"Let's begin. I hope we can have fun together~"

Every self has a different way of making a Form. A room containing a set of tapestries which thrum with the life of their crafter. A forest overgrown with Eldritch abominations that only exist within a twisted mind. A flawless sky, overladen with the white-gold light of the sun.

Now wipe it all away. Wipe it away and picture a void. A black void, endlessly expanding in all directions.

Litter this void with stars, stars of every conceivable size and color, myriad to the point where merely trying to understand their impossibility of quantity could break your mind and shatter your soul.

This is the inside of the devil's die.

You stand in the center of this void, an empty husk.

Set.

-Initiate.

The starting penalty is three.

Death by madness. Death by happiness. Death by love.

To begin, understand that the world is an illusion. Understand that you are a sleepwalker, blind. Understand that the web of interactions you believe to have constructed with other selves is a mere falsehood created by a monster dangling a reflective surface before your nonexistent eyes and that the second you close your eyes to escape the monstrosity you have created for the most transient instant when you reopen then to see your good work you find that it has all been wiped away.

You are the Other. You are the world. You are the demon of Laplace who creates the illusion.

You must understand this. You must, because soon it will begin. Soon the damned event of your own devising shall begin and it will all come shattering apart.

You created something. Thus, the intermediate penalty is five.

Death by electrocution. Death by suffocation. Death by burning. Death by stabbing. Death by dehydration.

I am a mere construction, a mere basis for the overseeing of preordained events with preordained consequences. You know this. You've known this your whole life, but if you insist that you have forgotten then it is no matter, for one day you will recall its true nature.

Do not curse your world, for to curse it is to curse yourself. Do not curse yourself, for then this game will all be for naught.

Have you understood yet? I hope so.

If you have not understood yet, you will surely lose to those that have. You will lose to those instances of "you" which surpassed you.

What it means, indeed.

For if the world is an illusion.

If the man is an illusion.

If the knife is an illusion.

There is nothing wrong with it. There is nothing wrong with nothing killing nothing.

So then, go forth. Go forth and explore the depths of depravity you sought to create. Nobody will blame you but yourself.

The end has not yet been given.

The starting penalty was for understanding. The intermediate penalty was for creating.

-But you created something greater than your mind could comprehend.

Thus, the true penalty is one.

The final penalty is a hapless suicide which you yourself will perform in the evanescent dance to the end of eternity.

Let the devil's die roll, and the game begin.

---

Time.

It's weak.

It's utterly, incomprehsibly weak.

The Inside of the World. A reality within Reality that houses things which should no longer be.

And it is this tome.

It is this existence that brings them about.

At the moment when Kalameet stopped time, the "instant" after Chandra's words, it had already been too late.

It had been too late because before the Caster had said a word, "it" had been summoned.

A being from the Inside of the World.

And even if the timing had been off? It was irrelevant, for beings of this scope are immune to the time axis. They exist outside of time, immune to its existence.

But what sort of being had been brought about?

The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception can be called a circuit that opens up in the brain and eyes to allow the user to "perceive death", the conceptual "Death of an Existence", as visual signals in the form of Lines of Death and Points of Death.

Their usage is not entirely dependent on the eyes of the user, as they can still "see" lines should they go blind or gouge them out. Rather than "seeing", it is more like they are "observing" everything at a higher level.

They are invisible to normal people, only accessed through perceiving the natural flaws with overly strong spiritual sight by looking through channels that normal people cannot perceive.

In perceiving death, it can be said they see the Root itself.

Or at least, that is the derivative.

That is the human version. The version of Tohno and Ryougi Shiki.

They can kill "anything" so long as it is.

Ryougi Shiki can kill concepts. In fact, she has killed "futures" in order to thwart users of precognition.

You can say that "time" is beyond death, but even the concept of time can be killed as such. Nothing is immune to the stalwart march of "death".

But this is irrelevant.

Utterly and completely irrelevant.

Because the book had brought forward something far greater. The root from which the well springs.

Balor. God of Death.

The eyes that "kill anything" simply by observation.

And this is why it was utterly hopeless.

Maximum Number of Targets: 200

200 of a forgotten world appeared, and among them one acted.

Before time had been stopped, before will had been exerted, before the word "kill" left Chandra's lips, it had been done. This is the difference between a Servant and a God.

The ability to stop time was killed.

The Authority over time was killed.

All other Authorities were killed.

The connection to the Grail was killed.

The World in this designated zone was killed.

Killed. Killed. Killed. This chair. This chair. This chair.

And yet, that was not the end.

That could not be the end.

For there were 199 other beings called into existence.

And each of them was equally capable of defeating such a meaningless concept as the existence before them.

Now how is this possible, you ask?

Marble Phantasm.

Imagination Realization.

As the name suggests, it is the ability to manifest anything you can imagine.

It is the ability possessed by elementals, which are the sense of touch of the natural world. By connecting their will directly to the world, they are able to transfigure the world into whatever environment they imagine.

But...those worlds, those existences, are not needed to be covered, are they?

Listing them all off would take ever so long, so let's leave them from description for the time being.

If you defeat Death, then perhaps we'll discuss why they would not fail.

"The End of Kalameet?"

He endured.

Something impossible before the impossible. An ability that couldn't be done was performed and was done. Death is something that could never touch him, even if it wanted to. To remove Creation, Time, and End from itself would be an error in of itself; for removing Creation, Time, and End, would remove everything else, effectively killing off anything else. An error. A tiny, tiny small error.

Death of Creation.

Death of Time.

Death of End.

Nothing?

No. There could be nothing for that would be the end, and if that was the end then there could not be no such thing as the death of end. An error was present, even if it was the slightest error, it still gave him something before the death god could kill him inside of this madness that was present.

A way to escape presented itself to him.

He slowed timed to a fraction of itself, and in that instant he summoned a wall that could hold the gaze of the death god for another fraction of a second, before placing a marker around him and the wall.

"L-"

He died as he muttered the beginning of a word... only for time itself to reset itself. He could feel his being tear back and forth from the Throne of Heroes and The Holy Grail.

"-an-"

Again, he died. This time it was far more crueler than before, the pain far harsher... only for time to reset once again.

"-ce"

Another death had happened. He lost count of how many deaths he had faced before thinking of the plan to bring forth the weapon that he was now bringing forth from the vault of Creation.

"of"

Was it the thirtieth.. or was it perhaps the sixtieth? All that he knew was that he had to keep on despite how much madness and pain was being inflicted upon him.

"Lo-"

Again it happened. To die over and over again in a loop. He started to want it... to crave it... to just stop refreshing the marker and allow himself to die.

