“Life Support is reading flatlines across the board!”

“Alpha Team is terminated!”

“Beta Team is down!”


“Singularities 1 to 7 are all Red! The Humanity Extinction Model is predicting 100% within six months time!”

“Coffins 1 to 49 are entering Cryostasis!”

“Wait! Coffin 49 is entering Recall!”


“The Humanity Extinction Model is recalculating!”

“Singularity 1, six months! Singularity 2, one year! We’re gaining time!”

“Medical Services have recovered the sole surviving Master. Moving her to ICU, now!”


“Director Fujimaru, the Singularities have begun to stabilize,” says a little girl with a backpack, as she skated from terminal to terminal on inlines; analyzing the screens in seconds, and taking in details like only a genius could. “In twenty-four hours, Singularity: “Petra” will be stable enough for Rayshift. Do we activate Theta Team?”

In grim silence, a woman in a black suit stood up from her desk, overlooking the grand majesty of CHALDEA, as the Extinction Events receded back by six months from their predecessor. Foolishly, her own predecessor had thought to take them all on at once - that overconfidence had resulted in forty-eight dead bodies on ice, and one survivor in critical condition.

And yet, there were still more bodies that could be thrown at the problem.

“Assistant Director, Da Vinci,” says the woman, as she walked to the back wall - a wall in name only, as it was constructed to house one-hundred-sixty-eight security boxes; forty-eight of which were, now, glowing red, one was glowing orange, while the remaining one-hundred-twenty were glowing yellow. It was set as a rectangle, seven high and twenty-four wide, to indicate which one of the 24 Teams were Active, Inactive, on Standby, and, as of now: Dead.

At the eighth column, Director Fujimaru would key in code to open six of the seven boxes. “Activate these six Masters and fit them for their Command Seal,” she ordered the little girl. “They now have permission to Synchronize with their summoned Servants, and function as Active Masters.”

“You aren’t activating the Assassin,” Da Vinci asks.

“We still have that dog in the fight,” Director Fujimaru says, “We just need to bet on her...”

“We already took one huge gamble, Director. Do you wanna double down? Knowing what came of her last roll,” Da Vinci asks.

“Activate them, Technical Director,” Director Fujimaru says firmly. “Direct them to gather in Assembly Hall 11 at 1700 hours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Da Vinci says, her expression grim, before she skated off.

Sitting down, the once-assistant, now-acting, Director of CHALDEAS, Fujimaru Ritsuka, sighed bitterly and flipped through the folders. “How desperate we’ve gotten... sending children to war...”

---

Across the halls of CHALDEA, frosted by a thin layer of ice on the steel, buried in the Arctic, walked the students of magic - Masters, one and all, those of varying ranks, levels, and skill sets. In truth, they were treated like highschool students, regardless of Family or Bloodline, and adopted their own hierarchical society - ignorant to the deaths of their seniors and sophomore classmates. There would be a school-wide beeping; school-provided phones going off with a call to assemble in one of the ten assembly halls at 1700 hours for an announcement.

Save for six Masters, who would be told to assemble in an eleventh hall that didn’t exist with text-based directions to reach it: Assembly Hall 11; where Masters were given their Command Seal Activation rights and full responsibility of their Partner Servant.

It was 10:00 AM, at the moment, the start of Homeroom. Whether the chosen Masters shared classes with each other, or would pass by in the halls only, Director Fujimaru didn’t know.

All she knew was: she’d be having them over for dinner and duty.

@Enkryption

As the clock struck 10 on the dot, the door to the room that served as Homeroom slid open as Reginald 'Reggie' Ullser, a 20-year-old African American sophomore and one of the top students in his Manifestation class, walked through the entrance.....with a strained wince marring his visage. As he walked toward his desk, one would think the mere act of just walking was causing him discomfort and, in a way, they would be right. What they didn't know is why just walking seemed to cause him discomfort. The answer to that question was simple....as well as serving as a bit of a lesson in hindsight.

To be fair, you did take up Cassandra's offer to workout with her yesterday., echoed a soft female voice in Reggie's mind.

I know I did, but I didn't think it would get that intense. In fact, I'm convinced that girl has a different definition of the word., he mentally responded to his Servant, a Rider from the lands of ancient Greece where gods once thrived named Medusa, the legendary Gorgon monster. She was currently in her spirit form and merely following her Master as he gingerly took his seat, his aching muscles screaming in sore, agonizing protest. I'm no quitter, but my god, those planks at the end! The fact that she held on for 10 full minutes! I gave in at 5! The woman is insane!

VRRRRRN....VRRRRRN

As he attempted to relax his aching body, Reggie reached inside his pocket and pulled out his smartphone. He just received a text.

If you are reading this message, please gather at Assembly Hall 11 at 1700 hours. Please use the directions in this text to reach there. This meeting is MANDATORY.

The young man's hazel eyes narrowed as he finished reading.

The text seems serious.

I agree. Last I checked, there was no 11th hall here in Chaldea. Not to mention my gut telling me some bad shit just went down. All in all, I'm willing to bet my Magic Crest that we've just been called up to bat.

Putting his phone away, Reggie crossed his arms and leaned back against his chair, his mind deep in contemplation. Could this be it? Could the calamitous disaster that Bastion's vision foretold soon be upon them? So far, the sign was pointing to yes. Reggie turned to the classroom as the other students filed in, wondering who else got the fateful text.

---

Chaldea Cafeteria, 1000 hr. T- minus 20 mins before class starts.

After a rigorous early workout at the Chaldea's gym, Cassandra has this post- habit routine of chilling at the cafeteria for a bit, making her infamous post-workout protein shake, and hanging out before her class starts.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrvmmmmmmmmmm"

The sound of a whirling blender fills the kitchen's cafeteria as Cassandra whips up somewhere between the lines of a healthy and nutritious shake to a downright grotesque sewage waste; Mixing ingredients that shouldn't be even put together for the sake of all things humane.

