Operatus (SCP Foundation/Nasuverse)

[thenew]

At his office, O5-8 stared at a report.

He sighed. A Dead Apostle had attacked a site in Brazil. Site security had killed him, but he had managed to destroy... a Mekhanite anti-Sarkic weapon? That was suspicious. Was one of their cults allied with Apostles now?

No, probably not. He'll tell Four about it, anyway. If it was happening, it probably was a Neo branch. Damn inbred blueblood pigs always rrunning around, being disgusting and causing trouble. Nälkä faithful were normally not a problem. These guys were not.

What else? A mage was brought into Foundation custody. Had stole Alchemy Department research and tried to sell it in the black market. O5-8 laughed. This was rather funny. This seemed like something the mages would do.

But he was definitely sending someone so they could talk to the Association. Maybe remind them of how the world worked.

He would try to strengthen the alchemists' security. Maybe the others would agree in the next meeting. It was hard sometimes. He could delegate this to someone else, but he felt better knowing what was happening around the world.

Now... the last report. Then he could go sleep. He picked up the first page.

...What?

The Holy Grail War? Starting this year?

Damn, he had completely forgotten about that. He would definitely need to call a meeting.

The damn war was just too much trouble. He always said it was a risky gamble, too dangerous... they should just shut the whole damn thing down and be done with it. That thing was a ridiculous idea from the start.

What use did they even have for the wish? Large-scale reality alterations were always a bad idea. But the others always said no.

It was an opportunity, they said. Every chosen group would send their most capable minds, and we can snatch some of them, they said. And the info they got with the war was too valuable, they said.

What about the fucking omnipotent wish, he said.

They didn't give a single shit. They didn't listen. At least no one ever got the wish. Thank god for that.

So. The Holy Grail War. The last one had been a disaster.

Who the hell thought using a product from The Factory as a summon catalyst was a good idea? The shitty counterfeit Servant was funny at first. Not so much when it started trying to make a new Factory.

At least the Einzbern got their teeth kicked in. That was always a plus, on his book. Had anyone summoned the Servants yet?

The Grail wasn't online yet, but people were always impatient.

Hmm... wow, this report was a big one. Broken God cultists lurking around in archeological sites in... China. Could be Grail War, could be something else.

Okay, thank god for Foundation moles. So Xia stuff? What else? One of the magus families the Coalition recruited was requesting permission to get in the War.

Trouble. Who were them... no more info. The gocks were being sneaky. That was actually a surprise.

He had to think of plan for this.

Actually, this was an opportunity. An opportunity for him. If a Foundation Overseer wanted to get in the war, who would be able to say otherwise?

He could win this. He picked the file up. He wasn't a mage, but he knew some stuff about it. This ritual... well, it was basically the same ever War.

So he needed a new catalyst, huh? Oh well. Systems like this didn't change often.

"Destroy yourself and harm no one else."

A good wish. He'll finally be rid of this pain in the ass.

These Holy Grail wars had been fucking things up for, like, a century since became an Overseer.

He picked up the phone. He was certain they had some decent artifacts to use as catalysts. He was having some fun, if everything else failed. It wasn't as this Grail War would kill him, after all.

It had been... what? Forty years? Yeah, forty years in which he had not shot anyone in the face.

Time to make some calls.

 

[thenew]

John walked through the streets of Alagadda.

He had someone to meet today.

Oh. There it was. The palace library.

Walking through the ornate door, he searched for someone.

The strange creature. An invaluable source of information.

The Wandsman of Kul-Manas. Oh. There he was. Just sitting there, staring at a scroll in the library. All jet black and covered in feathers. He was clad in a the same crimson and gold cloak of always.

The scholar's appearance was bizarre to humans like him. A hunchback birdy humanoid. He supposed it didn't matter.

-Oh, you.

He had noticed him, huh? John took his hat off, looking into the Wandsman's eyes. It spoke in a strange way, too. Sounded similar to a parrot. Then again, it didn't matter. He was here for a reason.

-You are the servant of the Deathless Merchant of London that I was supposed to meet, aren't you?

He nodded.

-Very well. I am Ickis the Wayward, Wandsman of Kul-Manas; Sailor of the Celestial Sea, Walker of the Astral Plane, Spelunker of the Dimensional Depths. Sorry for the long title, but I rather like it.

Now it was his turn for all of the pointless etiquette.

-Great Wandsman, I have come to you on behalf of the Deathless Merchant of London so that we might achieve an agreement regarding the Holy Grail War.

The bird-man stared at him for a while, then spoke in a saddened tone.

-Holy Grail War? Will you be the contestant for the Merchant, young human?

He smacked a shelf of books with his clawed hand.

-Based on my experiences, about the Dark lady that visited us last time, I believed she would retrieve a catalyst herself. Why didn't she?

John wordlessly Projected a sheet of paper and handed it to him.

-Hmm.. so these are the plans of the Merchant.

The Wandsman then retrieved a small key from... somewhere, and handed it to him.

-Do you truly desire this? To summon him from the Throne... the Merchant is truly bold.

He nodded again.

-Very well. We shall take our leave, for the Ambassador will soon return.

The Wandsman stood up and walked through a door that he was certain wasn't there a minute ago. Screw it. He was going through.

After the strange sensation of walking through a dimensional portal, he found himself in another new world.

The sky was jet black. The Wandsman tapped him in the shoulder.

-This land has no sun, so there is only eternal night. Do not be afraid. She will soon be here, and then we will strike our deal.

He wasn't. He could wait.

He and the Wandsman sat in there, unmoving, for a few minutes. Then he heard footsteps. He immediately moved and pointed his handgun at the direction of the sound had came.

-So you try this with everyone you want to make a deal with?

There she was. He was supposed to make the deal with her.

A girl that seemed barely out of her teenage years, with black hair and green eyes, clad in regal black robes. A dark crown floated over her head.

