/* "This story draws inspiration from the 'system' in Solo Leveling while taking place in the Fate/Extella Link universe. The narrative follows the structure of Fate/Grand Order's Singularities as its setting." */

Happy Reading!

Ren leaned against the worn stone wall of the chapel, arms crossed as his mind wrestled with everything that had happened since he arrived in this world. The battle, the escape, the overwhelming sense that he was caught in something far bigger than himself. But now, at last, he had the chance to get some answers.

Ren leaned slightly against the table, his expression unreadable. His voice was steady, his gaze sharp.
"Warzone? What do you mean? What's going on here?"

Charlemagne stretched his arms before settling against the wooden table at the center of the room.
"Straight to the point, huh? Alright, partner, listen up—because this is going to take a bit to explain."

Ren stayed silent, watching as the knight's playful grin faded, replaced by a serious expression that didn't quite fit the easygoing warrior he had met earlier.

"It's been a month," Charlemagne began. "A month since Karl der Große—the man leading those mechanical knights—declared war on the Sovereign of the Moon, Hakuno Kishinami. He came out of nowhere, claiming dominion over SERAPH, and before anyone could make sense of his reasoning, his forces were already sweeping through the lands."

Ren narrowed his eyes. "Karl's taking over, but for what? Power? Control? Or something else?"

"That's the kicker—we still don't know," Charlemagne admitted, shaking his head. "Karl hasn't made his true goal public. All we know is that he's conquering everything in his path, and worse… he's turning Servants against their will."

Ren's gaze darkened. "What do you mean by 'turning them'?"

Charlemagne pushed off the table and motioned for him to follow. "Come with me. I'll show you."

The two made their way through a dimly lit corridor, the air thick with tension. At the end of the hall stood a reinforced door, faintly glowing with magic sigils. Charlemagne pressed his palm against the intricate markings, and the barrier dissipated. He stepped inside, Ren close behind.

In the center of the chamber was a figure, bound in heavy enchanted chains and encased within a glowing magic circle. Ren slowed, taking in the sight before him with wary curiosity.

The person within the circle looked young, almost delicate, with long pink hair cascading over silver and blue armor. At first glance, Ren would have assumed they were a noblewoman—until Charlemagne spoke again.

"This is Astolfo. He was one of my closest friends… and one of Karl's victims."

Ren studied the bound knight for a moment, his sharp gaze taking in the delicate features and long pink hair. After a beat, he glanced at Charlemagne. "Astolfo's a guy?" His tone was neutral, more of a confirmation than surprise.

Charlemagne let out a small chuckle, despite the grim situation. "Yeah, it throws a lot of people off. But that's not the important part."

Ren kept his voice steady. "Then tell me—what exactly did Karl do to him?"

Charlemagne's expression darkened. "We were supposed to warn Hakuno about Karl's movements. But we got ambushed. Astolfo gave me an opening to escape, but… he got captured. Next time I saw him, he wasn't my friend anymore. He was one of them—one of Karl's so-called "loyal knights.""

Ren's stomach twisted. "So Karl's brainwashing them?"

"Assimilating them," Charlemagne corrected, bitterness seeping into his voice. "Whatever he did, Astolfo lost all sense of who he was. He fought me like I was nothing but another enemy. If I hadn't found a way to knock him out and bring him here… he'd still be hunting me."

Ren's gaze flickered to the glowing sigils. "This thing... what does it do?"

"That's to keep him hidden," Charlemagne explained. "Karl can track his knights, no matter how far they are. If he realizes Astolfo's here, he'll send everything he has to retrieve him. This barrier keeps him off Karl's radar."

Ren nodded slowly, trying to process it all. This war wasn't just about conquest—Karl was forcing people into his army, stripping them of their will. And if that was the case… then no one was safe.

Before Ren could respond, a voice interrupted them.

"Charlemagne."

Both turned to see a group entering the chamber. At their head was a woman with golden hair tied into twin-tails, her piercing blue eyes scanning Ren with open suspicion.

Charlemagne sighed. "Oh boy. Here we go."

The woman crossed her arms. "You went scavenging and brought back… a stray?"

Ren gave her a flat look. "Stray? That's what we're going with?"

"Don't take it personally," Charlemagne chuckled. "Rin's just a little cautious."

Rin crossed her arms, her sharp gaze never leaving Ren. "You brought a complete unknown to our hideout. He could be working for Karl."

