/* "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!

The Vanguard camp buzzed with life, though tension lingered in the air. Ren Amamiya observed the people moving about—patching up tents, reinforcing barricades, tending to the wounded. Despite the sense of camaraderie, there was an underlying exhaustion, the weight of constant battle pressing down on everyone.

And then there was him.

Ren wasn't just another fighter. He was a Servant—something he had only recently come to understand himself. The realization still sat uneasily with him, but it clearly meant something to the people here. Whispers followed him as he walked, some voices laced with curiosity, others with suspicion. It made sense—Servants were powerful entities, and an unfamiliar one appearing out of nowhere wasn't exactly reassuring.

He had expected more hostility, but most members kept their distance, merely watching. A few, however, weren't so subtle.

"So, you're the new Servant," a burly man scoffed, crossing his arms. "You don't look like much."

"He doesn't even carry a weapon," another muttered, glancing at Ren's casual clothing. "What kind of Servant fights like that?"

Another vanguard member frowned, tilting their head. "Wait… if he's a Servant, that means he must have a legend, right? What's his story?"

A few others murmured in agreement, their curiosity piqued. "Yeah, where's he from? Never heard of a Servant called 'Ren Amamiya.'"

Ren paused for dramatic effect, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You know how it is. Steal from the corrupt, expose their sins, bring down the powerful… and suddenly, people start calling you a legend." He let out a dramatic sigh. "A thief's work is never appreciated until it's history."

The group exchanged glances, uncertain whether he was being serious or messing with them.

"…That sounds made up," someone muttered.

Ren simply chuckled, tilting his head. "Doesn't every legend start that way?"

Some of them blinked, confused. "Wait, what?"

"Maybe he's one of those weird cases, like an Assassin with no real name," another speculated.

"Or maybe he's lying," the burly man muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Before the discussion could escalate, Ren casually stretched, shifting gears. "Well, I'd love to keep you all guessing," he said lazily, "but don't you guys have a rebellion to run?"

A few of them scoffed, while others exchanged wary glances. The tension didn't dissipate, but at least no one pressed the issue further.

Trying to ignore the lingering eyes, Ren focused on something more productive. Helping out seemed like the best way to ease the tension, so he approached a group struggling with supplies.

"Need an extra set of hands?" he offered.

A young woman blinked at him, hesitant. "You... want to help?"

"Unless you'd rather me stand around and look intimidating," he joked.

The joke didn't quite land. A few exchanged glances before finally relenting.

"…Fine. Help us move these crates."

As Ren started lifting supplies, he noticed some of them hesitating. One of the men scratched his head. "Wait… do Servants even need to do this? You don't need food or rest, right? Won't you just recover energy on your own?"

Ren shrugged as he set down a crate. "No idea. But I do know standing around doesn't help anyone."

That earned him a few more murmurs, but some of the initial skepticism started to fade. Actions spoke louder than words, after all.

As he set down another crate, a faint tremor ran through his arms. He hadn't realized how much energy he'd been burning—not just from lifting, but from the constant tension of being watched.

A voice called out from behind him. "You're not half bad at this."

He turned to see a girl watching him with unreadable eyes. Her silver hair, braided loosely, swayed as she approached. Unlike the others, she didn't seem particularly wary—just... indifferent.

"I try," Ren replied. "And you are?"

"Leysritt," she answered. "You don't seem like a Servant."

"That seems to be the popular opinion," Ren mused.

Leysritt hummed in vague acknowledgment, then gestured toward a nearby tent. "You should eat. You look like you'll fall over soon."

"I'll manage," he said with a wave of his hand.

His stomach, however, chose to betray him with a loud growl.

Leysritt gave him the flattest stare imaginable. "…Right. Managing."

Before he could come up with an excuse, another voice cut in.

"Leysritt! Don't just stand there," a woman with strikingly similar features approached, hands on her hips. Unlike Leysritt's relaxed demeanor, this one carried herself with a rigid air of discipline.

"Sella," Leysritt mumbled.