-No. I had to be sure you were who you say you are.

She chuckled. He placed the handgun where it was supposed to be. The Wandsman attempted to clear his throat like a human would and call their attention, but his particular anatomy wouldn't let him.

-I suppose you brought it here, Black Queen?

She tapped her floating crown, and it spun a little.

-Yes. I brought it. Did you bring the stones, agent of the Merchants?

He nodded and took it from his pocket. Two white stones, with some black markings. He did not know what they were, and frankly did not care in the slightest. He was here to make a deal, and he was damned if he wouldn't make a deal.

-This is what you wanted, wasn't it?

She nodded back to him, and took her crown off. It begun to shift and turn, the illusion around it being unmade. Soon, it was a simple vial, filled with blood. She handed the vial to him.

-I, Black Queen Aeqirman, hand his this blood to you. Now, Wandsman, seal our deal when you strike your own bargain with him.

The Wandsman nodded, and revealed a small spear tip, that looked very old and resonated with a strange feeling.

He handed a stone to each of them, and the Wandsman placed the spear tip in his hand.

-I, Ickis the Wayward, Wandsman of Kul-Manas, hand this spear to you. The bargain is complete. I shall take my leave.

He then left, vanishing into the darkness. The Black Queen stared at him.

-Are you sure Dark knows what she's doing?

He shrugged. He didn't care in the end. She laughed and blew him a kiss.

-See you later.

Then she disappeared as well, leaving him entirely alone.

 

[thenew]

The mage stared at the tome in his hands. It didn't look like what he was expecting.

-Is... this... the book?

The cultist pointed a skinless finger at it, and hissed.

-This is indeed the book you sought, Kayneth El-Melloi. Treat me with respect or I will choke you with your own entrails.

Kayneth went pale, and nodded frantically.

-Yes. Here's the payment.

He handed a small disk to the cultist, who hissed again, this time in apparent pleasure, at its touch.

-Good. Now leave, weak serpent. I have much to do.

The mage scrambled out of the room, while the monstrous beasts the cultist held howled and screeched at him.

Walking through the halls of the abandoned mansion, he tried to ignore the horrible screams coming out of the walls. The walls had mouths. He knew this was a bad idea.

A sound echoed. He had tepped in something. When Kayneth looked at it, only to see a deformed heart crushed under his foot, he could only wish that this visit would end soon.

He clutched the anomalous pistol his allies in the Hand had given him, and hoped he would not have to use it.

After a few minutes, he walked out of the mansion. His ally waited outside, smoking a pipe.

-Kayneth. You picked up the book?

He sighed and nodded. His ally threw the pipe away, and unlocked his car's doors with a mere gesture.

-Great. This one will be a great catalyst. Get in the car.

As they drove away from the decrepit mansion, Kayneth stared at the codex.

-What kind of... catalyst is this?

The other mage laughed.

-Not a mere catalyst, Kayneth.

He opened the book, and passed the pages. It was... a self-help book? It seemed harmless. Star Signals. Well, if one ignored the large SCP-1425 warning stamped in the cover. Vier laughed louder.

-Yeah, buddy. I told you I had the good stuff. This book in there is a damn Fifthist text! This thing is a death sentence to almost every group in the world. They would shoot us dead if they found this, Kayneth.

He flipped through the pages. It... was weird. It started like normal text, then it seemed to degenerate into word salad. Strange. But it seemed to be immensely dangerous. He couldn't get why.

-Will this... book. Summon a... powerful Servant?

Vier looked at him like he was insane, then went silent. For the rest of the journey, they didn't speak a word.

When they reached the city, Vier stopped the car in front of a hotel. He breathed deeply and pointed at the book.

-Powerful? Whatever the hell your crazy ritual will summon, it will certainly be damn powerful. Probably weird, but powerful. Just trust me. And don't read it!

He grabbed Kayneth by the collar of his shirt, and opened the car's door. As he pushed him out, he said in his ear:

-Don't read it. You will die.

After he had threw the mage out, Vier threw the book at him and laughed.

-Don't take this into the airport, too! The jailors will kill you, Kayneth!

Then he turned the car on again.

-See you later!

And before Kayneth could recover or realize what had happened, Vier had already drove away.

 

[thenew]

Emiya Kiritsugu and Irisviel answered the summons of the head of the Einzbern family.

They both moved to the the dark castle's prayer room.

Since the Foundation obtained the Grail, their power and influence froze, and their search for its mysteries was filled with humiliation, suffering and opposition.

Even through they had decided to not remove the guarantee that the three founding families would always participate, placed in the Grail so many years ago, they had nonetheless changed many things about its design and construction.

These three houses held different points of view regarding this.

The Tohsakas accepted the Foundation's modifications to the Grail, even if they were rather antagonistic at first, and though the years, became treasured allies of its Magecraft Department within the Clocktower.

The Matou were forced to comply to them in order to survive, as their influence dwindled and their bloodline grew weaker, and received a key artifact as an additional bribe.

But the Einzbern did not.

In every Heaven's Feel ritual, they never succeeded, as their Master always failed to prevent the Foundation from forcing the War into an unwinnable situation.

Their solution was to hire a magus specialized in fighting, from outside the family. Emiya Kiritsugu.

The old magus king of the castle awaited Kiritsugu and Irisviel in front of the sacrificial altar.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern, AKA "Acht", was the eighth head of the Einzbern family. He had lived for almost two centuries, leading the Einzberns through every one of the Grail wars. Old Acht has suffered the pain of defeat many times.

He was decided to not lose this one, or the old man would make him pay.

-The holy relic we requested people to find in Cornwall finally arrived this morning.

