The story of a man wanting to be a 'hero'. But what does that mean?
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Prologue
"Juro Takahashi."
"You Japanese or somethin'?"
"No, I'm actually one-quarter hobbit. But don't tell the big folk."
"Seriously?"
"..."
"No. My mom's Japanese and my dad's from here, San Francisco."
"Do you like living here?"
"...Sir, I was born here."
"Ah."
"I would love to talk more about country of origin, sir, but have you picked a drink?"
"Ah, yes! I'd like to have a uh..."
"Uh..."
"Please let me know when the download finis- er, take your time sir."
Juro Takahashi sighed loudly.
He wondered if all old people these days suffered from intermittent wifi outages in their brains, or if he just happened to attract the scatterbrained ones.
With a sigh, Juro's gaze roamed over the familiar decor around the small coffee shop as he waited. His mother's establishment was covered in a mishmash of anime prints, maneki-neko cats, and other memorabilia from her Japanese homeland. Though she had passed some years before from an inexplicable heart disease, her passion lived on.
Juro's connection felt less tangible. Despite his own heritage, he had no clue about the feudal-style weaponry adorning the walls. Much like his father - who somehow rocked a very serious topknot while selling custom furniture.
"Ah, yes! I'll have a coffee, black."
Juro gave his best salesman smile.
"Excellent choice! I'll get it ready for you sir."
____
Juro took off the large apron as he hung it on a closet wall which lay inside the employee room. Sighing, he then pulled his phone out as he looked at a text.
LUKE: 'come to the shed, fount something nice'
JuGOAT: 'coming'
Snagging an oversized croissant with his free hand, he lumbered through the cafe's kitchen and shut off appliances until reaching the front door.
Juro flipped the entrance sign to 'Closed' before stepping out into the evening chill, the overhead bell chiming his exit.
Zipping up a black bomber jacket bearing a Japanese streetwear brand logo, Juro took a massive bite of flaky pastry.
His mouth full, he set off down the sidewalk cracked with tufts of grass toward the outline of the city rising against the dimming sky. Golden Gate Park wasn't too far out of his way.
Juro's breath clouded in front of him as he turned the corner, still gnawing on his massive croissant. His side gig provided essential income beyond pouring caffeine - made feasible by his mysteriously ever-absent dad bankrolling the cafe he'd inherited.
Scavenging Silicon Valley castoffs was an easy job on paper: raid waste depot sheds, unearth e-trash diamonds-in-the-rough, and cash in. Though it sounded shady, Juro could rake in hundreds for rare computing relics obsessed geeks hoarded on zBay.
Approaching the most secluded shed, Juro swung the door wide to reveal his two connections huddled inside: Ada, a bookish ponytailed girl, and cheerful Luca forever chasing the vintage tech dragon despite family money.
They circled like vultures over an artifact so bulky it might've walked here itself in a past silicon life. Juro choked down the last crumbs in time for Ada to flash him a sly grin.
"Dude...I think we found El Dorado. The power supply alone in this OG beast could jumpstart judgement day."
Luca nodded sagely without looking up.
"If we part this ancient warrior out right, we may never need work again."
"It does look pretty hefty. I'll see what I can do."
Juro jerked his chin toward the shed door where Ada and Luca lingered. "Sorry guys, no show today either."
The pair wilted. Ada pushed up her glasses in frustration. "Oh, come on! At least give us a hint about your freaky phone harvesting trick."
"We promise not to, like, sell your secrets on the dark web or anything," Luca wheedled.
Juro shook his head, unyielding as he sat cross-legged.
"Nope. My methods stay confidential, even from fam. I just can't risk it..."
Sulking, Ada herded a grumbling Luca out and left Juro alone before his bizarre ritual could commence. Good thing the shed walls hid his 'magic'... along with more normal illegal activities.
Juro turned to the large PC.
Rolling up a jacket sleeve revealed the odd tattoo-like marks coating Juro's right arm - a circuitry design glowing neon purple. He approached the hulking PC, eyes drifting shut. Hands outstretched, Juro's fingertips probed along seams and crevices. His sensitivity to molecular structures and entropy rates went beyond normal touch.
By attuning to the gradual degradation inherent within objects on atomic scales, Juro could accelerate their entropic descent into disorder - dismantling items in moments without tools by effectively "pushing" them down their own personalized entropy slope to dissolution.
Like with this computer...
Basically, he could dismantle things.
"Trace: On."
Juro identified micro-fractures in welds and isolated the heat damage steadily decaying old insulation panels. Tuning his magic through the glowing traceries on his skin, Juro coaxed the PC apart along its fault lines with only a few ominous creaks and sparks.
He surveyed the flawless heap of PC components at his feet, no screws turned or metal warped. Only the sheen of sweat on his face betrayed the exertion of his magic.
He still rejected that term - "magic". It implied achieving the impossible when in truth, nothing he did surpassed ordinary human dismantling with the proper tools. Just a bit more... efficient.
This anomalous talent had first surfaced at 15 while fiddling with his father's engraved lighter. Panicking after it fell apart, Juro bought an identical replacement seu secretly. From then on, his covert experiments gradually intensified - what else could he effortlessly take apart and reassemble?
The parameters of his ability eventually became clear: Juro could interfere with the attractive forces binding matter together, but only at the immediate junction points between components. Simply put, he found he could encourage the entropy or degradation occurring within an object to selectively target the borders where pieces connected.
Yet while his magic followed consistent rules, Juro hesitated unleashing it on more unified objects. Could he dismantle an entire boulder...or even complex living tissue tied by countless molecular bonds? Those possibilities frightened him.
Juro paused, bundle of PC components in hand. Could his magic dismantle but never create? What were its true limits? Mysteries for another time.
"All done! You can enter!"
Silence answered.
Frowning, Juro emerged to find the area deserted and blanketed in snow. He checked his phone.
9:45 pm.
Lost track of time...and his friends.
Juro secured the shed and trudged through the oddly hushed, empty depot calling out.
"Ada? Luca? Guys?"
His warm breath frosted the winter air as flakes drifted around his exposed ears and hands, jeans and jacket proving inadequate shielding.
The unlikely duo sometimes vanished without warning, doing their own thing. But radio silence for over 45 minutes seemed unusual this late.
Still, approaching 20, his friends could handle themselves. Luca seemed destined to either cause or get into trouble regardless.
They made an odd trio - the introvert, extrovert, and nerdette. Luca oozed handsome slacker charm but acted like a class clown, always good for either a laugh or a facepalm. Still, he had the looks, blonde shoulder-length hair, and blue eyes.
He also was the type to try to put a good word on you to a girl, creep her out, and after she leaves, look at you and say:
"Well, at least we're still good buddies! Haha!"
Meanwhile booksmart Ada spouted anime lore or gaming stats through large glasses that warded off would-be suitors.
Juro though...
Juro knew he faded into most backgrounds. Standard build, medium complexion, average face topped with a perpetually tousled mop of dark hair. Even his reliable thrift shop bomber and jeans combo screamed generic.
At last, reaching the deserted waterfront promenade, Juro sighed, breath whitening the night. Would he only ever excel at breaking things down? The truth of the matter, was that Juro wanted to help the world in some way shape or form. He was so painfully average that just acknowledging his existence was difficult.
He sighed loudly.
Some birthday this was turning out.
Oh yeah, it was his birthday today.
To be precise, he was turning-
"Juro! There you are!"
He turned at the familiar cheerful voice to see Luca bounding through the snow, letter in hand. "Sorry dude, some suits came around asking about you when we were waiting. Super weird."
Juro frowned. "What'd they want? And where's Ada?"
"No clue. Ada bailed 'cause she wasn't feeling good." Luca waved the envelope bearing Juro's name. "But they wanted me to give you this."
Taking the crinkled parchment, Juro scrutinized the wax seal - a dark crescent moon cradled inside some arcane ringed emblem.
Cryptic and ominous.
He stuffed it in his pocket to examine later.
"Gotta say, I'm shocked Mr. Nosy didn't sneak a peek at the contents,"
Luca put up both hands. "Who, me? C'mon, I'd never breach privacy like that." His sincere grin resembled an overeager golden retriever, but somehow looked fake.
"I know, I know, bad timing on us vanishing. But at least I tracked you down."
"Well, what they ask about me?'
"Nothing much, just how long you stay alone, stuff like that?"
There was NO way that was the only question that was asked.
Juro felt that Luca was leaving something out.
Juro checked his dead phone ruefully. "Yeah well, tonight's a wash for the PC raiding anyhow. It's late, let's pack it in."
______
The two trudged up the sloped street toward home in silence. They both lived the same way.
Unease simmered in Juro as he dwelled on the strangers accosting his friends.
What were they really after?
Halting under a streetlight, he turned to Luca.
"Exactly what questions did those suits ask about me? And don't leave anything out this time."
Luca flinched, surprise shifting to hurt.
"Seriously, dude? That's how little you trust me now?"
Guilt flooded Juro and he grabbed Luca's collar in a desperate grip. "Just tell me!"
He did not know why, but he felt extremely emotional at that moment.
Luca slapped his hand away, face etched in pain. It was as if he was holding his cheerful demeanor together until now.
"And there it is. I knew you'd freak out and assume the worst." His voice broke. "For years now, you've been shutting Ada and me out. Treating us like...like employees! Always bailing, ignoring messages for weeks. We barely exist to you anymore outside your precious secrecy!"
Juro staggered back, stunned.
"You don't even speak to us anymore, let alone trust us with whatever you've been doing!"
Luca dashed tears from his eyes angrily.
"So yeah, when those creepy investigators pressed me for answers, I kept it vague. I wanted to confirm where your priorities lay. And I guess I got my answer..."
"Luca, please, let me explain-"
His friend wheeled on him, face twisted in frustration. "Explain what? Why your best buddy doesn't rate the truth? Tch, whatever."
He walked away without glancing back, each step a hammer blow to Juro's conscience.
Longing warred with doubt, secrets battling camaraderie. In the end, Luca vanished into the night unchanged, leaving Juro alone under the streetlamp's sterile glare.
______
At home, Juro slumped at his desk, turning the mysterious letter over in his hands. He had to make things right tomorrow, had to start living for those who mattered most. But this cryptic message still called to dormant parts of himself...
The contents spoke of some organization called Chaldea Security - a group supposedly safeguarding humanity from extinction-level "threats".
Juro shook his head wryly.
Yeah, sure. Next, they'd be recruiting wizards for a magic war across time. Please.
Yet an online search only yielded mundane PR fluff about deep sea monitoring. The paper itself told a very different story.
One directly asking if he was a magus.
Magus?
Was that the term used for someone who used magic?
Juro's pulse quickened reading it. Were there truly others like him out there?
He had no reason to believe a word. But then again, maybe peeking behind the curtain couldn't hurt. What else did he have left to lose with his best friend just walked away from him?
It smacked of either insanity or some dedicated passion project by eccentric rich dudes.
Still... Juro had gone cliff diving on sketchier whims before. Signing his name, he resolved to at least hear them out.
Because for once, he refused to allow fear to rule his path. Tomorrow he would set things right with Luca. And then see where providence led him next. Even into gathering storm clouds.
Picking up a nearby pen, Juro signed his name pridefully.
"Juro Takahashi."
Suddenly, his eyes blurred as his name scrawled across the application, sleep crashing over him like a rogue wave.
_____
When vision returned, Juro jolted alert to sleek interior walls, the electric thrum of engines, and rows of unfamiliar faces buckled into high-tech seats.
This was no ordinary plane. Hazy snatches of memory bombarded him - coerced departure, failed escape attempts, resigned acceptance as synthetic sedatives overruled freewill...
His pulse raced, breath fogging glass portals revealing an icy expanse of mountainous terrain far below.
Where the hell was he?!
Sluggishness clung to Juro's thoughts even as the aircraft dove toward some kind of metallic igloo sprouting from the snowdrifts. Its gaping hangar doors welcomed them inside with hissing precision.
Wheeled automatically down sterile halls, Juro passed staff in uniform coupled with others as dazed as himself.
Blinking burnished letters set his stomach plummeting: "Welcome to CHALDEA".
CHALDEA.
So it was real.
Juro numbly watched the gleaming complex swallow him whole, comprehending the true depth of this warped rabbit hole.
"What the fuuuck did I get myself into..."
"You Japanese or somethin'?"
"No, I'm actually one-quarter hobbit. But don't tell the big folk."
"Seriously?"
"..."
"No. My mom's Japanese and my dad's from here, San Francisco."
"Do you like living here?"
"...Sir, I was born here."
"Ah."
"I would love to talk more about country of origin, sir, but have you picked a drink?"
"Ah, yes! I'd like to have a uh..."
"Uh..."
"Please let me know when the download finis- er, take your time sir."
Juro Takahashi sighed loudly.
He wondered if all old people these days suffered from intermittent wifi outages in their brains, or if he just happened to attract the scatterbrained ones.
With a sigh, Juro's gaze roamed over the familiar decor around the small coffee shop as he waited. His mother's establishment was covered in a mishmash of anime prints, maneki-neko cats, and other memorabilia from her Japanese homeland. Though she had passed some years before from an inexplicable heart disease, her passion lived on.
Juro's connection felt less tangible. Despite his own heritage, he had no clue about the feudal-style weaponry adorning the walls. Much like his father - who somehow rocked a very serious topknot while selling custom furniture.
"Ah, yes! I'll have a coffee, black."
Juro gave his best salesman smile.
"Excellent choice! I'll get it ready for you sir."
____
Juro took off the large apron as he hung it on a closet wall which lay inside the employee room. Sighing, he then pulled his phone out as he looked at a text.
LUKE: 'come to the shed, fount something nice'
JuGOAT: 'coming'
Snagging an oversized croissant with his free hand, he lumbered through the cafe's kitchen and shut off appliances until reaching the front door.
Juro flipped the entrance sign to 'Closed' before stepping out into the evening chill, the overhead bell chiming his exit.
Zipping up a black bomber jacket bearing a Japanese streetwear brand logo, Juro took a massive bite of flaky pastry.
His mouth full, he set off down the sidewalk cracked with tufts of grass toward the outline of the city rising against the dimming sky. Golden Gate Park wasn't too far out of his way.
Juro's breath clouded in front of him as he turned the corner, still gnawing on his massive croissant. His side gig provided essential income beyond pouring caffeine - made feasible by his mysteriously ever-absent dad bankrolling the cafe he'd inherited.
Scavenging Silicon Valley castoffs was an easy job on paper: raid waste depot sheds, unearth e-trash diamonds-in-the-rough, and cash in. Though it sounded shady, Juro could rake in hundreds for rare computing relics obsessed geeks hoarded on zBay.
Approaching the most secluded shed, Juro swung the door wide to reveal his two connections huddled inside: Ada, a bookish ponytailed girl, and cheerful Luca forever chasing the vintage tech dragon despite family money.
They circled like vultures over an artifact so bulky it might've walked here itself in a past silicon life. Juro choked down the last crumbs in time for Ada to flash him a sly grin.
"Dude...I think we found El Dorado. The power supply alone in this OG beast could jumpstart judgement day."
Luca nodded sagely without looking up.
"If we part this ancient warrior out right, we may never need work again."
"It does look pretty hefty. I'll see what I can do."
Juro jerked his chin toward the shed door where Ada and Luca lingered. "Sorry guys, no show today either."
The pair wilted. Ada pushed up her glasses in frustration. "Oh, come on! At least give us a hint about your freaky phone harvesting trick."
"We promise not to, like, sell your secrets on the dark web or anything," Luca wheedled.
Juro shook his head, unyielding as he sat cross-legged.
"Nope. My methods stay confidential, even from fam. I just can't risk it..."
Sulking, Ada herded a grumbling Luca out and left Juro alone before his bizarre ritual could commence. Good thing the shed walls hid his 'magic'... along with more normal illegal activities.
Juro turned to the large PC.
Rolling up a jacket sleeve revealed the odd tattoo-like marks coating Juro's right arm - a circuitry design glowing neon purple. He approached the hulking PC, eyes drifting shut. Hands outstretched, Juro's fingertips probed along seams and crevices. His sensitivity to molecular structures and entropy rates went beyond normal touch.
By attuning to the gradual degradation inherent within objects on atomic scales, Juro could accelerate their entropic descent into disorder - dismantling items in moments without tools by effectively "pushing" them down their own personalized entropy slope to dissolution.
Like with this computer...
Basically, he could dismantle things.
"Trace: On."
Juro identified micro-fractures in welds and isolated the heat damage steadily decaying old insulation panels. Tuning his magic through the glowing traceries on his skin, Juro coaxed the PC apart along its fault lines with only a few ominous creaks and sparks.
He surveyed the flawless heap of PC components at his feet, no screws turned or metal warped. Only the sheen of sweat on his face betrayed the exertion of his magic.
He still rejected that term - "magic". It implied achieving the impossible when in truth, nothing he did surpassed ordinary human dismantling with the proper tools. Just a bit more... efficient.
This anomalous talent had first surfaced at 15 while fiddling with his father's engraved lighter. Panicking after it fell apart, Juro bought an identical replacement seu secretly. From then on, his covert experiments gradually intensified - what else could he effortlessly take apart and reassemble?
The parameters of his ability eventually became clear: Juro could interfere with the attractive forces binding matter together, but only at the immediate junction points between components. Simply put, he found he could encourage the entropy or degradation occurring within an object to selectively target the borders where pieces connected.
Yet while his magic followed consistent rules, Juro hesitated unleashing it on more unified objects. Could he dismantle an entire boulder...or even complex living tissue tied by countless molecular bonds? Those possibilities frightened him.
Juro paused, bundle of PC components in hand. Could his magic dismantle but never create? What were its true limits? Mysteries for another time.
"All done! You can enter!"
Silence answered.
Frowning, Juro emerged to find the area deserted and blanketed in snow. He checked his phone.
9:45 pm.
Lost track of time...and his friends.
Juro secured the shed and trudged through the oddly hushed, empty depot calling out.
"Ada? Luca? Guys?"
His warm breath frosted the winter air as flakes drifted around his exposed ears and hands, jeans and jacket proving inadequate shielding.
The unlikely duo sometimes vanished without warning, doing their own thing. But radio silence for over 45 minutes seemed unusual this late.
Still, approaching 20, his friends could handle themselves. Luca seemed destined to either cause or get into trouble regardless.
They made an odd trio - the introvert, extrovert, and nerdette. Luca oozed handsome slacker charm but acted like a class clown, always good for either a laugh or a facepalm. Still, he had the looks, blonde shoulder-length hair, and blue eyes.
He also was the type to try to put a good word on you to a girl, creep her out, and after she leaves, look at you and say:
"Well, at least we're still good buddies! Haha!"
Meanwhile booksmart Ada spouted anime lore or gaming stats through large glasses that warded off would-be suitors.
Juro though...
Juro knew he faded into most backgrounds. Standard build, medium complexion, average face topped with a perpetually tousled mop of dark hair. Even his reliable thrift shop bomber and jeans combo screamed generic.
At last, reaching the deserted waterfront promenade, Juro sighed, breath whitening the night. Would he only ever excel at breaking things down? The truth of the matter, was that Juro wanted to help the world in some way shape or form. He was so painfully average that just acknowledging his existence was difficult.
He sighed loudly.
Some birthday this was turning out.
Oh yeah, it was his birthday today.
To be precise, he was turning-
"Juro! There you are!"
He turned at the familiar cheerful voice to see Luca bounding through the snow, letter in hand. "Sorry dude, some suits came around asking about you when we were waiting. Super weird."
Juro frowned. "What'd they want? And where's Ada?"
"No clue. Ada bailed 'cause she wasn't feeling good." Luca waved the envelope bearing Juro's name. "But they wanted me to give you this."
Taking the crinkled parchment, Juro scrutinized the wax seal - a dark crescent moon cradled inside some arcane ringed emblem.
Cryptic and ominous.
He stuffed it in his pocket to examine later.
"Gotta say, I'm shocked Mr. Nosy didn't sneak a peek at the contents,"
Luca put up both hands. "Who, me? C'mon, I'd never breach privacy like that." His sincere grin resembled an overeager golden retriever, but somehow looked fake.
"I know, I know, bad timing on us vanishing. But at least I tracked you down."
"Well, what they ask about me?'
"Nothing much, just how long you stay alone, stuff like that?"
There was NO way that was the only question that was asked.
Juro felt that Luca was leaving something out.
Juro checked his dead phone ruefully. "Yeah well, tonight's a wash for the PC raiding anyhow. It's late, let's pack it in."
______
The two trudged up the sloped street toward home in silence. They both lived the same way.
Unease simmered in Juro as he dwelled on the strangers accosting his friends.
What were they really after?
Halting under a streetlight, he turned to Luca.