Archer watches with visible disgust and can't help but to have a say in what the actual hell his master is doing.

"I'm no nutritionist but i don't think you should be drinking that. Whatever you're concocting might as well be good enough poison for my arrow if i'm being honest." Her servant said bluntly.

"Haha, very funny ◾◾◾◾◾, I have you know this supplement has the secret Sparta recipe with a modern twist! tomatoes, 2 bananas, wheat, a dozen of raw eggs, grilled meat, pudding, whey powder .. the whole package." Cassandra said proudly.

I think i'm gonna throw up. Archer keeps his thoughts to himself after hearing its hideous content.

"The kitchen staff and Director Fujimaru were kind enough to lend their ingredients to make this, might as well take the advantage and make a whole batch." Cassandra continued with a beamingly smile on her face.

The muscular woman chugs down the vile elixir like it was nothing.

"Ahhh.. nothing beats like a post-workout protein shake to start the day. It's ashamed that senpai Reggie couldn't come for today's leg day session, I could have taught him the basics of the famous "Spartan kick" Hiya!" She said striking a kicking pose.

"Oh, I know why he's not here, that poor soul.." Archer muttered, crossing his arms, feeling a bit squeamish and sorry for what that African boy had to endure yesterday.

"Anyways, Before that supplement rots your brain, aren't you forgetting something? like that suspicious text you received earlier. I doubt that everyone got the same message as you do.." Archer lowers his voice while looking cautiously at his surroundings, observing the other students and reading the room.

"Really dude? you've been peeping on other people's phones? that's just plain creepy" Cassandra retorted.

"Hey, a hunter must be aware of his surrounding, it's like second nature to me. I have a nagging feeling this is no ordinary invitation seeing it has no formality nor pleasantries, just coordinates, these types of messages are the ones that have trouble written all over it.." Archer continued.

"Now you're just being paranoid, It's just a text dude.." The she-hulk said with a smirk.

"Nah, it's my hunter's intuition, I can feel that something's up."

"Again dude, Paranoid" Cassandra teased her servant even more.

"You're impossible." Archer sighed.

"Heh, I'm just playing.. A true warrior always trusts his gut, and I would never belittle yours. On a serious note, have you heard about hall 11? with my 2nd year of studying here in Chaldea, I've never heard of such a place.. have you?"

"Can't say that I have, want me to investigate? I mean I could sneak around the lab to do a reconnaissance and still make it time for dinner, and none would be the wiser." Archer said with a mischievous grin.

"Eh, that won't be necessary. whatever it is we'll find out later and just have to face it head-on, as a true warrior does.. "

"You truly are a meathead."

Beep~ Beepbeep~ Beep~ Beepbeepbeep~ ♪♫

The cutesy chime snapped Chabi out of her trance. Yes, definitely a meditative trance and not an extra morning nap in the break room before classes. She yawned and rubbed her face with one hand, the other blindly groping for the phone inside of her bag. Eventually she managed to find it, flipping it open and squinting at the text message she'd received.

"Meeting at Assembly Hall 11...? Tonight... Eh?"

She tilted her head in thought, wondering if she'd ever been there before. She couldn't recall even hearing about it before. Weren't there only ten halls in the facility? She hadn't even been here a whole year yet, but surely if such a place existed she would have heard about it by now. Interest peaked in the mystery, Chabi reached out to her partner via the telepathic bond between Master and Servant.

Saber, have you been to this place before? The eleventh assembly hall.

For a few moments there was no response. Then, a smooth, feminine voice replied.

I haven't. I take it you've received a certain message, my dear?

Yeah! How did you know?

I've overheard a couple talking about it already. Chabi, can you come and meet me in the corridor outside of your homeroom? We will talk more there.

Roger!

Chabi tucked the phone back into her bag and jumped up from her seat. So it seemed the message wasn't a prank or anything like that, and she wasn't the only one to receive it. How curious! She hurried to the meeting place, sputtering out quick greetings to classmates and faculty to she passed until finally she spotted her Servant.

Saber took the form of a woman on the shorter side, with shaggy light hair and a long horn protruding from the top of her head that easily gave anyone with a brain a clue to her identity - though even those missing their frontal lobe were offered her True Name when she met them. Chabi recalled how enchanted she was when she first summoned her partner, a Servant that had gone on to live immortal among the stars. Was it just affinity that had called the spirit Amalthea to her, or was it fate given her unique history? Chabi liked to believe it was the latter.

She strode up to Saber, noting that there was something in her hand. A sweet bun, packaged to go.

"Oooh, is that for me?"

"Oh, dear," Saber sighed, slightly exasperated as she took in her Master's disheveled appearance. Even so she held the treat out to the girl, who gratefully took it. "Sleeping in public again? You really shouldn't."

As Saber took to fixing Chabi's appearance, the girl unwrapped the bun and munched on it. After a few bites she questioned Saber again.

"So, you said other people got the message too?"

"Mhm." Saber relayed how while she'd been in the cafeteria fetching some snacks, she'd overheard Cassandra and her own Servant discussing it a little. Though they'd been on the quieter side after the Spartan had drawn attention with her shake, it wasn't eavesdropping if they were having a conversation in a public place Saber reasoned, and so she passed the information on to Chabi.

"I see." Chabi finished off the sweet bun, popping one of her fingers into her mouth to get the last of the crumbs. "I should go find Cassandra-senpai then, maybe she knows something?"

"Okay," Saber agreed, "After your classes."

"Eh? After? Don't you think this is important?" Chabi asked. She was met with a soft smile in reply, and then Saber's physical form fading away.

You still have seven hours before the meeting time. Get some studying in first. If you like I'll see what more I can find out for you until then.