Sella's sharp gaze shifted to Ren. "You're the new arrival?"

"Ren Amamiya," he introduced himself.

She scrutinized him for a moment before nodding. "I see. If Leysritt is bothering you, feel free to ignore her."

Leysritt sighed. "I was telling him to eat."

Sella raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Since when do you care about that?"

"He looked like he needed it," Leysritt shrugged. "If he collapses, it'll be a hassle."

Ren sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. I get the message."

Leysritt nodded approvingly. "Good. Follow me."

As he walked toward the mess tent, he could still feel eyes on him. The Vanguard wasn't ready to accept him yet—but at least, for now, they were willing to tolerate him. It was a start.

As Ren sat at the worn dining table, Sella placed a set of dishes before him. "Here you go, Ren-kun. You should eat properly," she said with a small nod. The scent of the food drifted up, rich and inviting despite the simple ingredients.

Ren glanced at the meal, surprised by the variety. He hadn't expected something so well-prepared in a war-torn place like this. Taking a bite of the grilled meat, his eyes widened slightly as the flavors hit his tongue.

"How is it?" Sella asked, watching his reaction closely.

Ren swallowed and nodded. "It's really good. Haven't had anything like this in a while."

"Probably because you haven't eaten anything until now," Leysritt commented bluntly.

"That's an exaggeration," Ren replied, though his stomach betrayed him with a low grumble.

Leysritt stared at him, unimpressed. "Your stomach doesn't agree with you."

Sella sighed, shaking her head. "At least make sure to finish it. We have to keep everyone here fed, and we can't afford to let food go to waste."

Leysritt propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. "Not that we can keep making the same things forever. Supplies are limited. We need to find ways to stretch what we have."

Sella nodded. "We've been trying to make sure everyone gets enough to stay strong, but with how things are, it's getting difficult. We might need to change things up."

Ren, who had been listening between bites, swallowed before speaking. "Have you ever tried making curry? It doesn't take much, and it's filling."

Leysritt frowned. "Curry? Isn't that kind of basic?"

"Not if you make it right," Ren replied. "And if you pair it with coffee, it helps with fatigue. The combination works surprisingly well."

Sella and Leysritt exchanged skeptical glances.

"Who even thought of that? That sounds strange," Leysritt muttered.

Ren smiled. "How about I make it for you? If it works, you've got another meal option. If not, well… I'll owe you."

Leysritt shrugged. "Fine, but don't waste too much."

Sella sighed but nodded. "Alright. Show us what you can do."

With that, Ren moved to the kitchen, quickly assessing the ingredients available. His hands moved with practiced ease, selecting what he needed without hesitation. Soon, the scent of spices filled the air, blending with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Sella and Leysritt sat at the table, watching curiously. Despite their doubts, there was something natural about the way Ren worked—his movements confident, each step deliberate.

Finally, he placed two plates of steaming curry in front of them, along with cups of coffee. "Try it."

The two examined the food. At first glance, it seemed ordinary, but the scent was enticing. Taking a cautious bite, they both blinked in surprise.

"This is… really good," Sella admitted.

"How do these two even work together?" Leysritt demanded, taking another bite before sipping the coffee. Her eyes widened slightly. "It actually makes the flavor even better."

Sella stretched her arms and blinked. "That's strange… I feel less tired all of a sudden."

Leysritt tilted her head. "Now that you mention it… I do feel better."

Their gazes turned to Ren. "Did you do something to this?" Sella asked suspiciously.

Ren shrugged. "Nothing special. Just a mix that works well."

Sella tapped a finger on the table, thinking. "If this helps with fatigue, we should consider adding it to our meals. It might help keep everyone in better shape."

Leysritt nodded. "Yeah, if we start making this for the others, they'll feel the difference."

Sella turned to Ren. "Are you willing to help with that?"

Ren leaned back, considering. "I don't mind cooking when I can. But I do have a favor to ask in return."

Sella and Leysritt exchanged glances before looking at him again.

"What is it?"