"Exactly what questions did those suits ask about me? And don't leave anything out this time."
Luca flinched, surprise shifting to hurt.
"Seriously, dude? That's how little you trust me now?"
Guilt flooded Juro and he grabbed Luca's collar in a desperate grip. "Just tell me!"
He did not know why, but he felt extremely emotional at that moment.
Luca slapped his hand away, face etched in pain. It was as if he was holding his cheerful demeanor together until now.
"And there it is. I knew you'd freak out and assume the worst." His voice broke. "For years now, you've been shutting Ada and me out. Treating us like...like employees! Always bailing, ignoring messages for weeks. We barely exist to you anymore outside your precious secrecy!"
Juro staggered back, stunned.
"You don't even speak to us anymore, let alone trust us with whatever you've been doing!"
Luca dashed tears from his eyes angrily.
"So yeah, when those creepy investigators pressed me for answers, I kept it vague. I wanted to confirm where your priorities lay. And I guess I got my answer..."
"Luca, please, let me explain-"
His friend wheeled on him, face twisted in frustration. "Explain what? Why your best buddy doesn't rate the truth? Tch, whatever."
He walked away without glancing back, each step a hammer blow to Juro's conscience.
Longing warred with doubt, secrets battling camaraderie. In the end, Luca vanished into the night unchanged, leaving Juro alone under the streetlamp's sterile glare.
______
At home, Juro slumped at his desk, turning the mysterious letter over in his hands. He had to make things right tomorrow, had to start living for those who mattered most. But this cryptic message still called to dormant parts of himself...
The contents spoke of some organization called Chaldea Security - a group supposedly safeguarding humanity from extinction-level "threats".
Juro shook his head wryly.
Yeah, sure. Next, they'd be recruiting wizards for a magic war across time. Please.
Yet an online search only yielded mundane PR fluff about deep sea monitoring. The paper itself told a very different story.
One directly asking if he was a magus.
Magus?
Was that the term used for someone who used magic?
Juro's pulse quickened reading it. Were there truly others like him out there?
He had no reason to believe a word. But then again, maybe peeking behind the curtain couldn't hurt. What else did he have left to lose with his best friend just walked away from him?
It smacked of either insanity or some dedicated passion project by eccentric rich dudes.
Still... Juro had gone cliff diving on sketchier whims before. Signing his name, he resolved to at least hear them out.
Because for once, he refused to allow fear to rule his path. Tomorrow he would set things right with Luca. And then see where providence led him next. Even into gathering storm clouds.
Picking up a nearby pen, Juro signed his name pridefully.
"Juro Takahashi."
Suddenly, his eyes blurred as his name scrawled across the application, sleep crashing over him like a rogue wave.
_____
When vision returned, Juro jolted alert to sleek interior walls, the electric thrum of engines, and rows of unfamiliar faces buckled into high-tech seats.
This was no ordinary plane. Hazy snatches of memory bombarded him - coerced departure, failed escape attempts, resigned acceptance as synthetic sedatives overruled freewill...
His pulse raced, breath fogging glass portals revealing an icy expanse of mountainous terrain far below.
Where the hell was he?!
Sluggishness clung to Juro's thoughts even as the aircraft dove toward some kind of metallic igloo sprouting from the snowdrifts. Its gaping hangar doors welcomed them inside with hissing precision.
Wheeled automatically down sterile halls, Juro passed staff in uniform coupled with others as dazed as himself.
Blinking burnished letters set his stomach plummeting: "Welcome to CHALDEA".
CHALDEA.
So it was real.
Juro numbly watched the gleaming complex swallow him whole, comprehending the true depth of this warped rabbit hole.
"What the fuuuck did I get myself into..."
Singularity F: BOUND
Fujimaru Ritsuka flopped back on the minimalist bed, gazing around yet another sterile white room that now comprised his world.
"So to recap my situation - I got hoodwinked thousands of miles from home to be imprisoned in this 'Chaldea' base in the middle of an icy wasteland?"
"Correct," the eccentric orange-haired man who had introduced himself as Doctor Romani Archaman, smiled sheepishly over a platter of cookies. "We may be rather remote in the Arctic tundra..."
Fujimaru closed his eyes, the stray thought crossing his mind on whether the other dazed recruits being wheeled around were fellow kidnapping victims like himself. Surely he had seen another lost youth about his age sedated nearby...
He sighed, sitting up to half-heartedly nibble at the offered snack even as questions and frustration roiled inside at having his future hijacked by forces beyond comprehension.
Fujimaru had only wanted to take charge of life on his terms after highschool ended. But now here he remained - confined in a complex with an inscrutable purpose, at the mercy of strange caretakers.
Fujimaru stirred another sugar into his cooling tea, thoughts drifting back to the strange meeting he'd been ejected from earlier. One minute that director woman was introducing herself, the next he was jerked awake to her heels click-clacking away as he got exiled here.
"So, uh, you're basically just a run-of-the-mill doctor then?"
Romani chuckled.
"More or less! I patch up the staff that end up damaged."
"Huh..." Fujimaru leaned back, brows knitted. "But you still haven't explained what we were specifically brought here f-"
His words were cut off by the doors hissing open.
THUD.
A young man about Fujimaru's age unceremoniously faceplanted inside. Romani dashed over tutting as Fujimaru craned his neck for a better look.
Their guest recovered quickly, waving off help with a sharp gesture. Fujimaru noted his utterly average features outside gray eyes somehow sharp with irritation. Unlike the other Chaldea masters that Fujimaru had seen, this man was wearing a strange shirt with a large collar and black sleeves.
He still had the strange diamond formation insignia on his neck, however.
"...Guh...What the hell did you freaks drug me with...?" he grumbled, wobbling slightly.
"...I feel like I got hit by a train and a truck simultaneously."
Romani blanched.
"Oh dear, we weren't expecting you until much later! How did you even get here? This sector is restricted-"
The man rubbed his temples, irritation mounting. "Going to actually explain why you kidnapped and sedated me against my will?"
"Ah, sincere apologies!" Romani exclaimed, waving his hands. "I'm just the medical officer here..."
The boy's eyebrow twitched but he held back a biting response.
In the corner, Fujimaru raised a tentative hand. "Um, they got me the same way if it's any consolation. Something about needing us for this 'Rayshift' process that's apparently really taxing without drugs..."
"Rayshift?"
The man parrotted in confusion.
Fujimaru could practically envision the loading circle spinning behind the other boy's eyes. Clearly, he had been briefed even less on Chaldea's purpose.
Trying to change the conversation, Romani cleared his throat nervously. "Let's start over on proper introductions, shall we? I'm Doctor Roman Archaman."
"Juro Takahashi," the disgruntled youth replied automatically, straightening slightly. Fujimaru cataloged his entirely unremarkable features outside a peculiar gleam of intelligence within otherwise tired eyes.
Before Juro could extend his hand, a sudden, light presence landed atop his head.
"Fou!" exclaimed the small, white creature as it bounced off his head with agility.
Startled, Juro instinctively reached up to his head, feeling the spot where the creature had landed. His eyes widened in surprise as he pointed at the unexpected visitor.
"The hell is that?!"
The creature, with its furry appearance that was a curious blend of squirrel and cat-like features, seemed to take offense at Juro's reaction. It had large, expressive ears and a coat of fur that held an enchanting array of colors.
Romani and Fujimaru, however, appeared quite accustomed to its presence. Romani bent down, extending his hand to gently pat the creature's head.
"This charming little fellow is Fou," Romani introduced with a smile.
"Fou!" the creature responded enthusiastically as if confirming its own name.
"..."
"What a creative name.."
"So doc, mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?"
Romani sighed.
"Alright, let's start with the basics of Chaldea," Romani began, absentmindedly grabbing a donut from a nearby box. "Our primary mission here is the preservation of humanity's future. This facility is a unique blend of mages and non-mage scientists, all working together. Our task? To rectify the instability in humanity's past."
"Instability in our past?" Juro echoed, his brow furrowing.
"Exactly," Romani nodded. "Human history is riddled with uncertainties and threats. But here at Chaldea, we work to eliminate those threats, ensuring a secure future for mankind. Our goal is to establish a 'Human Order,' a timeline where humanity doesn't face extinction."
"And how do we accomplish that?" Fujimaru interjected.
"Through a blend of advanced technology and magecraft, we can observe the future—up to a century ahead. It's not about predictions; it's direct observation, akin to looking at the stars. This helps us safeguard humanity for the next hundred years."
Romani gestured vaguely in the direction of the control room. "At the heart of our operation is the Chaldeas, a creation of the Animusphere family. It's a model of the world, representing the Earth's soul."
"That big globe-like structure?" Juro asked.
"Correct. There's also 'Sheba,' the near-future observation lens, developed by Lev Lainur. Think of Chaldeas as a mirror of Earth's soul. By monitoring it, we keep track of humanity's survival."
As Romani's expression turned grave, Juro sensed the weight of his next words.
"However, a little over a year ago, Chaldeas's color ominously shifted to red. The light of civilization dimmed, clouding our vision of the future."
A bead of sweat trailed down Juro's cheek. "So, that means..."
"Yes," Romani confirmed solemnly. "We detected, no, confirmed, a catastrophic event."
"By the year 2016, humanity would face extinction."
The two men's faces drained of color as they processed the gravity of the situation.
"The anomaly was that humanity was wiped out in a single day. This defies all logic. We've spent over a year unraveling this 'vanished future,' to no avail. If the answer isn't in the present, it must lie in the past," Romani continued.
"Employing the cyber-daemon Laplace for phenomenon recording and the spiritiron calculation engine Trismegistus, we combed through two millennia of data."
"What emerged was an anomaly - a spatial singularity. Labeled Singularity F, it manifested in 2004 AD, in a Japanese city. This abnormality, undetected in our current timeline of 2015, represented an unobservable point in history. Concluding that this was the key to the human extinction event, Chaldea proposed the Rayshift experiment to the United Nations, which they sanctioned. Rayshifting is essentially converting a person into spiritrons, projecting them into the past to intervene. In simpler terms, it's akin to time travel."
As Romani paused, he noticed the bewildered expressions on the men's faces.
"Exactly," he affirmed. "Your mission is to travel back 12 years to Japan, to delve into Singularity F. Your objective: unearth the root of humanity's obliteration in the future..."
"And destroy it."
"Or something like that," Romani casually remarked, his tone shifting back to its usual, laid-back air.
Just then, a series of beeps from Romani's watch cut through the air, interrupting the moment.
Juro's eyes fixed on the wall, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Was this a Military operation? 'Eliminate'? He had thought this was just some private security gig, not a role in a massive organization tasked with protecting all of humanity. The idea of going back to a normal life now seemed like a distant dream. It was too much, too fast, like being asked to swallow a whole feast in one gulp.
A single drop of sweat slid down Juro's hand.
Others might have joined this venture with eyes wide open, but not Juro. This was all far more monumental than he had anticipated.
His gaze returned to Romani, who was now focused on a voice emanating from his watch.
"Romani, the rayshift process is commencing. We need you in the control room immediately for safety checks," the voice commanded with urgency.
"I'm on my way," Romani replied quickly.
"You've got two minutes, Romani. Hurry," the voice added, tension evident in its tone.
When the call concluded, Romani's usual relaxed expression was replaced by a visible concern.
"Two minutes haha... and it's a five-minute walk from here," he murmured, half to himself.
Juro's mind, still struggling to catch up with the rapid turn of events, registered Romani's haste. "Should've been less chatty, huh?" he thought, a bit bemused by the doctor's predicament.
At that moment, the facility began flashing a bright red as an alarm sounded.
Quickly turning to a nearby terminal, Romani commanded, "Computer, what's the situation in the control room?"
The computer's voice, emotionless yet alarming, responded, "EMERGENCY! Fire outbreak in the Central Control and Data Room. Evacuate immediately via Gate 2."
Romani wasted no time and dashed out, his lab coat fluttering behind him.
"The barriers will begin to close soon, get out while you still can!" He shouted behind him.
Juro, momentarily frozen by the door, snapped out of his daze. "We've got to get out of here, now!"
Fujimaru, however, planted his feet firmly, his face etched with determination.
"....I can't just leave knowing others are in danger."
"What?!"
Fujimaru clenched his fist.
"I said I can't just sit by and do nothing!"
"I may be an ordinary person, but I'd rather not sit here!"
Juro was left shocked as Fujimaru ran past him.
"The doors are still closing, you can leave if you try! It was nice meeting you!"
Juro's gaze followed Fujimaru and Fou as they hurried after Romani. His eyes fixed on the slowly closing doors, a silent countdown urging him to make a choice.
He couldn't just walk away.
He had taken this job, unaware of its true gravity. This wasn't a replaceable clerk or janitor position; this was about protecting humanity.
Chaldea needed him, even if he was just one individual.
Juro dashed down the hallway. He slid under the closing door, using his hands to propel himself forward and continue his sprint.
Upon entering the control room, Juro was met with a scene of chaos. Flames engulfed the area, casting a fierce orange glow. Amidst the smoke and rubble, he searched desperately for survivors.
Rounding a corner, Juro's attention was drawn to a hand protruding from the debris.
"Hey! Hey!" he called out, rushing over. He began to clear the rubble, his heart pounding with urgency.
As he removed a large piece of debris, a cloud of smoke hit him, revealing the person beneath.
Takahashi Juro had seen his first dead body.
It was a horrific sight.
The victim's face was unrecognizable, marred beyond identification. The corpse's face was in shape similar to a red flower, with the insides spilled all over the debris.
The shock of the gruesome scene overwhelmed Juro. He staggered back, feeling his stomach churn.
Juro collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing as he retched. The reality of what lay before him—a real, once-living person reduced to lifeless matter—struck him with a visceral force. Unlike the movies, where heroes nonchalantly stride past casualties, this stark reality was overwhelming.
As he wiped his mouth, the emotionless voice of the facility's automated system echoed through the room, its words cutting through the chaos.
"Central Bulkheads closed. Purification of the area will begin in 180 seconds."
A sinking realization hit Juro. There was no escape. Trapped, he faced his mortality head-on. In his heart, a mix of resignation and acceptance surfaced. If he hadn't chosen this path, he might be heading back to a mundane life. But he was here for a reason, a duty that transcended his personal desires.
The system's voice interrupted his thoughts again.
"The Rayshift master quota has not been reached. Searching for qualified masters... 2 Masters detected. Reestablishing candidates Fujimaru Ritsuka and Takahashi Juro as Masters."
Juro felt an inexplicable lightness envelop him. Was this the end? The machine's voice grew distant.
"Initiating unsummon program."
In these fleeting moments, Juro pondered his fate. Maybe it was FATE that led him here, tying him to this moment, this place. Had FATE been the unseen force drifting him away from his friends, his old life?
But one truth resonated within him: it was FATE that now BOUND him to his new path.
"All procedures completed. Completing substantiation of the First Order."
The world went dark.
______________________________________
The sound of crackling fire jolted Juro awake. His head throbbed as he surveyed his surroundings, finding himself in a desolate office building. He stumbled to a window, only to be greeted by a vast inferno engulfing the city.
"2004, Japan," he muttered to himself, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Huh, always wanted to go to Japan."
He glanced at the fire enveloping the city.
"Didn't know it could get this hot. Shoulda brought sunscreen." He chuckled at his own joke.
"Alright.. so, How do I get out of this mess?" he pondered aloud, his hand striking his palm in determination.
Before he could plan further, the office door burst open.
In its frame stood a figure.
Juro turned to the doorway, only for his jaw to drop.
It was a skeleton.
As in a human skeleton.
Bone and all.
Not only that, it was a skeleton wielding a sword.
Astonished by this absurd sight, Juro watched it approach, its bones clinking with each step.
With no muscle to drive its movement, the sight was surreal. Could he even fight such a thing?
Scanning the room for a weapon, his eyes settled on an office chair. As he reached for it, the skeleton swung its sword in a wide arc.
Juro dove aside, narrowly escaping the blade. He hurled a laptop at the skeleton, but it only slowed it momentarily.
His real target was the chair's metal support bar. Using his ability to understand and manipulate structure, he could dismantle the chair and only use the metal bar.
The process for dismantling was simple.
Identify the entropy of the object, look for any connections, push down against them, and dismantle. It was like building Legos, then telling certain pieces, "Hey don't stick together anymore."
Juro managed to get the metal bar and charged at the skeleton.
His initial strike against the skeleton's jaw proved futile. It was pure bone, unaffected by his attack. The skeleton responded with a vicious slash, cutting Juro's stomach. He felt the pain, but his clothes remained intact.
Recovering from the blow, he steadied himself against a desk. He needed a new strategy. His magic? No, that wouldn't work here. Then, an idea struck him. Channeling a small burst of energy into his fists might allow him to dismantle the skeleton piece by piece upon impact.
He slowly clenched his fists as he placed them in front of his face.
He would need to shoot a burst of energy the moment his fist made contact with the skeleton. It would still hurt, but it was the only way to win.
In that moment, another skeleton walked into the room.
Juro's past experiences in street fights had taught him to rely on basic punches, but this situation demanded more. The skeletons, their movements more erratic than a clumsy toddler, were unlike any human opponent. Devoid of fear or pain, their relentless assault was unnerving.
As the first skeleton lunged with its sword, Juro's instincts kicked in. He ducked swiftly, narrowly avoiding the blade, and retaliated with a powerful punch to its jaw.
The moment his fist connected with the brittle bone, he unleashed a concentrated burst of energy. The skull shattered, sending fragments flying as the skeleton's body crumbled into a heap of disconnected bones.
But the exertion took its toll.
Juro felt an overwhelming fatigue wash over him, his body strained not just from the physical effort but also from tapping into his magical reserves. Oddly, his clothing seemed to amplify his magic, a curious yet unexplored phenomenon.
His breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps, leaving him vulnerable. He barely registered the second skeleton's approach until the sharp pain of its blade sliced into his back.
"Gh!"
Stumbling forward, Juro reached for his wound, his face contorted in pain. The skeleton, surprisingly agile, lunged again, driving its blade deep into his waist.
"SHLK!"
Staring into the hollow sockets of the skeleton, Juro felt a surge of desperation. He grasped the sword, his hands bleeding from the sharp edges, but he didn't care. He was locked in a deadly tug-of-war with the skeleton, each trying to overpower the other.
"BASTARD!!"
Juro's guttural yell echoed through the room as he headbutted the skeleton with every ounce of his fading strength. The blow, fueled by desperation, did little against the unfeeling construct. Blood trickled from his forehead, mingling with the crimson flow from his waist wound.
His mind chanted a mantra of survival. He was not going to die here. He refused.
As the skeleton applied more pressure to the sword, Juro could almost picture a mocking grin on its skull. It seemed to revel in his struggle, in the futility of a human against an undead entity.
Ignoring the pain and his own body's protests, Juro channeled his magic into his hands, a risky move that left him vulnerable. He felt for the junction where blade met handle and focused his energy.
Dismantle.
The sword's handle snapped off, leaving the skeleton momentarily stunned. Seizing this brief opportunity, Juro grabbed the creature's skull and poured the last of his magical reserves into his assault. The skeleton's head didn't just crumble; it exploded, sending fragments scattering.
Exhausted, Juro collapsed to the floor, his breaths ragged and labored. He had defeated two autonomous skeletons, a feat that now seemed surreal. Glancing at his waist, he noted the absence of the sword blade, only a gaping wound remained.
Staggering to his feet, he made his way to a nearby medkit station. As he wrapped a bandage around his waist, a chilling, ominous presence enveloped the room.
His body begged him not to move.
The raw power in that room shook Juro.
"..."
"...So you won't turn around and face me? ...How rude," came a voice, scratchy and unsettling.
Against his better judgment, Juro turned, his eyes widening in sheer terror. The figure looming over him was a silhouette of darkness, its uneven form accentuated by a grotesquely large arm and a menacing skull mask.
Fear like he had never known seized Juro Takahashi's heart.
Before he could even muster a response, the masked figure brutally slammed him to the ground, then kicked him with terrifying force through a nearby window.
Plummeting down the side of the towering building, Juro's mind raced to find a solution. He aimed for a body of water, knowing the grim alternative of a hard landing.
But before he could reach safety, a sharp pain erupted in his stomach. The masked figure, descending with impossible speed, had caught up to him mid-air, delivering a devastating punch to his solar plexus. Juro's descent turned into a painful tumble onto the pavement below.
The figure, silent and ominous, approached him. Juro struggled to rise, each attempt weaker than the last.
Abruptly, the figure seized Juro's face, prying his mouth open and positioning a large dagger precariously with a single finger above it.
"With the slightest breath, this blade will fall into your mouth, killing you instantly," the figure threatened in a hoarse whisper.