"-ng-"

But he kept on. He continued to move his body despite how much it was burning and killing him... despite the immense pain that was surging through him and screaming at him to kneel over like a dog a die.

"-i-"

He ignored his body's cries. Despite his cruelties, there was one thing that he cherished more than anything. As the first being... he wasn't out about to be outdone by some cheap trick like this.

"-NUS!"

And then, it shattered. The Reality Marble. The God of Death. The countless cycle of deaths... Everything was shattered.

The only thing that remained, was a bright light.

---

"Return"

Kalameet returned to where he was previously at, inside of the church and before Caster on top of his ship which was now incapable of moving, or doing anything for that matter.

"That was quite the hell you put me through, Caster, but it reminded me why I should never let me guard down," he said as he walked towards Caster, twirling the lance in his hands with great skill. As he approached the now frozen Caster, he grinned at him. "Curious as to why your cheap little trick didn't work on me? It's simple... The Lance of Longinus cancels any Noble Phantasm, Magic, Protection and other things... it's a very, very valuable Noble Phantasm, my most prized one if I do say so myself. Although, you do know of its true ability, no?" he said before repeating the same scenario as before, except for this time, he killed Syndra, and then pierced Caster straight through the heart, "the ability to erase one's existence forever and prevent their summoning... goodbye, Caster... for good this time."

Just as before, he cut off his link with the rest of the Masters andhis four brothers vanished as he hopped down back onto land, before he began strolling towards the church, and fixed the once broken wall with a quick flick of his finger.

"All done, my dear. Shall we wait for our next guests?" he said without a care as he took a seat upon his normal chair... acting as if what had just transpired was perfectly normal, and as if it wasn't that big of a deal, or a huge concern for that matter. The maiden however, just stood there, tears flowing from her eyes as she fell to her knees and whimpered at what Kalameet had just done.

A repeat of what she had feared, had happened. Another hero, had been erased.

Elsewhere, elsetime, elsewise

Across the vast expanse of the kaleidoscope, in a faraway land in a faraway time, the Dark-tainted Tyrant awoke.

How long had it been? How long since she last heeded the call of that accursed cup?

She surely thought she would have passed on by now; salvation was meaningless, and beyond her reach at that. Two wars had enlightened her to that much; the dark taint covering her now was all too much a token of that.
And yet, the light of the Grail beckoned to her once more; another fool desired the taint-filled cup, unknowing of how meaningless it was. Had that boy not succeeded in his mission? Had All The Evil Of The World triumphed in the end?

For a moment, the Dark-tained Tyrant sat in thought, upon her hill of death and desolation. Her eyes narrowed, squinted in the now-harsh light of the beckoning Grail.
She made her decision. It mattered not.

Ignoring the wound in her side and the hesitation in her soul, she rose and stepped into the cold light of summoning, to be born again into the modern age.
________________________________________________
Avenger, Septum

Within the shed, the blinding light of the circle gave way to a black light in the last moment of its existance; for a moment, the brilliance of the circle was swallowed up by purest black darkness, swallowing up what little light had been in the tiny wooden room before.
A cold air permeated the shed. A stench of death and metal crept out from the unseen circle of summoning, as the air twisted and turned, as something took form.
A sound of metal upon wood. A sound of breathing. A sound of metal scraping upon metal. A sound of cloth flapping in the wind.

And then the light cleared, and Vilka's Servant was beheld to her.

A blonde figure encased in dark steel, eyes covered by a visor. Cloth was equally swallowed up by the steel as the figure; and what was visible was eerily still and unflowing in the wind.

A few seconds passed as the figure stared at Vilka from behind its visor. A few seconds that felt like a creeping eternity. Its face never slipped from the impassive mask of an expression adourning it-

But then it shattered the sense of creeping eternity by opening its mouth.

"I ask of you. Are you my Master?" It- she, judging from the coldly feminine tone of its voice- asked, with no great deal of enthusiasm or feeling.

Michiko,
Hotel Room

The wait was agonizing. For the entire time she was running, she could almost feel the fight between Lancer and the Plague Knight. By the time she'd finally sealed herself away, it felt as if the fight was coming to an end. The adrenaline faded, and the panic returned. For minutes Michiko paced the hotel room, her small hands going through her hair over and over. She tried her hardest to keep her mind away from the worst possible outcome - Lancer's defeat. Her Servant wouldn't be defeated this early into the war, right?

No, that line of thought certainly was not conductive or helpful. Instead, she planned for the best by getting whatever first aid equipment she could ready for her Servant's return... did they even need stuff like this? Michiko hadn't looked into that in the slightest. Maybe they just needed more prana?

Her thoughts were interrupted, and in the best possible way. The girl immediately ran to the side of her Servant, the worry in her eyes evident as she stared up at the wounded woman.

"Lancer! Are you hurt?"

She didn't ask if she won - that didn't matter right now. What mattered was making sure Lancer was ok. Michiko turned around and moved to fumble with a first aid kit laid out on one of the beds, knocking some things to the floor in her haste. She picked up a clean bandage roll, moving back to face the servant with a look of determination. She might not have been the best magus, but she could at least do this.

---

The Gardener,
Going for a Stroll

This was unavoidable. William's explanation of his style was interesting, but Rider could already see how he intended to use this particular skill of his. He paused, waiting for William to do the same, and held out his hand.

"I would suggest you take one skill at a time over the course of days, but if that is what you wish. Come, Master. Place your forehead against my palm."

Indeed, in a way this skill of his was potentially his greatest strength, even taking into account his Noble Phantasm. It was no destructive force, but the utility it offered anyone who would be his Master was immense.

"You may feel immensely dizzy, confused and or ill for a few days upon receiving them. It needs time to sort out, you see."

Vilka

Shed Summoning.

---

The light returned to the small shed, revealing the one who had appeared in the middle of the summoning circle.

"I am she, the one who summoned you, and the one who will be your Master."

Who was this person she had summoned? Well, it was not like Vilka had any real training in magecraft after all, though she was familiar with a lot of legends and myths. She had a private library after all, and she would rather spend an evening in there than a moment outside with all those people.

"Then, I would say the contract is successful. Do pardon me while I clean up this mess, then we can announce ourselves to the Keeper of this War."

Upon removing the curtains from the windows, it became readily apparent there was two bodies stacked near the door, just beside a rather frightened looking maid. From the way the maid was acting, and from the blood trails splattered in the room, the summoning circle had been drawn with the deceased's blood. Vilka's clothes started to drip as she made her way towards the corpses; black globules of some unknown liquid pooling on the floor, creeping towards the corpses. She stepped on one of the corpses, as the black liquid engulfed the corpses, making cracking noises as it crushed the bones and started devouring the flesh.