Chabi groaned. Saber preferred speaking in person, so when she de-materialized like that it meant she wasn't up for a discussion. Classes weren't even mandatory, it wouldn't be any trouble for Chabi to skip out - but over the last few months she'd been following Saber's orders rather than the other way around, and truth be told she wasn't about to stop now. She did enjoy the lessons for the most part anyway...

Alright, alright... while you do that, maybe I'll get lucky and find someone else in the same situation!

There were a grand total of 1,065 total confirmed missing persons/confirmed fatalities in Antarctica, accounting for both on-land deaths and at-sea sunken ships. A cold and frigid place the likes of which life can scarcely exist upon the outskirts, Chaldea was located nearly in the center of it. Atop a mountain and isolated by a powerful storm, there was almost zero chance of a wandering spirit to make its way here...

And that's why for a certain geist-gazing-girl who was enjoying a cup of morning tea found this to be the most wonderful place on earth. No ghosts wandering the streets with bulging eyes and nooses hanging from their necks, no wailing vestiges of gun violence that had bullets dangling from their back from sinew and pain connecting them, and most certainly no abused animals wandering with slavering jaws, searching for the Master they're sure still loved them despite leaving them to die chained to a post. When one saw such things not only daily, but hourly...it started make walking around feel really icky, especially with the social pressures of "not screaming when a tormented spirit walks through you because that would be unladylike".

Well, now Cordelia Pelham was free to walk the halls of Chaldea with a smile on her face and her back straight, since there were absolutely no ghosts to speak of. ...Well, except the "Ghost-Liners". Servants. And thankfully in the walk to her morning homeroom class, the Servant that most aggravated her wasn't-

"Hey, Master, I'm bored! Heading over now!"

...Oh fuck.

"Samson that is REALLY not necessary, I have class soon and-"

"Eh!? Still? You already know how to read and write, the hell good is class going to do you?"

Cordelia could already feel the migraine setting in. "As I've told you Samson, its a necessary part of Mastership. Besides, I rather enjoy the lessons here. They're a lot more understanding than many Clock Tower magi..."

"Still sounds boring to me...ah well, I'm still coming anyways."

"That REALLY won't be necessary Samson-" Cordelia thought, just before being swept up and off her feet by her Berserker, plopping her atop his shoulder while she held back her instincts to scream at being manhandled. "...Thank you, Samson," she managed to say through her gritted teeth.

Her Berserker of large stature beamed proudly. In all likelihood, he knew damn well his Master hated being pushed and tossed...but that's what made it fun to start with! "Don't mention it," Samson said, with the most shit-eating grin on his face before he heard Cordelia's phone beeped. "Finally get someone's number?" he questioned.

Cordelia didn't even bother to respond to the jab at her single-status, happily a bachelorette and not a lech like her Servant. He'd gotten slapped by a fair number of Servants for his advances, some hard enough to dissuade him from further attempts. "...An assembly is happening at hall 11 at Five O'Clock..."

"...I thought there were only 10," Samson observed, his eyes narrowing a bit as he was actually on-guard. "Might be a trap. Maybe someone wants to rip those special eyes out of your head."

Cordelia grew pale in the face, just a bit, saying: "Please, stop joking about that! ...Regardless, this is an official announcement...it even has directions to the hall, So...I think I have to go."

Samson didn't like sketchy directions and out-of-the-blue sneaky shit, so he'd be on his guard the entire day, scoping out if anyone was near his Master's room.

---

When the appointed hour arrived, Cordelia would follow the written instructions on her phone while nervously looking over her shoulder constantly. Like, every three seconds. To anyone watching it was almost comedic. She looked like a burglar who just heard someone turn a light on, neck beginning to ache as she snapped it to and fro before she finally made her way to the door and literally started opening the door by millimeters at a time.

Samson, who was in his Spirit Form, was covering his non-existent mouth with his non-existent hand, trying not to burst out laughing at how Cordelia looked inches from screaming and running away from a door.

“Fufufufu…” The Queen of the Threefold Beasts, Katerina Trisomatus, gazed upon her phone and gave an evil laugh. “It seems I have been selected for a secret mission. Truly, my genius has been recognised! I, the Sin-Devouring Serpent, will use this opportunity to prove my awesome and terrible power!”

She held up the phone to punctuate her claims, raising it to the heavens as if it were some kind of trophy.

“What on earth are you blabbering about now?” Her Servant said in an exasperated tone. This child’s strange mannerisms and over-dramatic mode of speech had started wearing on her. To be honest, they’d begun to irritate her on the very day the two had met. She’d spent a good deal of her time here away from the young Master, but one could only separate so much, considering the bond of the command seal.

“Hmph. I’m not talking to you any more,” Katerina Tristomatus, Baphomet’s Seventh Seal, said, crossing her arms and huffing like a child. The phone was tucked away under her arm. “Not after you refused your Master’s orders to make use of your Magecraft for my brilliant prank idea…”

“I wouldn’t call your idea a prank. Really, it was more like a crime against taste and humanity,” Caster said, shuddering as she remembered what the girl had requested of her. “And besides, you shouldn’t be using Magecraft for such trivial things,” She said, her voice slipping into a disapproving, lecturing tone.

Katerina’s mouth pursed in a catlike grin. “Fufufufu… I take my Magecraft very seriously, you know? I wasn’t planning on using it at all, I just wanted you to use yours…” Her grin widened, and she brought her face closer to Caster’s. Their heights weren’t so different, strangely. A heroic spirit should be taller, really. “And since I know what kind of thing you used to use it for, from all those tales about you, what I asked for wasn’t so different, you know?”

It was a dangerous game, really. Baiting a Heroic Spirit, a being of immense power from ages past, an era when human lives could be snuffed out like candles in the face of immense monsters… That was something both Katerina and Pasiphaë were painfully aware of.