Disoriented and overwhelmed, Juro found himself unable to speak, his mind flooded with fear and questions he couldn't voice.
The figure spoke again, its voice tinged with a bizarre gaiety.
"You may be wondering why I am doing this heinous act... the truth is..."
"I was so bored! No humans around, only those strong servants. They're no fun to toy with, not like the weak ones. And lo and behold, a human stumbles into my path!"
Juro's mind reeled. Servant? What did this entity mean by 'servant'? The situation was spiraling beyond his understanding, every moment bringing him closer to a grim fate.
Gasping for breath, Juro's world began to blur at the edges, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. The entity's grip was unyielding, his nostrils pinched shut.
Desperation clawed at him. He needed to breathe. He needed to survive.
Death seemed imminent, a choice between asphyxiation or the merciless blade.
But as darkness encroached upon his vision, and he felt his heart stutter in terror, a sliver of air miraculously escaped his lips.
"You're dead!" the entity declared triumphantly.
Juro braced for the end, his eyes shut tight.
"CLANG!"
Silence.
Confused, Juro dared to open his eyes.
The menacing figure was now flung several meters back. In its place stood a new, even more daunting presence. Towering and imposing, it exuded an aura so oppressive it made Juro's stomach churn. The other entity was frightening, but this new figure was on another level entirely.
Clad in a cloak that seemed to ripple with shadows, the newcomer bore imposing armor plates, the details obscured yet unmistakably formidable. Its face remained hidden, but a glimpse of a massive, dark arm adorned with a shoulder plate was visible.
The figure advanced towards the entity, each step resonating with an almost tangible force.
"So to recap my situation - I got hoodwinked thousands of miles from home to be imprisoned in this 'Chaldea' base in the middle of an icy wasteland?"
"Correct," the eccentric orange-haired man who had introduced himself as Doctor Romani Archaman, smiled sheepishly over a platter of cookies. "We may be rather remote in the Arctic tundra..."
Fujimaru closed his eyes, the stray thought crossing his mind on whether the other dazed recruits being wheeled around were fellow kidnapping victims like himself. Surely he had seen another lost youth about his age sedated nearby...
He sighed, sitting up to half-heartedly nibble at the offered snack even as questions and frustration roiled inside at having his future hijacked by forces beyond comprehension.
Fujimaru had only wanted to take charge of life on his terms after highschool ended. But now here he remained - confined in a complex with an inscrutable purpose, at the mercy of strange caretakers.
Fujimaru stirred another sugar into his cooling tea, thoughts drifting back to the strange meeting he'd been ejected from earlier. One minute that director woman was introducing herself, the next he was jerked awake to her heels click-clacking away as he got exiled here.
"So, uh, you're basically just a run-of-the-mill doctor then?"
Romani chuckled.
"More or less! I patch up the staff that end up damaged."
"Huh..." Fujimaru leaned back, brows knitted. "But you still haven't explained what we were specifically brought here f-"
His words were cut off by the doors hissing open.
THUD.
A young man about Fujimaru's age unceremoniously faceplanted inside. Romani dashed over tutting as Fujimaru craned his neck for a better look.
Their guest recovered quickly, waving off help with a sharp gesture. Fujimaru noted his utterly average features outside gray eyes somehow sharp with irritation. Unlike the other Chaldea masters that Fujimaru had seen, this man was wearing a strange shirt with a large collar and black sleeves.
He still had the strange diamond formation insignia on his neck, however.
"...Guh...What the hell did you freaks drug me with...?" he grumbled, wobbling slightly.
"...I feel like I got hit by a train and a truck simultaneously."
Romani blanched.
"Oh dear, we weren't expecting you until much later! How did you even get here? This sector is restricted-"
The man rubbed his temples, irritation mounting. "Going to actually explain why you kidnapped and sedated me against my will?"
"Ah, sincere apologies!" Romani exclaimed, waving his hands. "I'm just the medical officer here..."
The boy's eyebrow twitched but he held back a biting response.
In the corner, Fujimaru raised a tentative hand. "Um, they got me the same way if it's any consolation. Something about needing us for this 'Rayshift' process that's apparently really taxing without drugs..."
"Rayshift?"
The man parrotted in confusion.
Fujimaru could practically envision the loading circle spinning behind the other boy's eyes. Clearly, he had been briefed even less on Chaldea's purpose.
Trying to change the conversation, Romani cleared his throat nervously. "Let's start over on proper introductions, shall we? I'm Doctor Roman Archaman."
"Juro Takahashi," the disgruntled youth replied automatically, straightening slightly. Fujimaru cataloged his entirely unremarkable features outside a peculiar gleam of intelligence within otherwise tired eyes.
Before Juro could extend his hand, a sudden, light presence landed atop his head.
"Fou!" exclaimed the small, white creature as it bounced off his head with agility.
Startled, Juro instinctively reached up to his head, feeling the spot where the creature had landed. His eyes widened in surprise as he pointed at the unexpected visitor.
"The hell is that?!"
The creature, with its furry appearance that was a curious blend of squirrel and cat-like features, seemed to take offense at Juro's reaction. It had large, expressive ears and a coat of fur that held an enchanting array of colors.
Romani and Fujimaru, however, appeared quite accustomed to its presence. Romani bent down, extending his hand to gently pat the creature's head.
"This charming little fellow is Fou," Romani introduced with a smile.
"Fou!" the creature responded enthusiastically as if confirming its own name.
"..."
"What a creative name.."
"So doc, mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?"
Romani sighed.
"Alright, let's start with the basics of Chaldea," Romani began, absentmindedly grabbing a donut from a nearby box. "Our primary mission here is the preservation of humanity's future. This facility is a unique blend of mages and non-mage scientists, all working together. Our task? To rectify the instability in humanity's past."
"Instability in our past?" Juro echoed, his brow furrowing.
"Exactly," Romani nodded. "Human history is riddled with uncertainties and threats. But here at Chaldea, we work to eliminate those threats, ensuring a secure future for mankind. Our goal is to establish a 'Human Order,' a timeline where humanity doesn't face extinction."
"And how do we accomplish that?" Fujimaru interjected.
"Through a blend of advanced technology and magecraft, we can observe the future—up to a century ahead. It's not about predictions; it's direct observation, akin to looking at the stars. This helps us safeguard humanity for the next hundred years."
Romani gestured vaguely in the direction of the control room. "At the heart of our operation is the Chaldeas, a creation of the Animusphere family. It's a model of the world, representing the Earth's soul."
"That big globe-like structure?" Juro asked.
"Correct. There's also 'Sheba,' the near-future observation lens, developed by Lev Lainur. Think of Chaldeas as a mirror of Earth's soul. By monitoring it, we keep track of humanity's survival."
As Romani's expression turned grave, Juro sensed the weight of his next words.
"However, a little over a year ago, Chaldeas's color ominously shifted to red. The light of civilization dimmed, clouding our vision of the future."
A bead of sweat trailed down Juro's cheek. "So, that means..."
"Yes," Romani confirmed solemnly. "We detected, no, confirmed, a catastrophic event."
"By the year 2016, humanity would face extinction."
The two men's faces drained of color as they processed the gravity of the situation.
"The anomaly was that humanity was wiped out in a single day. This defies all logic. We've spent over a year unraveling this 'vanished future,' to no avail. If the answer isn't in the present, it must lie in the past," Romani continued.
"Employing the cyber-daemon Laplace for phenomenon recording and the spiritiron calculation engine Trismegistus, we combed through two millennia of data."
"What emerged was an anomaly - a spatial singularity. Labeled Singularity F, it manifested in 2004 AD, in a Japanese city. This abnormality, undetected in our current timeline of 2015, represented an unobservable point in history. Concluding that this was the key to the human extinction event, Chaldea proposed the Rayshift experiment to the United Nations, which they sanctioned. Rayshifting is essentially converting a person into spiritrons, projecting them into the past to intervene. In simpler terms, it's akin to time travel."
As Romani paused, he noticed the bewildered expressions on the men's faces.
"Exactly," he affirmed. "Your mission is to travel back 12 years to Japan, to delve into Singularity F. Your objective: unearth the root of humanity's obliteration in the future..."
"And destroy it."
"Or something like that," Romani casually remarked, his tone shifting back to its usual, laid-back air.
Just then, a series of beeps from Romani's watch cut through the air, interrupting the moment.
Juro's eyes fixed on the wall, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Was this a Military operation? 'Eliminate'? He had thought this was just some private security gig, not a role in a massive organization tasked with protecting all of humanity. The idea of going back to a normal life now seemed like a distant dream. It was too much, too fast, like being asked to swallow a whole feast in one gulp.
A single drop of sweat slid down Juro's hand.
Others might have joined this venture with eyes wide open, but not Juro. This was all far more monumental than he had anticipated.
His gaze returned to Romani, who was now focused on a voice emanating from his watch.
"Romani, the rayshift process is commencing. We need you in the control room immediately for safety checks," the voice commanded with urgency.
"I'm on my way," Romani replied quickly.
"You've got two minutes, Romani. Hurry," the voice added, tension evident in its tone.
When the call concluded, Romani's usual relaxed expression was replaced by a visible concern.
"Two minutes haha... and it's a five-minute walk from here," he murmured, half to himself.
Juro's mind, still struggling to catch up with the rapid turn of events, registered Romani's haste. "Should've been less chatty, huh?" he thought, a bit bemused by the doctor's predicament.
At that moment, the facility began flashing a bright red as an alarm sounded.
Quickly turning to a nearby terminal, Romani commanded, "Computer, what's the situation in the control room?"
The computer's voice, emotionless yet alarming, responded, "EMERGENCY! Fire outbreak in the Central Control and Data Room. Evacuate immediately via Gate 2."
Romani wasted no time and dashed out, his lab coat fluttering behind him.
"The barriers will begin to close soon, get out while you still can!" He shouted behind him.
Juro, momentarily frozen by the door, snapped out of his daze. "We've got to get out of here, now!"
Fujimaru, however, planted his feet firmly, his face etched with determination.
"....I can't just leave knowing others are in danger."
"What?!"
Fujimaru clenched his fist.
"I said I can't just sit by and do nothing!"
"I may be an ordinary person, but I'd rather not sit here!"
Juro was left shocked as Fujimaru ran past him.
"The doors are still closing, you can leave if you try! It was nice meeting you!"
Juro's gaze followed Fujimaru and Fou as they hurried after Romani. His eyes fixed on the slowly closing doors, a silent countdown urging him to make a choice.
He couldn't just walk away.
He had taken this job, unaware of its true gravity. This wasn't a replaceable clerk or janitor position; this was about protecting humanity.
Chaldea needed him, even if he was just one individual.
Juro dashed down the hallway. He slid under the closing door, using his hands to propel himself forward and continue his sprint.
Upon entering the control room, Juro was met with a scene of chaos. Flames engulfed the area, casting a fierce orange glow. Amidst the smoke and rubble, he searched desperately for survivors.
Rounding a corner, Juro's attention was drawn to a hand protruding from the debris.
"Hey! Hey!" he called out, rushing over. He began to clear the rubble, his heart pounding with urgency.
As he removed a large piece of debris, a cloud of smoke hit him, revealing the person beneath.
Takahashi Juro had seen his first dead body.
It was a horrific sight.
The victim's face was unrecognizable, marred beyond identification. The corpse's face was in shape similar to a red flower, with the insides spilled all over the debris.
The shock of the gruesome scene overwhelmed Juro. He staggered back, feeling his stomach churn.
Juro collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing as he retched. The reality of what lay before him—a real, once-living person reduced to lifeless matter—struck him with a visceral force. Unlike the movies, where heroes nonchalantly stride past casualties, this stark reality was overwhelming.
As he wiped his mouth, the emotionless voice of the facility's automated system echoed through the room, its words cutting through the chaos.
"Central Bulkheads closed. Purification of the area will begin in 180 seconds."
A sinking realization hit Juro. There was no escape. Trapped, he faced his mortality head-on. In his heart, a mix of resignation and acceptance surfaced. If he hadn't chosen this path, he might be heading back to a mundane life. But he was here for a reason, a duty that transcended his personal desires.
The system's voice interrupted his thoughts again.
"The Rayshift master quota has not been reached. Searching for qualified masters... 2 Masters detected. Reestablishing candidates Fujimaru Ritsuka and Takahashi Juro as Masters."
Juro felt an inexplicable lightness envelop him. Was this the end? The machine's voice grew distant.
"Initiating unsummon program."
In these fleeting moments, Juro pondered his fate. Maybe it was FATE that led him here, tying him to this moment, this place. Had FATE been the unseen force drifting him away from his friends, his old life?
But one truth resonated within him: it was FATE that now BOUND him to his new path.
"All procedures completed. Completing substantiation of the First Order."
The world went dark.
______________________________________
The sound of crackling fire jolted Juro awake. His head throbbed as he surveyed his surroundings, finding himself in a desolate office building. He stumbled to a window, only to be greeted by a vast inferno engulfing the city.
"2004, Japan," he muttered to himself, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Huh, always wanted to go to Japan."
He glanced at the fire enveloping the city.
"Didn't know it could get this hot. Shoulda brought sunscreen." He chuckled at his own joke.
"Alright.. so, How do I get out of this mess?" he pondered aloud, his hand striking his palm in determination.
Before he could plan further, the office door burst open.
In its frame stood a figure.
Juro turned to the doorway, only for his jaw to drop.
It was a skeleton.
As in a human skeleton.
Bone and all.
Not only that, it was a skeleton wielding a sword.
Astonished by this absurd sight, Juro watched it approach, its bones clinking with each step.
With no muscle to drive its movement, the sight was surreal. Could he even fight such a thing?
Scanning the room for a weapon, his eyes settled on an office chair. As he reached for it, the skeleton swung its sword in a wide arc.
Juro dove aside, narrowly escaping the blade. He hurled a laptop at the skeleton, but it only slowed it momentarily.
His real target was the chair's metal support bar. Using his ability to understand and manipulate structure, he could dismantle the chair and only use the metal bar.
The process for dismantling was simple.
Identify the entropy of the object, look for any connections, push down against them, and dismantle. It was like building Legos, then telling certain pieces, "Hey don't stick together anymore."
Juro managed to get the metal bar and charged at the skeleton.
His initial strike against the skeleton's jaw proved futile. It was pure bone, unaffected by his attack. The skeleton responded with a vicious slash, cutting Juro's stomach. He felt the pain, but his clothes remained intact.
Recovering from the blow, he steadied himself against a desk. He needed a new strategy. His magic? No, that wouldn't work here. Then, an idea struck him. Channeling a small burst of energy into his fists might allow him to dismantle the skeleton piece by piece upon impact.
He slowly clenched his fists as he placed them in front of his face.
He would need to shoot a burst of energy the moment his fist made contact with the skeleton. It would still hurt, but it was the only way to win.
In that moment, another skeleton walked into the room.
Juro's past experiences in street fights had taught him to rely on basic punches, but this situation demanded more. The skeletons, their movements more erratic than a clumsy toddler, were unlike any human opponent. Devoid of fear or pain, their relentless assault was unnerving.
As the first skeleton lunged with its sword, Juro's instincts kicked in. He ducked swiftly, narrowly avoiding the blade, and retaliated with a powerful punch to its jaw.
The moment his fist connected with the brittle bone, he unleashed a concentrated burst of energy. The skull shattered, sending fragments flying as the skeleton's body crumbled into a heap of disconnected bones.
But the exertion took its toll.
Juro felt an overwhelming fatigue wash over him, his body strained not just from the physical effort but also from tapping into his magical reserves. Oddly, his clothing seemed to amplify his magic, a curious yet unexplored phenomenon.
His breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps, leaving him vulnerable. He barely registered the second skeleton's approach until the sharp pain of its blade sliced into his back.
"Gh!"
Stumbling forward, Juro reached for his wound, his face contorted in pain. The skeleton, surprisingly agile, lunged again, driving its blade deep into his waist.
"SHLK!"
Staring into the hollow sockets of the skeleton, Juro felt a surge of desperation. He grasped the sword, his hands bleeding from the sharp edges, but he didn't care. He was locked in a deadly tug-of-war with the skeleton, each trying to overpower the other.
"BASTARD!!"
Juro's guttural yell echoed through the room as he headbutted the skeleton with every ounce of his fading strength. The blow, fueled by desperation, did little against the unfeeling construct. Blood trickled from his forehead, mingling with the crimson flow from his waist wound.
His mind chanted a mantra of survival. He was not going to die here. He refused.
As the skeleton applied more pressure to the sword, Juro could almost picture a mocking grin on its skull. It seemed to revel in his struggle, in the futility of a human against an undead entity.
Ignoring the pain and his own body's protests, Juro channeled his magic into his hands, a risky move that left him vulnerable. He felt for the junction where blade met handle and focused his energy.
Dismantle.
The sword's handle snapped off, leaving the skeleton momentarily stunned. Seizing this brief opportunity, Juro grabbed the creature's skull and poured the last of his magical reserves into his assault. The skeleton's head didn't just crumble; it exploded, sending fragments scattering.
Exhausted, Juro collapsed to the floor, his breaths ragged and labored. He had defeated two autonomous skeletons, a feat that now seemed surreal. Glancing at his waist, he noted the absence of the sword blade, only a gaping wound remained.
Staggering to his feet, he made his way to a nearby medkit station. As he wrapped a bandage around his waist, a chilling, ominous presence enveloped the room.
His body begged him not to move.
The raw power in that room shook Juro.
"..."
"...So you won't turn around and face me? ...How rude," came a voice, scratchy and unsettling.
Against his better judgment, Juro turned, his eyes widening in sheer terror. The figure looming over him was a silhouette of darkness, its uneven form accentuated by a grotesquely large arm and a menacing skull mask.
Fear like he had never known seized Juro Takahashi's heart.
Before he could even muster a response, the masked figure brutally slammed him to the ground, then kicked him with terrifying force through a nearby window.
Plummeting down the side of the towering building, Juro's mind raced to find a solution. He aimed for a body of water, knowing the grim alternative of a hard landing.
But before he could reach safety, a sharp pain erupted in his stomach. The masked figure, descending with impossible speed, had caught up to him mid-air, delivering a devastating punch to his solar plexus. Juro's descent turned into a painful tumble onto the pavement below.
The figure, silent and ominous, approached him. Juro struggled to rise, each attempt weaker than the last.
Abruptly, the figure seized Juro's face, prying his mouth open and positioning a large dagger precariously with a single finger above it.
"With the slightest breath, this blade will fall into your mouth, killing you instantly," the figure threatened in a hoarse whisper.
Disoriented and overwhelmed, Juro found himself unable to speak, his mind flooded with fear and questions he couldn't voice.
The figure spoke again, its voice tinged with a bizarre gaiety.
"You may be wondering why I am doing this heinous act... the truth is..."
"I was so bored! No humans around, only those strong servants. They're no fun to toy with, not like the weak ones. And lo and behold, a human stumbles into my path!"
Juro's mind reeled. Servant? What did this entity mean by 'servant'? The situation was spiraling beyond his understanding, every moment bringing him closer to a grim fate.
Gasping for breath, Juro's world began to blur at the edges, his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. The entity's grip was unyielding, his nostrils pinched shut.
Desperation clawed at him. He needed to breathe. He needed to survive.
Death seemed imminent, a choice between asphyxiation or the merciless blade.
But as darkness encroached upon his vision, and he felt his heart stutter in terror, a sliver of air miraculously escaped his lips.
"You're dead!" the entity declared triumphantly.
Juro braced for the end, his eyes shut tight.
"CLANG!"
Silence.
Confused, Juro dared to open his eyes.
The menacing figure was now flung several meters back. In its place stood a new, even more daunting presence. Towering and imposing, it exuded an aura so oppressive it made Juro's stomach churn. The other entity was frightening, but this new figure was on another level entirely.
Clad in a cloak that seemed to ripple with shadows, the newcomer bore imposing armor plates, the details obscured yet unmistakably formidable. Its face remained hidden, but a glimpse of a massive, dark arm adorned with a shoulder plate was visible.
The figure advanced towards the entity, each step resonating with an almost tangible force.
Singularity F: MIASMA
Juro Takahashi's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with confusion and fear.
What was this chaotic turn of events? It was like a twisted game where the rules were unknown and survival uncertain.
He watched, bewildered, as the cloaked figure stood protectively in front of him, its cloak billowing like a dark storm cloud.
"You're a servant, aren't you?!" The first assailant's voice was shrill with panic, pointing its dagger accusatorily.
Juro's gaze locked onto the 'servant.' It was a sight that defied reality, its presence an affront to logic. Every time he stole a glance, it seemed an illusion – a being that defied existence. Its appearance was grotesque, marked by a bone-like grin and eyeless face, crowned with a bizarre insignia of a
crescent moon encircling a cross.