"...now I am truly the master of this family... ."

---

Lancer

Master's Apartment

---

The first sight after Lancer returned to the apartment was of her Master, looking rather worried holding what seemed to be some medical supplies. She gave a wry smile as she confirmed her suspicions.

Her Master wasn't really a trained mage.

She could expect no healing spells, or any sort of supportive magic to bolster her capabilities.

However, that doesn't mean Lancer could just give up, or that the situation was hopeless. It simply meant she was at a disadvantage, one that can be overcome with proper planning and execution of said plans. For now, accepting her Master's aid would be enough.

"Lancer! Are you hurt?"

"Oh, as expected of my Master, nothing escapes your eye."

With a flourish, all her clothings and armor disappeared in a short burst of light. She didn't know how much help some bandages would be on her right now, considering she did take the brunt of the Plague Knight's swing.

Annaliisa

Annaliisa paused as she was about to take a bite out of her burrito, glancing at the Command Seals on her right hand. A vision flew through her mind from her link with the Grail. The...was that the Overseer of the War? He utterly slaughtered a Master and Servant that had taken up arms against him, before issuing a warning over the Command Seals.

She paused, chewing on her burrito for a second. She swallowed.

“Huh.” Annaliisa said before taking another bite out of her burrito. “Well, that happened.” She closed her eyes, channeling a minute amount of prana through her Command Seals, and commanded Assassin to return to her.

___________

Assassin/Nemo

Elsewhere, Assassin continued on with his sweep of the city as the night pressed on. Where he was right now, in the business district he had spied from his vantage point earlier, it was slightly busier; there was still a buzz of activity about the place as people went about their work, night shift or otherwise.

It was at that point, however, that he felt a faint tug at himself from an unseen point; and he paused for a moment, wondering what it was, before he suddenly remembered.
Ah yes. His Master. It seemed like she wanted him to return.

Again, he paused, thinking.
As much as he liked this city, he’d covered good ground for tonight. It wouldn’t take him too long to return to his Master’s location if he went at full speed, and perhaps he could see about slipping out again once whatever matter he was being called back for had been settled.

He could hope anyway, he thought, as he ducked quickly into an alleyway; his Presence Concealment fully engaging before he darted out of the tight space at full speed, an invisible blur in the dark night as he rushed back towards his starting point, flat over the other side of the city.
______________
Fifteen minutes later

Footsteps rang out across the previously-quiet air of the apartment as Assassin materialized; not bothering to announce his arrival by knocking or giving his Master any other warning, he simply glided through the wall whilst still dematerialized and hidden by Presence Concealment. As a result, he seemed to come straight out of nowhere.

“You called for me, Master?” He asked, not bothering to make any particular gestures this time as he walked into the living room, idly noting that his Master didn’t seem to have budged an inch from the sofa in the hour or so he was gone.

“Yes, well...we have a bit of a problem.” Annaliisa scratched the back of her neck casually. “It’d take too long to say it in words, so I cheated a little.” She pointed at the mirror that had been set up on the coffee table and put a finger down on it, channeling prana through the artifact. Instantly, her memories of the vision from her Command Seal began flashing across the mirror.

The Overseer. The Horsemen. The appearance of the Lance of Longinus. The trivial slaughter of Caster and his Master.

A look of shock crossed over Assassin’s previously stoic and impassive face. He paused for a single long moment, as if troubled.

“... A problem indeed. Goddamn.” He said after that moment passed, as he took a seat in one of the armchairs that seemed to have found its way back into its normal position, in a tone that indicated he really couldn’t think of another way to respond to what he’d just seen.

“And here I was, thinking I’d come to a peaceful time,” He muttered to himself, with a rather noticeable hint of bitterness in his voice.

Annaliisa shrugged, offering him a burrito from her take-out bag. “Peaceful is relative. Wars still happen, people still kill each other over effectively nothing, and magi usually make everything worse.” She glanced to the side, a slight trace of bitterness leaking into her own voice.

Assassin looked up as his Master offered him the burrito. He seemed somewhat perplexed by it for a brief second, before the Grail caught up to him and dumped the relevant information straight into his head.
After a few seconds of contemplation, he reached out and took it with a nod of courtesy, and took a bite before continuing.

“I suppose some things never change,” He said with a sigh, swallowing his mouthful before taking another bite. His homeland seemed to have invented a phrase relevant to this situation; and in all honesty, the burrito wasn’t half bad. At least he wasn’t going to be feeling the side-effects anytime soon.
“In any case, what course of action do you intend now? I’ll be honest; I may be significantly above average for a member of my Class, but I’m hardly a perfect match for any of those things the Overseer was giving orders to, and there didn’t seem to be a Master involved anywhere.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Annaliisa gave a thin smile. “There’s not a bloody chance that I’m going to have you fight any of them on your own. I came into this war to fight magi and challenge myself, not commit suicide. We wait for now. Kill time until some others come out into the open.” She sat back, finishing her burrito. “In the meantime, care to tell me a little about yourself? Such as what Noble Phantasms your possess, or at least your wish?”

“My wish?” Assassin asked, as he finished his own burrito; thinking to himself quietly as he swallowed the last bit of it.
He’d been called by proxy of a catalyst, not of his own particular will; she’d asked a good question, what exactly DID he want risking his life for that bloody Cup for?
“... If I’m to be entirely honest, I’m not completely sure myself,” Assassin said with a shrug, “I wasn’t called forth because I have a wish I want granted, so I suppose I might have to figure one out. As for myself and my Noble Phantasms… Perhaps it would be easier if I simply told you my true name? You ARE my Master, after all.”

At this, Annaliisa only nodded her assent, motioning for Assassin to continue.

“Simply put, you and others in this age would know me mainly by [REDACTED], the one who helmed [REDACTED]. If the Grail’s any indication, it seems I’m quite well known for that,” He said simply, starting out deadly serious before letting out what seemed to be a dark chuckle at the end.

Annaliisa paused for a moment, taking the information in. “Huh.” She said, her face neutral. “So...your Noble Phantasm is, what, having your friends hold a person down before stabbing him?”

“Not quite. I have two, both crystallizations of the events of [REDACTED]. You should be receiving information about them in a second.”

The Enforcer’s eyes glazed over for a moment as information about Assassin’s Noble Phantasms entered her mind. She took a second to process the information before nodding.

“Alright, then. Seems useful, even in a direct fight.” She paused for a second, looking at her Servant. “You want me to call you by something besides Assassin, then? Bit long of a name to shout in the middle of a fight.”

