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Fate - Stay - Write - Go! [Fate/Stay Night AU/SI]

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Forgot about Fate/kaleid, though I doubt it was made around the last comments time.

Also Grand Order, which would be weird at best.
 
...why. Why would you necro this?

EDIT: Actually, seeing that this is your first post...
Necroing isn't, technically speaking, against the rules. It is, however, pretty rude, especially given that you didn't contribute much to the discussion.
 
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Friendly reminder: Thread necromancy isn't against the rules.

Dogpiling necromancers is against the rules.

Let the thread rest.
 
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XkaliburRage said:
Why not lock the thread then?
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There are planned routes left incomplete, but an outline was posted for them. Shade's Muse might drag him back sometime.

I had made a little Omake about summoning the Servants being like Fate Grand Order, but I can't find it now. I was waiting for someone to necro this thread to post it, and now that someone has I am caught unprepared.
 
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I'm sorry? But it's not like I did it on purpose. Q - Q

Besides this whole thing was amusing and nice to read so I can't help but comment either. If necroing is such a deal, then the thread should prob be locked until its decided that the thread will continue...

and im sorry for apparently necroing a thread that was left open to comment something I was pondering about...

=-= wont do it again now that apparently its rude as hell.
 
TharjaDoesWrite said:
I'm sorry? But it's not like I did it on purpose. Q - Q

Besides this whole thing was amusing and nice to read so I can't help but comment either. If necroing is such a deal, then the thread should prob be locked until its decided that the thread will continue...

and im sorry for apparently necroing a thread that was left open to comment something I was pondering about...

=-= wont do it again now that apparently its rude as hell.
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Don't worry about it. Though you might could check out the Shade Night Corner if you want to inquire about background settings Shade has worked on.
 
Gunman said:
How could a daughter confuse an Italian for her Japanese father? An earlier chapter had Shade outright state he clearly isn't from Japan going by his appearance. Delusion?
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Everyone in that route had memories of a route in which they had the closest connection to Kageyaku.

Sakura in one route was reverted to a child and raised by Shade and Saber.
 
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CP 7.7 - Of Things Never Said, Never Done, Never Thought
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    • CP 7.7 - Of Things Never Said, Never Done, Never Thought

    "I vow," those two simple words were all that was needed. They were powerful words, simple words, but true. It was a vow of words that could not be rescinded. It was a vow that would last an eternity and beyond. It was the vow of a man that had never told the truth, if not for that one time.

    It was the vow of a liar who could do nothing but lie, and yet how truly precious was his truth? For when someone who is truthful speaks, then his truth has no worth, but if a liar speaks true then isn't that a truly precious resource? An important, exciting event that happens once in a lifetime is worthy of being remembered, while one who is an everyday happenstance is anything but worthy of notice.

    Truly, to live a whole life of evil and turn to good only for one second, doesn't that blind the sight, mesmerize the mind, widen the eyes of the witnesses?

    Zelretch nodded, and then extended a hand. The student in front of him witnessed. He witnessed the magic, the True magic. He witnessed eternity and the beyond, the past, the present, the future, the Ifs and Buts, the What Is and What Is Not and the What Could Be, and as he gazed at it all he did not scream. Well, he did not scream for the first two seconds, but then his brain caught on, and the moment it did his nerves began to burn just like his eyes.

    Just like his memories. Just like his everything. He burned as he witnessed himself, and yet that was the price to pay. It was a price worth being paid. A price that only one who will never win would pay, so that others might have a chance. It was the price born of desperation, of despair and misery.

    It was a white lie said one early spring morning, as a grown man left the city of Fuyuki bidding farewell to those who stayed behind seeking wealth and hope for a better tomorrow in the foreign countries. It was an answer of lies that answered back, a karmic answer brought forth by the desire for balance for an act which had yet to happen, yet to be done, but that was already in the past.

    Time was like that. Dimensions shifted like that.

    One trudged upon the sand and opened the fire, mistaking a figure for an enemy and only too late realizing the lie that he had been told.

    One was seen before he could near, and an arrow was thrown before he could come into view, a fair lady crying out as she uncovered the truth, and cursed herself for having thrown one arrow too many.