Wincing, Juro staggered to his feet, clutching his throbbing arm.
The assailant, a blur of malicious intent, lunged forward, vanishing and reappearing in erratic bursts, kicking up whirlwinds of dirt. Its afterimage created a dizzying spectacle as it zigzagged toward the servant.
The servant, a statue of eerie calm, merely lifted a foot, poised with predatory patience.
Then, in a breathtaking moment, it brought its foot down with a force that captured the assailant. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, throwing Juro off balance.
The assailant, defying gravity, rebounded upward, only to be met by the implacable grip of the servant. It seized the assailant's face, dragging it mercilessly across the cement, leaving a trail of destruction.
Juro fell backward, his mind struggling to process the surreal violence unfolding before him.
The assailant, undeterred, unleashed a furious assault, kicking at the servant's stoic face. The kicks landed with no discernible effect.
With desperate agility, the assailant leaped back, hurling a barrage of daggers in a last-ditch effort. The daggers sliced through the air with a sound akin to gunfire, a deadly rain aimed at the unyielding servant.
Juro's heart raced as the fight unfolded with breathtaking intensity. The servant, an imposing figure at least eight feet tall, moved with a fluidity that belied its massive size, effortlessly sidestepping the relentless barrage of daggers hurled by the assailant.
Frustration etched onto the assailant's actions as more daggers were thrown, each missing their target. The servant, devoid of any facial expressions, exuded a calm and stoic presence, even amidst the chaos of battle.
With a sudden, graceful movement, the servant squatted, dodging the daggers with an almost relaxed poise. A burst of dust exploded from the impact, momentarily obscuring Juro's vision.
Regaining his footing, Juro watched in awe as the servant pursued the assailant with relentless determination. Despite their speed and agility, the assailant couldn't land a strike; the servant matched every move with an uncanny precision.
The devastation around them grew, with every powerful strike from the servant leaving craters and wreckage in its wake. Juro's gaze fixed on a nearby building, its side blown out, glass and debris scattering like rain. The servant had launched the assailant through it with a monstrous kick.
This spectacle was beyond anything Juro had experienced. His previous encounters, like taking down a couple of skeletons, paled in comparison to this godlike display of power. From confusion, his feelings morphed into a mix of awe and curiosity.
Juro snapped back to reality as the assailant hurtled towards him, Juro rolled away just in time, avoiding becoming collateral damage. The assailant crashed into another crater, its large arm broken, its form battered and bruised.
As Juro observed the figure, it suddenly turned its neck towards him with a menacing glare. "I'll just kill you, since you're the master!"
"!"
POP!
Juro blinked, feeling a wet splash across his face. Opening his eyes, he was met with the gruesome sight of the assailant's face, now obliterated by the servant's fist, still positioned threateningly close to his neck.
With a swift motion, the servant withdrew its fist, and the assailant's corpse collapsed, disintegrating into a spectral blue light. Unknown to Juro, in a fraction of a second, the assailant had attempted a lethal strike, only to be met with the brutal, unyielding force of the servant's counterattack.
Juro stood frozen, his wide eyes fixed on the fading remains of the assailant, his mind reeling from the terrifyingly close brush with death and the overwhelming power of the servant before him.
Juro's gaze slowly ascended to meet the towering figure above him. The assailant's reference to 'a servant' suggested this entity might be under his command. But was it really?
"You lift...?"
No response.
As the Servant's piercing gaze bore into him, Juro's watch emitted a sharp beep. Glancing at the display, he saw an incoming call. Swiping to answer, a large holographic image emerged from his watch.
Dr. Romani's familiar ponytail was instantly recognizable.
"Juro! I've finally reached you! You're alive! ...It's a miracle I got through," exclaimed Dr. Romani, his voice tinged with relief and urgency.
"I can't see your surroundings, however..."
"Doctor..." Juro inhaled deeply, his frustration mounting. "DO I EVEN HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING!?"
"Yes, yes, I'm aware! The only escape for you is defeating the anomaly."
Juro felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
"Doctor, can you at least explain what's happening? This place is burning, and there are these... creepy figures," Juro glanced uneasily at the Servant.
"The 'flaming thing' is because of the year you're in. You're in a Singularity, specifically during the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, 2004," explained Dr. Romani.
"Holy Grail War?" Juro asked, puzzled. Was this some kind of Monty Python reference?
Dr. Romani sighed. "It appears you're not familiar with the basics. The Holy Grail War is a battle among magi who summon Servants, like the one beside you, to fight for the Holy Grail."
"Magi?"
"..."
"It seems we need to go further back."
"Yes, magi. Practitioners of Magecraft, the artificial recreation of the supernatural, beyond the scope of science. It's likely your own abilities are a form of Magecraft, which is one of the reasons why you were selected for this mission. Forgive me, but did you not read the briefing?"
"Nope, I thought it was just some sort of security detail,"
"..."
"...You say that so casually..."
"Anyway, let's focus on the essentials. You're in a Holy Grail War that's gone awry. The Holy Grail is a potent mana source capable of fulfilling any wish."
"Mana... Like in magic energy?"
"It's Magecraft, not magic. And how did you guess that?"
"Played a lot of RPG games."
"Right. The 'creepy figure' you mentioned is a Servant,"
Juro glanced back at the servant's unnerving grin.
"Servants are essentially the most powerful familiars in magecraft. They are summoned echoes of humanity's history – heroes, legendary feats... personified concepts, legends..." Dr. Romani explained. "They're incredibly powerful, far beyond ordinary humans. Confronting one is generally suicidal."
"The summoners of these spirits, their Masters, use them in battle during the Grail War. Chaldea's mission is to employ these Servants as weapons while investigating singularities,"
"It is humanity's prerogative to use its legacy... Servants, though above humans, are tools at our disposal. And their existence in our world is anchored by the magical ability of their Master."
"In simple terms, if you kick the bucket, your servant follows."
Juro, seemingly unfazed by the torrent of information, asked, "So, are there categories for these Servants, or...?"
"Yes, there are seven basic classes: Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker. Each class reflects the legends and weapons of the original heroes."
"For instance, King Arthur would likely be a Saber, given Excalibur's fame."
"Ah, Do you know what class mine is? If it's even mine..."
"To find out if it is yours, check your right hand for a Command Seal. It's a mark that signifies your bond with a Servant."
Juro inspected his right hand, finding nothing. He turned his left hand over with a growing sense of dread.
His arm was coated in a black, viscous substance. It also looked malnourished, similar to what you would find in a year-old corpse.
The Command Seal on his hand resembled a convoluted nervous system, sprawling across his skin in a chaotic pattern.
His arm did not hurt, but just by looking at it, Juro felt that it would've been the most painful thing in the world.
Deciding to hide it for later, Juro responded.
"Yeah, I got this weird insignia on my left hand."
"Left?"
Dr. Romani's snowy hologram glitched violently as Juro showed him the insignia. "That is quite unusual for a Command Seal's location—they're typically on the weapon hand for ease of Servant direction in battle."
"Yeah well sorry to break tradition," Juro muttered. He wasn't even sure what constituted a weapon for his...unusual gifts. Probably his wit and winning personality at this rate.
"At least identify my monstrous penpal here so I know what I'm working with."
"Ah yes, please wait."
"..."
"Anything?"
"Let's see...the class reads as 'Malefactor'. Intriguing. But there's nothing on True Name, Noble Phantasms..." He trailed off as the hologram wavered, words cutting in and out.
"Is that a new one?"
"Yes, but wait, there's something else..."
"What?"
"It has no ma-"
"No what?"
The hologram began glitching further.
"N-o TIme to Sppeaak, Findd FujimARU, and S-OLVE th Si ngu lar i y"
Juro grimaced trying to interpret the garbled message before the feed died completely, leaving him staring down his stoic Servant.
The transmission ended.
Juro put away the watch as he stared at the servant.
"Alright... Malefactor... Can I call you Malefactor?"
Malefactor did not respond.
"...I'll take that as a yes."
"Nice chat, Malefactor," he ventured hesitantly. No response as expected. Clearly this partnership would involve some adjustment. With a sigh, he gestured for the towering spirit to follow.
He managed to make out Romani's garbled speech, so he knew he had to meet up with Fujimaru, who had somehow made it here.
So he was alive.
His goal was to find Fujimaru, find the catalyst, and destroy it.
Briefly Juro wondered if his old life had simply been a dream. But the lingering sting of his bloodied arm anchored him against hopelessness. Moving forward was his best option...wherever the path led.
Malefactor followed behind, its footsteps echoing loudly.
The only problem, however, was...
Where was Fujimaru?
_______________________
Trudging down deserted streets illuminated by endless flames, Juro stifled another yawn. The apocalyptic scene no longer startled, simply the new backdrop to his surreal reality now. Occasional shambling skeletons offered momentary excitement before being effortlessly crushed by his silent guard.
Bored, Juro's thoughts wandered to scrutinizing Malefactor yet again as they walked. Dead bone molded into a twisted mirror of life, fused with an inky black metallic limb. He pondered the Servant's material - it looked carved but felt exponentially denser, gravity itself warped in proximity. Malefactor's aura radiated power restrained by choice alone.
What heroic spirit deemed him worthy of such fearsome protection? Juro shoved the implication of just how dire the bigger picture must be from his mind. Compartmentalizing helped brace against creeping despair.
Wry humor also worked. "Strong silent type I see. Surprised your steps don't shatter concrete, honestly." No reaction. Tough crowd indeed. Juro sighed, gaze lifting skyward.
Curling flames painted the atmosphere vivid amber, black fumes diffusing the cape of countless stars that should have greeted him. It was jarring realizing he no longer recognized constellations he'd trusted as immortal just this morning. Did anything he valued still persist beyond this nightmare?
Honestly, he would not have forseen this entire thing happening. One second he was in a coffee shop, staring at an old person, and now he was in a race to save humanity.
While he had many chances to run away, he chose to stay.
Even though he did not know what he was signing up for, he still chose to stay.
Even though his life was on the line, he still chose to stay.
He had signed up for this, and he would not abandon such an important mission.
Besides, what else would he do at home?
He still had friends, family, but they were nothing when it came to the whole of humanity.
The fact he had left on a bitter note left a taste in his mouth, however.
Juro continued walking.
His legs were starting to give up.
Despite living in San Francisco, Juro's legs were starting to get tired. He had a normal amount of stamina, but nothing special.
Abruptly, a thunderous explosion ripped through the air, snapping Juro's focus back to the harsh reality. His head whipped towards the sound, but before he could process it, another blast erupted.
It hit with the force of a wrecking ball, hurling him through the air like a ragdoll. He collided with a wall, the impact snatching his consciousness into darkness.
In the ensuing chaos, Malefactor was a beacon of calm ferocity. Its head locked onto a distant building where a figure stood, a formidable silhouette against the backdrop of destruction, a mountain with a large dark beam towering over the entire city.
An Archer.
10 miles.
24 minutes to reach him.
Malefactor further observed the servant.
The Archer's attire was battle-ready, a sleek, sleeveless suit with stark white streaks cutting across the darkness, his muscles taut under the fabric. His choice of weapon was unorthodox yet deadly – swords flung with lethal precision instead of arrows.
Crack!
The air crackled as another sword hurtled towards Juro.
In a flash, Malefactor's fist met the projectile, shattering it in mid-air.
The Archer, momentarily taken aback by this display of raw power, hesitated, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and apprehension.
Malefactor placed its foot in the ground similar to the likes of a sumo wrestler as it began punching in place.
Malefactor's movements became a blur, fists pounding the air with increasing ferocity.
Each strike was faster, harder, the air around its fist warping with the building pressure and heat. Within moments, a swirling mass of plasma formed, pulsating with raw, destructive energy.
The Archer, realizing the imminent threat, scrambled to launch another attack.
But it was futile.
With a deafening roar, Malefactor propelled the plasma ball forward. It tore through the night, a searing comet of light and heat, colliding with the Archer's sword and erupting into a cataclysmic explosion.
Malefactor observed.
No wasted movements marred its predatory grace. It was a patient hunter, content to watch its prey struggle before delivering the final, decisive blow.
This 'servant', if that was even an appropriate term, had chosen the Archer as its quarry. Like a lion assessing a wounded gazelle, Malefactor studied the Archer, its skeletal head tilted in silent contemplation.
A flicker in the smoke revealed the valiant, albeit foolhardy, stance of the corrupted hero. Even with darkness clinging to him like a shroud, the Archer's defiance burned strong.
Noble? Perhaps.
A futile last stand?
Undoubtedly.
With a predatory grace that belied its hulking form, Malefactor lumbered towards an abandoned van.
Without a sound, it lifted the vehicle overhead, transforming it into a battering ram.
The air hissed as the metal carcass sailed through the air, smashing into the building upon which the Archer stood. Dust exploded, raining down in a silent curtain.
With the immediate threat neutralized, securing the kill became the priority. Malefactor scooped up Juro, the unconscious mage dangling limply over its shoulder, and began a morbid ballet across the cityscape.
Each colossal leap carried them closer to their quarry, closer to the inevitable conclusion.
Ten minutes.
That's all it took for Malefactor to traverse the labyrinthine ruins, Juro's unconscious form a silent witness to its monstrous grace. Placing Juro gently down, Malefactor began sifting through the rubble, its movements methodical and deliberate.
Suddenly, a glint of obsidian steel flashed from the smoke. The Archer, clad in a shroud of darkness, materialized like a phantom, twin blades of blackened silver resembling the ying and yang held high.
In a heartbeat, Malefactor reacted, the two titans clashing in a whirlwind of steel and bone. The ground trembled under their feet, debris showering around them like confetti in a macabre carnival.
Despite his mastery of the bow, the Archer faced now proved just as adept with a pair of swords.
Every clash sent sparks flying, the metallic clang an eerie song in the ruined city. While dodging a hail of blades, Malefactor focused on his opponent.
Sun-kissed skin stretched taut over lean muscle, framed by short, wind-whipped white hair. Brown eyes, though, held a glint that wasn't natural.
The telltale mark of a magus who'd danced with power too many times, their very essence etched by its echoes.
Malefactor, with a feint worthy of a master swordsman, dropped to one knee, seemingly stunned. But the move was a mere illusion, a blur of dark flesh as he lashed out with a roundhouse kick.
The Archer, though skilled, barely managed to block the blow, swords screeching against bone and metal. The force sent him skidding back, his eyes wide with a dawning comprehension.
"No mana..." he rasped, the first words spoken since their brutal dance began. "None at all..."
Amazement colored his voice, disbelief that bordered on fear. Malefactor, however, remained silent.
He knew the dangers of overreliance on mana, a lesson etched in the marrow of his ancient being. Power unchecked, a double-edged blade that could just as easily devour the wielder as its foes.
The wind whipped through the ruined streets, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the echo of clashing steel.
The Archer, still wary, brandished his blades anew.
Malefactor mirrored the gesture, not with weapons, but with fists hardened into bone-like knuckles.
The Archer lunged, a desperate viper striking from the shadows. Malefactor ducked, his skull brushing the blade's edge by a hair's breadth.
With a brutal snap, his fist arced up, connecting with the Archer's jaw with a sickening crunch. The force sent the corrupted hero reeling, a crimson fountain erupting from his shattered lips.
Malefactor knew the victory was hollow.
Malefactor knew the reason he was still dragging out the fight.
Malefactor enjoyed it.
It was like a cat playing with a mouse.
The blow landed only because the Archer was already dancing on the precipice of collapse, the plasma burn from earlier festering like a malevolent sun in his abdomen.
His chest mirrored the wound, a gaping maw screaming of their shared agony.
But Malefactor, a creature forged in the crucible of ancient battles, knew to press the advantage. As the Archer's vision swam, a blur of bone and muscle descended upon him.
Each strike, precise and brutal, landed on a pressure point, a tender joint, exploiting the human body's delicate tapestry. Twenty-four blows in all, a macabre aria played on flesh and bone.
Yet, the corrupted servant still stood. Bloodied, broken, but defiant. A spark of dark fire glinted in his eyes, a reflection of the monstrous entity that clung to him, a parasite whispering promises of power. In his pain, the Archer saw not just Malefactor's savagery, but a darkness that dwarfed his own,
an abyss that swallowed even the corrupted light of a fallen hero.
He raised his blades, the steel shaking in his trembling hands. Malefactor launched himself forward, a dark omen against the bruised sky.
...I am the bone of my sword..."
"Steel is my-"
SCHLK!
Archer's eyes widened.
Malefactor's large fist was inside the heart of the spirit.
Blood poured down the strike, staining the ground.
Archer vomited up a torrent of blood at Malefactor's 'face'.
With a grotesque noise, Malefactor removed his fist, prompting the Archer to fall down to the ground.
Archer's gaze, fading from defiance to resignation, met the vacant abyss where Malefactor's face should have been. It was like staring into the void itself, reflecting his own shattered dreams.
In its skeletal hand, the crimson pulse of the hero's heart mocked him, a trophy in this macabre dance of destruction.
The weight of his choices, the tainted Grail War's twisted legacy, pressed down on Emiya like a shroud.
Every beat of his failing heart echoed the screams of a city lost, the consequences of unchecked ambitions. A flicker of hope, perhaps for redemption, perhaps for oblivion, dared to stir within him.
"Maybe..." his voice raspy, a threadbare whisper carried by the wind, "Maybe..."
Malefactors' foot stomped on the head of the Archer, splashing it across the ground.
It did not care.
Another maggot crushed.
The body of the Archer began to disintegrate.
Malefactor placed the heart of the servant above its head.
With a snap, Its jaw opened wider.
The "heart' of the Archer was dropped into the mouth of Malefactor.
Like a machine closing, Malefactor's jaw shut.
Malefactor tended to consume others. By consuming, it could keep itself going. It did not operate on traditional mana, rather by consuming, it converted the mana into physical energy.
Malefactor hoisted up Juro once again, leaping out of the rubble.
It began making its way towards the large mountain.
_____________________________________________________________________
Ritsuka Fujimaru found himself alongside a peculiar assembly. His eyes briefly laid on a Saber servant.
Fujimaru's journey to this point was nothing short of extraordinary. Transported to this singularity with the enigmatic creature Fou and a young girl, he found himself in a world teetering on the brink.
"Senpai! Get behind me!" The voice cut through the tension. It was a girl with short purple hair.
Mash Kyrielight.
Her youthful features were contrasting her battle-hardened demeanor. Clad in revealing armor, her most striking feature was the cross shaped shield she wielded, a symbol of both protection and strength.
Their meeting was not by chance. Fujimaru had encountered Mash earlier in Chaldea, learning of her unique status as a Demi-servant. They had been thrust into this chaotic realm following an explosion in Chaldea's main room.
"That sword..." A voice rang out, sharp and observant.
Olga Marie Animusphere, the director of Chaldea, stood there, her presence commanding despite the chaos.
A member of the prestigious Animusphere family, she, too, had been unwillingly brought to this singularity.
Her eyes fixated on the legendary Excalibur, the fabled sword of King Arthur, recognition dawning on her face.
Accompanying them was a Caster servant.
With blue hair and a traditional Celtic outfit, he emanated an aura of ancient knowledge. This servant, already present before the singularity's full emergence, had formed a bond with Fujimaru, forging a contract that tied their fates together.
"King Arthur..?"
This figure, cloaked in twisted metal and wielding a corrupted Excalibur, bore no resemblance to the noble king of legend.
Instead, a chilling crimson marred her black armor, and a visor replaced where eyes should be. The air itself crackled with malevolent energy, a stark contrast to Mash's unwavering stance beside him.
"That Noble Phantasm..." the dark knight scoffed, eyes hidden behind the visor. "Just for show, I see?"
Mash tensed, the metallic clang of her shield held high.
Saber raised her sword.
"This shield will prove whether it protects or not!"
A dark energy slash erupted from Excalibur, aiming for Mash. She raised her shield, but the impact sent them both sprawling. Pain lanced through
Fujimaru's arm, and he winced, seeing Mash struggle to rise.
Frustration gnawed at him. His magical reserves were pathetic, barely enough to sustain Mash let alone fuel her Noble Phantasm. He was useless, a burden more than an asset.
Suddenly, his watch buzzed. "Fujimaru!" Romani's voice crackled through the speaker. "Use your Command Spell on Mash!"
"Command Spell?" Confusion warred with desperation in his mind.
"A surge of magical energy, bound by your contract," Romani explained. "It could provide the necessary amount of Magic Energy for Mash to deploy
her Noble Phantasm."
Fujimaru clenched his fist, picturing the energy flowing from him to Mash, fueling her defense.
His seal began glowing a crimson red.
'Energy to Mash, Energy to Mash...'
Olga's voice cut through the air, laced with icy alarm.
"Don't! You're no mage! You'll fry your circuits!"