Fortunately, all Caster did was blush a deep red and get flustered. “H-Hey! That’s not relevant at all to what we’re talking about here! How did we even get to talking about that anyway? Weren’t you talking about something on your phone?” It was a clear change of subject, but she still snatched at her master’s phone. “Hm. This is a little strange…” She said, the blush fading from her face as she examined a strange new mystery.

Katerina snickered into her sleeve. “It’s not strange at all! It’s as I said - we’ve been selected for a secret mission!” Her voice was a little loud to be talking about secret missions, and the way she dramatically gesticulated while starting to walk in the direction of the assembly halls wasn’t particularly conducive to stealth either. “Come, Servant! Be as the Virgil to my Dante! Guide me through the depths of hell, so that we may reach heaven itself!”

“You… Want me to give directions?” Caster said, deciphering Katerina’s odd way of speech.

She would go along with it, for now. Perhaps it would be better to convince her to attend class, but frankly, Pasiphaë didn’t put much trust in whatever they were teaching here. Simply spending time with her would be far more valuable for Katerina than anything a modern educator could offer. Truancy really wasn’t all that important, especially in the face of an interesting mystery.

Together, the pair began to look for the secret meeting hall.

With its sterile white lights and smoothly polished walls, its windowless rooms and its featureless minimalist furniture, Chaldea resembled nothing so much as an upscale lunatic asylum. Though its empty halls roamed the damned and the lost, disposable bodies deemed too unusual to function in proper mage society and instead brought here, to the icy edges of the world, where the ghosts of long-dead stories came to life and sharpened their weapons for a war against time itself. Seeing such a place, and knowing its intended mission, could one call it anything but madness?

While the world ended around them, the young Master candidates went obliviously about their day. Never mind that their timeline was sinking into a paradoxical abyss: there were classes to attend, homework to be done. Never mind that nearly a third of those classrooms sat empty, their diligent students all lost together somewhere hundreds or thousands of years back in the past. Empty chairs and empty desks sat collecting dust in eerily silent rooms, where only the rustling of paper and the scratching of a single pencil could be heard.

Sitting up straight at a missing girl's desk, Michel Hahne continued to draw. The quiet suited him well, let him focus without interruptions or distractions and try to visualize what he couldn't see, that creeping uneasiness at the back of his mind. For all of its wonders, this facility had been lately feeling more and more like a prison to him, its walls marking the outer boundary of everything that existed in his life. Before, the world had seemed wide-open and endless, a billion possible futures all spread out before him... Now, day by day, he could feel them all narrowing down to a single, inevitable point.

How to express this? After thinking for a while, he'd decided that it looked a little like a snow globe. There he was, sitting in a cold and desolate place surrounded by ice and snow, confined by something he couldn't entirely see. Not a solid line, but a boundary he could show through shading, in the way his imaginary rays of light were distorted by something invisible to the observing eye. It was tricky work, trying to convey that in a sketch, and the effort of it put his mind at ease. While he focused on the texture, the hatching, the physical motions required to bring his mental images into reality, there was less room to worry about the future.

Smiling to himself, he turned his sketchbook around to get a better angle, only to be interrupted by a voice from behind him:

"Missing class? That's not like you."

Michel blinked. Without turning his head, he brought down the tip of his pencil and begin carefully filling in another corner of the page.

"A lack of diligence never amounts to anything good. You're already lagging behind the other candidates as it is, and yet here you are, wasting your time hiding away in your own little world." Even without looking, he could hear her cruel smile, the venomous curl of those bright red lips. "Pitiful. Like a rat skulking in its hole. All of the others are already steeling themselves for the day they stand as the guardians of humanity, but you— You're not a protector. Not a leader, not a thinker, not even any use in a fight." A long sigh, laced with bitter disappointment. "I suppose they could sacrifice you for luck. Why, I'd even show them how. A good Servant should always seek to bring out the best in her contractor."

That got a little laugh out of the boy. "Good morning to you too, Lancer."

"Mhmm." A black-gloved hand reached over his shoulder, and dropped something on his desk. "You left this in your room."

Catching it one-handed, Michel flipped his phone over to see the fresh alert glowing on its screen. His eyes quickly skimmed over it, and his heart sank in his chest. "Hall Eleven... Ah."

"Be there on time," Lancer added, humming her words like a lullaby, "or I'll hunt you down and drag you there myself. By the hair." She turned on her heel and strode away from him, her footsteps echoing out through the empty classroom before they disappeared entirely as she vanished into spirit form.

Michel was left to sit in silence, staring down at his half-finished drawing and the message still painted across his screen. One by one, the letters flashed through his mind. M-A-N-D-A-T-O-R-Y. A boy trapped in a field of snow, surrounded by an invisible shell of duty and expectation and unwanted, inevitable fate.

He could already feel the noose tightening around his neck.

---

16:59. A delicate young man with sky-blue hair and bright, curious eyes walked silently up behind Cordelia Pelham and politely cleared his throat. "Would you mind opening that? I don't think I can afford to be late." In truth, he was every bit as scared as his classmate seemed to be, though you wouldn't have known it from his expression. Sometimes there really was no choice but to smile, breathe, and embrace the madness of one's new reality, to step through that waiting door and let the dice fall where they may.

@Anza

HYIEH!? Cordelia questioned, letting out an ungodly noise before realizing that it was one of her classmates. Then, realizing that she just made a noise like a pig being kicked, would promptly flush red in the face before sliding the door open for her classmate.

Off in the distance, it would be hard not to hear Samson busting his gut laughing. "What kind of noise was that!? Hiyeeeh!?" Samson said, more than ready to bust his Master's balls for the rest of the month. His Master, in the meantime would hurriedly bow her head to Michel, before dashing inside. "I-I'm very sorry about that!" she said, holding the door open to let him inside. She also looked like she really wanted to die, and would probably be very easily blackmailed.

