Disclaimer: Fate/Stay Night* and Persona 3 Reload are not my property. The only thing that belongs to me is the creation of this crossover between both worlds.

" "Character speaking.

" " Character thinking

" " What the character is reading

Prologue: The Last Eclipse

The sky was dyed red.

It wasn't the twilight that marked the end of an ordinary day. It was a dark, ominous hue, as if reality itself had been torn apart, leaving nothing but an open, bleeding wound. At its center, a black disk floated suspended, surrounded by a crimson halo that cast long, erratic shadows over the earth.

Makoto Yuki stood amidst the desolate scene. His still figure seemed like just another monument among the forgotten ruins. In his hands rested a strange spear, its blade alternating between radiant white and deep black, reflecting the faint glow of the eclipse.

The air was heavy, charged with a static electricity that made the atmosphere hum. Each breath was a struggle, as though even breathing was an act of rebellion against the oppressive force surrounding him. But Makoto didn't move. His eyes, dull and empty, gazed at the horizon with a mixture of determination and resignation.

"How long has it been since then?"

The question echoed in his mind, but no answer came. The flow of time no longer had meaning to him. The only thing he remembered with clarity was the moment when, sitting in front of the door sealing Nyx, he closed his eyes for the last time. His friends had been there, surrounding him, smiling, completely unaware of the sacrifice he had just made.

"And now… I'm here. Alone."

Makoto gritted his teeth. The emotions he had tried to bury surged forth like a torrent, hitting him with an intensity that almost brought him to his knees.

"How many sunrises have they seen? Has their world changed? Have they forgotten me?"

The thought was a dagger to his heart. Makoto knew he had no right to complain. He had made that decision of his own will. But the weight of loneliness, the absence of his friends, of the laughter and moments they shared, was a void that even this endless battle could not fill.

For a moment, his grip on the spear faltered. He recalled their faces: Yukari, always struggling to keep smiling; Junpei, with his clumsy but sincere humor; Akihiko, Mitsuru, Fuuka, Ken, Shinjiro… even Koromaru. They had all been his strength. And now they were so far away, in a time and place that no longer belonged to him.

"Have they found the peace I can never have?".

he whispered to the wind.

The answer came in the form of a distant noise.

Makoto lifted his gaze, his thoughts interrupted by a deep sound that spread like an echo through the void. From the shadows, figures began to emerge—deformed and grotesque. Creatures from a nightmare, with distorted bodies, glowing cracks, and clumsy movements. Each step they took seemed to fight against an invisible force that kept them bound to the ground.

The sky, unchanging, remained dominated by the eclipse. Makoto sighed and adjusted his stance, tightening his grip on the spear.

"This is all that's left for me now. One fight after another, without end."

A voice resonated in his mind once more, deep and solemn:

"Choose, Makoto. Once again."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He knew there was no real choice. The battle always came, no matter how many times he tried to escape it.

"They always return." He murmured.

He drove the spear into the ground with force. The impact released a wave of dark energy that spread in all directions, blanketing the battlefield in a suffocating gloom. The Eclipse Zone was born, slowly draining the vitality of every being within its reach.

The creatures faltered, their twisted forms beginning to crack under the crushing weight of the darkness. Makoto advanced, his figure enveloped in the dark energy radiating from the spear. His movements were precise and lethal; each strike reduced his enemies to ashes, every step carrying him further away from any hope of redemption.

As he fought, a thought persisted in his mind:

"How much longer can I endure this? How much longer must I carry this fate?"

When the last enemy fell, Makoto stopped. The gloom began to dissipate, allowing the glow of the eclipse to dominate the sky once more. His body trembled—not from fear, but from accumulated exhaustion. He leaned the spear against the ground and looked up at the black disk in the sky.

"I can't go back. I'll never be able to go back."

The voice spoke one last time, soft, almost compassionate:

"The eclipse is not over yet."

Makoto closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. He knew this wasn't the end. Not for him, nor for the battles yet to come. But he also knew he couldn't stop.

"If this is all that's left… then I'll keep moving forward."

And with those words, he began to walk toward the horizon, leaving the shadows and ruins behind. The eclipse, eternal and distant, continued to watch from above.

The Dawn Did Not Come

Bazett Fraga McRemitz stood still in the center of her room, illuminated by the pale light of a desk lamp. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a glove as her gaze remained fixed on the magic circle etched into the floor. She had spent weeks preparing for this moment, perfecting every detail of the ritual, yet a knot of uncertainty gripped her tightly.

On the table, a white letter lay open, its words etched in her mind like a mantra:

"Participation Confirmed: Fuyuki Grail War. Designation: Master."

This was her destiny, the opportunity she had waited for her entire life. As a member of the Mage's Association, she had to prove her worth. But it was more than just professional ambition; there was a deeper, personal need—a childhood dream.

"Cu Chulainn."

The Hero of the Lance, the mythical figure she had admired for so long. His strength, his loyalty, his unyielding will to fight for what he believed in—Cu Chulainn embodied everything Bazett aspired to be. Now, as she adjusted the final details of the ritual, the weight of her own expectations suffocated her. Would this be the realization of her deepest yearning, or another bitter disappointment?