'Energy to mash, Energy to mash...'
A feeling of sudden pain struck Fujimaru, causing him to fall over.
"Gh!"
"You ran too much magic through your circuits! You're no mage! You aren't even a magecraft caster! You're just a normal person! Don't do that!"
"Don't push yourself! Damaging your magic circuits would be dire for you!"
Fujimaru's grasp on the dirt tightened.
Would he just sit there and watch?
"It may even threaten your-"
No.
"I DON'T CARE!!"
"It'd be far more painful if I just sat there, unable to do anything!"
"Does being 'normal' mean being helpless?! If I'm not smart like you and the director⸺ If I'm not strong, like these servants⸺ Should I just lie back and quiver in fear?!"
Fujimaru did not want to be stuck in that gray area of nothing.
He did not want to be useless.
"Being told 'it's too dangerous' for me, that's the same as giving up!" he roared, the injustice burning in his chest. "If I never try, I'll never know what I'm capable of! I won't be a burden anymore!"
Mash met his gaze, her eyes soft.
"⸺ Why push yourself like this?"
"This⸺ this isn't about proving anything," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's about not letting fear paralyze me. It's about taking a stand, even if it's just a small one!"
"It's really nothing for me, so don't give me that look, okay?"
He grasped her hand, his resolve hardening. A surge of magic energy began flowing from Fujimaru to Mash, a silent vow of shared determination.
Suddenly, Saber materialized before them, her blade gleaming with deadly intent. "Strutting your youthful folly in the midst of battle? How foolish."
Her blade swooped down, aiming to cleave them in two. But in a flash, Caster materialized, his cane deflecting the blow with a resounding clang.
"Hold your horses, King of knights," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let the young lion roar."
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a rune, its arcane energy erupting in a blinding explosion. The shockwave sent Saber reeling backward, momentarily stunned.
The air crackled with a different kind of energy now – Saber's fury. Ignoring the ringing in her ears from Caster's explosion, she planted her heel with a force that shook the floor, the visor of her helmet shattering in the process. Her once noble blade pulsed with a dark aura, a twisted echo of its heroic past.
"Hammer of the Vile King," she growled, her voice echoing through the crumbling chamber. "The sword of promised victory..."
Saber swung the monstrous weapon in a colossal arc, the force of it splitting the stone ceiling above. Debris rained down in a chaotic avalanche, aimed directly at Fujimaru, Mash, and Caster. The blow was monstrous, the very air groaning under its weight.
Mash's blood ran cold as she glimpsed the destructive wave of energy surging towards them. It thrummed with a potent darkness, its chaotic aura clawing at the edges of reality, threatening to devour everything in its path. Her shield, usually an unwavering bulwark, felt insignificant against this monstrous tide.
"I can't hold—it!"
She choked, the ground beneath her feet groaning in protest as the attack pushed her back, inch by agonizing inch.
Just as despair threatened to engulf her, a warm hand clasped hers. A surge of raw power coursed through their link, Fujimaru's unwavering command resonating within her very bones. His spirit, once flickering ember, had erupted into a blazing inferno, his fear transmuted into an unyielding resolve.
"Mash!"
"Let's block this, come on!"
The command along with the command seal, fueled by his newfound strength, echoed within Mash. A spark of defiance ignited in her eyes, her face hardening with newfound determination. The tremor in her grip vanished, replaced by an ironclad resolve.
"Right!" she bellowed, the fear melting away as the sheer force of Fujimaru's conviction filled her. Her shield, once faltering, became an immovable monolith, the runes etched upon it glowing with newfound fervor.
As the world threatened to collapse under the onslaught of dark energy, a tremor of change pulsed through Mash. Fujimaru's unwavering belief sparked a dormant power within her, a power that had waited patiently throughout their journey.
A surge of light erupted from the heart of her shield, pushing back against the encroaching darkness.
A Noble Phantasm.
The strongest attack of any servant.
The most mysterious part of their existence existing in only stories and myths.
Fueled by the imagination of humanity.
The light coalesced, taking form with each agonizing moment. Runes flickered to life, ancient sigils whispering forgotten promises.
"LORD...!"
"CHALDEAS!!"
The air crackled with a primordial energy, and then, with a thunderous roar, Lord Chaldeas arose.
Towering above them, the shield had transcended its mundane form. It was now a magnificent fortress of swirling blue energy, inscribed with arcane symbols that pulsed with the rhythm of creation itself. It was a bastion of hope, a defiance against the encroaching oblivion.
Mash, standing at the heart of this magnificent construct, felt her own being expand, her connection to Chaldeas deepening.
She wasn't just a shield-bearer anymore; she was the embodiment of humanity's resilience, the living testament to their potential.
The radiant blast from Excalibur Morgan erupted from Saber's blade, a torrent of golden light aimed at the shield of Lord Chaldeas.
But instead of cleaving through, it met an unforeseen resistance. Like a wave crashing against an unyielding cliff, the light shattered around the shield, dispersing into harmless motes that shimmered and faded.
Saber's face hardened, her disbelief etched into her features. "Impossible," she rasped, her voice cracking with shock. "My power... can it truly be fading?"
But a different possibility, more chilling than decline, crept into her mind. "No," she murmured, her gaze hardening.
"It has been bested."
A rustle behind her drew her attention, and she swung around, blade held high. Her eyes met the unflinching gaze of a young master. His black hair was matted with sweat, and his face bore the grim determination of a warrior tested beyond his limits.
But what truly stole her breath was his left arm. Pallid and skeletal, it clung to his body like a macabre trophy, a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his Command Seals, pulsing like vines that wrapped around his dead flesh.
Wasting no time again, Saber began to prepare a strike of energy.
However, before she could swing Caliburn Morgan again, a searing explosion erupted at her back, the force sending her staggering forward, Excalibur's shimmering light dissipating. She whirled around, searching for the attacker, and found the boy bearing down on her like a phantom, eyes blazing with a sinister gleam.
He lunged, a blur of obsidian hair and desperate fury. Her instincts roared, and she whipped up her blade, aiming for a decisive blow.
But with an agility that defied his gaunt frame, the boy rolled under the swing, disappearing from sight for a heartbeat.
The impossible.
A human, unaugmented, had dodged a Servant's attack.
Then, in a flash, The boy was upon her again, his skeletal hand plunging into her chest.
Saber's cry of pain ripped through the air, her once-majestic face twisting in agony. Her skin began to ripple, dissolve, as if melting under the touch of an unholy fire.
Fujimaru, eyes wide with horror, could only watch from the fringes. He tried to speak, to call out to the boy, but words failed him, choked by the raw terror gripping his throat.
Suddenly, amidst the agony contorting Saber's features, a flicker of softness bloomed in her eyes. They locked onto Juro, and through the veil of despair, a whisper escaped her lips:
"...Shirou?"
__________________
Consciousness slammed back into Juro Takahashi like a tidal wave.
He sputtered, eyes snapping open, only to be greeted by the grotesque visage of a decaying corpse clad in once-gleaming armor. The sight ripped a shriek from his throat, sending him stumbling back, heels pounding against the rocky ground.
The spectral remains, bathed in an unsettling blue luminescence, seemed to ripple and dissolve before his eyes, fading like ink in water. Juro scrambled further back, his eyes darting across the desolate landscape until they landed on a sight that left him breathless.
There, perched on a hillock, stood Fujimaru, his familiar, worried face etched with a mixture of relief and fear.
Beside him, Fou danced on his shoulder, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. But it was the two strangers flanking them that truly confused Juro.
Their faces, etched with a mix of grim curiosity and barely-suppressed rage, were focused solely on him.
He felt like a mouse under the predatory gaze of hawks, the weight of unspoken accusation bearing down upon him. His mind reeled, searching for answers, for memories of what had transpired.
Suddenly, a cacophony of footsteps erupted from behind, snapping Juro out of his daze. He whirled around, heart hammering against his ribs, bracing for whatever lurked in the shadows.
What was this chaotic turn of events? It was like a twisted game where the rules were unknown and survival uncertain.
He watched, bewildered, as the cloaked figure stood protectively in front of him, its cloak billowing like a dark storm cloud.
"You're a servant, aren't you?!" The first assailant's voice was shrill with panic, pointing its dagger accusatorily.
Juro's gaze locked onto the 'servant.' It was a sight that defied reality, its presence an affront to logic. Every time he stole a glance, it seemed an illusion – a being that defied existence. Its appearance was grotesque, marked by a bone-like grin and eyeless face, crowned with a bizarre insignia of a
crescent moon encircling a cross.
Wincing, Juro staggered to his feet, clutching his throbbing arm.
The assailant, a blur of malicious intent, lunged forward, vanishing and reappearing in erratic bursts, kicking up whirlwinds of dirt. Its afterimage created a dizzying spectacle as it zigzagged toward the servant.
The servant, a statue of eerie calm, merely lifted a foot, poised with predatory patience.
Then, in a breathtaking moment, it brought its foot down with a force that captured the assailant. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, throwing Juro off balance.
The assailant, defying gravity, rebounded upward, only to be met by the implacable grip of the servant. It seized the assailant's face, dragging it mercilessly across the cement, leaving a trail of destruction.
Juro fell backward, his mind struggling to process the surreal violence unfolding before him.
The assailant, undeterred, unleashed a furious assault, kicking at the servant's stoic face. The kicks landed with no discernible effect.
With desperate agility, the assailant leaped back, hurling a barrage of daggers in a last-ditch effort. The daggers sliced through the air with a sound akin to gunfire, a deadly rain aimed at the unyielding servant.
Juro's heart raced as the fight unfolded with breathtaking intensity. The servant, an imposing figure at least eight feet tall, moved with a fluidity that belied its massive size, effortlessly sidestepping the relentless barrage of daggers hurled by the assailant.
Frustration etched onto the assailant's actions as more daggers were thrown, each missing their target. The servant, devoid of any facial expressions, exuded a calm and stoic presence, even amidst the chaos of battle.
With a sudden, graceful movement, the servant squatted, dodging the daggers with an almost relaxed poise. A burst of dust exploded from the impact, momentarily obscuring Juro's vision.
Regaining his footing, Juro watched in awe as the servant pursued the assailant with relentless determination. Despite their speed and agility, the assailant couldn't land a strike; the servant matched every move with an uncanny precision.
The devastation around them grew, with every powerful strike from the servant leaving craters and wreckage in its wake. Juro's gaze fixed on a nearby building, its side blown out, glass and debris scattering like rain. The servant had launched the assailant through it with a monstrous kick.
This spectacle was beyond anything Juro had experienced. His previous encounters, like taking down a couple of skeletons, paled in comparison to this godlike display of power. From confusion, his feelings morphed into a mix of awe and curiosity.
Juro snapped back to reality as the assailant hurtled towards him, Juro rolled away just in time, avoiding becoming collateral damage. The assailant crashed into another crater, its large arm broken, its form battered and bruised.
As Juro observed the figure, it suddenly turned its neck towards him with a menacing glare. "I'll just kill you, since you're the master!"
"!"
POP!
Juro blinked, feeling a wet splash across his face. Opening his eyes, he was met with the gruesome sight of the assailant's face, now obliterated by the servant's fist, still positioned threateningly close to his neck.
With a swift motion, the servant withdrew its fist, and the assailant's corpse collapsed, disintegrating into a spectral blue light. Unknown to Juro, in a fraction of a second, the assailant had attempted a lethal strike, only to be met with the brutal, unyielding force of the servant's counterattack.
Juro stood frozen, his wide eyes fixed on the fading remains of the assailant, his mind reeling from the terrifyingly close brush with death and the overwhelming power of the servant before him.
Juro's gaze slowly ascended to meet the towering figure above him. The assailant's reference to 'a servant' suggested this entity might be under his command. But was it really?
"You lift...?"
No response.
As the Servant's piercing gaze bore into him, Juro's watch emitted a sharp beep. Glancing at the display, he saw an incoming call. Swiping to answer, a large holographic image emerged from his watch.
Dr. Romani's familiar ponytail was instantly recognizable.
"Juro! I've finally reached you! You're alive! ...It's a miracle I got through," exclaimed Dr. Romani, his voice tinged with relief and urgency.
"I can't see your surroundings, however..."
"Doctor..." Juro inhaled deeply, his frustration mounting. "DO I EVEN HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING!?"
"Yes, yes, I'm aware! The only escape for you is defeating the anomaly."
Juro felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
"Doctor, can you at least explain what's happening? This place is burning, and there are these... creepy figures," Juro glanced uneasily at the Servant.
"The 'flaming thing' is because of the year you're in. You're in a Singularity, specifically during the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, 2004," explained Dr. Romani.
"Holy Grail War?" Juro asked, puzzled. Was this some kind of Monty Python reference?
Dr. Romani sighed. "It appears you're not familiar with the basics. The Holy Grail War is a battle among magi who summon Servants, like the one beside you, to fight for the Holy Grail."
"Magi?"
"..."
"It seems we need to go further back."
"Yes, magi. Practitioners of Magecraft, the artificial recreation of the supernatural, beyond the scope of science. It's likely your own abilities are a form of Magecraft, which is one of the reasons why you were selected for this mission. Forgive me, but did you not read the briefing?"
"Nope, I thought it was just some sort of security detail,"
"..."
"...You say that so casually..."
"Anyway, let's focus on the essentials. You're in a Holy Grail War that's gone awry. The Holy Grail is a potent mana source capable of fulfilling any wish."
"Mana... Like in magic energy?"
"It's Magecraft, not magic. And how did you guess that?"
"Played a lot of RPG games."
"Right. The 'creepy figure' you mentioned is a Servant,"
Juro glanced back at the servant's unnerving grin.
"Servants are essentially the most powerful familiars in magecraft. They are summoned echoes of humanity's history – heroes, legendary feats... personified concepts, legends..." Dr. Romani explained. "They're incredibly powerful, far beyond ordinary humans. Confronting one is generally suicidal."
"The summoners of these spirits, their Masters, use them in battle during the Grail War. Chaldea's mission is to employ these Servants as weapons while investigating singularities,"
"It is humanity's prerogative to use its legacy... Servants, though above humans, are tools at our disposal. And their existence in our world is anchored by the magical ability of their Master."
"In simple terms, if you kick the bucket, your servant follows."
Juro, seemingly unfazed by the torrent of information, asked, "So, are there categories for these Servants, or...?"
"Yes, there are seven basic classes: Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker. Each class reflects the legends and weapons of the original heroes."
"For instance, King Arthur would likely be a Saber, given Excalibur's fame."
"Ah, Do you know what class mine is? If it's even mine..."
"To find out if it is yours, check your right hand for a Command Seal. It's a mark that signifies your bond with a Servant."
Juro inspected his right hand, finding nothing. He turned his left hand over with a growing sense of dread.
His arm was coated in a black, viscous substance. It also looked malnourished, similar to what you would find in a year-old corpse.
The Command Seal on his hand resembled a convoluted nervous system, sprawling across his skin in a chaotic pattern.
His arm did not hurt, but just by looking at it, Juro felt that it would've been the most painful thing in the world.
Deciding to hide it for later, Juro responded.
"Yeah, I got this weird insignia on my left hand."
"Left?"
Dr. Romani's snowy hologram glitched violently as Juro showed him the insignia. "That is quite unusual for a Command Seal's location—they're typically on the weapon hand for ease of Servant direction in battle."
"Yeah well sorry to break tradition," Juro muttered. He wasn't even sure what constituted a weapon for his...unusual gifts. Probably his wit and winning personality at this rate.
"At least identify my monstrous penpal here so I know what I'm working with."
"Ah yes, please wait."
"..."
"Anything?"
"Let's see...the class reads as 'Malefactor'. Intriguing. But there's nothing on True Name, Noble Phantasms..." He trailed off as the hologram wavered, words cutting in and out.
"Is that a new one?"
"Yes, but wait, there's something else..."
"What?"
"It has no ma-"
"No what?"
The hologram began glitching further.
"N-o TIme to Sppeaak, Findd FujimARU, and S-OLVE th Si ngu lar i y"
Juro grimaced trying to interpret the garbled message before the feed died completely, leaving him staring down his stoic Servant.
The transmission ended.
Juro put away the watch as he stared at the servant.
"Alright... Malefactor... Can I call you Malefactor?"
Malefactor did not respond.
"...I'll take that as a yes."
"Nice chat, Malefactor," he ventured hesitantly. No response as expected. Clearly this partnership would involve some adjustment. With a sigh, he gestured for the towering spirit to follow.
He managed to make out Romani's garbled speech, so he knew he had to meet up with Fujimaru, who had somehow made it here.
So he was alive.
His goal was to find Fujimaru, find the catalyst, and destroy it.
Briefly Juro wondered if his old life had simply been a dream. But the lingering sting of his bloodied arm anchored him against hopelessness. Moving forward was his best option...wherever the path led.
Malefactor followed behind, its footsteps echoing loudly.
The only problem, however, was...
Where was Fujimaru?
_______________________
Trudging down deserted streets illuminated by endless flames, Juro stifled another yawn. The apocalyptic scene no longer startled, simply the new backdrop to his surreal reality now. Occasional shambling skeletons offered momentary excitement before being effortlessly crushed by his silent guard.
Bored, Juro's thoughts wandered to scrutinizing Malefactor yet again as they walked. Dead bone molded into a twisted mirror of life, fused with an inky black metallic limb. He pondered the Servant's material - it looked carved but felt exponentially denser, gravity itself warped in proximity. Malefactor's aura radiated power restrained by choice alone.
What heroic spirit deemed him worthy of such fearsome protection? Juro shoved the implication of just how dire the bigger picture must be from his mind. Compartmentalizing helped brace against creeping despair.
Wry humor also worked. "Strong silent type I see. Surprised your steps don't shatter concrete, honestly." No reaction. Tough crowd indeed. Juro sighed, gaze lifting skyward.
Curling flames painted the atmosphere vivid amber, black fumes diffusing the cape of countless stars that should have greeted him. It was jarring realizing he no longer recognized constellations he'd trusted as immortal just this morning. Did anything he valued still persist beyond this nightmare?
Honestly, he would not have forseen this entire thing happening. One second he was in a coffee shop, staring at an old person, and now he was in a race to save humanity.
While he had many chances to run away, he chose to stay.
Even though he did not know what he was signing up for, he still chose to stay.
Even though his life was on the line, he still chose to stay.
He had signed up for this, and he would not abandon such an important mission.
Besides, what else would he do at home?
He still had friends, family, but they were nothing when it came to the whole of humanity.
The fact he had left on a bitter note left a taste in his mouth, however.
Juro continued walking.
His legs were starting to give up.
Despite living in San Francisco, Juro's legs were starting to get tired. He had a normal amount of stamina, but nothing special.
Abruptly, a thunderous explosion ripped through the air, snapping Juro's focus back to the harsh reality. His head whipped towards the sound, but before he could process it, another blast erupted.
It hit with the force of a wrecking ball, hurling him through the air like a ragdoll. He collided with a wall, the impact snatching his consciousness into darkness.
In the ensuing chaos, Malefactor was a beacon of calm ferocity. Its head locked onto a distant building where a figure stood, a formidable silhouette against the backdrop of destruction, a mountain with a large dark beam towering over the entire city.
An Archer.
10 miles.
24 minutes to reach him.
Malefactor further observed the servant.
The Archer's attire was battle-ready, a sleek, sleeveless suit with stark white streaks cutting across the darkness, his muscles taut under the fabric. His choice of weapon was unorthodox yet deadly – swords flung with lethal precision instead of arrows.
Crack!
The air crackled as another sword hurtled towards Juro.
In a flash, Malefactor's fist met the projectile, shattering it in mid-air.
The Archer, momentarily taken aback by this display of raw power, hesitated, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and apprehension.
Malefactor placed its foot in the ground similar to the likes of a sumo wrestler as it began punching in place.
Malefactor's movements became a blur, fists pounding the air with increasing ferocity.
Each strike was faster, harder, the air around its fist warping with the building pressure and heat. Within moments, a swirling mass of plasma formed, pulsating with raw, destructive energy.
The Archer, realizing the imminent threat, scrambled to launch another attack.
But it was futile.
With a deafening roar, Malefactor propelled the plasma ball forward. It tore through the night, a searing comet of light and heat, colliding with the Archer's sword and erupting into a cataclysmic explosion.
Malefactor observed.
No wasted movements marred its predatory grace. It was a patient hunter, content to watch its prey struggle before delivering the final, decisive blow.
This 'servant', if that was even an appropriate term, had chosen the Archer as its quarry. Like a lion assessing a wounded gazelle, Malefactor studied the Archer, its skeletal head tilted in silent contemplation.
A flicker in the smoke revealed the valiant, albeit foolhardy, stance of the corrupted hero. Even with darkness clinging to him like a shroud, the Archer's defiance burned strong.