Such was the life of a walking mess of a girl.

As the members of Team Theta gathered at the appointed time, Ritsuka and Da Vinci could be seen at the head of a large dining table in the center of the room; it was set for three at either side, and one to the opposite of the Campus Director and Technical Advisor. Each place was assigned with the Class Container Identification Card, so the assembled six would take their proper places.

At the left side, Saber, Archer, and Lancer would be sat, while Rider, Caster, and Assassin would be sat on the right, and Berserker would be sat at the butt of the table; opposite of the Director and her Servant. Upon taking their assigned seats, they would be greeted by a capped silver platter, and a strangely delicious hodgepodge of scents from the hidden food stuff.

At the head of the empty assembly hall, sat at the podium, was an odd young woman that looked like someone made an arctic wolf into an anime girl. Before her, a three-tier wedding cake was crumpling towards her, as she chomped on it - occasionally poking a bite at her little, snowman doll that had all the interest in eating that an inanimate object could possess.

“Ahem...” Ritsuka cleared her throat, as she stood, “Welcome, Team Theta, to your last supper. Before we begin, please, eat. Da Vinci-chan went through quite the lengths to have your favourite dishes discovered and prepared,” she smiled, warm and welcoming, despite the unwelcomingly melancholy look in her eyes.

“Hehehe~! I got all of your bellies down to a science!” Da Vinci smirked, looking rather proud of herself. “It's expertly home-cooked and catered to a T, so you better enjoy it!”

Ritsuka chuckled, though her eyes drifted to the empty seat of the Assassin.

She was still in the ICU, and it was growing increasingly uncertain if she was going to make it out... What was she going to tell them, when someone, inevitably, inquired about the empty seat?

If she could have afforded to wait, she would have, but that luxury was dead and done. She had to move, hope, and pray her Assassin Master would make it through before the mission started...

@Enkryption

By the time 1700 rolled around, the brunt of the soreness Reggie's body felt earlier in the day had left him as he and Medusa entered Assembly Hall 11, much to his relief. The ache was still there, just not as debilitating. Some had arrived early, such as the spirit seer Cordelia and the quiet miracle Michel, their Servants by their side as well. Soon, the rest came as well. Cassandra with Archer, Chabi with Saber and Katerina with Caster had answered the call as well. The six members of Team Theta were present....

....when there should be seven in total.

Where's Assassin and their Master?, Reggie thought to himself.....and his Rider.

I'm....not sure., answered Medusa, exiting her spirit form. I would think that Assassin is using Presence Concealment, but that still leaves the whereabouts of their Master in question. Besides the six of us, I didn't see anyone else coming towards this Hall on the way here.

Hmmmm....

Shelving that question for later, Reggie and others went to take their seat at the dining table, with him sitting in the Rider seat near Da Vinci. Medusa stood dutifully next to him......to which her Master gave a sigh.

"Come on, Rider. You know I don't like it when you do that. Sit on the arm of the chair if you have to, I'm not gonna sit here while you remain standing.", Reggie spoke with a good-natured smirk. The Gorgon seductress flinched before a slight blush appeared on her blindfolded face. After a second of hesitation, Medusa made her comfortable on the arm of his chair, to which her Master gave a satisfied nod.

The young man did, indeed, notice the wolf girl snacking on cake at the podium, but refrained from making a comment. No doubt her presence will be brought up in this assembly.

He also noted how the Director's eyes had a certain.... gloominess to them. It was....somewhat telling, to say the least.

“Ahem...” Ritsuka cleared her throat, as she stood, “Welcome, Team Theta, to your last supper. Before we begin, please, eat. Da Vinci-chan went through quit the lengths to have your favourite dishes discovered and prepares,”

.....

.....Well, that's certainly one way to break the ice.

Medusa made that statement internally, within her mind. Reggie, on the other hand....

"Director, with all due respect, who the hell starts a meeting like that? We just sat down.", he queried, slightly bewildered.

"Our last...supper?" Cordelia asked, absolutely 100% certain that she was about to die, likely poisoned by the soup that she had already tasted before her. Looking around nervously, Cordelia would spot Da Vinci, the shining star of Chaldea and feel at ease. Leonardo Da Vinci PAINTED the Last Supper, so that was just a...a very fun art history reference. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Hm..." Samson would say, standing behind Cordelia's seat at the end of the table while observing the canine girl at the podium, then shaking his head. Then he'd eye each and every single Servant present at the table, and then eye the empty seat before slumping forward, poising his chin on his palm while saying: "...Assassin's missing. Or whatever class they're meant to be. So, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that pooch over there is Assassin." It was, admittedly, not the most unfair of assumptions given that the being munching cake was DEFINITELY not a normal human, but the Berserker didn't have the capacity to know something was a Servant until he activated his [Destruction of the Temple of Dagon] skill. As such, he'd do just that, flooding the room with what could only be described as the malignant feeling of "something being stronger".

On a fundamental level, humans understood being physically outmatched by a different species with just a glance. Men didn't go out and fight bears unless they were prepared to kill a bear. A python could constrict, kill, and eat humans, but humans could guess that from their size. Even on a fundamental level the idea worked with other humans, so long as one understood that Mass=Power. But for a Servant, such a concept didn't exist. A small Servant could be significantly stronger than a large Servant, and a more powerful Noble Phantasm could always overcome a stronger opponent. But in the moment Berserker activated his skill, a single fact stood out.

