was no use. They were as much ridden by their fears like their horses. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he would call this bluff. But the thought of missing one final taste of cool ale had him kicking his horse's side.

"Wretch!" He couldn't resist calling out behind him, his blood hot in spite of the chill in his veins. "I'll remember this!"

Emotions would cool, rather quickly, once they were a fair distance away. By then, there was no talk from the men about going back. They were united in the wise decision to withdraw and report this to camp before doing anything else.

As they dismounted back at the camp, Peter was the first to see it—and hence he was the first to scream.

A skull had been tied neatly to the back of his saddle, so tight that he had not heard it jostling about in the ride back. One of its sockets was smaller than the other, as if it was winking and grinning at him.

Story was commissioned anonymously, thank you. A reminder that the story is commissioned.

If you'd like a story commissioned, feel free to contact me here, or on archiveofourown under "RHoldhous", or message me on discord under RHoldhous#6771.

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