Acht stared at Kiritsugu. He had lived in the old castle for a long time. Pointing his fingers towards the large, black box, his eyes shone with detrmination. He took the box from the altar, and handed it to hi

- Using this as a catalyst, it would be possible to summon the strongest Heroic Spirit of the Sword. Kiritsugu, count this as the Einzbern family's greatest aid to you.

He bowed deeply and answered, feigning respect.

-I am deeply grateful, dear head of family.

The Command Seal had appeared on Kiritsugu's right hand three years ago, even through he was not a true member of the family.

The old man looked at Irisviel.

-Irisviel, have you or your husband managed to obtain information on his plans?

"Him" could only mean one person. Acht only spoke with this fury in his voice when speaking of one person. O5-8. Overseer Eight of the Foundation.

Acht's nemesis, his arch-enemy. The man who, according to the Einzbern head of family, had been making sure the Einzberns won no Holy Grail wars for over a century.

-No. We have not.

Acht looked at the altar, hatred in his eyes.

-I am absolutely sure he will be here. We must win this war. Were this accursed man to even succeed, he would destroy all I fought and bled for.

He slammed his fist at it, creating a large crack.

-He would destroy the Golden Grail. This time...

Acht spoke three words, coating every syllable with hateful venom.

-He will die.

He breathed deeply and looked again into his eyes.

-They certainly have already readied the vessel.

He came closer to him, and whispered in his ear.

-Win.

Old man Acht, eyes shining with insane strength, stood at the altar and looked at the window.

-This time... no one must survive. Kill all Servants but our own- this time we must acquire the Third Magic, the Golden Grail.

Hearing the burning fervor in the old man's command, he and Irisviel answered simultaneously.

-Yes, sir.

It did not matter. Through his hands, Kiritsugu Emiya would grant Jubstacheit von Einzbern his desire: the Holy Grail.

And he would use that omnipotent chalice to grant his own deepest wish.

A few minutes later, they went back to their own rooms, and opened the box Acht had given them.

-Who would've thought... They were actually able to find this thing...

A scabbard, gold and blue. No flaws, no mistakes. An absolutely flawless work, but it was not hard to craft a flawless work nowadays.

Through the power of anomalies, any street anartist could fake this.

What truly proved this scabbard was the true one, what proved it was not a lie, were the Fairy Letters.

One organization, in the entire world, held access to a possible method of faking such a relic, which laid in the forest of the endless name. But few knew of that place, and even fewer knew it still existed.

Entranced by its beauty, they looked at it for a while.

He and Irisviel knew what would happen. Who this scabbard would summon.

Kiritsugu knew that he and the King of Knights would conflict. But he did not care. He would win this war.

Speaking of the War, he had some reports to read, didn't he?

 

[thenew]

Zouken Matou was going to die.

Zouken Matou did not want to die.

-You little thief... did you really think you could take it from us?

The sarkic cultist's witch-hounds had devoured almost all of his worms, and the Akuloths he had stolen were... corrupting the rest.

He did not understand how. In matter of seconds, these white vermin had taken control of his worms. Thus, the Sarkics had gained full control of them.

That distorted man opened his monstrous maw and begun to chant.

-Our sacred white worm... our sacred white worm...

He was running out of Blood Worms... and he had virtually no means to attack beyond a few combat familiars. He did not believe they would be enough.

- As Orok said to the Kytherans: Power is made from the pain of the fragile. Here weakness dies...

The fool was distracted. He could escape. Separating some worms from his main body, Zouken Matou begun to open a hole on the mansion's wooden floor. As the Sarkic continued to preach holy words to no one in particular, he sent these worms through the hole.

-Here strength is born. I exert myself, a pale reflection of Ion's sacrifice of flesh to the intolerable for-

Now!

Sending a blade worm into the fool's head, Zouken Matou threw a large part of himself in the hole. Relieved, he slumped over as the hounds came closer. The Sarkic's skull had already healed. He continued to preach, not wasting a single breath.

-force, and shed frailty's husk. I commune with my akuloth core - my sacred metamorphosis complete."

Suddenly, he stopped and looked at Zouken.

-Why?

...What?

-Why did you steal our sacred white worm? We could have given it to you, had you asked.

What? They... would have given him the worms?

-You are a fool. Had you sought redemption with us and forsook your dark ambition, you could have understood the truth.

The monster's maw curved and twisted until it became a horrible mockery of a smile.

-We will seek your weak son next. Byakuka? I think it was Byaukuka...

He was distracted again. What a ridiculous fool. He did not care about him in the slightest. He was more worried about losing Sakura- the child has much more valuable.

-I pity the boy for having grown with you as a father... how can you father anything with that husk of a body?

This had been going on for too long. The worms were already escaping from the house. He could reform later. He would unfortunately lose the child, but survival was a higher priority.

-But this husk will serve us well.

As the hounds devoured that body, Zouken Matou was relieved that he had escaped. Had the Sarkic been a bit smarter, he would be doomed. He also made a mental note to stay away from the Sarkic white worms.

Roughly a day later, the Matou mansion had already been redecorated with traditional Sarkic decoration. Swollen tumors, red bulging sacks of living flesh and meat wallpapers.

-It's amazing!

Karcist Lavalken danced through the hallways.

-It's beautiful!

All of his worms had been dissolved and used for a much better purpose. He laughed and shifted his body. In a matter of seconds, the withered form of Zouken stood where the Karcist was a second ago.

He shifted back and looked through a door. Zouken Matou was truly a fool. His "training" was inneficient, and in his view, completely pointless.

The child was a true boon to him and his objectives. It could be molded into a powerful weapon for the faith.

The Karcist stroked Sakura's purple hair softly, analyzing her sleeping orm. Since he had... shifted her form to purge Zouken's worms, she seemed different. Calmer. Yet, she had yet to wake up.

He had rushed the purification a bit, but a worm or two wouldn't matter... would they?

Now, for the other child. Shinji Matou.