Powerful. Foolish and brash, but powerful. With a hand on his belt, reaching for a gradually manifesting weapon of bone, Berserker was legitimately poised to strike at the strange being, solely to see "how" much stronger he was. That is, before his Master's hand shot up and grabbed his nose, sticking out just barely within reach. "Samson, stop!" she commanded, before the feeling in the room faded in its entirety. And, with it, Samson's interest in what was going on. Sighing, he would childishly sit down with his legs crossed, easily shaking his Master's hand off as if it hadn't been there at all. "Yes, Master...tch. I never get to cut loose here."

Cordelia meanwhile would slump into her chair, looking positively mortified that her Servant had just almost caused a scene. "A-Ahem. I apologize for my Servant's behavior. He's crude, lacks manners, and doesn't know when it is and isn't appropriate to use one of his skills," Cordelia said, looking like she'd been the one closest to death just now. Technically speaking, she was, having overcome that basic instinct of fearing something stronger. Perhaps a regular occurrence, given that she was prepared with a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow. "I'm sure that Assassin's Master will be here soon!" the mage girl said, hoping to do some damage control with small talk. "Also thank you very much Da Vinci, how did you know my favorite soup?"

Samson would continue to sulk, interest completely waned in the dinner at hand.

Time had all but flown by during the day, but once dinner rolled around Chabi was finally free to see about that strange message she'd gotten. It was an unusual change to her daily routine, and frankly that excited her. Calling on Saber to escort her to the mysterious assembly hall, master and servant showed up right on time. They hadn't expected to find what they did inside.

"Um... did we do something wrong?" Chabi asked, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. She looked to the other masters and their servants gathered in the room. She glanced Cordelia's way, commenting about the 'last supper,' "Don't they make condemned inmates eat their favorite food before they get... you know...?!"

Beside her, standing at attention, Saber only chuckled lightly. The sound was enough to comfort Chabi, if only a little.

Despite all the confusion as to why they were gathered here, if this was really their last meal Chabi was not going to squander it. She unveiled the dish in front of her to find a plate of steamed dumplings. Judging by their aroma, they were filled with lamb. "Wow, this really is my favorite food! As expected, Da Vinci-san!"

She began to dig in, listening to the others voice their questions. She thought as she ate, figuring that this couldn't be some kind of punishment. She knew that she personally hadn't done anything wrong, and Saber saw to it that when she did any of the course work Chaldea assigned - 'completely voluntary work! she reminded herself - it was always done to completion and turned in on time. And judging by the others gathered, she knew she wasn't among a bunch of troublemakers. There were her peers, as well as those a few years older than her, and though she didn't know everyone... or really anyone that closely, she knew enough to guess they hadn't done anything against the rules either. So if this wasn't a punishment, was it... a commendation?

Her misgivings were on the verge of being cleared away when Berserker let out an oppressive aura. The girl swallowed hard, eyes flicking back and forth between the man and his target, but once more her own servant helped to quell the uneasy feelings. Saber placed a comforting hand on Chabi's shoulder. More than used to this kind of dick-waving during the time she was alive, Saber merely rolled her eyes at the display. That Samson was so easily cowed by his master brought a fond smile to her face though.

"I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that an explanation would be even more appreciated than dinner," Saber said to the director, her voice cool.

Slowly Chabi began breathing normally again, not having been aware that she'd been holding it. She nodded, agreeing with Saber's request. Hopefully it was good news, but if it was bad news she could at least start bracing herself for it. She leaned slightly over to the chair next to her, which happened to be Casandra with how the seating was arranged. _{"Do you think maybe we will get some of that dessert too?"}

"Ha ha, I don't mind a little dinner entertainment, Let berserker be rowdy, This is supposed to be a festive feast not a funeral, right?" Cassandra said in a festive mood while munching down in her designated table seat, Oblivious to how far off she is about this being a joyous occasion.

"Sometimes I envy your blissfulness master," Archer lean forward and whispered, crossing his arms. ever the skeptic.

"Oh, What do you mean?" The spartan earnestly asked her servant with her mouth full of food, peeling away the skin off the drumstick with her teeth like a rabid animal, disregarding her tableside manners.

"Nevermind.." Archer's eyes shifted across the table, Silently observing how uneased the director was ever since they arrived. The way she looks at the empty seat of master's assassin every now and then. The melancholy vibes he's getting from it. Something must have gone wrong by the looks of it.

Aside from the suspicious tardiness of Assassin's master, what's the deal with the pale girl with the wolf ears, Is she Chaldea's pet or something? I've never seen her in these parts before. Archer telepathically said to Cassandra, furrowing his brow in suspicion.

Dunno, I only met Assassin's master once, kinda odd fellow to say the least. Cassandra shrugs and continues to feast.

"Uh-huh, I see" Archer sighed, trailing his thoughts to himself.

Archer quietly stands like a shadow by Cassandra's side, ears open to his surroundings, observing Saber demanding to shed some light on this sudden occasion.

Something that Archer would never do, He's more of a covert/secretive type when finding out answers, It's much cooler that way, being an Anti-hero in most of his legends. Quite the opposite of Saber's straightforwardness in handling the situation.

Nevertheless, Archer nodded in agreement to Saber's inquiry.

---

Despite the growing suspicion this dinner brings, Cassandra couldn't care less about the details of what's the reason the masters are brought in here, All she knows is: Hey it's a free dinner and I'm gonna eat like a king.

And so she does..

Like a gluttonous beast, Cassandra continues to devour everything she can get her hands into, She only comes to her senses when she heard a meek voice right next to her that stop her in her tracks.

_{"Do you think maybe we will get some of that dessert too?"}

"Ah, you have a sweet tooth i see, come to think of it, I'm craving some dessert right about now." Cassandra said to Chabi with a smile on her face.

"I don't see any dessert other than that white-haired girl is hoarding right about now.. maybe we should ask her." Without any hesitation, The tomboyish spartan raised her voice and started waving at the wolf girl.