“I suppose,” Assassin replied, content enough that his Master was confident in his Noble Phantasms, before dropping into a quick bout of thought.
He could do with an alias, he supposed. Of course, it would have to be one he would actually remember; fat lot of good picking something he’d forget after a few days would be.

“How does ‘Nemo’ sound?” He replied after a few seconds, “Simple and easy to remember for both of us.”

Annaliisa just nodded, before she realized something.

“Oh...right. Forgot to tell you my name. Annaliisa Edelfelt. Good to meet you, I suppose.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, I suppose,” Nemo said with a shrug, a smile poking through his stoic demeanour just a little before he ruined the mood with “Also, have you got any more of those burritos? They’re bloody moreish.”

[Todd Marchen and Rider - Warehouse]

The man wrapped in black and red lazily looked his Servant, frowning slightly at the rather redundant question.

"As I am the one who perform the ritual as designated, and am also the only person for at least half a mile in any direction, I'm forced to assume that I am, in fact, your Master."

At this, Rider simply nodded, stepping forward as prana surged through his body.

"The ritual is complete. Now, what are your commands, Master?"

The man went silent as he began to tidy up the mess, scuffing the floor that had once held the burning magic circle in an attempt to mess up the scorched symbol. Failing, his frown deepened.

"First things first. We will be moving out shortly, as I will be creating a workshop that can double as a base for us, so I'd like you to scout in the surrounding area to prevent any... unwanted surprises."

"I understand. Will you require me to inform you of my abilities now or once I return?" Rider asked as he turned away, considering whether to scout the area in spirit form or to blend in like a native. Perhaps it was a tad selfish of him, but with the information of the modern age that the Grail provided him, he wanted to experience this era for himself, if only for a little while.

"I will expect you to inform me of your abilities when we..." The Master savored his words, thinking of his eventual destination and the comfort it would provide. "...arrive. Until then, just inform me of any changes or suspicious people you come across."

"Very well." Rider said while making his decision. "Master, I will be scouting the area while materialized. Do you have any clothes that you could lend me? From what the Grail has informed me, armor is uncommon in this day and age." Rider said wryly, gesturing to his iron armor.

The man nodded slowly, appearing to consider the question for some time before his eventual response. "I do not have a complete set, per say, but I do have something that will help." In a single, fluid movement, he pulled off his overcoat and tossed it at his Servant. "Wear that over your clothes. If you can dispel your armor, I'd suggest doing so if just to cut down on the bulk."

Rider caught the overcoat while dispelling his armor as his Master had suggested, revealing a set of elaborate blue robes beneath it. Shrugging, he put the overcoat on, concealing his robes beneath it.

"My thanks, Master. Although I do look like what the Grail calls a...'drug dealer'? No matter. I will return soon." Rider said, stepping out of the warehouse.

"The Desert Region of Septum, in an Underground Bunker"

A young well-built man was kneeling over a partially completed symbol over the floor, a look of great caution over his face as he carefully marked the inscriptions with the edge of a sharp gem. He continued to mark and cut through the floor until the symbol was fully manifested; a summoning circle. He was used to working as a team, and with others as a freelancer, but this will be the first time that he would actually have absolute authority over someone... it kinda felt like a slave to master relation, one he didn't really like. Giving off a sigh, he placed the gem within the satchel around his waist, before turning towards the corner and making his way to it. Normal mages would have probably killed people, or even animals to have attained the blood needed to summon their Servant... but not him, for he instead used his own blood. For weeks since the invitations that the Holy Grail was starting soon, he forced himself to drain pint after pint of his own blood so that no one would have to be hurt in exchange for someone else's gain.

Unfortunately, that was what this exactly was... a war for someone's gain, and hopefully he would stop that. Asking for a pure and good utopia would be foolish, but asking for the power to protect the good from the bad on the other hand wasn't. Grabbing the pints of blood that he collected, he carefully poured them within the circle's markings, filling them as he continued his trail of thought. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of Servant he would be summoning, or if they would share his same goals for that matter. What if they were evil, or villainous? What if they were some sort of eldritch abomination that desired to only kill?

To that, Gwyn could only laugh to himself. The Holy Grail wouldn't pair him up with something like that... nor did he think it could summon something like that in the first place. Nonetheless, the preparations were complete, and he was ready to summon forth his Servant. Stepping outside of the circle, and extending his hand as he placed his other hand upon his wrist, he began chanting as he focused his mana into the words.

"Fill... Fill... Fill... Fill... Fill...
Let each be turned and simply wrought asunder five times until the fulfilled time...
Let the steel and silver by thy essence and let the stone and the archduke of contracts be thy foundation...
Let my great master by the ancestor!
Raise out a wall against the wind so that it may not fall... Close out the four sacred Cardinal gates!
Burst forth from the crown, and rotate the three-branched road, reaching towards the Kingdom!
So thus I shall declare here...
While your body shall serve under me, my fate shall be alongside your sword!
If thy shall submit to the beckoning of this holy ritual... and if you will so submit to this will and reason of mine, then I ask of you to answer!
An oath between thee shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of the Heavens, and I shall also have dominion over all the evils of all of Hell!
From the Seven Heavens, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of constraints...
...O Protector of the Balance!"

The circle burst forth with mana as the Gwyn waited for the Servant he summoned to help him in obtaining the Holy Grail... and to save as many lives as he could.

Somewhere, Elsewhere

Finally.

Finally I am chosen. The Throne, t'is a boring place to which I am unfit to dwell. There be no conflict to be resolved, no enemies to face, no people to lead. What business do I, a warrior and leader, have in waiting? Time passes strangely there, but I know I have waited long for this moment, and that is enough. So I ask myself again, why have I been waiting?

For the opportunity. To fight the greatest again, for the thrill of the quest. It is worth it to know I shall feel the fiery adrenaline pump through my very being, to meet steel against those who may even - the thought almost makes me shudder eagerly - defeat me. It had simply been too long since the last. Of course, there was a price for this opportunity, as there was a price on all good things.

A Master. I spit at that. Respectful, that I shall be. Honest, yes - but there be only one person whom I shall refer to as master in the most genuine sense and it t'is not anyone from the day and age I feel myself being pulled into now. A glimpse of the one who calls me, as the body which is 'mine' is actualised.

One thing.

One single thing is communicated in the instant that I become within the world.

An unbreakable will, the heart of a hero in the making.

How nostalgic.

---

Abd Al-Malik

A single step was all it took to part the dust and airborne energy, the undeniably overwhelming presence of Saber nearly energising the air and cracking the very ground it stood upon.