She knelt beside the circle, placing a hand on the edge of the precisely inscribed symbol. The air around her began to vibrate, a subtle but palpable energy coursing through her veins like a challenge. Closing her eyes, she focused on the words she was about to speak, recalling the ritual by heart as though it were a sacred incantation that would finally connect her to the hero she had always dreamed of summoning.

"I, Bazett Fraga McRemitz, swear by my blood and my will. You, heroic spirit who has defied fate, hear my call. Come to me from beyond time and space. Be my lance and my ally in this war. By this contract, manifest!"

As she finished, the air grew dense and heavy, as though time itself had paused. The lines of the circle glowed with blinding intensity, a radiance that outshone the lamp and bathed the room in golden light. A metallic scent filled the air, as if the very fabric of space was being torn by the summoning.

With a sigh, Bazett opened her eyes—only to be taken aback by the figure before her.

A young man with dark hair and gray eyes, dressed in what appeared to be a black school uniform. In his hand rested a peculiar spear made of a dark material that seemed to absorb the light around it. His posture was upright, but there was something deeply unsettling about his presence—something that didn't align with the image of Cu Chulainn Bazett had idealized her entire life.

"Are you my Servant?."

Bazett asked, striving to maintain her composure, though a trace of irritation slipped into her tone.

The young man looked at her, his eyes reflecting a confusion Bazett couldn't ignore. Then, he tilted his head slightly, as if assessing the situation.

"Yes... I'm Lancer, I guess."

The hesitation in his response struck her the hardest. Bazett frowned, irritated by what seemed like an evasive answer.

"I guess?"

She repeated, incredulity creeping into her voice. —What kind of answer is that?.

Makoto averted his gaze, uncomfortable. There was something in his expression—a shadow that seemed to carry the weight of a forgotten past.

"The last thing I remember is..." He paused, his face momentarily clouded. "It doesn't matter. This 'Holy Grail War' thing is new to me."

Bazett raised an eyebrow, her patience wearing thin.

"What are you saying? Do you have no idea where you are or why you were summoned?"

Makoto shook his head, his gaze devoid of answers. The way he spoke hinted at a complete disconnection from the reality Bazett had anticipated.

"All I know is that I responded to a call. But I don't understand why I'm here or what any of this means."

Bazett clenched her teeth, her frustration mounting. She had poured so much effort into this ritual, only to find herself with a Servant so bewildered and indifferent that she almost questioned if the Grail was playing a cruel joke on her.

"How could the Grail summon someone so... unaware of their purpose."

she muttered to herself, feeling tension flood her.

Makoto looked at her, and for a brief moment, his eyes reflected something beyond confusion—a shadow of melancholy, as though he was recognizing the futility of his existence in this new context. Before Bazett could probe further, he spoke with unsettling calm.

"I know how to fight. I know what it means to protect something important. If that's what you need, then I won't fail."

Bazett studied him, noticing something in his gaze: no arrogance, no pride—just a cold determination, as though he was searching for something even he didn't fully understand.

"You'll have to prove it."

She replied firmly, not fully trusting his apparent sincerity. —Because in this war, only the best survive.

Makoto nodded slightly, but his eyes drifted to the window. The night still reigned, yet he could feel the presence of light drawing near. Something inside him told him he didn't have much time to find answers.

"Time never stops…"

He murmured, almost as a reflection to himself, while gazing at the horizon.

The phrase unsettled Bazett, but she didn't press further. Instead, she pursed her lips and rose from her kneeling position, stepping back from the circle.

"If you truly don't understand what's at stake, then I'll have to explain later. For now, prepare yourself. We're moving."

Makoto turned to her, his gaze still filled with doubt. He nodded silently, though his confusion was evident.

As silence filled the room, Bazett couldn't help but wonder what kind of hero this young man was and whether he would be enough to endure the weight of this war. One thing was clear, however: something about him didn't fit.

"Where are we going?."

Makoto asked, looking at Bazett as they moved toward the room's exit. Bazett glanced at him briefly, assessing the situation. Without saying more, she opened the door.

"We're going to the Church. We need to register."

Bazett replied as she walked ahead. "It's where all Masters formally confirm their participation in the Holy Grail War. It's also neutral ground, so you'll have your first chance to observe the competition."

She spoke without emotion, while Makoto followed, his footsteps echoing through the hallway with a strange calm that contrasted with the storm of questions swirling in his mind. Though his movements were steady, there was an unyielding heaviness to him that Bazett couldn't ignore.

As they walked, she couldn't help but wonder who or what this young man truly was. The Grail had summoned him for a reason, but what purpose could a Servant so disconnected from his own existence serve?

One thing was certain: this was not the Servant she had expected. But he was the one she would have to trust. And in a war where betrayal, power, and survival dictated the rules, trust was a fragile luxury neither of them could afford to waste.

(-)

End of the Prologue.

So, Makoto was summoned by Bazett, and he knows almost nothing about the war. Something I found valid, as he's a Servant who isn't even originally from the Fate universe. Additionally, the Grail couldn't summon him properly due to Makoto's true class.

Thus, the prologue has been brief, slightly exceeding 2k words. I'd like your opinion: Should I write shorter chapters to upload them faster? Or do you prefer longer chapters, even if it takes me more time to release them?

I sincerely hope you've enjoyed the prologue. Without further ado, have an excellent day.

P.S.: I might write an Omake of Makoto in Chaldea.