He did not possess the gift of magecraft, unfortunately. However, he could still be useful as an acolyte if nothing else. He did not possess the gift himself, until he became a Karcist.

Analysis of the worms revealed that Zouken was still alive. However, Lavalken doubted the husk would be capable of summoning a Servant.

The Grail always made sure the Matou would enter the Grail War. He doubted he could enter it himself. The children were too young, and Byaku... something was a broken shell of a man. He could be repaired, but that would take time.

But the family had a viable Master. Just not here.

And Karcist Vainken had a perfect bargaining chip to convince said Master to work for him.

 

[thenew]

O5-8 hid inside of his office. Waiting.

He touched his pendant. So they were gone.

Walking out of his hiding spot, he readied his pistol. Caution wouldn't cost him anything. He was already doomed, after all.

But he still had something to do. O5-8 was getting out of here. He knew was going to die, yes. It was obvious.

Just not today. He still had things to do.

The old man stared at the crate in the corner. Adam had said it was a stupid idea to commission this.

Well, who's laughing now, thought him, as he stared at the large, steampunk shotgun. He was. Because wasn't defenseless, at least. The Red Right Hand was surely going to take some casualties tonight.

The Mekhanites were bastards- but they had good weapons. That was obvious.

There was also some other things he still needed to take from the crate.

A small, brown box. The catalyst.

A wine bottle, filled to the brim with SCP-006. The good stuff. He had been keeping this one for three decades. Every few months, he took a vial of it from the river. Nothing too weird. The rest of the Council didn't bat an eye. But he hid it here. It was almost full.

His secret stash of The Immortality Juice. This thing here would let him buy a lot of things.

Endless riches. Power. Enough shares of MC&D to put his own initials in the company name. Both of them.

The map of his facility was there, too.

He opened it and started to think. This was going to be hard. There were going to be soldiers waiting at every corner, just waiting to kill him and bring his head to the rest of the Council.

Eight stared at his shotgun.

He took the Catalyst out of the box and hid it in his breast pocket, still covered by the plastic layer.

-They want me dead now. Should have expected it.

Then, he opened the door of his office, looked at the wine bottle, he placed it between his arms and walked out.

-But I've been here for half a century.

He could escape this death trap of a facility. He just had to play it safe. But should he?

-I know this place. They don't.

And O5-8 ran towards the containment cells.

In his way, he had to be careful to avoid the MTF.

He had decades of experience, but the soldiers that came to dispatch him were the most effective the Foundation had.

But he had a plan.

First, he could mislead them. The normal blueprints and maps of this site did not show his office. The top-secret O5 maps revealed an office... the wrong one.

It had taken him 20 years to place these fake maps in the records. Adam, god bless his soul, was the only one who knew this.

Second, he would distract them. Broadcasting cognitohazards over the site had given him a few minutes.

Some people would be out of shape after forty years of desk work. Not him. He was ready for this.

No one was going to stop him now. He had two minutes at best, and he was going to use them.

He took a restrained swig from the bottle. Now he could heal his wounds.

He was nearly reaching the containment cells. He laughed.

Oh. He was wrong. Damn Red Right Hand.

-O5-8! Surrender. You are officially-

A voice spoke from the MTF's communicators. This one was obviously younger then the others. They would have just gunned him down.

A year ago, he had supported a decision in the Council.

Should an O5 betray the Foundation, should we send the entire Red Right Hand at them?

Yes, we should, he had said. Even the newbies. Even the ones who just left the other MTFs to join.

When they had invaded his site, Eight had remembered that day, and called himself an idiot.

Now? He was very happy.

-Soldier. Stop this. Do not point your weapon towards him. Let me speak to him.

The soldier seemed surprised, to say the least, but complied.

So someone wanted to say some last words to him.

-Very well, sir. Overseer Four will speak with target.

Eight laughed at the soldier. Four. The bastard probably wanted answers.

-Oh. It's you, Four! Damn, how's it going?

A long, drawn-out sigh came from the device.

-Eight... what are you doing? You can't enter the War.

Said Overseer pointed his shotgun towards the MTF.

-Sorry, soldier. But you need to die.

The gun released a burst of superheated shrapnel, killing the soldier instantly. Interestingly, the device which Four was using to speak through was completely intact.

However, the soldier had a second to react, and shot him in his stomach. Damn, this guy was really badly trained.

He was such a genius. That tactic of sending all forces... how forward-thinking of him.

-So you won't comply. What do you want, Eight?

He laughed again. He wanted answers.

-Don't call me that, Four. We all know I'm not an Overseer anymore.

-Yes. You aren't... Blake. You stopped being the moment you entered the Grail War. Why did you do that? What is your wish?

Blake took off his glove, revealing a rune written in his left hand, then pointing it towards the corpse. The Command Seals.

-You can see me, can't you? You planned this from the start.

Four was impatient, now.

-What do you want with the Grail? You're a dead man. All of their bullets are tipped with a material that should have killed your sorry ass in seconds. Why aren't you dead yet?

-Four... really? Did you really think that would kill me?

-Of course. I know every corrupted paratech implant you shoved in that deformed chest cavity of yours. You're tough, but I know how to kill you.

Blake was now laughing loudly. Thank God for his foresight. He wouldn't die. He was sure of it. The water would keep him alive.

-But I don't care. What is your wish? I know you, Blake, and you're a sick, worthless little man! Nothing you wish could possibly be-

He came closer to the equipment, and placed a finger in his lips.

-Shhh... hear me, old friend. You want to know my wish?

Four's voice came, cold and furious.

-I do.

The former O5 answered, slowly:

-I want the Grail gone.

Then, he pointed his gun the device. And, before Four could answer, annihilated it with a blast of energy.

Switching settings in his gun again, Blake stood up. He looked at the bullet hole in his stomach, and inserted his hand inside of it. Removing the projectile with his bare hands, he watched as the wound healed.