"Say. you there with the white hair, my friend and I were wondering if you could share that delicious cake with us.. I'll trade you with this grape for it~" Cassandra offered.

"I-I'm very sorry about that!"

"Ah?" Michel tilted his head to one side, and met Cordelia's eyes with an innocent smile. "I thought it was really cute. You have a very pretty voice, even when you're surprised." With steps so smooth and quick he almost seemed to glide across the floor, the boy slipped through the threshold and paused at his fellow Master's side, considering her as if in a new light. "Actually... I should be thanking you. It makes me a little less worried, knowing I'm not the only one feeling scared. "

Maybe he should offer to pay her back, though he wasn't sure what he could do for an actual mage. Share some of his dinner with her? The whole table smelled wonderful, just packed with mouth-watering offerings all put together with skill and care. Ignoring the class cards, Michel followed the scent of home to its source, and soon found himself leaning over a plate of little pasta dumplings stuffed with minced pork and breadcrumbs and spinach and onions and just a hint of pepper and parsley. The fork was in Michel's hand before anyone could even blink, and speared through the first delicious parcel with the practiced accuracy of a top-tier Lancer servant.

You have to try this. Beaming, he held up his prize and seemingly offered it to the empty air.

...And here I thought you would gorge yourself like a gluttonous pig. Or has your vermin brain finally broken from the fear? Listening to her voice, Michel could tell that his Servant was in a good mood. Ah, my wretched contractor. If you're ever so insolent as to offer me food again, you will learn the taste of my spear.

Aha. You're too generous, Lancer. The boy popped the dumpling in his mouth, closing his eyes to savor it as well as he could. Warm, earthy, and filled with love, a flavor he could never grow tired of. He would have to thank Da Vinci after this, and beg her for cooking classes, just so he could attain even a tenth of her skill. That, and he wanted to know what she thought about pairing this dish with smoked eel, because clearly the two would go together like peanut butter and mayonnaise.

Before that, though, he had better sit down. Food and pleasantries aside, this was a very important meeting, with potentially life-changing consequences for each of the young Masters present. All the more reason to dig in, then, and enjoy this while they still could. Director Fujimaru had personally ordered them to eat, and it would be actual insubordination to refuse, not to mention a travesty against the very sense of taste.

"Cordelia, have one of—" He paused. Blinked. Held up his plate a little higher. "...Um, Berserker? You can have some too, if you'd like."

The big warrior had to be really hungry, if he was acting up like that. Servants didn't have to eat, of course, but they still felt desire and curiosity, yearning and nostalgia, all kinds of roiling emotions that could bite just as hard as the sensation of an empty stomach. Human or not, Michel couldn't help his compassion for them, and his intent shone though in his demeanor as clearly as the warm midday sun in a cloudless sky.

Behind him, Lancer stood fully materialized, radiating pure bloodlust at her fellow Servant.

For just a few short seconds, the entire room seemed to tilt on the verge of an unrecoverable disaster. Then Cordelia raised her arm, and Berserker dropped his aura, and the tall, dark-haired lady in red quietly melted away into the air. Completely oblivious, Michel carried on offering extra food to anyone and everyone who wanted some, turning his green gaze next to the terrifying Katerina and her attendant Caster. "Yours smells nice. Want to trade a little?"

As everyone settled, in their own ways, Ritsuka would study the Theta Team, before she opened her mouth to respond to Reggie -- only to be cut off by Samson’s flex of power, which was summarily shut down by Cordelia burning through her very finite allowance of bravery to seat him. That wouldn't sate the temper of the one that was challenged by his Skill, however, as she roused to her feet --

“Stay seated, Tamamo,” Ritsuka says, raising her hand; she didn’t channel anything to control the wolf girl, beyond the sheer force of her authority. “There is no need to apologize, Miss Pelham,” she says, looking to Cordelia, “If Berserk acts up again like that, I will return him to the Throne and issue you a new Berserker. Simple as.”

Her words were as cold as ice, yet hot as fire; slicing to the heart of the matter, as to who held the leash. A fact reinforced by her side glance to Amalthea, and answer the Saber-class Servant’s statement, “You speak only for yourself. There’s proper etiquette to these matters. Dinner comes before dinner talk.”

Da Vinci would sighed, as Tamamo slinked back to her seat, and inhaled her cake - squashing all hopes held by Chabi and Cassandra for even a crumb, as she selfishly licked the platter clean. “Honestly, you both...” she admonished. “I suppose, I will answer the question that lingers on everyone’s mind,” Da Vinci sat up, and projected the Coffins from a device that popped out of her backpack, “Your designation is Team Theta, the eighth letter in the Greek Alphabet, and the next in a line of attackers trained to save the world...” she flipped through the Coffins; the red lights were clear and obvious in their meaning, before settling on eight open. “The rest should be fairly obvious, but --”

Suddenly, the door opened, and a rather fashionable woman entered the room.... carrying another woman(?)... who was sleeping?

“Assassin, reporting and ready to clean up your mess!” says the fashionable woman.

“Zzzz...” snored on the other woman.

“So, pray tell, what Singularity are we starting with first,” Assassin asked.

@Enkryption

Cordelia reining in Samson's display of chest-beating had Medusa's lips twitch upward briefly in a ghost of smirk as she, unseen by all due to her blindfold, rolled her eyes. Tact really didn't exist in that Berserker's vocabulary. Reggie, on the other hand, had a raised eyebrow as he watched the wolf girl, Tamamo apparently, returned to consume her baked good.

Tamamo? As in Tamamo-no-Mae, one of the tails of Amaterasu? I thought she was a fox, though the goddess can sometimes be depicted as a great mother wolf. Maybe this Servant reflects that?, the young man thought to himself as he took another bite of his steak, just as Director Fujimaru replied to Saber's statement.