Noble? Perhaps.
A futile last stand?
Undoubtedly.
With a predatory grace that belied its hulking form, Malefactor lumbered towards an abandoned van.
Without a sound, it lifted the vehicle overhead, transforming it into a battering ram.
The air hissed as the metal carcass sailed through the air, smashing into the building upon which the Archer stood. Dust exploded, raining down in a silent curtain.
With the immediate threat neutralized, securing the kill became the priority. Malefactor scooped up Juro, the unconscious mage dangling limply over its shoulder, and began a morbid ballet across the cityscape.
Each colossal leap carried them closer to their quarry, closer to the inevitable conclusion.
Ten minutes.
That's all it took for Malefactor to traverse the labyrinthine ruins, Juro's unconscious form a silent witness to its monstrous grace. Placing Juro gently down, Malefactor began sifting through the rubble, its movements methodical and deliberate.
Suddenly, a glint of obsidian steel flashed from the smoke. The Archer, clad in a shroud of darkness, materialized like a phantom, twin blades of blackened silver resembling the ying and yang held high.
In a heartbeat, Malefactor reacted, the two titans clashing in a whirlwind of steel and bone. The ground trembled under their feet, debris showering around them like confetti in a macabre carnival.
Despite his mastery of the bow, the Archer faced now proved just as adept with a pair of swords.
Every clash sent sparks flying, the metallic clang an eerie song in the ruined city. While dodging a hail of blades, Malefactor focused on his opponent.
Sun-kissed skin stretched taut over lean muscle, framed by short, wind-whipped white hair. Brown eyes, though, held a glint that wasn't natural.
The telltale mark of a magus who'd danced with power too many times, their very essence etched by its echoes.
Malefactor, with a feint worthy of a master swordsman, dropped to one knee, seemingly stunned. But the move was a mere illusion, a blur of dark flesh as he lashed out with a roundhouse kick.
The Archer, though skilled, barely managed to block the blow, swords screeching against bone and metal. The force sent him skidding back, his eyes wide with a dawning comprehension.
"No mana..." he rasped, the first words spoken since their brutal dance began. "None at all..."
Amazement colored his voice, disbelief that bordered on fear. Malefactor, however, remained silent.
He knew the dangers of overreliance on mana, a lesson etched in the marrow of his ancient being. Power unchecked, a double-edged blade that could just as easily devour the wielder as its foes.
The wind whipped through the ruined streets, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the echo of clashing steel.
The Archer, still wary, brandished his blades anew.
Malefactor mirrored the gesture, not with weapons, but with fists hardened into bone-like knuckles.
The Archer lunged, a desperate viper striking from the shadows. Malefactor ducked, his skull brushing the blade's edge by a hair's breadth.
With a brutal snap, his fist arced up, connecting with the Archer's jaw with a sickening crunch. The force sent the corrupted hero reeling, a crimson fountain erupting from his shattered lips.
Malefactor knew the victory was hollow.
Malefactor knew the reason he was still dragging out the fight.
Malefactor enjoyed it.
It was like a cat playing with a mouse.
The blow landed only because the Archer was already dancing on the precipice of collapse, the plasma burn from earlier festering like a malevolent sun in his abdomen.
His chest mirrored the wound, a gaping maw screaming of their shared agony.
But Malefactor, a creature forged in the crucible of ancient battles, knew to press the advantage. As the Archer's vision swam, a blur of bone and muscle descended upon him.
Each strike, precise and brutal, landed on a pressure point, a tender joint, exploiting the human body's delicate tapestry. Twenty-four blows in all, a macabre aria played on flesh and bone.
Yet, the corrupted servant still stood. Bloodied, broken, but defiant. A spark of dark fire glinted in his eyes, a reflection of the monstrous entity that clung to him, a parasite whispering promises of power. In his pain, the Archer saw not just Malefactor's savagery, but a darkness that dwarfed his own,
an abyss that swallowed even the corrupted light of a fallen hero.
He raised his blades, the steel shaking in his trembling hands. Malefactor launched himself forward, a dark omen against the bruised sky.
...I am the bone of my sword..."
"Steel is my-"
SCHLK!
Archer's eyes widened.
Malefactor's large fist was inside the heart of the spirit.
Blood poured down the strike, staining the ground.
Archer vomited up a torrent of blood at Malefactor's 'face'.
With a grotesque noise, Malefactor removed his fist, prompting the Archer to fall down to the ground.
Archer's gaze, fading from defiance to resignation, met the vacant abyss where Malefactor's face should have been. It was like staring into the void itself, reflecting his own shattered dreams.
In its skeletal hand, the crimson pulse of the hero's heart mocked him, a trophy in this macabre dance of destruction.
The weight of his choices, the tainted Grail War's twisted legacy, pressed down on Emiya like a shroud.
Every beat of his failing heart echoed the screams of a city lost, the consequences of unchecked ambitions. A flicker of hope, perhaps for redemption, perhaps for oblivion, dared to stir within him.
"Maybe..." his voice raspy, a threadbare whisper carried by the wind, "Maybe..."
Malefactors' foot stomped on the head of the Archer, splashing it across the ground.
It did not care.
Another maggot crushed.
The body of the Archer began to disintegrate.
Malefactor placed the heart of the servant above its head.
With a snap, Its jaw opened wider.
The "heart' of the Archer was dropped into the mouth of Malefactor.
Like a machine closing, Malefactor's jaw shut.
Malefactor tended to consume others. By consuming, it could keep itself going. It did not operate on traditional mana, rather by consuming, it converted the mana into physical energy.
Malefactor hoisted up Juro once again, leaping out of the rubble.
It began making its way towards the large mountain.
_____________________________________________________________________
Ritsuka Fujimaru found himself alongside a peculiar assembly. His eyes briefly laid on a Saber servant.
Fujimaru's journey to this point was nothing short of extraordinary. Transported to this singularity with the enigmatic creature Fou and a young girl, he found himself in a world teetering on the brink.
"Senpai! Get behind me!" The voice cut through the tension. It was a girl with short purple hair.
Mash Kyrielight.
Her youthful features were contrasting her battle-hardened demeanor. Clad in revealing armor, her most striking feature was the cross shaped shield she wielded, a symbol of both protection and strength.
Their meeting was not by chance. Fujimaru had encountered Mash earlier in Chaldea, learning of her unique status as a Demi-servant. They had been thrust into this chaotic realm following an explosion in Chaldea's main room.
"That sword..." A voice rang out, sharp and observant.
Olga Marie Animusphere, the director of Chaldea, stood there, her presence commanding despite the chaos.
A member of the prestigious Animusphere family, she, too, had been unwillingly brought to this singularity.
Her eyes fixated on the legendary Excalibur, the fabled sword of King Arthur, recognition dawning on her face.
Accompanying them was a Caster servant.
With blue hair and a traditional Celtic outfit, he emanated an aura of ancient knowledge. This servant, already present before the singularity's full emergence, had formed a bond with Fujimaru, forging a contract that tied their fates together.
"King Arthur..?"
This figure, cloaked in twisted metal and wielding a corrupted Excalibur, bore no resemblance to the noble king of legend.
Instead, a chilling crimson marred her black armor, and a visor replaced where eyes should be. The air itself crackled with malevolent energy, a stark contrast to Mash's unwavering stance beside him.
"That Noble Phantasm..." the dark knight scoffed, eyes hidden behind the visor. "Just for show, I see?"
Mash tensed, the metallic clang of her shield held high.
Saber raised her sword.
"This shield will prove whether it protects or not!"
A dark energy slash erupted from Excalibur, aiming for Mash. She raised her shield, but the impact sent them both sprawling. Pain lanced through
Fujimaru's arm, and he winced, seeing Mash struggle to rise.
Frustration gnawed at him. His magical reserves were pathetic, barely enough to sustain Mash let alone fuel her Noble Phantasm. He was useless, a burden more than an asset.
Suddenly, his watch buzzed. "Fujimaru!" Romani's voice crackled through the speaker. "Use your Command Spell on Mash!"
"Command Spell?" Confusion warred with desperation in his mind.
"A surge of magical energy, bound by your contract," Romani explained. "It could provide the necessary amount of Magic Energy for Mash to deploy
her Noble Phantasm."
Fujimaru clenched his fist, picturing the energy flowing from him to Mash, fueling her defense.
His seal began glowing a crimson red.
'Energy to Mash, Energy to Mash...'
Olga's voice cut through the air, laced with icy alarm.
"Don't! You're no mage! You'll fry your circuits!"
'Energy to mash, Energy to mash...'
A feeling of sudden pain struck Fujimaru, causing him to fall over.
"Gh!"
"You ran too much magic through your circuits! You're no mage! You aren't even a magecraft caster! You're just a normal person! Don't do that!"
"Don't push yourself! Damaging your magic circuits would be dire for you!"
Fujimaru's grasp on the dirt tightened.
Would he just sit there and watch?
"It may even threaten your-"
No.
"I DON'T CARE!!"
"It'd be far more painful if I just sat there, unable to do anything!"
"Does being 'normal' mean being helpless?! If I'm not smart like you and the director⸺ If I'm not strong, like these servants⸺ Should I just lie back and quiver in fear?!"
Fujimaru did not want to be stuck in that gray area of nothing.
He did not want to be useless.
"Being told 'it's too dangerous' for me, that's the same as giving up!" he roared, the injustice burning in his chest. "If I never try, I'll never know what I'm capable of! I won't be a burden anymore!"
Mash met his gaze, her eyes soft.
"⸺ Why push yourself like this?"
"This⸺ this isn't about proving anything," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's about not letting fear paralyze me. It's about taking a stand, even if it's just a small one!"
"It's really nothing for me, so don't give me that look, okay?"
He grasped her hand, his resolve hardening. A surge of magic energy began flowing from Fujimaru to Mash, a silent vow of shared determination.
Suddenly, Saber materialized before them, her blade gleaming with deadly intent. "Strutting your youthful folly in the midst of battle? How foolish."
Her blade swooped down, aiming to cleave them in two. But in a flash, Caster materialized, his cane deflecting the blow with a resounding clang.
"Hold your horses, King of knights," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Let the young lion roar."
With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a rune, its arcane energy erupting in a blinding explosion. The shockwave sent Saber reeling backward, momentarily stunned.
The air crackled with a different kind of energy now – Saber's fury. Ignoring the ringing in her ears from Caster's explosion, she planted her heel with a force that shook the floor, the visor of her helmet shattering in the process. Her once noble blade pulsed with a dark aura, a twisted echo of its heroic past.
"Hammer of the Vile King," she growled, her voice echoing through the crumbling chamber. "The sword of promised victory..."
Saber swung the monstrous weapon in a colossal arc, the force of it splitting the stone ceiling above. Debris rained down in a chaotic avalanche, aimed directly at Fujimaru, Mash, and Caster. The blow was monstrous, the very air groaning under its weight.
Mash's blood ran cold as she glimpsed the destructive wave of energy surging towards them. It thrummed with a potent darkness, its chaotic aura clawing at the edges of reality, threatening to devour everything in its path. Her shield, usually an unwavering bulwark, felt insignificant against this monstrous tide.
"I can't hold—it!"
She choked, the ground beneath her feet groaning in protest as the attack pushed her back, inch by agonizing inch.
Just as despair threatened to engulf her, a warm hand clasped hers. A surge of raw power coursed through their link, Fujimaru's unwavering command resonating within her very bones. His spirit, once flickering ember, had erupted into a blazing inferno, his fear transmuted into an unyielding resolve.
"Mash!"
"Let's block this, come on!"
The command along with the command seal, fueled by his newfound strength, echoed within Mash. A spark of defiance ignited in her eyes, her face hardening with newfound determination. The tremor in her grip vanished, replaced by an ironclad resolve.
"Right!" she bellowed, the fear melting away as the sheer force of Fujimaru's conviction filled her. Her shield, once faltering, became an immovable monolith, the runes etched upon it glowing with newfound fervor.
As the world threatened to collapse under the onslaught of dark energy, a tremor of change pulsed through Mash. Fujimaru's unwavering belief sparked a dormant power within her, a power that had waited patiently throughout their journey.
A surge of light erupted from the heart of her shield, pushing back against the encroaching darkness.
A Noble Phantasm.
The strongest attack of any servant.
The most mysterious part of their existence existing in only stories and myths.
Fueled by the imagination of humanity.
The light coalesced, taking form with each agonizing moment. Runes flickered to life, ancient sigils whispering forgotten promises.
"LORD...!"
"CHALDEAS!!"
The air crackled with a primordial energy, and then, with a thunderous roar, Lord Chaldeas arose.
Towering above them, the shield had transcended its mundane form. It was now a magnificent fortress of swirling blue energy, inscribed with arcane symbols that pulsed with the rhythm of creation itself. It was a bastion of hope, a defiance against the encroaching oblivion.
Mash, standing at the heart of this magnificent construct, felt her own being expand, her connection to Chaldeas deepening.
She wasn't just a shield-bearer anymore; she was the embodiment of humanity's resilience, the living testament to their potential.
The radiant blast from Excalibur Morgan erupted from Saber's blade, a torrent of golden light aimed at the shield of Lord Chaldeas.
But instead of cleaving through, it met an unforeseen resistance. Like a wave crashing against an unyielding cliff, the light shattered around the shield, dispersing into harmless motes that shimmered and faded.
Saber's face hardened, her disbelief etched into her features. "Impossible," she rasped, her voice cracking with shock. "My power... can it truly be fading?"
But a different possibility, more chilling than decline, crept into her mind. "No," she murmured, her gaze hardening.
"It has been bested."
A rustle behind her drew her attention, and she swung around, blade held high. Her eyes met the unflinching gaze of a young master. His black hair was matted with sweat, and his face bore the grim determination of a warrior tested beyond his limits.
But what truly stole her breath was his left arm. Pallid and skeletal, it clung to his body like a macabre trophy, a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his Command Seals, pulsing like vines that wrapped around his dead flesh.
Wasting no time again, Saber began to prepare a strike of energy.
However, before she could swing Caliburn Morgan again, a searing explosion erupted at her back, the force sending her staggering forward, Excalibur's shimmering light dissipating. She whirled around, searching for the attacker, and found the boy bearing down on her like a phantom, eyes blazing with a sinister gleam.
He lunged, a blur of obsidian hair and desperate fury. Her instincts roared, and she whipped up her blade, aiming for a decisive blow.
But with an agility that defied his gaunt frame, the boy rolled under the swing, disappearing from sight for a heartbeat.
The impossible.
A human, unaugmented, had dodged a Servant's attack.
Then, in a flash, The boy was upon her again, his skeletal hand plunging into her chest.
Saber's cry of pain ripped through the air, her once-majestic face twisting in agony. Her skin began to ripple, dissolve, as if melting under the touch of an unholy fire.
Fujimaru, eyes wide with horror, could only watch from the fringes. He tried to speak, to call out to the boy, but words failed him, choked by the raw terror gripping his throat.
Suddenly, amidst the agony contorting Saber's features, a flicker of softness bloomed in her eyes. They locked onto Juro, and through the veil of despair, a whisper escaped her lips:
"...Shirou?"
__________________
Consciousness slammed back into Juro Takahashi like a tidal wave.
He sputtered, eyes snapping open, only to be greeted by the grotesque visage of a decaying corpse clad in once-gleaming armor. The sight ripped a shriek from his throat, sending him stumbling back, heels pounding against the rocky ground.
The spectral remains, bathed in an unsettling blue luminescence, seemed to ripple and dissolve before his eyes, fading like ink in water. Juro scrambled further back, his eyes darting across the desolate landscape until they landed on a sight that left him breathless.
There, perched on a hillock, stood Fujimaru, his familiar, worried face etched with a mixture of relief and fear.
Beside him, Fou danced on his shoulder, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. But it was the two strangers flanking them that truly confused Juro.
Their faces, etched with a mix of grim curiosity and barely-suppressed rage, were focused solely on him.
He felt like a mouse under the predatory gaze of hawks, the weight of unspoken accusation bearing down upon him. His mind reeled, searching for answers, for memories of what had transpired.
Suddenly, a cacophony of footsteps erupted from behind, snapping Juro out of his daze. He whirled around, heart hammering against his ribs, bracing for whatever lurked in the shadows.
Singularity F: END
Juro's heart pounded against his ribs as he stared at the imposing figure before him. The tall man with shaggy brown hair and a wide-brimmed hat resembled a leprechaun, but the scowl etched on his face radiated pure menace. Something about him sent shivers down Juro's spine, urging him to retreat.
"Lev...!" a woman's voice cried, laced with anguish and relief. A flash of white hair emerged from behind a nearby hill, the figure running towards the man with surprising speed. Could this be the Lev Lainur Romani had mentioned?
Tears streamed down the woman's face as she embraced the man, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank God you're safe! I wouldn't know how to keep Chaldea running without you!"
Lev, however, remained impassive, his response devoid of warmth despite her concern. "Olga, you've been through a lot. It's good to see you well."
Olga clung to him, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I thought it was all over! But now, we'll find a way, right? We always do!"
A flicker of a smile seemed to play on Lev's lips. "Indeed. We always find a way. We make a good team, don't we?"
But before Juro could ponder this further, Lev's expression shifted dramatically. His calm demeanor evaporated, replaced by a mask of raw, unbridled fury.
"But how," he roared, his voice echoing through the cavern, "are you still alive?!"
Juro instinctively took a step forward, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. He couldn't stand to see this distraught woman bullied like that.
He did not know her, but could not accept this.
Before he could react, another figure materialized, his imposing form blocking Juro's path. It was Malefactor, his expression unreadable.
Olga stood frozen, bewildered by the sudden shift in Lev's demeanor. The man she knew, the one she relied on, was now a stranger consumed by rage.
Lev took a deep breath, seemingly trying to regain control. "NOT ONE OF YOU!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "NOT ONE OF YOU FOLLOWED MY ORDERS! YOU ARE ALL USELESS SCUM!"
He launched into a tirade, his accusations flying like poisoned darts.
"THE 48TH AND 49TH MASTER CANDIDATES, WHO I OVERLOOKED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY DID NOT KNOW NOTHING!!"
His words were laced with such venom that they hung heavy in the air, chilling everyone to the bone.
"MASH KYRIELIGHT!!! YOU BECAME A DEMI SERVANT!! YOU DID NOT LISTEN TO MY ORDERS AND ENDED UP SURVIVING, YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOT!!!"
"ROMANI ARCHAMAN!! I KNOW YOU ARE LISTENING! ALL OF THESE UNEXPECTED EVENTS, WITH YOU GUIDING THEM, REALLY PISSES ME OFF!!"
Finally, he turned his ire on Malefactor.
"And you, abomination! You shouldn't even exist!"
Then, his gaze fell on Olga, and his fury seemed to intensify. "THE THING THAT SCREWS ME OVER THE MOST IS THE GIRL WHO HAS NOT EVEN BEEN MADE AWARE OF HER DEATH YET! THE MISERABLE, PATHETIC WASTE, KNOWN AS OLGA MARIE ANIMUSPHERE!!"
Olga's face drained of color. The man she trusted, the one she confided in, was now calling her dead?
Juro's mind reeled, trying to grasp the implications.
Mash and Fujimaru exchanged horrified glances, their expressions mirroring his own. Even Malefactor remained impassive, a silent enigma amidst the storm.
Only a single, confused word escaped Olga's lips: "Huh?"
Lev, his face now eerily calm, offered a chilling smile. "Why are you so slow, Olga? Has your brain been destroyed with the rest of your body? It's a wonder you ever became Director, even a failed one."
His tone was conversational, almost nonchalant, as if he hadn't just unleashed a torrent of accusations and revealed a horrifying truth.
"But that's irrelevant now," he continued, his voice devoid of empathy. "The explosion beneath you was my doing. Your body is long gone. All that remains is a fragment of your consciousness."
"What... what are you saying, Lev?"
"Did you forget how Rayshifting works, you idiot?" Lev's voice dripped with disdain. "It separates your soul from your body, transferring it to another time and space. But your body... well, it wasn't compatible."
The weight of his words crashed down on them. The chilling realization dawned on everyone: Olga was dead.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, reflecting the flickering light of the cavern. Her voice, shaky yet resolute, broke the silence. "That... that can't be true... I, I..."
Lev's smile twisted, sadistic and cold. "That's precisely why you can't return to Chaldea."
As Olga stumbled back in denial, his voice boomed over hers. "The moment you set foot within Chaldea..."
"You're wrong!" she cried, her voice gaining strength.
"Since you lack a physical form..."
"You're wrong!"
Lev's voice thundered, cutting her off. "Your consciousness will dissipate like smoke! Dissolve into nothingness!"
"...But!"
"But I care for you too much, Marie!"