-Transhumanism is fucking amazing, Four. But magic immortality juice is also amazing, don't forget that.

Then, he walked towards the containment cells.

-I think I hid the teleporter here somewhere.

He tapped the wall, and a door opened.

-Oh. What a forgetful old man I am.

He walked inside, and looked at the smoldering remains of the soldier's audio devices.

-Well, Four. You're not going to hear this message, but I'll tell you anyway.

He bowed to the wrecked machine.

-The game's almost starting. You better get ready.

And then, he vanished without a trace.

Five seconds later, the room exploded spetacularly, reducing this section of the facility into a smoldering wreck.

As the Red Right Hand was kept busy for a few minutes, the time it took for them to recontain the loose anomalies, and as such, no one could accurately track the location of the former Overseer Eight.

He liked it that way.

 

[thenew]

Item #: SCP-2491

Object Class: Euclid Keter

Special Containment Procedures: As SCP-2491-1 cannot be moved due to concerns related to procedure ABGRUND, a Foundation Site with the temporary designation of Site-Grail is to be mantained in the general area. MTF Eta-2, "Last Supper" is to remain in the genral area, in order to locate any accidental visitors to SCP-2491 and amnesticize them. Due to secondary requirements of procedure ABGRUND, the city of Fuyuki, localized in the proximity of SCP-2491-1, must be kept in ignorance of its existance. Procedure ABGRUND is to be realized once every 60 years.

Foundation personnel are not to directly participate in procedure ABGRUND without express permission of a member of the O5 Council. This does not apply to personnel tasked with repairs of SCP-2491-1, personnel tasked with the creation and utilization of SCP-2491-2, individuals affected by SCP-2491-5 and members of MTF Eta-2.

Description: SCP-2491 is composed of various different anomalies and a number of entities produced by their anomalous effects. These anomalies are:

• SCP-2491-1, a thaumathurgical device built around the 18th century.
• SCP-2491-2, a secondary item vital in the completion of procedure ABGRUND.
• SCP-2491-3, anomalous entities created by SCP-2491-1.
• SCP-2491-4, are weapons or techniques possessed by SCP-2491-3 instances, possessing unique anomalous properties.
• SCP-2491-5, an anomalous mark which allows for control and enhancement of SCP-2491-3 instances.

SCP-2491-1 is a large construction dedicated to thaumaturgical workings, employing the advanced method referred as "Third Magic" or "Heaven's Feel" and fueling itself through the absorption of large amounts of magical energy. That energy is initially obtained from the environment, but SCP-2491-2 is also needed in later stages of procedure ABGRUND. This construction acts as a dimensional portal to the normally inaccessible dimension referred as "Akasha" or "Swirl of the Root", that is the main objective of thaumathurges affiliated with the Group of Interest "Mage's Association", upon completion of procedure ABGRUND.

SCP-2491-2 is currently an ornate golden cup, created to assist in the completion of procedure ABGRUND. It possesses the capacity to absorb the energy produced through the destruction of SCP-2491-3 instances.

It was theorized by Magecraft Department personnel that the effectiveness of the procedure would be increased if a living organism was created to fulfill this role, but the concept was not accepted by the Ethics Committee.

SCP-2491-3, often referred as "Servants" or "Heroic Spirits" by GoI-0023, are thaumaturgical creations made through the same advanced method employed by SCP-2491-1. Said entities are often copies of famous historical and mythological figures, though individuals connected to Groups of Interest, namely the Church of the Broken God, the Sarkic Cults and a predecessor to the Fifth Church.

The instances are created through a procedure which also connects the instance to a human host, referred as "Master" who is needed to continually supply the instance with a constant supply of energy. If the supply of energy is exhausted, or the host is terminated, the instance cannot survive for long. Some instances possess the ability referred as "Independent Action", and as such, can continue to exist even without a Master.

These instances are normally unable to be harmed by non-anomalous weaponry, though the presence of anomalous metals in the construction of otherwise non-anomalous devices seems to counter that defense to a degree, allowing these weapons to cause minor wounds. Experimental Foundation equipment was successful in destroying a -3 instance, but their usage was deemed impractical due to damages suffered by the equipment.

These instances often receive a designation indicating their main method of combat and SCP-2491-4 instance. Observed ones were:

• Archer (Possessed ranged weapons, and possess the "Independent Action" ability.)
• Saber (Possessed bladed weapons and possess strong thaumaturgical resistance. Said resistance was great)
• Berserker (Berserker instances possess no particular weapon preference, but possess greater combat capacities at the cost of increased mental instability, and tend to induce strain on their Master)
• Foreigner (No particular abilities observed.)
• Caster (Possessed lower-then-usual physical combat skills, but thaumaturgical skills were reportedly superior to almost all modern thaumaturges.)
• Lancer (No particular abilities observed- according to the testimony of the instance, abilities are activated upon death.)
• Rider (Destroyed before Foundation intervention.)
• Assassin (Destroyed before Foundation intervention.)

Instances of SCP-2491-3 often possess anomalous and thaumaturgical abilities, or heightened combat capacities. However, there are exceptions- the "Foreigner" instance summoned by the "Einzbern" thaumaturges during the third occurrence of procedure ABGRUND did not possess any abilities beyond the ones displayed by a non-anomalous human. Instance was destroyed by MTF Eta-2 member through the use of a mundane pistol. Said pistol used thaumaturgically-enhanced bullets capable of targeting incorporeal anomalies. No further modifications to the bullet were added.

After the destruction of a -3 instance, their thaumaturgical bodies will decay, and said decay will produce a large amount of energy. Said energy is then transported through anomalous means to SCP-2491-2, where it will be stored until the completion of procedure ABGRUND.