Ren met her stare, unreadable. "If I was, I wouldn't have been running for my life."

Rin didn't so much as blink. "That doesn't prove anything."

Ren exhaled quietly. "Figured as much."

Her suspicion didn't waver, but Charlemagne stepped in with a grin. "Come on, Rin. If Karl had control over him, would we even be having this conversation?"

Rin's expression didn't change. "Karl's forces aren't just some random army. He has Servants—powerful warriors, legends from history—enslaved to his will. And if he's figured out how to control them, then I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to take any more."

Ren kept his expression neutral, but something about Rin's words made his mind pause. Servants—legends from history? She spoke like it was common knowledge, something he should already understand. But he didn't.

Charlemagne caught the shift in his expression. He tilted his head slightly, as if something about Ren's reaction didn't sit right with him.

Ren barely had time to process what she meant before she took a step closer, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his.

"Let's get one thing straight," she said coldly. "If you're working for Karl, I'll put you down right here and now. No hesitation."

Ren didn't move, but he could tell there was no bluff in her voice—just absolute conviction. "You always threaten people before getting to know them?"

"I don't take chances," she replied. "If you're one of them, then I won't hesitate."

Her gaze swept over him—not just watching, but analyzing. She was looking for something. Symptoms. A sign of Karl's control.

Ren noticed immediately. The way her eyes flicked over his stance—was she searching for hesitation? Flaws? Or something deeper?

A few tense seconds passed before she exhaled slightly, her frown deepening. "...No signs of corruption. No abnormalities. No strange mana signature."

Ren tilted his head slightly. "Glad to hear I pass inspection."

"That just means nothing's obvious," Rin shot back, crossing her arms. "That doesn't mean I trust you."

Ren gave a slight nod. "Figured as much."

Rin didn't respond immediately. Instead, her expression remained firm. "If I see even the slightest hint that you're under Karl's control, I'll kill you myself."

Ren met her gaze, unshaken. "Duly noted."

Charlemagne clapped his hands together, stepping between them. "Alright, alright, enough of the death threats." He shot Ren a smirk. "You're really popular today."

Rin scoffed but didn't argue.

Charlemagne turned back to Ren. "One last thing—before we move on, I gotta ask. You reacted weirdly earlier. Do you really not know what a Servant is?"

Ren hesitated for the first time, his usual sharp demeanor flickering with uncertainty. "Because I don't."

A beat of silence.

Charlemagne blinked. "...Wait. What?"

Rin furrowed her brows. "You don't know what a Servant is?"

Ren shook his head. "No clue."

Charlemagne stared, then let out an awkward chuckle. "Okay, now that's weird. You look like a Servant, but you're telling me you don't even know what one is?"

Ren didn't answer immediately. His mind was already working. They think I should know. But why?

For now, he pushed the thought aside. One thing at a time.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[Quest Objective Completed.]

[100 XP, 5 Soul Coins Earned.]

[Level Up! You have gained 1 Level.]

[Status Updated! You are now Level 3.]

[3 Attribute Points Earned. Use them to enhance your stats.]

[You have 6 allocated attribute points ready to be used.]

"One thing at a time, huh?" He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck before dismissing the notification.

Charlemagne led Ren through the ruined chapel's back entrance, where a hidden path twisted through the remains of Fuyuki's old streets. Unlike the battlefield outside, this area was alive with movement. Makeshift tents lined the alleyways, flickering lanterns casting dim light over the worn brickwork. People moved with purpose—some repairing damaged weapons, others tending to the wounded. A few cast wary glances at Ren as he passed.

"This is our camp," Charlemagne said, waving a hand at the organized chaos. "Not much, but we make do. Welcome to The Vanguard—the last bunch of stubborn folks standing against Karl."

Ren's gaze swept over the scene. Soldiers patched up dents in their armor, a group of spellcasters reinforced the perimeter with glowing sigils, and a woman barked orders at a supply team moving crates of rations. It wasn't just warriors here—there were civilians too. Survivors.

Ren frowned. "They're all from this city?"

"Most of them," Charlemagne confirmed. "The ones who made it out alive, anyway."

There was something unspoken in his words. Ren didn't push.

They passed a firepit where a few resistance members sat, eating a meal of what looked like dried rations and stale bread. Charlemagne grinned, gesturing to one of them. "See that guy? Used to be a librarian. Now he's making explosives out of scrap metal."

The man huffed. "You exaggerate."