    One said and did nothing, and they never did meet.

    The pain and the agony brought the first into the folds of time, into the search for magic that he knew was true, and yet too far from his grasp. He never did reach it. He died, in agony. He died, cursing himself for having failed.

    One held on to his chest as he breathed his last, a smile on his face though his life was coming to an end. The tears of the familiar face could do nothing, the blood could not return back, and why would it? That was when she vowed to save the world, and if she had not done so, then she would never have begun on the road that would lead her to her damnation.

    The last walked for as long as he could, and unstopped, unafraid and unquestioned, he destroyed and brought peace to a world that sorely did need it.

    He was rewarded, that last one, and he sought out the being that would answer his questions. Unfortunately, he found him.

    Had he not, then this would be the end.

    When they said it was all Zelretch's fault, the Wizard Marshall didn't take offense. They weren't wholly wrong. He never would have thought it possible. When one path to the Root is found, then it closes behind the one who opens it. All passages may be opened only once, that much he knew. No matter how many times he had tried, even he had failed at opening the path once more.

    The Root of all Choices, of all Events, of everything that could be, the infinite potential that all Magus sought out—no more than once, and then, forever beyond one's grasp.

    He wrecked him as he wrecked all others. There was nothing special, nothing powerful, nothing of notice...and yet he came back. Even when normal beyond normality, he always came back from the brink of madness, of the Beyond, and this one, this last one, grasped it all.

    Though his fingers bled from grasping that which he could not contain or hold, though his brain burned from things he could not understand and yet was forced to memorize, he still grasped it all. It was no talent, no special determination, nothing of the sort to indicate he was any different from a human, a simple human with a bit of a penchant for magic, a few circuits that were meager, and wouldn't even rank him among the last of the academy.

    Yet he held on. It was not tenacity. It was not determination. Centuries could go by, and thousands of better suited pupils could be picked. Yet Zelretch taught one student, and one alone, until they were too much of a wreck.

    And in the end, the old man that had been his student passed on a small chest with his memories and thoughts.

    Death, to someone who possessed the True Magic of the Kaleidoscope, was nothing.

    The moment one refused was the moment his pupil would die, and none other of Himself would be taken under his wing for tutelage. Yet the risk was taken, and with each vowing a new student took up the mantle of the last one, and the last one lived on in the new one. The memories grew to the point where they could no longer be contained by a simple chest, but had to be brought further up, classified, divided, modified, altered—and lives after lives of his student were lost upon the altar of crafting a Magic that was True and Eternal.

    Thus, he Vowed.

    How many versions of the same Student never lived? Too many. Memories were lost, fragmented, disassembled. Yet at one point, they began to carry over. They pulsed and they breathed and they broke through like a Snake of their own volition, shattering through the cycle of time and space, latching on to all forms and crafting a consciousness of their own. They crafted an identity, they crafted a purpose, they crafted a reason for existence.

    Thus, on the day one cursed himself for having done the unthinkable, one of the many that would yet live, they came to him and offered him a chance. They hissed and they shrieked and they snarled and he understood nothing, but accepted the cruel deal. They would need power for what they would do. To burn the tendrils of the Root that were dark and evil, to burn those were no hope lived or could blossom. To excise the wrong choices and leave nothing but the real path, the true path, the best path—they would consume.

    And one who clutched a dying brother swore she would protect the world, all worlds, and so she battled. Her shining glory turned murky with time, her unassailable principles died, her priceless, untarnished mentality fragmented and broke.

    And in the end, she lost herself just as her brother lost his own identity.

    Zelretch simply watched. He had grown tired of overseeing such a thing, and so he left.

    It was the chance the Ouroboros needed. It was the chance the Snake that devoured its tail wished for.

    Without supervision, without someone to oversee the boundaries, then it was all too easy to infiltrate the one place, the one thing, that shouldn't have been infiltrated. The Golden Throne was tarnished by that which was the World's Evil, but the World's Evil was not alone, for it was replaced. Two entities coexisted, fused, became one. Thus the Ouroboros acquired flesh. Thus, he was born anew upon a world, thus he consumed and grew, thus he became again a being of flesh which yet failed, time and time again, even though he tried to succeed harder than all the others.