SCP-2491-4 is the designation given to several tools, devices and techniques possessed by -3 instances, which are also referred as "Noble Phantasms" by their original users. Each instance possesses a set number of them and they are often unable to attain or produce more.

An instance possesses a "true ability" with can only be activated by shouting the instance's name.

The instances of SCP-2491-4 and their properties are connected to folklore, anectdotes and accomplisments of the original person the -3 instance is based on. Only three -4 instances were observed, of which two are currently in containment.

• "Shift Spear" held by Lancer instance. Black spear with a orange-yellow blade. Anomalous property of shifting into a sword and back into a spear- no other properties revealed. In containment.
• "Hammer-1" held by Berserker instance. Unknown active property. Decayed after Berserker's destruction, currently non-functional.
• "Thunderer" held by Archer instance. Colt M1877 double-action revolver. No passive anomalous effects- seemingly usable only by original -3 instance. When the instance shouted its name, the pistol fired an anomalously charged bullet, and destroyed the Berserker instance (which was attempting to crush Archer with its hammer) instantly. Archer instance identified as "Billy the Kid", an outlaw and gunfighter of the American Old West. In containment.

SCP-2491-5 is a mark, that appears in the hands of individuals selected by SCP-2491-1, and allows them to perform the procedure that creates the -3 instances, and to serve as hosts or "Masters" to them. It seems to also allow three orders to be issued to a -3 instance- which will then receive a boost in power to fulfill said orders.

Addendum SCP-2491.1: Discovery

Spoiler: INSERT LEVEL 4 CLEARANCE CREDENTIALS

CREDENTIALS INVALID
INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE
PLEASE REQUEST HIGHER CLEARANCE CREDENTIALS BEFORE ACESSING THIS FILE

Addendum SCP-2492.2: Procedure ABGRUND

Spoiler: INSERT LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE CREDENTIALS

CREDENTIALS INVALID
INSUFFICIENT CLEARANCE
PLEASE REQUEST HIGHER CLEARANCE CREDENTIALS BEFORE ACESSING THIS FILE

 

[thenew]

Kariya Matou's world was pain.

He had struck a deal with that cursed man. The Karcist.

He would enter the Grail War, and in exchange, Sakura would be free.

The Karcist had claimed he held great mental strength, and that he would almost certainly win. However, he had almost no magus training- so several implants had been given to him.

The list of modifications was extensive: first, a secondary set of small organs inserted in his chest. Several things had been removed to make space- namely a lung and his liver.

These missing organs had then been replaced with new ones, smaller ones.

His arms had been amputated and replaced with strange ones, with stronger bones and organic blades inside of each finger. This particular procedure had been done while he was sleeping.

He would have never agreed with that one.

For three whole months, the Karcist played with his body in ways that would leave any mundane surgeon utterly dumbfounded. Lavalken's more invasive procedures had, thankfully, been performed with the use of anesthesia. The Sarkic cultist was honestly quite gentle and kind- were one to ignore his strange habits.

Lavalken tended to rant about his religion in the middle of delicate procedures. This had resulted in some accidents, namely the time where he had gained three hearts. In the end, he only removed one- their efficiency was very high and he felt better then ever.

-The heart is silenced, before her dagger seen. A moment immortalized in a single strike- oh. Did you have three hearts before, boy?

-No...

-Oh, your throat is filled with blood. I'll clean it. Hm... The Judgment - unavoidable, inescapable. Dismay; a death inconceivable. To the arrogance of Daeva...

He shuddered. That memory had been not a pleasant one.

However, it was not actually disgusting- he had not felt anything too horrible during the procedure. The only sign that he was choking was that he couldn't breathe as well.

The only truly revolting and painful part was the Akuloth worm.

He had been nauseated when the Karcist revealed the creature- it brought back horrible memories regarding Zouken and his disgusting... everything.

In the end, it had been an extremely painful procedure. He felt like his body was turning against him, his organs burned and the worm's secretions eventually forced him into a drugged haze, a haze that ultimately could not do anything to lessen the pain.

After that, his body shifted at a rate faster than he had ever imagined. The process was slow in some parts- he had not felt any difference in his muscle mass, even through Lavalken had claimed the worm would stimulate their growth.

The Karcist's training was not as radical as his surgeries were- but it was close. Even with the surgeries, the spartan regimen had left every inch of his body burning.

He had been pushed to his absolute limit, then forced to break past it with the Akuloth's aid.

The Magus association would kill for one- and in fact, it had. Lavalken revealed to him that Akuloth worms were extremely sought after by most magi.

Why? They served as Magic Cores.

This had left him in shock until the Sarkic explained it wasn't nearly as efficient as the real thing.

-They aren't worth half of a mage, boy. Unless you are a Karcist. Ours are worth twenty mages.

Apparently, theirs was the real thing, and it only worked for them.

He had once read in one of Lavalken's tomes, that it not for the Great Union, eighty years ago, in which many Proto-Sarkic cults and communites had banded together and formed their own communities, many of them would have been devoured by the at the time extremely powerful Mage's Association.

The Sarkic found it very funny.

-Yes, yes, they would kill some old crumbling villages. But when the we, Karcists, came down on their association, they would all die. We have a lot of beasts, all of them just waiting in their cages, boy.

The worm had also been sought after by Zouken- who wanted to implant four of them within Sakura's heart. According to Lavalken, this would have not killed her- just completely shattered her mind.

-Zouken didn't know this truth, boy. The pitful husk wouldn't have made a viable heir, just a broken shell of a girl.

He had a feeling Zouken would not care.

His Magic Circuits weren't very useful- he had almost no practice with them- and would at best serve to support a Servant's existance.

But the Akuloth would at least keep him alive, wouldn't it?

And he had to stay alive.

All he had to do was participate in the War. Not even win.

He just had to call his Servant. Well, Lavalken said he would expect him to win- but he promised he would give Sakura and Shinji to him, even if he lost.