With a snap of his fingers, a swirling portal materialized, Chaldeas burning crimson at its heart. Its ominous glow illuminated the cavern, casting eerie shadows on their faces.
"Since you dedicated your life to Chaldea," he continued, his smile widening, "let me show you the pathetic state it's in!"
Olga stared at the portal, her breath catching in her throat. "Chaldeas... it's pure red..."
"That can't be real..! That's a fake image, right...?"
"Right..?"
"Don't lie to yourself," Lev's voice echoed. "That's no illusion! I've ripped open spacetime itself to show you the truth!"
The portal pulsated with an ominous glow, devoid of the blue hues that signified humanity's continued existence. It was a fiery crimson, a chilling reflection of a future devoid of life.
"All that remains is a blazing inferno!" Lev's voice resonated, filled with manic glee. "Your beloved humanity is gone! Extinct!"
He turned to Olga, his eyes blazing with cruel amusement. "Isn't this something to celebrate, Marie? This is all your doing! Your failure! You've singlehandedly destroyed the Human race!"
Olga's voice, trembling with anguish, rose in defiance.
"Lev! Stop! This isn't my fault! I'm not dead! I didn't fail!"
"Enough!" Lev's voice cracked like ice. He flicked his finger, and Olga's body lifted from the ground, suspended in mid-air by an invisible force.
Juro, unable to bear witness to this anymore, roared, "Malefactor! Move!"
But the towering spirit remained motionless, his enigmatic silence deafening.
Juro tried to bypass him, but Malefactor shifted, his form blocking his path. He glanced at Mash and Fujimaru, hoping to see a flicker of resistance, but they too stood frozen, their expressions betraying a mix of fear and disbelief. It was as if the very world itself conspired against him.
Olga drifted higher, her tears glistening in the red light. Lev's voice, cold and detached, echoed through the cavern. "Until your very last breath, you remain a worthless piece of garbage."
Tears streamed down Olga's face, mirroring the crimson glow surrounding her. She was slowly drawn towards the portal, towards Chaldeas, towards oblivion.
"I will grant you the mercy of dying by the flames of your beloved creation," Lev declared, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Chaldeas, a swirling vortex of information, existed in a different dimension. But just like a black hole, it could consume and disintegrate anything on a molecular level. A cruel death, even for someone like Lev.
But Lev Lainur relished in cruelty.
"WELCOME YOUR PAINFUL DEATH!!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "RELISH THE FEW MOMENTS OF LIFE YOU HAVE BEFORE YOU COME FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH!!"
Olga, tears streaming down her face, struggled against the invisible force pulling her towards the pulsating red maw of the portal. "I don't want to die!" she cried out, her voice cracking with fear and desperation.
"I've never been praised my entire life!" she choked out, the words tumbling from her lips in a torrent of raw emotion. "All I ever wanted was a little recognition... just someone to tell me I was doing a good job..."
Lev's chilling laughter cut her short.
"SHUT UP!" he roared, his face contorted in a mask of rage.
Juro, fueled by a surge of primal protectiveness, unleashed a torrent of punches against Malefactor. His fists pounded against the towering spirit's unyielding form, his desperate pleas echoing through the cavern.
"MALEFACTOR! MOVE! MOVE, MOVE MOVE! MOVE YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIIIIT!!!!!"
Olga's screams pierced the air, her pleas for help turning into a desperate wail. "Help me!! Someone save me!! Please!!"
Juro felt a primal scream rise within him, battling against the fear that threatened to paralyze him.
This wasn't a movie; there would be no last-minute hero emerging from the shadows.
"WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!" Olga cried out, her voice raw and anguished. "I worked so hard to not end up like this, but it still happened! For my father's desire, for humanity, I tried my best!!"
Juro's own voice joined hers in a desperate roar, "STOP IT!!" He threw his weight against Malefactor, trying to push past, to reach Olga before it was too late.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!" Olga's final scream resonated with a heartbreaking finality. The girl who had dedicated her life to protecting others, who had strived for recognition, was about to face the ultimate oblivion - a cruel twist of fate for someone who craved nothing more than a simple "well done."
Fate, indeed, could be cruel.
But there was no one to stop it,
As Olga's scream transformed into a bloodcurdling shriek upon contact with the Chaldeas, silence descended upon Juro. He was left with the haunting echo of a life extinguished, an emptiness no action could fill.
He could do nothing but listen to the screams of a young girl meeting a horrible end.
Suddenly, Lev's smug smirk ignited a fresh wave of fury within Juro.
The urge to pummel sense into the man, to make him pay for Olga's suffering, was almost overwhelming.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Juro roared, his voice trembling with rage. "ARE YOU INSANE?!"
Lev's laughter was chilling, devoid of humor. "Lower life form," he sneered, "your existence is a mere blip compared to my purpose."
Juro longed to strike him down, to erase the cruel amusement from his face. But Lev's next words sent a jolt of terror through him.
"Can you hear me, Doctor Romani? Can you hear the screams of your precious director?" Lev's voice boomed, echoing off the cavern walls. "Chaldea is WORTHLESS now! Blind to the future, cut off from the world. Your pawns... have they returned?"
His maniacal laughter sent shivers down Juro's spine. "Ruin is upon you! Not from war, aliens, or evolution, but from your own impotence! Humanity, powerless and meaningless, burns!"
Lev's declaration hung heavy in the air. Ruin? Did he mean... the end? Humanity wiped out?
Suddenly, the cavern trembled as rocks rained down from the ceiling.
"This," Lev declared, his voice filled with twisted satisfaction, "is humanity denied its future! Not by outsiders, but by its own insignificance! Less than trash, they burn in agony!"
"I am Lev Lainur Flauros!" his voice boomed, echoing with power. "The architect of humanity's destruction since 2015!"
"With that, I bid you all farewell, 49th, 48th, Mash, and... you."
________________
Juro bolted upright in his bed, the lingering echoes of screams and fire clawing at his sanity.
Was it all a dream? The Servants, the Grail War - mere phantoms of imagination? He examined his hand, expecting the Command Seal that had branded him, but found only smooth, healthy skin. A flicker of hope chased away the oppressive dread.
But the memory clung to him, vivid and horrifying. The screams, the stench of burning flesh, the sight of Olga's lifeless eyes haunted him. Juro was built to weather storms, but this... this was different. The emotional earthquake would hit later, tenfold worse.
He walked towards the door, the familiar white walls and wood offering a semblance of normalcy. Outside, the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed under the morning sun, its golden glow a balm to his scorched soul. Dust motes danced in the light, a stark contrast to the inferno he'd escaped.
Descending the stairs, he found the house eerily quiet. He felt an absurd urge to open the café, to pretend nothing had happened. However, as he reached for the doorknob, it creaked open, revealing Luca.
"Luca?" Juro's voice cracked with disbelief.
"Hey, man," Luca offered, his usual confidence laced with concern. "Just wanted to say I'm..."
"Why are you backing away, Juro?"
"Y-You're not...."
"Why are you backing away, Juro?!"
Juro began to back away even faster.
"WHY ARE YOU BACKING AWAY, JUUUUUROOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Panic surged through Juro. He stumbled back, tripping over his own feet, his stomach slamming against a table. Pain radiated from his side, but it was nothing compared to the terror gripping him. The "Luca" was a shambling corpse, its flesh aflame, advancing with horrifying malice.
Juro tried to scramble away, but his eyes widened in a scream.
He tried to get up, but he came to a horrifying realization.
He did not trip, His leg was gone, ripped off at the knee by another flaming monstrosity. The world dissolved into a vortex of agony as the fiery figures devoured him, their screams blending with his own into a symphony of despair.
This was the incineration of humanity. Not a dream, but a living nightmare.
__________________________
Juro jolted awake, the white ceiling replacing fiery nightmares. A quick pinch confirmed reality - a reality where he was inexplicably shirtless. Throwing on his uniform, he surveyed the eerily quiet Chaldea.
No blaring alarms, no frantic staff... just the unsettling feeling of pants missing from the apocalypse.
Venturing out, he found the pristine white hallways mocking the chaos of his dreams. "Where's the drama?" he muttered, echoing off the deserted corridors. His footsteps, the only sound, seemed to mock him with their rhythm.
Suddenly, chatter interrupted the oppressive silence. Juro followed it to a pair of doors labeled "Control Room." Weren't these blasted to smithereens moments ago? He peeked in, expecting fiery wreckage, but found a bizarre tableau.
The room bore the scars of the "explosion" - blackened walls and a few strategically placed scorch marks - but the mood was decidedly chill. Staff huddled around kotatsus and heaters, sipping tea and playing cards. Romani, ever the charmer, lounged on a futon, fanning himself with a palm frond.
"Ah, Juro! Welcome back to the land of the (mostly) living!" Romani boomed, his voice suspiciously chipper.
Juro, speechless, gaped at a woman with brown hair and an outfit that screamed "cosplay gone rogue."
Now that Juro got a good look at her she looked like the Mona-
Fou chose this moment to launch himself onto Juro's head with a triumphant "POFF!" Juro yelped, flailing like a startled cat.
"Seriously, Fou? How do you not get prickled by my hair?!"
The staff, previously engrossed in their games, now stared at him with a mix of amusement and pity. Romani chuckled.
"Emergency protocol, my dear Juro! Stress relief after near-annihilation is key. Though," he leaned in conspiratorially, "the real reason is the heating's broken."
"Right, because a kotatsu marathon fixes faulty thermostats,"
"Where's Fujimaru, by the way?" Juro asked, eyeing the relaxed staff with suspicion.
"Right here." A voice materialized behind him, sending a jolt through Juro's system. He spun around, his eyes resting on the familiar blue eyes and black hair.
"Seriously, Fujimaru? Is sneaking up on me part of your new summoning ritual?" Juro grumbled, trying to catch his breath.
Beside Fujimaru stood the girl from before, her purple hair framing sharp, curious eyes. Juro had a million questions brewing, but one, particularly pressing, managed to bubble to the surface.
"Is that... natural?"
Fujimaru and Romani blinked in unison, their expressions somewhere between amusement and 'Did he just skip basic human interaction skills?'
Juro's cheeks flushed crimson.
"Heh, sorry," he stammered, extending a hand sheepishly. "Juro Takahashi, at your service."
Mash met his handshake with a gentle smile. "Mash Kyrielight," she replied, her voice calm and melodic. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Senpai."
Juro froze, eyebrows shooting up. "Senpai? Is this like... a school thing?"
Fujimaru chuckled, scratching his head. "Don't sweat it, man. Mash calls everyone Senpai. Even people younger than her, wouldn't you believe it?"
Juro gaped, picturing a girl with long purple hair calling him, "Senpai." The mental image was both hilarious and slightly disturbing. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
"Moving aside," Romani stood up.
"Congratulations on surviving the Fuyuki Singularity, Mash, Fujimaru-kun, Juro. While forced to shoulder most of the burden, you eliminated the threat and returned... physically unscathed, at least."
He paused, his gaze softening. "I respect your hard work and dedication wholeheartedly."
Juro looked down, guilt gnawing at him.
"...But so many died..."
Memories of screams and pleas echoed in his mind.
He forced them down.
He pushed them into a box and closed it.
Romani, sensing his turmoil, spoke gently, "You're right. You know about Lev's plan, but 70% of Chaldea's staff… perished in his explosion."
Juro clenched his fists tighter, anger boiling alongside grief.
He had seen a man that had killed so many people earlier. There was no remorse involved. He simply laughed as he took human lives like grapes from a vine.
The undescribably face of evil that relished in the taking of lives.
Juro felt a responsibility to defeat him.
"All Master candidates survived," Romani continued, "but except for you two, they're in critical condition."
Fujimaru scratched his head. "Wow, the situation is rough."
"Yes," Romani interrupted, his voice firm, "Lev caused this, but we will carry the torch of those lost, to protect humanity."
Fujimaru, sensing the gravity, cut him off, "Wait, do you mean-"
"No," Romani sighed, "Lev, despite his methods, might be right. Humanity's destruction is fixed."
Juro's eyes widened.
Was everything truly lost?
"The light of civilization is still gone after 2016," Romani confirmed, extinguishing any remaining hope.
Juro, still skeptical, asked, "Wasn't the key the Fuyuki Singularity?"
"We thought so," Romani explained, a holographic map of the world materializing behind him, riddled with seven ominous red dots. "But our assumptions were wrong. After restoring the Sheba Lens, we scanned Earth again, and this time… something showed up."
He pointed to the red dots. "Fujimaru-kun, how do you think Lev achieved this?"
Fujimaru, confused, stammered, "How would I know?"
Romani chuckled, "Just teasing. The Holy Grail."
Juro raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What exactly can it do?"
"Grant the wish of its victor," Romani said, his voice turning grim. "It seems Lev used it to alter key historical events."
Juro frowned. "How would that destroy humanity?"
Romani leaned in, his voice filled with urgency, "While a small change wouldn't drastically affect the future, altering turning points in history… could be disastrous."
"Turning points?" Fujimaru asked, still unsure.
"Think of it this way," Romani explained. "What if World War II never happened? What if the Wright brothers never flew? What if the US never separated from Britain?" He gestured to the red dots. "These singularities represent such pivotal moments, twisted by Lev to rewrite the future."
Fujimaru, grasping the situation, exclaimed, "So Lev altered history to destroy our future?"
"Precisely," Romani confirmed.
"But how do we fight it?" Fujimaru cried out, despair creeping in.
Romani's eyes glinted with determination. "...Rayshifting."
Shock filled the room. "...What?!"
"Remember the singularities?" Romani asked, his voice regaining its strength. "These are similar, each with a corrupt core that needs destruction. Just like in Fuyuki, if you Rayshift to these singularities, you can fix them."
Hope flickered in Fujimaru's eyes. "So, let's do it!"
Romani's expression turned grave. "There's a problem…"
Silence gripped the room. "...What is it?" Fujimaru asked, his voice trembling.
Romani dropped the bombshell. "Only you, Mash, and Juro can Rayshift."
"In order for someone to rayshift, they need to possess specific qualities. We managed to gather people from all over the world, but only 49 managed to cut. One of the main fulfillment to becoming a master candidate is to have an aptitude for Rayshifting. The problem is that all the other master candidates are out of commission, leaving only you, mash, and Juro."
Romani looked down.
"I know it seems like I'm pushing you and forcing you guys do this."
"But I have no other option."
"I know it seems impossible," Romani continued, his gaze unwavering. "Seven singularities, seven twisted timelines, each demanding a sacrifice. But you two..." he pointed at Fujimaru and Juro, "you faced the Fuyuki Singularity and emerged victorious. You brought the Holy Grail back, you righted the past."
Hope flickered in Fujimaru's eyes, but Juro remained stoic. He saw the burden Romani placed upon them, the weight of the world on their young shoulders. "But that was with others," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "We had a team, a support system. Now..."
"Now it's just you three," Romani confirmed, his voice hardening. ."
"...All by yourself, You need to fight against these 7 human histories..."
"In different countries. different time periods."
A grave face appeared on Romani.
"Master Candidates, Fujimaru Ritsuka, Takahashi Juro."
"Do you have the resolve?"
"Do you have the strength?"
It was a simple question but held so much weight.
It was so, so simple.
In stories, the heroes would save the world with a second thought, but Juro felt something.
His gaze met Romani's, unwavering despite the crushing weight of his words.
The weight of responsibility, the isolation, the bleakness of their situation - it all threatened to pull him under.
But something flickered within him, a spark of defiance fueled by the absence of any other option.
There was no warm hearth waiting for him, no welcoming laughter at the door. No going back, even if he craved it. He was bound, not just by duty, but by the harsh reality that inaction meant his own doom along with humanity's.
Juro clenched his fist, knuckles white.
"Home wouldn't offer solace now,"
"Living a normal life? After all this shit?"
"I can't..."
"I can't go back anyway...
"But I don't matter. It's the wider picture."
"The weight of countless lives rests upon me, an obligation I won't let go. This fight, I accept it. This responsibility, I embrace it."
"I won't let my emotions get in my way."
Juro placed his hand on his chest.
"I, Juro Takahashi possess the resolve to continue! For humanity, and for those lost, I'll fight!"
Sadly, even Juro himself did not know this:
This was not the reason.
Fujimaru stared at the cold metal floor, his fists clenched tight. The weight of their situation pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him.
"Outside... How is it like there?"
Romani's face contorted, surprise battling with despair. He probably thought Fujimaru wanted to escape, to run from the impossible burden they faced.
"...Communications have been cut off from the rest of the world. The staff we sent out to check on the situation have also not returned."
"We don't know the reason, perhaps it's from the shockwaves of the collapsed human history. At any rate, the world outside Chaldea..."
"Has been destroyed."
Juro felt a drop in his heart.
He put it in a box and closed it.
Fujimaru continued to stare down, his hair shielding his eyes.
Romani tried to alleviate the situation.
"B-But! Chaldea is safe! The magnetic waves of Chaldeas being emitted, it's creating a barrier. Even Lev can't make a move on-"
"I thought... that... I'd make a..."
"Call..."
"To mom, dad, to my friends..."
"Since I disappeared so suddenly, They were probably worried sick about me..."
"I wanted to talk about this place, the people I met".
"...That would've been nice. That's what I was thinking."
"But everyone... Everyone..."
Fujimaru's hand began shaking.
"They're nothing but ashes!!"
"..."
"I don't have the resolve..."
"I don't think I've even understood anything you said just now..."
"But... I can't let it end like this. Not like this..."
Fujimaru Ritsuka wiped a tear from his face
"That's why I'll carry the burden! If it's something I can do!"
The room was quiet, with the occasional sobbing of a staff member.
Romani bowed to both of them.
"Thank you.. Those words will decide our FATE."
With a determined face, Romani stood straight.
"Relay this to all remaining Chaldea staff members! From here on out, Romani Archaman is officially taking on the role of commanding officer!"
"We will act on the plans of the previous director, Olga Marie Animusphere! We will fulfill her goal for the continuation of the Human Order!"
"Our objective is the protection and recovery of Human History! Our target is to receive the relic thought to be the cause from each era, the holy grail!"
"Our opponent to fight is history itself! Standing in your way will be legendary figures and legends manifested as Heroic Spirits! They will oppose you!"
"By taking that challenge, you will need to defy the past itself!"
"To protect humanity, we are standing against its history!"
"To remain alive, we must fight! No, to take back the future we must fight! So no matter what conclusion is waiting for us, we hold more than enough resolve! The operation will no longer be First Order!"
"This both is Chaldea's first and last mission! To protect human order! We will take back the future!"
"Operation designation:"
"GRAND ORDER."
"Lev...!" a woman's voice cried, laced with anguish and relief. A flash of white hair emerged from behind a nearby hill, the figure running towards the man with surprising speed. Could this be the Lev Lainur Romani had mentioned?
Tears streamed down the woman's face as she embraced the man, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank God you're safe! I wouldn't know how to keep Chaldea running without you!"
Lev, however, remained impassive, his response devoid of warmth despite her concern. "Olga, you've been through a lot. It's good to see you well."
Olga clung to him, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I thought it was all over! But now, we'll find a way, right? We always do!"
A flicker of a smile seemed to play on Lev's lips. "Indeed. We always find a way. We make a good team, don't we?"
But before Juro could ponder this further, Lev's expression shifted dramatically. His calm demeanor evaporated, replaced by a mask of raw, unbridled fury.
"But how," he roared, his voice echoing through the cavern, "are you still alive?!"
Juro instinctively took a step forward, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. He couldn't stand to see this distraught woman bullied like that.
He did not know her, but could not accept this.
Before he could react, another figure materialized, his imposing form blocking Juro's path. It was Malefactor, his expression unreadable.
Olga stood frozen, bewildered by the sudden shift in Lev's demeanor. The man she knew, the one she relied on, was now a stranger consumed by rage.
Lev took a deep breath, seemingly trying to regain control. "NOT ONE OF YOU!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "NOT ONE OF YOU FOLLOWED MY ORDERS! YOU ARE ALL USELESS SCUM!"
He launched into a tirade, his accusations flying like poisoned darts.
"THE 48TH AND 49TH MASTER CANDIDATES, WHO I OVERLOOKED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY DID NOT KNOW NOTHING!!"
His words were laced with such venom that they hung heavy in the air, chilling everyone to the bone.
"MASH KYRIELIGHT!!! YOU BECAME A DEMI SERVANT!! YOU DID NOT LISTEN TO MY ORDERS AND ENDED UP SURVIVING, YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOT!!!"
"ROMANI ARCHAMAN!! I KNOW YOU ARE LISTENING! ALL OF THESE UNEXPECTED EVENTS, WITH YOU GUIDING THEM, REALLY PISSES ME OFF!!"