"Do I?" Charlemagne snickered. "You made a bomb out of a toaster."

Ren raised an eyebrow. They were surviving however they could.

Further down, they stopped at a large tent near the center of camp. Charlemagne crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward Ren. "Alright, so here's the deal. We don't just let anyone waltz in and ask questions. The only reason you're not tied to a post is because I stuck my neck out for you. So don't give them a reason to doubt you."

Ren met his gaze, expression unreadable. "You don't trust me either, do you?"

Charlemagne let out a short chuckle. "Oh, I like you. But trust? That's earned, partner."

Before Ren could reply, the tent flap was pulled open from inside. Rin stepped out, arms crossed. She studied them both, then fixed her gaze on Ren.

"About time," she said. "Let's see if you're worth keeping around."

Inside the command tent, the air was thick with scrutiny. Rin Tohsaka sat at the head of a wooden table, arms crossed, her sharp blue eyes locked onto Ren with unwavering suspicion. Charlemagne stood nearby, leaning casually against a support beam, while another man sat on a crate, his wild grin betraying his curiosity. Several members of the resistance—human survivors and NPCs alike—stood at a distance, observing the exchange.

Ren stood across from Rin, meeting her gaze but keeping his posture relaxed. He had been through enough interrogations in his life to recognize this as one.

"Alright, let's start with the basics," Rin said. "Where did you come from?"

Ren exhaled slightly. "If I knew, I'd tell you. I woke up in the ruins with no idea how I got here."

Rin narrowed her eyes. "No memories?"

"I remember my life before this," Ren clarified. "I just don't know how I ended up in this place."

She studied him, searching for any sign of deception. "And what exactly were you doing in the city when we found you?"

"Trying not to die." Ren's tone was even. "Your mechanical friends didn't give me a warm welcome."

Charlemagne chuckled. "That much is true. He was definitely on the receiving end of Karl's hospitality."

Rin didn't smile. Instead, she turned to one of the resistance members, who handed her a small glowing device—likely something meant to verify information. She pressed a few buttons, and a screen materialized, displaying text and data.

Her eyes flicked over it. "Ren Amamiya… Listed as a Servant." She looked up at him, her brows knitting together in surprise. "Class: Trickster? That's not a class I've ever seen before."

Ren blinked. "Wait, what?"

Rin's eyes sharpened. "Don't act clueless. You're a Heroic Spirit. A Servant. That's the only way to exist in SERAPH without being erased—at least for Heroic Spirits." She tapped the screen, her gaze scrutinizing him. "Even this data confirms it. So tell me—are you really claiming you don't know what a Servant is?"

Ren's brows furrowed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Heroic Spirits? Servants? That's news to me."

A tense silence filled the tent. Rin's fingers drummed against the table as she processed his reaction. "…Either you're the best liar I've ever met, or you're telling the truth."

The man on the crate let out a short laugh. "He doesn't smell like a liar. But he does smell different."

Rin ignored him. "Fine. If questioning you won't get me answers, then let's try something else." She turned her gaze toward one of the resistance members standing nearby. "You."

From the shadows of the tent, a man in a brown duster coat stepped forward, adjusting his hat. His fingers idly hovered near his revolvers as he eyed Ren with the quiet intensity of a gunslinger who had seen his share of battles.

"I'm listening," he said lazily, though his sharp gaze never left Ren.

"I want you to test him," Rin stated. "Give him a simple trial. Let's see if he's actually worth keeping around."

Charlemagne whistled. "Oof. Harsh."

Ren frowned. "Test?"

The gunslinger smirked, tilting his hat back slightly. "You got thirty seconds. Survive without getting shot."

Ren exhaled sharply, processing the words. "That's it?"

The man chuckled. "That's all you gotta do. Sounds simple, don't it?"

"If you fail, we'll assume you're either too weak to be of use or you've been feeding us lies," Rin said coldly. "And in this world, weakness and deception both lead to the same end. I don't waste resources on liabilities. If you can't prove your worth, you won't live to see tomorrow."

Ren glanced around. Charlemagne looked intrigued, the wild-looking man on the crate grinned, and the surrounding resistance members watched with interest.

Ren sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. Let's do this."

The gunslinger's smirk widened. "That's what I like to hear. Let's step outside, kid."

As they exited the tent, Ren could already feel the weight of everyone's expectations pressing down on him. His trial had begun.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[New Quest Generated: Duel in the Wasteland]

[Objective: Survive for 30 seconds against the Gunslinger.]