And... what would he do, then? Would he have to raise them? He didn't trust Tokiomi to take care of them, and Aoi...

Well...

Anyway, Lavalken had treated her well. She was still changed into a completely different person by Zouken's filthy "training"... but she was getting better.

Her eyes were empty and she spoke with no emotion, but there was still hope that she would once be the girl he knew.

He hoped she would be better.

He truly did not know what he would do if she wasn't.

 

[thenew]

Site-72 burned.

At midnight, several bombs had been detonated in key points around its structure.

Security had already attempted to call for help, but it would take time for said help to arrive. Hammer Down was on their way, but they could do nothing if the site was already destroyed when they finally reached their destination.

Meanwhile, the invaders, armed to the teeth, searched the site for their target.

The Insurgency was looking for someone, and they had caught the Foundation in their most vulnerable moment.

Recently, there had been a containment breach. Several anomalies had escaped and caused heavy casualties. The site's security was weakened- and the Insurgency had used this moment of weakness to strike.

A week later, an investigation would reveal the researcher responsible for said breach had been behaving strangely before the event. A bizarre coincidence, indeed.

While their forces ravaged the site, a small origami spider panicked in his cell.

Aímact Priest Alison Killian of the Church of the Second Hytoth, also known as SCP-2417, was very, very afraid.

They were here for her, he was sure. Two of them had already entered the prison. She had been unfortunately forced to kill them.

She was acting like a damned Daeva.

No. She needed to calm down. What could she do here?

Maybe, she could destroy the forces of evil, yes. She could crush them all with her holy form. Well, this was not helping. She was being delusional if she thought she could do this.

So...

Escape? Flee? Yes, that was the better option. Quickly moving through the door, Allison ran to her freedom.

The origami legs she possessed were surprisingly quick for their size.

The soldiers had seemingly devastated this site. Looking at the ruined corpses of these poor scientists made her sick.

After looking at the security guards, she felt the need to vomit. She did not possess a stomach, but nevertheless felt it.

They had been obviously tortured before dying. She absorbed their blood, and uttered prayers for their souls.

-May you reach the Eitoth. You did not deserve this.

Suddenly, a bullet moved just past her head. Oh no.

The soldiers were here. Six of them. She was doomed. The soldiers pointed their guns towards him.

-SCP-2417, surrender. You are being rescued from the Foundation's cruelty and return you to your Church.

What kind of rescue was this? She was absolutely sure these... these... madmen did not work for her Church. They dared to call her captors cruel, when they had acted with all of the malevolence of a Vorteut?

No self-respecting faithful of the Koru-teusa would accept these monsters into their fold.

Or... did they? No, no, no. They wouldn't do this. She was certain. Certain!

Now, this was obviously a lie. She couldn't fall into their hands. These men were dangerous and co-

-J̷̡̛̠̯̬͓̣̰̝̠̳͈̬̫̣͐͒̊̓̽̑̓̏̓̽̌̕ý̸̳͙̉̎͐͒̀͋̽́̕̕͝͝u̵̧̪͇̰̰͇̰͉̗̞͇͖̩͋͌͋͊̈́̂̃͑͛͌͆́͘̚̕o̷̮̖̙͉͇͚͊̈͂̓̊͒̎̉͋̎̌͂͘ ̴̧̡̮̩̩̝͓̯̟̘̆̑͌͑̏̃ͅͅḩ̴̻̪͍̑͊͂̔́̑̐͆͋͘̚e̷̡̙̬͎̤̪̱̩̜̤͙͛͛̓̊͛͒̂̎̿̾̑͘̕l̴̦̤͆͆̽̑̓̾̅̐͋͘͠ ̵̩̜̮̩̖̰̟̻͓̅n̶̡̛̘̼̭̓̉̒̒͒̊́̋͋́͜͠o̸̠̩̳̲̟̮̞͇̻̣̱̜̾̓̌͒̈̈́͐͑͒͘͝,̶̢̪̺͓͇̻̥̽́ ̴͉̈́̃͜h̵̢̡̡̥̭͍̗̰̜͈͍̩̿́̏͒̇̾̾̐ȇ̵͍͚̰e̴͉̋͐̅̾̒̀̋ͅr̵͎̿

What was this? Daeva chaos-tongue!? The soldiers were already screaming. Were it not for hes own blessings, she would have gone insane. She had to flee. It was the only option.

A tall man stood in the corridor. He had uttered these unholy words, she was certain. She retracted and folded herself, to fight more efficiently.

-Hmmm. So you're the priestess?

He knew who she was. She pointed one of her tentacles towards him.

-Who are you?

He chuckled.

-An agent of the Hand. I'm here to get you out of this place before the Insurgency could snatch an Aim-actor priest.

-Aímact.

-What?

-It's Aímact, not Aim-actor.

He looked at her incredulously, and burst out laughing.

-I come here to save you from the Madmen, and you correct my pronounciation of Ortothan words? Anyway, we should go.

He worked for the Serpent's Hand. She wasn't a fool- she knew who they were. But why did they interfere here?

-You're probably wondering why I'm here, aren't you? Well, I'm here because we have an alliance with your Church.

An alliance? The man turned away.

-Come with me, and I'll explain it all. Let's just say we've got a plan. Unless you want to get kidnapped by the Madmen.

She... had no option. These soldiers were definitely not anything good. She walked towards the man, who extended his hand to her.

-Let's go, priestess. We have much to do.

As Allison wrapped her form in his hand, the agent's skin begun to grow more and more transparent.

Her own body followed, until they could not be seen anymore.

Minutes later, the Insurgency had to flee, as the Foundation's forces has finally arrived. They could not complete their mission.

And a bargain was struck.

Somewhere else, the former Overseer Eight, now merely Blake, sat at a table. He was absolutely sure no Servants had been summoned yet.