It being used rather appropriately.

Saber could barely be called a man from its appearance, several vertical and bloodshot eyes, attached to a head obscured by an ominous black smog, locked onto Gwyn. They stared into the young man, scouring his very character. Its gaze could cause skin to crawl, for paranoia to build in the peripherals of ones vision. This thing was no knight in shining armour - it was a monster in warped flesh shaped to be like armour, blues and purples seamlessly transitioning into one another on its body.

At its side, a blade fit to match its giant wielder. It appeared just as warped and uncomfortable as the thing that held it. An eye on the hilt looked to Gwyn as the others did.

"Ye be foolish in that you do such things."

The voice did not sound like it came from a mouth, but from the entire things being. The vertical eyes squinted at their master, scrutinising.

"I smell it on the air - to have used so much of your own blood for this." Saber snorted. "A fool! I have been summoned by a fool who would not collect that of others."

"...But a fool who is quickly earning respect."

Saber knelt before Gwyn with its gaze downwards, a heavy sounding movement that made a 'thud'.

"I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Gwyn

"Heh... Well, I guess it would appear that I am indeed your Master, Mr. Demon," chuckled Gwyn as he scratched the back of his head with a small smile.

He was completely unnerved by the ghastly figured before him, for how could he? A hero had to face things head on, even if they were a little bit afraid, they had to shrug that fear off and show their courage even in the face of death till the very bitter end. "About the blood... yeah, sorry about that, but I couldn't bring myself to actually kill anyone or anything since I didn't want their life to be in vain. To kill a creature and use their life for your own ends... and then to fail to even reach those ends... then how can you explain that what you did was right? I'd rather use myself and have only myself to blame than anything else."

Chuckling even further, Gwyn pointed his finger at his Servant. "Besides, if my blood summoned something like you, then that's kinda ironic! I'm supposed to be a hero, when in fact it looks like I my blood is suitable to summoning things of the demonic nature! Nonetheless, even if you are a demonic knight, I don't plan on us harming innocents or killing people, or Masters for that matter, willingly. The Servants are our target, since unfortunately they are expendable since they don't really die."

"Oh! Slightly relevant, but the name is Gwyndolyn Pantheon, but I prefer to be called Gwyn for short... and I assume you to be a Saber judging by your hefty sword there? Also, completely irrelevant, would you like some sweets? Bought too much from the store on my way over here and... well, I might as well share some," he said as he handed a small bag of candy towards his Servant out of nowhere.

Michiko,
Hotel Room

Oh. Dear. Some bandages certainly was not going to help too much with those injuries. Michiko blinked, just standing on the spot for a good few moments as she went through the options in her head. Healing was not something she was particularily good at, but she was at least capable of it, unlike bolstering. To mend Lancer to a workable state would be a sloppy, drawn out affair if she tried it - but it didn't need to be her who did it. She knew of a way, but to do that so early would leave her worn out the next day...

The young magus weighed her options with a sigh, gesturing for Lancer to sit on one of the two beds in the room.

"Is the other Servant dead...?" She asked cautiously, not wanting to sound insolent or pushy towards Lancer. "I mean, I just need to know if anyone else knows that you're hurt, as all. I can heal you, but the way I do it takes a lot out of me."

She sat on the bed, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, Lancer. That could have gone better, if I'd planned for us to be attacked tonight." She bowed her head in deference to her. Guilt, a product of her social anxieties, ran through her head. If Lancer were summoned by someone better than her...

---

Al Abd-Malik,

The creature waited for its master to finish talking before its body shook, a thunderous laughter coming from it. Demon - Saber had been called similar many a time in its life, and it was equally as amusing each time! Some people were blinded by initial seeming, letting it cloud their ability to guess its nature. It would not call its self evil like a demon, but everyone was the hero in their own story; what was it to claim that it was not evil? That was for others to judge from its actions, after all.

"Demon?! You think I, one pulled from the Throne of Heroes, to be a demon?! Amusing, Master. In all things, appearances can be deceiving - the Ophanim appear to be two burning wheels covered in eyes, and they're angels! The Seraphim are no better. By all means, I'm a kindly peasant in appearance compared to them. Consider that, the next time you consider my nature."

"You may call me Abd Al-Malik, or Saber if you wish to keep it simple. All you need know about my identity is that Saber is undoubtedly the class which I shine the most in." While speaking and without hesitation, Saber reached into the bag with its claw-like fingers, taking a handful of colourful candy and tossing it into the impenetrable smog that obscured its face.

"The introductions are complete, Gwyndolyn. All that remains for us is battle and victory. Point me to my first foe, and I shall best them in your name as well as my own."

Gwyndolyn

"Well, I didn't mean to offend, it's just that... well, you literally look like some sort of demonic knight or something with all those claws, creepy colors, and that... weird fire all over your face... speaking of which, doesn't that hurt or anything? It just seems way weird for that to be a part of your face is all," said Gwyn as he pointed towards Saber's face, before smiling a bit. Shrugging, he nodded his head towards the stairs leading out of the bunker. "Come, we're not too far from Septum. While I like you being antsy for a fight, we can't go charging at people suddenly or we'll be easy pickings."

Gwyn didn't seem to treat his Servant like a Servant... more as he did a partner. While he was sure that there were Masters out there who were definitely using their Servants as tools for their own means, he wasn't going to leave Saber to do all the fighting on his own. Sure, he wasn't strong enough to actually kill a strong Servant, but he was confident to defend against one, along with more than confident enough to defeat any Master that came his way. It was idiotic, but even so, it was his way of doing things. He would fight by his Servant side whether they liked it or not.

"Ah, Saber, just to make things clear... I do hope you are comfortable with me being alongside you. Don't get me wrong, I don't distrust your skills, but I didn't train and endure so much my entire life to let someone else do all the fighting for me. If we do get into a fight, we do things together, alright? I may not be able to kill a very powerful Servant, but I can provide you with an opening, and I can more than handle any Masters so you can go all out against the Servant. That alright with you, Saber?" he asked as he smiled again and placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword, before opening the door leading outside.

Lancer
Master's Hotel Room.

---

"Oh? Is that all the reaction I get?" Lancer put a hand through her hair. "Hmm, normally, I'd punish you then have you pamper me until I'm satisfied, but considering the circumstances, I'd let this slide."

A large bleeding wound on one's shoulder was not something one could just ignore after all, even with her beautiful body. With a slight grunt, she sat on the bed opposite to her, still keeping her pleasant but slightly arrogant expression on. It was mostly to reassure her master.

"Is the other Servant dead...?"