Ren smirked slightly. "I need information. About this place, about Karl, about the Vanguard. I need to understand what's really going on before I decide my next move."

Sella folded her arms, considering. "You're asking for quite a bit. Why should we tell you everything?"

Ren leaned forward. "Because if I'm going to help, I need to know what I'm dealing with. Otherwise, I'm fighting blind."

Leysritt tilted her head. "Makes sense. But… what if we don't trust you yet?"

Ren shrugged. "Then don't. Just tell me enough to make sure I don't walk into something I can't handle."

Sella sighed. "We'll have to see what Rin says about this. But… fine. I'll tell you what I can."

Ren sat on a low wall outside the vanguard base, staring at the ruined cityscape of SERAPH. The remains of what was once a thriving world now lay in disarray, a battlefield marked by Karl der Große's conquest. Smoke still lingered in the distance, the air heavy with the scent of metal and ash. He ran a hand through his hair, processing everything Sella and Leysritt had told him. The Resistance was barely holding on, their supplies dwindling, their manpower stretched thin, and Karl's forces growing stronger with each passing day.

"Man, you look deep in thought."

Ren glanced to the side as Charlemagne strolled up, arms behind his head. The knight-king plopped down next to him, boots kicking at the broken pavement. "Sella and Leysritt give you the rundown?"

Ren nodded. "Yeah. SERAPH is in worse shape than I thought."

Charlemagne sighed. "No kidding. The fact that we're even holding out this long is a miracle." He gave Ren a sideways look. "So, what's your take?"

Ren exhaled, his gaze drifting to the horizon. "It's bad. The Resistance is fighting a war they can't win if things keep going like this. Karl's army isn't just mechanical soldiers—he's assimilating Servants, turning them into his enforcers."

Charlemagne's expression darkened slightly. "That part pisses me off the most. Those guys aren't just mindless drones. They were heroes once. And now, they're being used like puppets." He clenched his fist before forcing a grin. "But hey, that's why we're here, right? you and me, making the impossible possible."

Ren smirked slightly. "You make it sound easy."

"It's not. But worrying yourself to death won't help either." Charlemagne nudged him with an elbow. "So? You in?"

Ren took a slow breath. He hadn't planned on getting involved in a war the moment he arrived in this world. But after hearing everything, seeing it with his own eyes… there was no way he could just sit back and do nothing.

"Yeah," he said firmly. "I can't ignore this. I'll help."

Charlemagne grinned. "I have a feeling you'd say that."

Before the conversation could continue, a sudden blue light flared nearby. The air shifted, mana surging as a familiar voice called out.

"Ren! Charlemagne!"

Rin Tohsaka's sharp tone cut through the air. She stood a short distance away, arms crossed, her expression serious. "Both of you, with me. We've got a mission."

Ren and Charlemagne exchanged glances before standing. Whatever Rin had planned, it wasn't going to be easy. But that didn't matter. He had already made his decision.

It was time to act.

The command room of the Vanguard base was dimly lit, its centerpiece a long table with a glowing holographic map of SERAPH flickering above it. Data streams fed information across the display, marking key locations, enemy patrols, and resource caches. The air was thick with tension and the quiet hum of machinery.

Rin Tohsaka stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, her sharp gaze focused on the map. Charlemagne leaned against a nearby chair, arms behind his head, a casual smirk on his face as if they weren't discussing matters of life and death. Ren, standing opposite Rin, studied the map with narrowed eyes, his mind already running through possible angles.

"This isn't just a standard skirmish," Rin began, her voice crisp and commanding. "We've received credible reports that Jeanne d'Arc and her remaining forces were captured during their last stand. Our intel suggests they were transported to a facility deep within Karl's territory."

She tapped the console, and the map shifted, zooming in on a fortress-like structure, heavily fortified with mechanical defenses and patrol routes marked in red.

"This base is located here, just beyond the northern sector. Normally, this would be a suicide mission, but," she paused, looking at Ren, "based on what I've seen from you so far, we might actually have a shot at pulling this off."