    But with each failure a path was closed for the next one. With each success, new roads opened up. In the end, the Ouroboros knew best how to act, and how to live, and how to thrive, and how to achieve the full perfection of the loop.

    His desire, though, remained unchanged.

    To destroy the chances for failure and suffering, to bring forth an eternal, childish happiness that saw no potential for harm, no damage and no sadness.

    A lie, such a beautiful lie, couldn't be crafted no matter how many dimensions he poured through, no matter how hard he nibbled at the roots of the Akasha, he could never climb up to where the core rested.

    Thus, he kept on nibbling.

    He bid his time.

    Slowly, his tendrils reached further.

    Eventually, they corrupted even the incorruptible.

    I vow I will save everyone in your stead.
    I vow I will leave no one behind.
    I vow I will become the hero this world deserves.
    I vow, thus, as I vow, I accept the price.
    I am the one who is guilty, I am the sinner,
    I am the snake that gifted the apple to Eve,
    I am the dragon that chews the roots of the tree.

    I am—

    I am sorry, so please...please, open your eyes!

    Wake up! My command is absolute—please, sister, wake up!

    Shiro gasped for air, sand clinging to her face as a figure clutched the back of her head arms engulfing her tightly. The man was sobbing like a child, crying out her name with a profound sadness that she could feel in the air.

    "Shiro—" he cried, his fingers digging in her hair covered by cloth, "Shiro! Please...please wake up."

    "B-Brother?" she managed to croak out, "What...what are you doing...here?"

    "Shiro!" he yelled, loud enough that she winced from it. "You're...you're alive! It worked!" he began to giggle madly, holding and rocking her back and forth in his arms. "It worked..." he whispered, "It worked." He pressed the side of his face against hers.

    She winced from the pain she felt against her chest. There were holes in her clothes. Holes from gunfire she hadn't avoided. Holes from gunfire that had managed to pierce through her reinforced vestments, perhaps because a Magus had reinforced the bullets in turn? Had...had her brother shot her by mistake? Yet there were no holes. So the bullets must have bounced off, or maybe they had lost against her Kevlar vest.

    "Brother..." she whispered. "Weren't...weren't you supposed to be in Europe?"

    "And you..." he stammered out, "Weren't you supposed to be in America!?"

    She swallowed and then narrowed her eyes, "W-Well! D-Don't change the argument! I asked first!"

    "I'm your older brother! I have precedence!" he snapped back, a smile blossoming on his face as he kept the hug tight around her. The sandstorm began to die down, the buildings broken by war slowly emerging through the thick sand. "I could have killed you, Shiro! I...I could have killed you," he whispered next, his forehead hitting hers gently and resting there, his fingers on the back of her head to hold her there. "What do you think I'd have done if that happened, uh?"

    "Brother..." Shiro whispered in turn, before pulling herself free and widening her eyes as she realized there was an arrow, one of hers, sticking out from his sides. "Brother! That's—"

    "Oh, this?" he chuckled as he dismissed the issue, "You're a good shot, Shiro, but you missed all of my vital spots," he laughed as he said that, before wheezing. "My powerful ribs stopped your arrow," he breathed in slowly, trying to smile. "Nothing to worry about."

    "Y-You could have died!" Shiro snapped back at him, making him wince in turn. "You stupid brother! I could have killed you! What do you think I'd have done then, uh!? You're impossible! You have no right to be angry at me! I'm the one who should be angry at you!"

    They both looked at one another, and then, abruptly, they broke out in laughter.

    Sometimes, though the world is cruel, vicious and uncaring, when a lonely human proves to be far worse...then the Counter-Force intervenes.

    Though normally it intervenes by killing the human, if such a death would bring about more death, than another solution is found and applied.

    And those solutions, where rather than death, life happens...

    Those are the things called miracles.

    For though the world is a dark and scary place...

    ...it knows better than to anger a sleeping dragon.

    AN: Bah, you youngsters came breaking into mah crypt, mah skellies and hanging around my dusty ghosts...so I give you another 'Carnival Phantasm'-like episode.
     
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