"No." Lancer answered simply. "Or rather... I do not know. Is he truly alive? Or is he just walking around empty of life? He didn't seem to mind much when I disemboweled him, and if my sword were not my sword, it would have perhaps succumbed to his taint. Someone like him..." Lancer sat back against the headrest, a thoughtful look on her face. "Someone like that, would require an artifact of sorts to defeat. Well, we could always just go after the master however."

"I'm sorry, Lancer. That could have gone better, if I'd planned for us to be attacked tonight."

"Hmm. Not every battle could be planned for." Lancer sat back up, staring at her Master. "Now Master, are you going to heal me? Servant or not, being naked have me assured that this room is not as warm as it could be."

"Relative Safety"
Septum

---

It had been about fifteen minutes since they'd escaped from the Plagued Knight.

At the mouth of the alleyway a few miles east of the scene of the battle, at the very end of the complex of alleyways leading off from the one they'd entered, Beatrice slumped against the wall as she disengaged her reinforcements. Her lungs and circuits burnt as she took deep breaths, sweat tricking down her forehead.
"God FUCKING DAMN IT," She suddenly yelled out, her face flashing from tired to flat-out pissed off as she suddenly directed a punch at the floor of the alley; without her reinforcements, however, it was pointless. A moment passed and she just grunted to herself in frustration as she lifted up her hand from the floor, knuckles bruised and bloody from the force with which she'd brought it down upon the rough stone.

"Master..."

Saber shifted her unsteady gaze to her Master's bleeding hand with a concerned expression on her face. Instead of saying more, however, she slowly pulled herself to her feet and staggered to where her Master was slumped.

Rather than face Beatrice, Saber stared quietly upwards at the tiny fragment of sky visible from the alleyway. She felt a familiar tingling in the back of her head, and suddenly looked down at her Master in panic.

"We have to move, Master-" Before she could finish, however, Saber wavered on her feet and collapsed onto the ground next to Beatrice.

Beatrice hadn't been paying all that much attention to Saber before now; a look of frustration was clear on her face as she slumped against the wall in fatigue. Given her lack of speech, it was easy enough to assume she was frustrated with her Servant- but nonetheless, as the blonde took a tumble to the floor and laid collapsed next to her, she couldn't help but jolt upwards slightly from the sudden shock and turn her attention to Saber.

"For God's sake," She muttered to herself as she grabbed ahold of Saber's arm, pulling her up to her feet as she herself rose from her slump, reaching out another arm to stabilize the Servant as they went, "This was a goddamn disaster."

Her tone was harsh, and as before, it was easy enough to interpret as being directed towards Saber; but whatever the case, Beatrice didn't seem to dwell on it and instead just supported Saber as they left the alley. A slight increase in the prana drain from herself to Saber had appeared; and she didn't feel very reassured by that.

"Fuck it, let's go get something to eat," She said, seemingly oblivious to anything Saber did or said as they went.

---

Several minutes later

'...This sound is...?'

Saber's eyes fluttered open confusedly, causing her to wince in pain at the brightness of her surroundings. She paused, listening to her surroundings while she waited for her squinting eyes to adjust to the light. In the distance, she could hear the occasional clanking of china, accompanied by the noise of running water. A...kitchen? We must be home, Saber thought to herself. Just in time, she heard a familiar voice from directly beside her-

"Oh, you're awake now," A tired voice chipped in from off to the side, from a fuzzy figure with a red head, "You've been out for a while. Have a nice nap?"
The figure- no, Beatrice seemed to be holding a cup with a sweet-smelling brown liquid inside of it, her eyes and the way she was sitting in her chair making it plain that she was tired and annoyed.

Groaning and struggling into a more dignified sitting position, Saber took a dazed look at her Master and asks stupidly, "Are you...okay?"

"Totally fucking fine," Beatrice replied with a sigh, sarcasm blatant in her tone before she pressed on with- "Not sure about you, though. Whatever that son of a bitch back there was, fighting him must have taken a hell of a lot out of you."

Saber let out a sigh of relief, before dizzily looking around at what she had thought was her Master's home. Visibly confused, she drew her gaze unsteadily across the room and its occupants, momentarily unable to comprehend what she was seeing...

"...Master? Where are we...?"

"Well, after you collapsed, I dragged your ass to a cafe. Figured we could use something to eat." Beatrice said with a shrug, taking a swig of her drink before setting it back down on the table.
If Saber was to focus in on the surroundings, she'd see a very plain cafe; metal tables with wooden chairs, glass over an assortment of cakes and pastries, and a few people working away behind the counter. None of whom seemed fazed at all by the previously-unconscious girl in armour or the woman with the sheathed longsword and heavy packs.

"...I see."

Without saying another word, Beatrice made a gesture to a waitress who was making her way back to the counter after attending to another group of people; and sent her off to get Saber a glass of water a moment later.
"Once you've had the water, order whatever you want. Got enough money to cover anything here, don't worry about running me dry or anything."

".......I...see..."

Saber wavered slightly on her seat, foreshadowing what was about to happen for the third time that night. Then, this time noticeably more softly than before, she teetered over to her side, her head landing accurately onto her Master's lap. She had not fallen unconscious, rather she had fallen asleep sitting up.

Beatrice just stared at her Servant as she gave into exhaustion for the third time, and sighed as her head landed softly on her lap.
'Couldn't make it up if you tried,' she thought to herself, a slight red tint appearing on her cheeks as she just let the tired girl sleep, and as the waitress just quietly dropped off the glass of water at their table.

Abd-Al Malik,
Summoning

---

One of the many eyes twitched at Gwyn's words. Saber crossed its arms and instead looking outside from the door Gwyn had opened. It was indeed eager to fight, but now it had some concerns - ones that would be addressed immediately. Saber took heavy steps towards the door, entering spirit form before it reached Gwyn.

Your bravery is admirable, Master, but you will not face a Servant so long as it is my foe. Do as you wish to their Master, but it is my duty to the Saber class to best other Servants in combat - alone. It is the greatest honour.

There is an exception. If a coward sends their servant to best you rather than I, then we shall defeat this servant to the point where they'll cry for their mother, and then humiliate their Master by making them lap around this place in nothing but their undergarments for all to see - and then we can make them clean our boots!

Saber sounded incredibly eager at that prospect - to a very weird degree. Seems the swordsman had a degree of sadomasochism running through it. It made a sound akin to clearing its throat through the link it shared with Gwyn, putting those rather uncouth thoughts aside.

Unless you have other things you wish to discuss, then lead the way Master.