Ren met her gaze, sensing the weight behind her words. He wasn't being sent on this mission because he was disposable—Rin saw potential in him, something she could leverage.

"Your speed and adaptability are key here," Rin continued. "The Vanguard lacks the manpower for a full assault, but a small, highly mobile team has a chance of getting in undetected. We need someone who can move fast, react even faster, and get out before Karl's forces can mobilize. That's where you come in."

Charlemagne grinned, nudging Ren with his elbow. "Sounds like she's got high expectations for you, partner. No pressure, right?"

Ren exhaled slowly, nodding. "What's the plan?"

Rin's fingers danced across the console, highlighting a possible infiltration route. "The base's outer defenses are near impenetrable, but there's a supply convoy scheduled to arrive in the next twenty-four hours. If you can slip in with the cargo, you'll bypass most of the automated defenses."

She then marked an interior section of the base. "Once inside, you'll need to locate Jeanne's group quickly. We don't know their exact status—whether they're in containment, being experimented on, or worse—so be prepared for anything. Extract them and get to the evac point we'll have waiting."

"Simple enough," Charlemagne said with a lazy shrug. "Find them, free them, and ride off into the sunset. Classic hero stuff."

Rin shot him a flat look. "If only it were that easy. The moment the alarm is triggered, you'll be facing Karl's enforcers, and I doubt he left a high-profile capture like Jeanne unguarded."

Ren frowned. "And if things go south?"

Rin's expression hardened. "Then you improvise. That's why I'm sending you."

There was no hesitation in her words. She had measured his abilities, weighed the risks, and come to a calculated decision. This wasn't reckless hope—this was strategy.

She turned to Charlemagne. "Your role is support. I know you're not one for stealth, but once Ren locates Jeanne, you'll be his reinforcement and distraction if things get messy."

Charlemagne placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Not one for stealth? Please, I'm as graceful as a knight can be."

Ren smirked. "That's… not reassuring."

Rin sighed. "Just try not to make a scene before you have to."

She then looked between them one last time. "This mission is high risk, but the reward is worth it. Jeanne's leadership and experience could be invaluable to our fight against Karl. If you succeed, we gain more than just manpower—we gain hope."

Silence followed her words, the gravity of the mission settling in. Ren clenched his fists briefly before relaxing them. He had made up his mind the moment he saw the state of SERAPH and its people. If there was even a chance of saving those who had fought to protect others, he wasn't going to turn away.

"I'm in," he said firmly.

Charlemagne grinned. "Same here. Can't let my new buddy have all the fun."

As Rin finalized the briefing, a familiar chime echoed in Ren's mind.

[Quest Notification]

[Mission: Operation Saint's Reclamation]

[Objective: Infiltrate Karl der Große's facility and locate Jeanne d'Arc.]

[Failure Condition: Jeanne's death or mission compromise.]

[Rewards: 250 XP, 5 Soul Coins.]

[Phantom Step - Phantom Stride (Enhanced evasiveness, faster footwork, improved acceleration—flow like a phantom, vanish like a ghost.)]

[New Skill Unlocked – Mirage Veil! (Creates an afterimage for a brief moment, confusing enemies into attacking the wrong target. Can be used to misdirect or escape.)]

The notification flickered for a moment before fading, leaving Ren staring at the empty space where it had been.

His fingers curled slightly. Phantom Stride. An evolution of his movement skill—sharper, faster, more fluid. The difference might seem subtle, but in a fight, even a fraction of a second could decide everything.

Then there was the real prize—Mirage Veil. A skill built for deception. An afterimage to throw off his enemies, to make them strike at shadows instead of him.

His mind was already dissecting the possibilities. A feint before an attack. A misdirection to slip through a closing gap. A way to make them hesitate—just long enough.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It suited him.

The weight of the mission settled in alongside the promise of power. These weren't just rewards—they were tools. If he wanted them, he had to earn them.

He exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts aside. First, they had to make it through the night.

Ren met Rin's gaze, his expression steady. "Then we leave at dawn."