At his side, a perfect summoning circle awaited.

He snickered, and looked absentmindedly at the black box. A single Key of Solomon waited inside. One of seven artifacts, which had almost destroyed the world.

-Oh, this is going to be perfect.

 

[thenew]

-Don't you want some tea, Allison?

She wanted tea. Unfortunately, her origami body could not consume it anymore. She slumped over in her chair.

-No, I can't drink tea.

He looked at her and nodded in understanding, pointing towards the single empty chair in the area. They were in the Wanderer's Library, waiting, for about a hour. The books were good, yes, but she was getting nervous.

-Very well. Do not worry. Dark is coming soon.

Dark. One of the three directors of the world's most powerful anomalous business. What kind of bargain did the Church make with them?

She heard a noise. Footsteps.

A young woman stepped into the room, wearing a black suit. She looked at her, looking interested.

-You are Allison Kiluan, aren't you?

She nodded. She smirked and extended her hand. She shook it with one of her tentacles.

-I am White. I am an emissary of Iris Dark.

She then placed a box in the table. A wooden box.

-Do you know what this is?

She shifted her paper body and shook her paper head.

-Well, before I explain, he needs to give you a history lesson. Dan?

The Serpent's Hand agent nodded, and Dark sat on the chair. He pointed towards the teapot.

-Would you like some tea, White?

She smiled and shook her head. With a hand gesture, he created an illusion.

-Do not worry about her. She's only here to make a delivery.

Three people, sitting in a table. A white-haired woman in a dress, a blue-haired man in a suit and a black-haired man in a kimono.

-Do you know what the Holy Grail is?

The Christian artifact? Yes, she did. Dan pointed towards the illusion

-Well, it's not that one. Do you see these three people here?

-The three founding families. These three created a large construct, known as the Holy Grail, inside of a mountain. Einzbern, Makiri and Tohsaka.

A mountain.

-The function of the Grail, originally, was to open a path to the Root.

White examined her form. It was honestly disturbing.

-I assume you know about its existance, don't you?

Akasha. Yes, she did know what it was. According to Church theory, it was the way that the nameless creator had used to keep his creation safe and true. Obsession of the mages in the Clocktower. Without a Root, the Second Hytoth would fade into the Voru's unreality.

-Very well. By summoning seven copies of Heroic Spirits from the Throne of Heroes, assigning them to a master, then forcing them to battle, the Grail would gather energy to do that. As a side effect, all that energy could be used to grant a wish.

Wish-granting artifact? Dangerous. Dan shifted the illusion around. Seven shadowy warriors battled.

-Two Holy Grail Wars occurred, and no Path was formed. No wish was granted.

Then, the image formed into a large chess game. Six unusual pieces- one with a sword, one with a horse, one with a bow, another with a spear, a fifth with a knife and a last one with a scepter, plus six common pawns, moved freely across the table.

-The Third Holy Grail War occurred in the middle of the seventh Occult one, in sync with the World War.

The Foundation's symbol appeared in the table.

-And the Foundation was chosen to be...

Dan laughed.

-An impartial arbiter.

White nodded, and placed two new pieces on the table. A completely weapon-less piece representing a woman, and another pawn.

-Normally, seven masters summon seven servants. They battle, and the last one standing gets their wish. The Einzberns summoned some special servant which was supposed to give them the war, on a silver platter.

Then, several soldier pieces entered the game.

-Well, the Foundation didn't like that.

The soldier pieces killed the pawns, and the woman.

-They killed the Masters- and without said Masters, the Servants couldn't continue existing.

The chess game shattered.

-Then? The Foundation seized the Grail. The mages got furious, and nearly declared war.

Two organizations like this declaring war on each other would be a disaster. Dan continued, in a robotic and emotionless tone.

-But then the Bookburners came. The Association could only really try to attack when the Seventh Occult War was over, and by then, the recently formed GOC descended on the mages, with all of their resources, plus all of the legendary artifacts they had obtained from the War's aftermath.

-The mages defended themselves- they're quite strong. But the GOC had such massive resources and funding, as more then a hundred occult organizations had fused to form then, that they actually could deal damage, hell-bent as the GOC was in absorbing them into their "member organizations".

Both Dan and Whit eseemed to find this funny. A large clock tower in flames formed. Then, a Foundation site, similar to the one she had been imprisoned in, being built.

-The Foundation exploited that conflict and took control of the Grail. No one knows why they did that, but this year, they called for another War.

Dan revealed a mark in his hand.

-These marks show you are a Master. The Church of the Second Hytoth has a plan for this War. They hired me to fulfill it.

-What plan?

White opened the box she had revealed before. It contained a small spear tip- oh. It radiated power.

-What is this?

White snickered.

-Well, I told you the Grail summons Heroic Spirits, doesn't it?

She nodded, again.

-Well, you can use a catalyst to... well, specify the Servant you want to take. This is one.

A catalyst. Interesting.

-This spear tip, used to wound Rakmou-leusan thousands of years ago.

Her mind stopped for a second, to better comprehend what she had said. Her mind could not. Her body nearly unfolded itself, and she stared at the box with her non-existant eyeballs.

-What.

White stood up, and Dan took a coin from his pocket, giving it to her. She pointed at the spear tip.

-Normally, I would not come here myself. We would send the box through... other methods. But this deal of ours is simply to important. The Church of the Second Hytoth wants to win this war, Allison.

She looked at her, and spoke in a cold tone.

-We made a deal. Your Church spent nearly all of its resources in it. Don't destroy them. You only have two gods left, don't you? Don't kill them. A dead customer is not a returning customer.

She placed the coin in her breast pocket, and left. Allison looked at the Serpent's Hand agent.

-I... don't know what you want me to do. This was confusing, to say the least.

He smirked.

-You'll know, Allison. You'll know.

She waited, and he explained. She understood.