[X] Plan Garrett
-[X] Saber: Hang back and wait for the right moment to strike
-[X] Lancer: Stand his ground and hold the line
-[X] Archer: Fire at will
-[X] Cast a defensive reinforcement spell on: Lancer
You conceive of a plan all at once. Panic strikes you a half-second later as you wonder how you're supposed to communicate said plan with your three Servants before the golem is done building up enough speed to flatten you like a truck. A trio of sparks go off in your mind like flints being struck. Your Servants understand. The mere thought was enough. You quickly suppress your lingering awe at having heroes from myth standing beside you and blurt out the words to a spell. The stored knowledge in your new Mystic Code lies still as a pool. Your family's Crest grows hot on your skin as the words form a thread of magical power. The thread loops towards the barechested Lancer. And slides off like a soap bubble.
"Hm? Oh, right. Don't really need it but okay."
The resistance fades all at once, and your ailing spell corrects course. A pattern briefly flashes across Lancer, like mesh or fishnet, the sea-green of magecraft at work. Its efficacy will be tested soon enough. Archer isn't firing yet, and Saber has drawn back to your other side, opposite Archer. The air seems to be swirling around her sword, distorting the light. You pay attention to the front lines.
Lancer takes up his stance squarely in the golem's path, smirking. "I don't even know why you're bothering, big guy. An army couldn't move me! What makes you think an old boulder like-"
SMACK
Lancer disappears into the dust cloud beneath the unstoppable object that is the golem in a tangle of limbs.
"It killed Lancer!" Archer exclaims.
"It's not human!" Saber cries.
There's a snarl from the golem's wake. Lancer climbs out of a hole on the ground, bruised and scraped and bloodied but otherwise whole. His bared teeth stand out stark white against the mess.
"Oh, nevermind then," Archer says. "I'd best give him the opportunity for some revenge, then."
He nocks an arrow, draws it back until the fletching is almost tickling his ear, and releases. He only nocked one arrow, you
swear he did. Yet the result is more akin to taping twenty crossbows together and firing them all at once. You flinch from the backblast. All twenty arrows strike the golem in the chest simultaneously, packed side-by-side even tighter than they were in their quiver. The golem reels back as if slipping on a patch of ice, landing heavily on its back foot. You think Archer's bow is smoking.
"Thought you could get away from me that easy!?" Lancer dashes along the furrow the golem ploughed in its wake, and he vanishes completely from your sight. One moment you see him mid-stride, the next he's caught up to the golem. You hear the earsplitting crack of splintering stone as Lancer nails the golem's calf to the ground, his spear buried almost halfway. The thing bellows with the voice of an earthquake, the cacophonous noise of grinding granite making you clap your hands over your ears in pain.
"Target successfully held! Anything else, or should I build a new life here?"
"Perfect."
You turn to look at Saber as she speaks again. She's been busy. Her sword is invisible now, completely sheathed in layers of swirling, refracting air. It's as if she's wielding a tornado by the funnel rather than a blade. The air ripples. You glimpse shreds of golden light as the air buckles and warps, threatening to slip its bonds.
"Strike Air!"
Saber releases it.
A great invisible hand scoops you up and slams you back down like a cockroach to be squashed. All the air is driven from you lungs in one vomitous gasp, your brain rattling in your skull. Starbursts behind your eyes blind you as you desperately try to fill your lungs. You feel like you're drowning on land.
"Up you get!" Archer's voice. He picks you up like a kitten, standing you on your feet and patting you on the back. You wheeze a word of Welsh, magically forcing your lungs to suck in air. You cough with relief as sweet oxygen floods your body, your vision clearing.
It looks like a fighter jet took off where Saber was standing. A deep wedge of the field is simply gone, ripped up and strewn back as far as the eye can see. A trench extends from the tip, slashing across the golem's tracks at a harsh angle. Saber stands tall, her blade naked and shining once more. The golem lies behind her, torso cleaved completely in two. Lancer straightens up from amidst the rubble of the 'corpse', dusting himself off. He pauses, probing around his mouth with his tongue, before spitting out a bloody tooth. He regards it briefly, then flicks it aside. Saber looks mildly disgusted.
"So..." You pause. You think about the situation now that the threat of imminent death isn't taking up the majority of your mental real estate. "How... did we get here?
Why are we here? What are-?"
The Servants freeze in place, motionless as statues. The wind stills. All sound ceases. The earth and sky begin to fold in like panes of glass, leaving nothing but a bright white void. Your world shrinks to the size of a dinner plate. The frozen Servants dissolve into motes of light, sparkling dust that soon fades too. The air is gone. Your sight is gone. You grasp and flail wildly for something solid, something real, something to pull you back to-
***
-reality.