Finally, he turned his ire on Malefactor.
"And you, abomination! You shouldn't even exist!"
Then, his gaze fell on Olga, and his fury seemed to intensify. "THE THING THAT SCREWS ME OVER THE MOST IS THE GIRL WHO HAS NOT EVEN BEEN MADE AWARE OF HER DEATH YET! THE MISERABLE, PATHETIC WASTE, KNOWN AS OLGA MARIE ANIMUSPHERE!!"
Olga's face drained of color. The man she trusted, the one she confided in, was now calling her dead?
Juro's mind reeled, trying to grasp the implications.
Mash and Fujimaru exchanged horrified glances, their expressions mirroring his own. Even Malefactor remained impassive, a silent enigma amidst the storm.
Only a single, confused word escaped Olga's lips: "Huh?"
Lev, his face now eerily calm, offered a chilling smile. "Why are you so slow, Olga? Has your brain been destroyed with the rest of your body? It's a wonder you ever became Director, even a failed one."
His tone was conversational, almost nonchalant, as if he hadn't just unleashed a torrent of accusations and revealed a horrifying truth.
"But that's irrelevant now," he continued, his voice devoid of empathy. "The explosion beneath you was my doing. Your body is long gone. All that remains is a fragment of your consciousness."
"What... what are you saying, Lev?"
"Did you forget how Rayshifting works, you idiot?" Lev's voice dripped with disdain. "It separates your soul from your body, transferring it to another time and space. But your body... well, it wasn't compatible."
The weight of his words crashed down on them. The chilling realization dawned on everyone: Olga was dead.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, reflecting the flickering light of the cavern. Her voice, shaky yet resolute, broke the silence. "That... that can't be true... I, I..."
Lev's smile twisted, sadistic and cold. "That's precisely why you can't return to Chaldea."
As Olga stumbled back in denial, his voice boomed over hers. "The moment you set foot within Chaldea..."
"You're wrong!" she cried, her voice gaining strength.
"Since you lack a physical form..."
"You're wrong!"
Lev's voice thundered, cutting her off. "Your consciousness will dissipate like smoke! Dissolve into nothingness!"
"...But!"
"But I care for you too much, Marie!"
With a snap of his fingers, a swirling portal materialized, Chaldeas burning crimson at its heart. Its ominous glow illuminated the cavern, casting eerie shadows on their faces.
"Since you dedicated your life to Chaldea," he continued, his smile widening, "let me show you the pathetic state it's in!"
Olga stared at the portal, her breath catching in her throat. "Chaldeas... it's pure red..."
"That can't be real..! That's a fake image, right...?"
"Right..?"
"Don't lie to yourself," Lev's voice echoed. "That's no illusion! I've ripped open spacetime itself to show you the truth!"
The portal pulsated with an ominous glow, devoid of the blue hues that signified humanity's continued existence. It was a fiery crimson, a chilling reflection of a future devoid of life.
"All that remains is a blazing inferno!" Lev's voice resonated, filled with manic glee. "Your beloved humanity is gone! Extinct!"
He turned to Olga, his eyes blazing with cruel amusement. "Isn't this something to celebrate, Marie? This is all your doing! Your failure! You've singlehandedly destroyed the Human race!"
Olga's voice, trembling with anguish, rose in defiance.
"Lev! Stop! This isn't my fault! I'm not dead! I didn't fail!"
"Enough!" Lev's voice cracked like ice. He flicked his finger, and Olga's body lifted from the ground, suspended in mid-air by an invisible force.
Juro, unable to bear witness to this anymore, roared, "Malefactor! Move!"
But the towering spirit remained motionless, his enigmatic silence deafening.
Juro tried to bypass him, but Malefactor shifted, his form blocking his path. He glanced at Mash and Fujimaru, hoping to see a flicker of resistance, but they too stood frozen, their expressions betraying a mix of fear and disbelief. It was as if the very world itself conspired against him.
Olga drifted higher, her tears glistening in the red light. Lev's voice, cold and detached, echoed through the cavern. "Until your very last breath, you remain a worthless piece of garbage."
Tears streamed down Olga's face, mirroring the crimson glow surrounding her. She was slowly drawn towards the portal, towards Chaldeas, towards oblivion.
"I will grant you the mercy of dying by the flames of your beloved creation," Lev declared, his voice devoid of any warmth.
Chaldeas, a swirling vortex of information, existed in a different dimension. But just like a black hole, it could consume and disintegrate anything on a molecular level. A cruel death, even for someone like Lev.
But Lev Lainur relished in cruelty.
"WELCOME YOUR PAINFUL DEATH!!" he bellowed, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "RELISH THE FEW MOMENTS OF LIFE YOU HAVE BEFORE YOU COME FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH!!"
Olga, tears streaming down her face, struggled against the invisible force pulling her towards the pulsating red maw of the portal. "I don't want to die!" she cried out, her voice cracking with fear and desperation.
"I've never been praised my entire life!" she choked out, the words tumbling from her lips in a torrent of raw emotion. "All I ever wanted was a little recognition... just someone to tell me I was doing a good job..."
Lev's chilling laughter cut her short.
"SHUT UP!" he roared, his face contorted in a mask of rage.
Juro, fueled by a surge of primal protectiveness, unleashed a torrent of punches against Malefactor. His fists pounded against the towering spirit's unyielding form, his desperate pleas echoing through the cavern.
"MALEFACTOR! MOVE! MOVE, MOVE MOVE! MOVE YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIIIIT!!!!!"
Olga's screams pierced the air, her pleas for help turning into a desperate wail. "Help me!! Someone save me!! Please!!"
Juro felt a primal scream rise within him, battling against the fear that threatened to paralyze him.
This wasn't a movie; there would be no last-minute hero emerging from the shadows.
"WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!" Olga cried out, her voice raw and anguished. "I worked so hard to not end up like this, but it still happened! For my father's desire, for humanity, I tried my best!!"
Juro's own voice joined hers in a desperate roar, "STOP IT!!" He threw his weight against Malefactor, trying to push past, to reach Olga before it was too late.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!" Olga's final scream resonated with a heartbreaking finality. The girl who had dedicated her life to protecting others, who had strived for recognition, was about to face the ultimate oblivion - a cruel twist of fate for someone who craved nothing more than a simple "well done."
Fate, indeed, could be cruel.
But there was no one to stop it,
As Olga's scream transformed into a bloodcurdling shriek upon contact with the Chaldeas, silence descended upon Juro. He was left with the haunting echo of a life extinguished, an emptiness no action could fill.
He could do nothing but listen to the screams of a young girl meeting a horrible end.
Suddenly, Lev's smug smirk ignited a fresh wave of fury within Juro.
The urge to pummel sense into the man, to make him pay for Olga's suffering, was almost overwhelming.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Juro roared, his voice trembling with rage. "ARE YOU INSANE?!"
Lev's laughter was chilling, devoid of humor. "Lower life form," he sneered, "your existence is a mere blip compared to my purpose."
Juro longed to strike him down, to erase the cruel amusement from his face. But Lev's next words sent a jolt of terror through him.
"Can you hear me, Doctor Romani? Can you hear the screams of your precious director?" Lev's voice boomed, echoing off the cavern walls. "Chaldea is WORTHLESS now! Blind to the future, cut off from the world. Your pawns... have they returned?"
His maniacal laughter sent shivers down Juro's spine. "Ruin is upon you! Not from war, aliens, or evolution, but from your own impotence! Humanity, powerless and meaningless, burns!"
Lev's declaration hung heavy in the air. Ruin? Did he mean... the end? Humanity wiped out?
Suddenly, the cavern trembled as rocks rained down from the ceiling.
"This," Lev declared, his voice filled with twisted satisfaction, "is humanity denied its future! Not by outsiders, but by its own insignificance! Less than trash, they burn in agony!"
"I am Lev Lainur Flauros!" his voice boomed, echoing with power. "The architect of humanity's destruction since 2015!"
"With that, I bid you all farewell, 49th, 48th, Mash, and... you."
________________
Juro bolted upright in his bed, the lingering echoes of screams and fire clawing at his sanity.
Was it all a dream? The Servants, the Grail War - mere phantoms of imagination? He examined his hand, expecting the Command Seal that had branded him, but found only smooth, healthy skin. A flicker of hope chased away the oppressive dread.
But the memory clung to him, vivid and horrifying. The screams, the stench of burning flesh, the sight of Olga's lifeless eyes haunted him. Juro was built to weather storms, but this... this was different. The emotional earthquake would hit later, tenfold worse.
He walked towards the door, the familiar white walls and wood offering a semblance of normalcy. Outside, the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed under the morning sun, its golden glow a balm to his scorched soul. Dust motes danced in the light, a stark contrast to the inferno he'd escaped.
Descending the stairs, he found the house eerily quiet. He felt an absurd urge to open the café, to pretend nothing had happened. However, as he reached for the doorknob, it creaked open, revealing Luca.
"Luca?" Juro's voice cracked with disbelief.
"Hey, man," Luca offered, his usual confidence laced with concern. "Just wanted to say I'm..."
"Why are you backing away, Juro?"
"Y-You're not...."
"Why are you backing away, Juro?!"
Juro began to back away even faster.
"WHY ARE YOU BACKING AWAY, JUUUUUROOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Panic surged through Juro. He stumbled back, tripping over his own feet, his stomach slamming against a table. Pain radiated from his side, but it was nothing compared to the terror gripping him. The "Luca" was a shambling corpse, its flesh aflame, advancing with horrifying malice.
Juro tried to scramble away, but his eyes widened in a scream.
He tried to get up, but he came to a horrifying realization.
He did not trip, His leg was gone, ripped off at the knee by another flaming monstrosity. The world dissolved into a vortex of agony as the fiery figures devoured him, their screams blending with his own into a symphony of despair.
This was the incineration of humanity. Not a dream, but a living nightmare.
__________________________
Juro jolted awake, the white ceiling replacing fiery nightmares. A quick pinch confirmed reality - a reality where he was inexplicably shirtless. Throwing on his uniform, he surveyed the eerily quiet Chaldea.
No blaring alarms, no frantic staff... just the unsettling feeling of pants missing from the apocalypse.
Venturing out, he found the pristine white hallways mocking the chaos of his dreams. "Where's the drama?" he muttered, echoing off the deserted corridors. His footsteps, the only sound, seemed to mock him with their rhythm.
Suddenly, chatter interrupted the oppressive silence. Juro followed it to a pair of doors labeled "Control Room." Weren't these blasted to smithereens moments ago? He peeked in, expecting fiery wreckage, but found a bizarre tableau.
The room bore the scars of the "explosion" - blackened walls and a few strategically placed scorch marks - but the mood was decidedly chill. Staff huddled around kotatsus and heaters, sipping tea and playing cards. Romani, ever the charmer, lounged on a futon, fanning himself with a palm frond.
"Ah, Juro! Welcome back to the land of the (mostly) living!" Romani boomed, his voice suspiciously chipper.
Juro, speechless, gaped at a woman with brown hair and an outfit that screamed "cosplay gone rogue."
Now that Juro got a good look at her she looked like the Mona-
Fou chose this moment to launch himself onto Juro's head with a triumphant "POFF!" Juro yelped, flailing like a startled cat.
"Seriously, Fou? How do you not get prickled by my hair?!"
The staff, previously engrossed in their games, now stared at him with a mix of amusement and pity. Romani chuckled.
"Emergency protocol, my dear Juro! Stress relief after near-annihilation is key. Though," he leaned in conspiratorially, "the real reason is the heating's broken."
"Right, because a kotatsu marathon fixes faulty thermostats,"
"Where's Fujimaru, by the way?" Juro asked, eyeing the relaxed staff with suspicion.
"Right here." A voice materialized behind him, sending a jolt through Juro's system. He spun around, his eyes resting on the familiar blue eyes and black hair.
"Seriously, Fujimaru? Is sneaking up on me part of your new summoning ritual?" Juro grumbled, trying to catch his breath.
Beside Fujimaru stood the girl from before, her purple hair framing sharp, curious eyes. Juro had a million questions brewing, but one, particularly pressing, managed to bubble to the surface.
"Is that... natural?"
Fujimaru and Romani blinked in unison, their expressions somewhere between amusement and 'Did he just skip basic human interaction skills?'
Juro's cheeks flushed crimson.
"Heh, sorry," he stammered, extending a hand sheepishly. "Juro Takahashi, at your service."
Mash met his handshake with a gentle smile. "Mash Kyrielight," she replied, her voice calm and melodic. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Senpai."
Juro froze, eyebrows shooting up. "Senpai? Is this like... a school thing?"
Fujimaru chuckled, scratching his head. "Don't sweat it, man. Mash calls everyone Senpai. Even people younger than her, wouldn't you believe it?"
Juro gaped, picturing a girl with long purple hair calling him, "Senpai." The mental image was both hilarious and slightly disturbing. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.
"Moving aside," Romani stood up.
"Congratulations on surviving the Fuyuki Singularity, Mash, Fujimaru-kun, Juro. While forced to shoulder most of the burden, you eliminated the threat and returned... physically unscathed, at least."
He paused, his gaze softening. "I respect your hard work and dedication wholeheartedly."
Juro looked down, guilt gnawing at him.
"...But so many died..."
Memories of screams and pleas echoed in his mind.
He forced them down.
He pushed them into a box and closed it.
Romani, sensing his turmoil, spoke gently, "You're right. You know about Lev's plan, but 70% of Chaldea's staff… perished in his explosion."
Juro clenched his fists tighter, anger boiling alongside grief.
He had seen a man that had killed so many people earlier. There was no remorse involved. He simply laughed as he took human lives like grapes from a vine.
The undescribably face of evil that relished in the taking of lives.
Juro felt a responsibility to defeat him.
"All Master candidates survived," Romani continued, "but except for you two, they're in critical condition."
Fujimaru scratched his head. "Wow, the situation is rough."
"Yes," Romani interrupted, his voice firm, "Lev caused this, but we will carry the torch of those lost, to protect humanity."
Fujimaru, sensing the gravity, cut him off, "Wait, do you mean-"
"No," Romani sighed, "Lev, despite his methods, might be right. Humanity's destruction is fixed."
Juro's eyes widened.
Was everything truly lost?
"The light of civilization is still gone after 2016," Romani confirmed, extinguishing any remaining hope.
Juro, still skeptical, asked, "Wasn't the key the Fuyuki Singularity?"
"We thought so," Romani explained, a holographic map of the world materializing behind him, riddled with seven ominous red dots. "But our assumptions were wrong. After restoring the Sheba Lens, we scanned Earth again, and this time… something showed up."
He pointed to the red dots. "Fujimaru-kun, how do you think Lev achieved this?"
Fujimaru, confused, stammered, "How would I know?"
Romani chuckled, "Just teasing. The Holy Grail."
Juro raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What exactly can it do?"
"Grant the wish of its victor," Romani said, his voice turning grim. "It seems Lev used it to alter key historical events."
Juro frowned. "How would that destroy humanity?"
Romani leaned in, his voice filled with urgency, "While a small change wouldn't drastically affect the future, altering turning points in history… could be disastrous."
"Turning points?" Fujimaru asked, still unsure.
"Think of it this way," Romani explained. "What if World War II never happened? What if the Wright brothers never flew? What if the US never separated from Britain?" He gestured to the red dots. "These singularities represent such pivotal moments, twisted by Lev to rewrite the future."
Fujimaru, grasping the situation, exclaimed, "So Lev altered history to destroy our future?"
"Precisely," Romani confirmed.
"But how do we fight it?" Fujimaru cried out, despair creeping in.
Romani's eyes glinted with determination. "...Rayshifting."
Shock filled the room. "...What?!"
"Remember the singularities?" Romani asked, his voice regaining its strength. "These are similar, each with a corrupt core that needs destruction. Just like in Fuyuki, if you Rayshift to these singularities, you can fix them."
Hope flickered in Fujimaru's eyes. "So, let's do it!"
Romani's expression turned grave. "There's a problem…"
Silence gripped the room. "...What is it?" Fujimaru asked, his voice trembling.
Romani dropped the bombshell. "Only you, Mash, and Juro can Rayshift."
"In order for someone to rayshift, they need to possess specific qualities. We managed to gather people from all over the world, but only 49 managed to cut. One of the main fulfillment to becoming a master candidate is to have an aptitude for Rayshifting. The problem is that all the other master candidates are out of commission, leaving only you, mash, and Juro."
Romani looked down.
"I know it seems like I'm pushing you and forcing you guys do this."
"But I have no other option."
"I know it seems impossible," Romani continued, his gaze unwavering. "Seven singularities, seven twisted timelines, each demanding a sacrifice. But you two..." he pointed at Fujimaru and Juro, "you faced the Fuyuki Singularity and emerged victorious. You brought the Holy Grail back, you righted the past."
Hope flickered in Fujimaru's eyes, but Juro remained stoic. He saw the burden Romani placed upon them, the weight of the world on their young shoulders. "But that was with others," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse. "We had a team, a support system. Now..."
"Now it's just you three," Romani confirmed, his voice hardening. ."
"...All by yourself, You need to fight against these 7 human histories..."
"In different countries. different time periods."
A grave face appeared on Romani.
"Master Candidates, Fujimaru Ritsuka, Takahashi Juro."
"Do you have the resolve?"
"Do you have the strength?"
It was a simple question but held so much weight.
It was so, so simple.
In stories, the heroes would save the world with a second thought, but Juro felt something.
His gaze met Romani's, unwavering despite the crushing weight of his words.
The weight of responsibility, the isolation, the bleakness of their situation - it all threatened to pull him under.
But something flickered within him, a spark of defiance fueled by the absence of any other option.
There was no warm hearth waiting for him, no welcoming laughter at the door. No going back, even if he craved it. He was bound, not just by duty, but by the harsh reality that inaction meant his own doom along with humanity's.
Juro clenched his fist, knuckles white.
"Home wouldn't offer solace now,"
"Living a normal life? After all this shit?"
"I can't..."
"I can't go back anyway...
"But I don't matter. It's the wider picture."
"The weight of countless lives rests upon me, an obligation I won't let go. This fight, I accept it. This responsibility, I embrace it."
"I won't let my emotions get in my way."
Juro placed his hand on his chest.
"I, Juro Takahashi possess the resolve to continue! For humanity, and for those lost, I'll fight!"
Sadly, even Juro himself did not know this:
This was not the reason.
Fujimaru stared at the cold metal floor, his fists clenched tight. The weight of their situation pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him.
"Outside... How is it like there?"
Romani's face contorted, surprise battling with despair. He probably thought Fujimaru wanted to escape, to run from the impossible burden they faced.
"...Communications have been cut off from the rest of the world. The staff we sent out to check on the situation have also not returned."
"We don't know the reason, perhaps it's from the shockwaves of the collapsed human history. At any rate, the world outside Chaldea..."
"Has been destroyed."
Juro felt a drop in his heart.
He put it in a box and closed it.
Fujimaru continued to stare down, his hair shielding his eyes.
Romani tried to alleviate the situation.
"B-But! Chaldea is safe! The magnetic waves of Chaldeas being emitted, it's creating a barrier. Even Lev can't make a move on-"
"I thought... that... I'd make a..."
"Call..."
"To mom, dad, to my friends..."
"Since I disappeared so suddenly, They were probably worried sick about me..."
"I wanted to talk about this place, the people I met".
"...That would've been nice. That's what I was thinking."
"But everyone... Everyone..."
Fujimaru's hand began shaking.
"They're nothing but ashes!!"
"..."
"I don't have the resolve..."
"I don't think I've even understood anything you said just now..."
"But... I can't let it end like this. Not like this..."
Fujimaru Ritsuka wiped a tear from his face
"That's why I'll carry the burden! If it's something I can do!"
The room was quiet, with the occasional sobbing of a staff member.
Romani bowed to both of them.
"Thank you.. Those words will decide our FATE."
With a determined face, Romani stood straight.
"Relay this to all remaining Chaldea staff members! From here on out, Romani Archaman is officially taking on the role of commanding officer!"
"We will act on the plans of the previous director, Olga Marie Animusphere! We will fulfill her goal for the continuation of the Human Order!"
"Our objective is the protection and recovery of Human History! Our target is to receive the relic thought to be the cause from each era, the holy grail!"
"Our opponent to fight is history itself! Standing in your way will be legendary figures and legends manifested as Heroic Spirits! They will oppose you!"
"By taking that challenge, you will need to defy the past itself!"
"To protect humanity, we are standing against its history!"
"To remain alive, we must fight! No, to take back the future we must fight! So no matter what conclusion is waiting for us, we hold more than enough resolve! The operation will no longer be First Order!"
"This both is Chaldea's first and last mission! To protect human order! We will take back the future!"
"Operation designation:"
"GRAND ORDER."