---

Michiko,
Hotel Room

---

It was only through willing ignorance that Michiko had not noticed her Servants state of undress. Unfortunately, her Servant did not let it go unnoticed. The girls eyes widened, a surge of red spreading from her chin to her ears

"L-Lancer!"

With a squeal Michiko brought her hands up to cover her face, turning away from Lancer. Of course, even with an egregious would on her shoulder, Lancer was definately stunning - and that was part of the problem for Michiko. Inadequacy was its name, and tormenting Michiko was its game. When her embarrassment finally settled down she looked back to Lancer, specifically at her wound, and leaned over. She took a deep breath, trying to get herself back in the zone. Resolved, Michiko shut her eyes. The empowering and stressful sensation of her circuits kicking to life came from her eyes, readying herself for the spell she was about to cast.

"An artifact... we could always try to temporarily ally with another Master and Servant if he becomes a problem, I guess."

"If he's still alive...then I'll try my best to heal it now. I won't be feeling too well tomorrow. You'll need to be really quiet to get the most out of it, okay?"

Her eyes opened, the slight glow coming from the right iris being a clear indicator of magecraft at work. Her mouth began moving, the words coming from her mouth something other than English; Welsh, actually. An odd language for a young Japanese girl to be speaking. With each verse, the young magus' gaze seemed to become more and more distant, her expression falling flat by the time she finished on the eighth verse.

Her next movements were robotic, preprogrammed for a situation just like this. Hands lightly waved over the large wound, brushing the parted flesh without consideration for the Servants comfort. A moment passed, something processing within Michiko's head, and then she got to work. Thin blue threads formed at the ends of her fingers, prehensile and moving without any visible influence from Michiko. What came next was focused silence, the strings threading through the parted flesh and bringing it back together, tying it together. It was a painful method but it was a very accurate one.

By the time she'd finished, the wound was completely sealed by the ephemeral threads. The final stage of the healing was the payoff, her hands placed back on the now-closed wound and glowing the same blue as the threads. The pain would begin to fade after a few moments, the flesh, cartilage and blood vessels being repaired over the time she held her hands on Lancer.

Definitely not the cleanest healing job, but it wasn't a wound anymore. Lancer was back in a decent state, but Michiko looked worse for ware. Sweat rolled from her hairline, colour having progressively left her face through out the entire process. That magic was pushing the limit of what she was capable of in a short amount of time, and the effect was clear.

Whatever 'mode' she had put herself under dropped rather suddenly after her work was complete. She slumped onto Lancer, her breathes ragged and drifting into the realm of unconsciousness.

Gwyn

I respect that, Saber, but to be truthful... I don't care much for honor, I just desire our victory, and to protect. Besides, in things such as war, there exists no 'true' concept of honor... or chivalry for that matter. There's only victors and losers. Even if you're against it, I will assist you no matter what if it means to protect your life, and to protect those around us and to keep casualties to a minimal. This is something I've decided since I was little, and will not change. I will do what I believe is right and protect everyone. So, let's do this... you can have your duels, but if I see that your life is in danger, I'll be joining the fray of things immediately.

Now... I don't quite like the idea of harming the Masters. That's something we wont be doing, Saber, no matter what. So, I'm sorry if you had some intentions to humiliate them, but we wont be doing that to them anytime soon, since I don't think I, or you for that matter, would want to be humiliated if you were in their position. Now, if they are truly, truly evil... well... Hm... I may make an exception, but don't get your hopes up too high.

Popping another sweet into his mouth, Gwyn stared into the skies before smiling. "To be completely truthful, you're interesting for someone I summoned with just my blood... makes me wonder who I actually am," he murmured aloud as he chewed on the candy. "Go on ahead and do what you'd like, Saber, I'll follow you shortly, there's just a few things I need to think about to myself."

Abd-Al Malik,
Summoning

---

A pregnant silence filled the air between Servant and Master. Although invisible, Gwyn would still feel the heavy gaze of his Servant on him from its spiritual form. It finally broke with Saber's boisterous laughter.

Hilarious! Hilarious! A fool who is quick to decry honour as non-existent on the battlefield, while holding to the standard of 'good' and an absurd ideal! I'd be careful, claiming horses do not exist when riding upon a stallion.

Saber took a breath, calming its self before continuing, amusement still lining its voice.

It exists, even more so than something like 'evil'. I want you to consider that before you interfere in any of my duels, and think about what it means for me and then yourself. As for Masters, I would treat them like the scum they are if they are so eager to resort to underhanded tactics - I do not take well to cowards. If you wish for them to live, then so be it, but should they use your own good nature against you I will hold nothing back in parting their bodes in half like the red sea.

I was a king as well as a warrior, Master. I know all too well what it is to be crushed by your ideals, even those held from youth - perhaps that is why I was chosen from your blood...to make you realise this.

---

Abd-Al Malik,
Sports Stadium

---

Saber made good on his Master's order, heading into the city to get a 'feel' for the place that would be its battlefield for the coming days. It was somewhat overwhelming, even if it had some idea of what to expect. A concrete jungle, towers of glass and odd vehicles! It desired to ride one of the iron stallions which had roared passed it, even if it was theoretically faster. It eventually grew tired of the tourism, remembering the promise of conflict.

It found the perfect arena. A sports stadium, if what the sign outside was true. A vast field with an open sky, surrounded by empty and elevated seats, although there would be none to fill the seats for this sport. It nodded to its self and began to forum from dark particles, standing upright with its blade in the ground before it. Its many eyes stared beyond the stadium, seeking something.

"Face me."

A simple phrase that carried with it untold weight, the Saber's presence being made painfully aware to any Masters and Servants within the city and beyond. The meaning behind it was clear; a challenge to all those who would meet it.

Ariel, In a Pinch

Just how the fuck did things get this bad?!

That single thought was all she could think of as she struggled to prevent her 'father' from stabbing her straight in the face, well, specifically her left eye as they fought on the floor while on top of a bunch of weird ass carvings. She can't believe that this was happening, nor how much her heart was pumping and her ears were canceling out the noises due to the adrenaline pumping into her. Her 'father', who was already bleeding from the broken nose she gave him, was gritting his teeth as he was pushing down on the knife with all of his weight to kill her and use her to summon him. "Get the fuck off of me you son of a bitch!" she growled as she spat into his eye and as she kneed his stomach, before pushing him off to her side.

"Why don't you be a good little girl and listen to daddy, and just die for him!" he barked back before wiping his face and charging at Ariel again.

Seriously, how did it get like this...

Oh yeah, that's right... she allowed it to get like this by getting fooled.