You sit bolt upright, nearly launching yourself out of your capsule and onto the floor. Wait, capsule? You grip the edges white-knuckle tight, feeling the cool metal dig into your skin. You feel something heavy pull free of your head and dangle behind you, plastic slapping the back of your neck. You glance back - some kind of visored helmet?
"Don't worry. Most recruits are severely disoriented by the simulation."
You turn again. A woman stands in front of you, taking your measure as you thrash in the pod like a drowning dog. For a moment you stare dumbly, uncomprehending. Then the pieces start to slot into place. The elegant dress of a magus. Stark-white hair. Golden brown eyes. It's the scion of the Animusphere family, so long rumoured to be dead or rogue.
"I would introduce myself, but I get the feeling you know who I am," Olga Marie says.
"It's you? You're the director of Chaldea?" you ask. "But... why? Your family may not recover for generations, the way people are talking. Do you even have a descendant? You're putting the Animuspheres on the brink of total collapse!"
"I could ask you many of the same questions," she replies evenly. You take a breath to reply, then realize just how ill-advised that would be.
"I apologize," you say, full of contrition. "I spoke wildly out-of-turn."
"Think nothing of it."
Olga Marie waves her hand. "All our recruits have been disoriented by the simulation. You were quite polite, all things considered."
"I see." You pause, tapping the edge of the capsule awkwardly. "So... did I pass?"
She folds her arms. "The simulation is designed to test many factors, not the least of which is your ability to respond under pressure. Failing to give any orders or support at all would have been an automatic fail, even if your Servants had succeeded. You showed a promising amount of talent. You trusted your Archer to act independently, playing to his strength, and held your Saber in reserve until she could be certain of a devastating blow. You're also one of the five candidates that didn't get Lancer killed."
"I... sense a qualifier coming, ma'am."
"You would be correct. While your enemy was defeated, you allowed Lancer to be wounded, and not insignificantly. You failed to utilise one of your Mystic Code's spells, optimised for Servant usage, to relatively little effect. It would have been more energy-efficient to heal him after the fact."
"Ma'am I didn't know-"
She holds up a hand. "You still passed, Mr. Hargrave. These are not judgements, merely observations. We make these mistakes in the simulator so that you avoid them on the battlefield."
" 'The battlefield'?" you repeat. "Ma'am, I was meaning to ask, why was I tested on commanding Servants? They can no longer exist with the Holy Grail destroyed. What applicable skills am I learning?"
"It's best you learn in a more... controlled environment." Olga Marie casts her eyes up and down your body once more. "You should probably go get your checkup with the Head Medic. Or you may disagree - I understand your family speciality is keeping the human body hale and hearty."
"W-well, kind of, it-"
"I'd love to stay and chat but I do have places to be." Olga Marie checks her watch - she has a wristwatch? "I promise you, most of your questions will be answered at Orientation. For now, Marche can show you around and answer what questions she can."
And then she's gone, striding purposefully out the door like a woman on a mission. The click of her high heels fades rapidly as she walks down the corridor and out of earshot. For a moment your left in awkward silence, wondering if you should think about climbing out of the strange contraption you've found yourself in. Another woman pokes her head in. 'Girl' may be more accurate. She can't be any older than you. She's wearing a white hoodie over a black blouse and leggings - the female cut of the Mystic Code? No, you can't sense any power in it - and brushing platinum-blonde hair back out of their eyes. They're quite nice eyes. Bright blue, like yours.
"Hello!" she says, not quite making eye contact.
"... hello?"
"Hi!"
"... hello."
There's a pregnant pause as the young woman looks down, visibly picturing herself banging her head against a wall. She looks up with a slightly more forced smile.
"I'm Marche, Marche Kyrielight," she says. "I'm here to um, show you around, answer questions, things like that? I'm pretty new here too but, you know, I'll do my best!"
Her hood rustles. Something white and furry pokes its head out. As you watch, the mutant offspring of a kitten, a puppy and a rabbit crawls out of Marche's hood and balances on her shoulder. It squeaks like a fox just to add to the menagerie, regarding you with lavender eyes.
"Oh," Marche adds, "And this is Four."
"Four, Four!" The bunnykittenpuppy squeaks like a child's cuddly toy.
[ ] What in the flaming hell is that thing?
[ ] What's your story?
[ ] What does the Chaldea Security Organization do?
[ ] Why did the 'simulation' involve the defunct Servant system?
[ ] Why is there technology everywhere being used by magi?
[ ] Why do mundanes work with magi here?
[ ] Have Marche take you to see the Head Medic.
[ ] Have Marche take you on a tour first.