[Failure Condition: Get hit and die.]

[Rewards: 150 XP, 5 Soul Coins.]

Ren's eyes flicked to the system message, his stomach twisting slightly. Not just failure—death. The system wasn't sugarcoating anything.

The gunslinger's cracked his knuckles, his smirk never fading. "Don't take it personal, kid. Just think of it as me doing you a favor."

Ren exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah… sure."

As he stepped onto the worn battlefield, the gathered resistance members formed a loose circle around them, their expressions a mix of intrigue and skepticism. They expected him to fail.

The wind howled through the wasteland, stirring the dust beneath his feet. He could feel it—the weight of judgment, the silent bets being placed on how quickly he would die. Thirty seconds. One mistake, and it was over.

Then, another notification appeared.

[SYSTEM ALERT]

[You have 6 unallocated attribute points.]

[Would you like to distribute them now?]

Ren's gaze flicked to the message, his mind briefly recalling when the system first notified him about it. He had seen it before—but at the time, surviving had taken priority.

Now, though… it was the only thing that could keep him alive.

Opening his status screen, he finally gave it the attention it deserved.

[Ren Amamiya – Status]

[Name: Ren Amamiya]

[Arcana: World]

[Class: Trickster]

[Level: 3]

[Strength] — Rank: E (Affects raw physical power, melee attacks, and lifting capacity.)

[Endurance] — Rank: E (Determines stamina, pain resistance, and durability.)

[Agility] — Rank: E (Influences speed, reaction time, and evasiveness.)

[Magic] — Rank: E (Governs mana reserves, spellcasting potential, and magical resistance.)

[Luck] — Rank: E (Affects critical hits, drop rates, fate-based events, and survival in high-risk situations.)

[Available Attribute Points: 6]

Ren's brows furrowed. So that's what these points were for.

The system wasn't just tracking his progress—it was letting him decide how he improved. But the real question was: where should he invest them?

Strength? No use here. Billy wasn't going to let him get close enough for raw power to matter.

Endurance? Might help, but one bullet was all it took.

Magic? A gamble. He still didn't know how magic worked here.

Luck? Could influence small factors, but was it reliable enough?

That left Agility—his best shot at dodging.

Without hesitation, he focused on it first.

[3 Attribute Points allocated to Agility.]

Immediately, he felt it. A sharp sensation, like his body was adjusting on the fly. His muscles tensed, his stance felt lighter, and when he shifted his weight, the world around him seemed… clearer. Faster.

He raised his hands slightly, flexing his fingers. His body responded quicker than expected, like a runner shaking off rust after months of inactivity. Instinct kicked in, and for a brief second, he felt like he could move before he even thought about it.

This is different.

He clenched his fist. It wasn't a major leap, but he could tell—his body was catching up to his instincts.

Satisfied, he turned to endurance.

[2 Attribute Points allocated to Endurance.]

A slow burn spread through his limbs, like his muscles were reinforcing themselves. His breathing came easier, less strained—as if his body had adapted to exertion before he even pushed himself. He rolled his shoulders experimentally. The ache from earlier? Already dulling.

Not bad. At least I won't collapse after a few dodges.

Finally, he glanced at Luck.

[1 Attribute Point allocated to Luck.]

Nothing immediate. No grand revelation. But he had a gut feeling—the system wouldn't offer it if it wasn't useful.

His status updated.

[Updated Status]

[Name: Ren Amamiya]

[Arcana: World]

[Class: Trickster]

[Level: 3]

[Strength] — Rank: E (No change.)

[Endurance] — Rank: D- (Slightly increased stamina, improved pain resistance.)

[Agility] — Rank: D (Faster movement, sharper reflexes.)

[Magic] — Rank: E (No change.)

[Luck] — Rank: E (Minor fate-based improvements.)

[Remaining Points: 0]

The moment the changes locked in, he took another breath.

His body felt… different.

Not overwhelming. Not unnatural. But he could tell—his balance had improved, his movements were sharper. He felt like he had trained for weeks in just a few seconds.

He rolled his shoulders. Alright. This works.

The gunslinger's voice cut through the moment. "Ready?"

Ren exhaled, stepping into position.

The gunslinger's gave a slow, knowing grin. "That's more like it. Now, let's see if you're fast enough."

He had thirty seconds to prove himself.

And he wasn't going to waste them.