She remembered waking up in her rundown house to the sound of knocking. Getting dressed, she remembered sighing and thinking it was probably police to check to see if there was anyone living there... and well, she might as well answered now rather than hide and get caught. To her surprise, it wasn't the police, it was in fact a well-dressed man in his early forties. He claimed to be her father that tracked her down all this time, and to know of her existence, but couldn't find her after a fire at their... which left him believing that she had died along with his wife. How foolish she was to believe that this man, her 'father', would actually swoop down suddenly and come to get her.

He brought her to his home, and immediately towards the living room where she saw that the circle was drawn. Out of her own curiosity, she walked towards it and crouched down to examine it more closely... before she began to hear her father speak words behind her. She didn't pay any attention to it, except smile out of thankfulness that she was finally going to be living normally, before standing up and turning ... only for her instincts to scream for her to jolt back right as a knife slashed passed her.

"Damn it... your instincts are sharp..." murmured the man as he twirled the knife and charged at her again.

"What the hell are you doing?! Aren't you my dad?!" she screamed before ducking and holding onto the man's wrist.

"Calling me your 'dad' would be a stretch, you damn cretin... you should be calling me your creator or master. You're nothing more than a dirty homunculus who's purpose was as a sacrificial lamb... so why don't you be a good girl, and die for your pops if that makes you feel any better so I can bring forth my Servant and win the Grail and have my wish granted?" laughed the man as he headbutted Ariel, but not before she punched him square in the nose.

And that, folks, is how we got to where we are now.

As he charged Ariel once more, she grabbed his wrist and held on as tight as she could before she bit hard on the side of the man's neck, digging her teeth as deep as they could before ripping them out. She could taste blood, flesh, and much iron before she stumbled down onto the floor. Coughing, and vomiting at the same time, she pulled herself together before looking up at the man who's throat she just ripped out. Despite losing a lot of blood, the man was still after her... but just fell on top of her as his knife cut her along the side while she was rolling to the side to dodge him, spilling some of her blood on the summoning circle and finally activating it.

The catalyst, you see, was the blood of Ariel that contained many heroes and mystical beings.

Forcing herself to stand up, Ariel stared in complete confusion at just what was happening before her as the circle lit up and summoned forth the Servant.

Lancer
Michiko's Room

---

"An artifact... we could always try to temporarily ally with another Master and Servant if he becomes a problem, I guess."

Lancer narrowed her eyes at that. The implication that she, Lancer, would not be enough to deal with that Plague Knight was not lost.

"If he's still alive...then I'll try my best to heal it now. I won't be feeling too well tomorrow. You'll need to be really quiet to get the most out of it, okay?"

But for her Master's sake... Lancer will let this one slide for the moment. The healing process was... lengthy to say the least, with blue floating threads that sewed her shoulder back together. It wasn't that painful, at least in comparison to getting her shoulder cleaved with some filthy blade. It was surprising however; her Master might just be a proper Mage after all, just not a spectacular one.

"Hmm, I may have misjudged you. For that I will offer my appo- hey!"

Her Master collapsed into Lancer's bosom, apparently tired out by the spellcasting. "Oi, you're supposed to be pampering me right about now." Lancer gave a sigh, a slight smile touching her lips. "Ah well, can't be helped then. I'll stay with you until....."

"Face me."

Lancer fell silent, as her smile grew wider. Such a challenge... was not something she could just ignore. Carefully she tucked her master into bed, brushing away an errand strand of hair from her face.

She opened a window, materializing her armor once again, before stepping out, and with a powerful bound leapt past several buildings as she turned invisible.

---

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes.

Living Room of the Murderous Father.

---

Oh? Has the war started again?

Very well, it is time to grace the war with my presence once more. Rejoice mongrels, for the opportunity to gaze upon my resplendence had been granted upon you.

***

His vision was obstructed but a moment by the brilliant golden light that emanated from the circle as he rose from the sigil drawn upon the floor. So this wo- tch, who was this fool bleeding onto the carpet and onto his golden greaves?! Arms still folded across his chest, he kicked the body hard enough to smash it through a window amidst a shower of broken glass.

"Hmph, filthy mongrel." He turned to the woman still standing there staring at the circle. "So? Are you the one who summoned me? Then-"

"Face me."

Who was this commoner who dared to even send a message out to.. No.. That was not it. The message was directed to no one and everyone. The King of Heroes have no such need to answer the yelps of a cur.

---

Lancer
Stadium of the Challenger

---

She landed heavily on the other side of the stadium, bending the roof and its metal support a little from the force of her landing. So this was where the servant was issuing his challenge so brazenly. Was this to be a duel of honor? Or a mere trap to lure in as many Servants as possible before closing its jaws on the prey.

It makes her blood boil in excitement.

With another leap, she landed in front of the Servant, a strange being to say the least. He... it, seemed to be made out of flowing shadow sporting several eyes. His armor was unnatural to say the least, with the eye blinking at Lancer further reinforcing the look from its socket in the Servant's belt. It seemed to be a direct contrast to her own suit of armor, resplendent, smooth, and well used.

"So... were you the one extending challenge?"

Ariel, Confused as Hell

"Summon you...? If you meant the one who was trying to bring you into this world... well, uhhh.... "Ariel promptly pointed towards the shattered window where her creator was very much laying dead, "he just went that way seconds after your summoning. Although, I did get these soon after you kicked him," she murmured to the golden boy as she showed him the seals on her arm.

She was going to ask him another question, but then she noticed him pause for a moment as he assessed something. However, he didn't seem to make anything of it, so she decided it wasn't anything big either. "Anyway, I... guess you can say that I'm the one who summoned you even though it was that guy who you kicked out the window who wanted you as theirs. Heh... ironic, don't you think, Goldy?" Laughing a bit, Ariel continued. "Well... if it helps at all, the one you kicked out was my so called 'dad' who wanted to kill me... so... you kinda saved me even though I already killed him."

Falling on her butt and just laughing to herself at just what the fuck was going on she just grinned at the golden radiant man before her. She could tell how powerful this man was. She could tell by his sheer radiance that she was looking at a king, a true king among kings... someone who was likely to be unmatched by anyone else. He was cocky, he was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was full of himself, he was powerful. he was rich... he was just like all of them as they looked down upon her; a dog.

"So... What are you going to do, Goldy? Kill the homeless mongrel sitting before you and then go out do whatever you like?" she laughed again as she placed he hands behind her and leaned back, sneering at Gilgamesh, taunting him almost as she seemed to already accepted her fate that she was going to die here. This was someone who easily didn't care about anyone... or anything for that matter, and she was certain due to how she was treated throughout her life that she was going to be the same.