“You speak only for yourself. There’s proper etiquette to these matters. Dinner comes before dinner talk.”

Both Master and Servant would turn their gaze toward the Director, with Reggie looking at the woman as if she just told a lame joke. Medusa, eyes still unseen, would also raise an eyebrow.

"Nah, Saber's in the right to say that, Director. We all....er, well, some of us have already figured out why we're here. Don't you think all this posturing is a bit pointless? You did raise some flags when you said this is our 'last supper'. How are we not gonna want some clarification after hearing those words?", spoke Reggie. Da Vinci chimed in and was about to elaborate when the door slid open, revealing a sharply fashionable woman carrying another woman on her shoulders.....who just so happens to be sleeping.

“Assassin, reporting and ready to clean up your mess! So, pray tell, what Singularity are we starting with first?”

".....Heh. Well, that answered one of my questions.", Reggie chuckled at the newcomers as he offered a biscuit to Medusa. The Rider Servant would have another moment of hesitation before shyly accepting the offering, whispering thanks as she took a bite.

“Mr. Ullser,” Ritsuka asks, “would you and Saber sit in the hall? I'm sure, you and Ms. Khünbish will find a less posturing and unnecessary questions there,” she narrowed her eyes, placing her hands upon the table, “Unless you'd like to --”

“ Pardon me,” cut in Assassin, as she seated her sleeping Master. “I had to force those stubborn nurses to let my Master out of the ICU,” she tipped the brim of her fancy hat, “I don't want to see that my scuffles were for naught.”

Ritsuka eyed the unnerving Assassin, and huffed. Da Vinci cleared her throat, “Assassin is right, Ritsuka. I understand your motivations, but you've never been good at setting a welcoming atmosphere. Perhaps, we cut to the chase, eh?”

Assassin smiled warmly.

Ritsuka raised her right fist, Command Seal glowing, before she closed her eyes, and sighed, “Assassin. There's blood on your cheek.”

Gasping, the Assassin would disappear from sight. “A thousand pardons, Madame Director! I've sullied the dinner table with my unsightly appearance!”

Ritsuka groaned, and her Command Seal faded. “Anyone else like to add onto Mr. Ullser's opinion? Ms. Khünbish, would you like to bolster your Servant's opinion? Please, offer your opinions, since you might never get another chance.”

Da Vinci palmed her face, as she sank into her chair. “What, now...!?” Ritsuka asks, exasperated.

“You have no people skills...!” Da Vinci lamented, as she slowly sank under the table.

“I do so!” Ritsuka says, offended, “I've summoned nearly every Servant in CHALDEAS! I'm friends with all of them! Even Hercules and Lancelot! And, Gilgamesh likes me on Tuesdays!”

Da Vinci only groaned louder from under the table, while Ritsuka held the tablecloth up to argue with her.

“Eheheh~! This seems like a fun dinner party...” the Master of Assassin says, one eye open. “Ritsuka and Leona can argue for hours. If you have questions, I'll answer them. After all, I'm the lucky winner of the Jackpot...”

One thing led to another as the picture of the banquet comes a bit clearer. This was a mission debriefing to save the world, a cautionary tale with the 7 masters being the main characters. Disposing people into this whirling blender and see what sticks.

Cassandra on the other hand was interested in a diffrerent subject that doesn't even contribute to the matters at hand.

"wow you met Heracles, director? that so cool! can you summon him? Summon him! summon him! summon him!" Cassandra eyes flared up and started chanting, repeatedly banging on the table like hyperactive child demanding to be fed. Its no surprise she was a huge fan.

It was a chaotic scene with the loud spartan adding into the mixed. it started like a normal feast that ended up like a unruly thanksgiving dinner with all of your relatives contradicting each other about their politcal views.

People arguing. The mixed conversation. the disagreements. Its no wonder Archer chooses to live in the woods and be a hermit rather than to socialize with people.

"I suggest you stop that or else all of us will be eating on the floor." The marksman's face grimace as he place his bandage covered hand on his master's shoulder, like a strict parent signalling his child to stop bouncing all over the place. Which indeed calmed Cassandra down. Honestly this was too much work for •••••.

The green archer then shifted his attention to the child under the cradle of assassin. Like a marionette laying still on her lap willing to take some questions.

"for someone that is late to the briefing, you sure are well inform about the situation." Archer said shagging his ginger coloured hair. His tone is a hint of a sneer and suspicion.

"in any case, before we get side tracked. enlighten us, what do you mean by winner of the jackpot? I doubt that blood on your servant's face is no lame accident."

Well there went dessert. And the rest of Chabi's appetite, which was a shame because the dumplings had been pretty good. Chabi left one and half of them to languish on the plate as the director went back and forth with the people in the room. Whenever the red haired woman's eyes cut sharply to Saber, Chabi felt sweat build up on the back of her neck. Should she be doing something? She didn't disagree with her servant, she did want to know what was going on, but somehow it felt she was gaining the director's ire.

For her part, Saber just raised an eyebrow at Ritsuka. If the director wanted to drag things out for the sake of the dramatic, then Saber supposed she couldn't really stop her. Though the servant did wonder if she'd actually broken some kind of unspoken rule of this era. She did not feel remorse for the comment though, especially after the director threatened to have her wait in the hall. At that Saber laughed, high and light. In her eyes it was like a child throwing a temper tantrum that their play had been interrupted.

It continued with Ritsuka asking if Chabi had anything to say about the current situation.

"Huh? Me? Well, uh..." Chabi fiddled with the little charm attached to her bag, her eyes darting between the director and Saber - the latter of which sported an amused smile. As it turned out, the question had been rhetorical. Or it may as well have been, as the director and her assistant were drawn into an argument.

Chabi let her head fall onto the table in front of her with a dull thud.

"Sabeeeeeer! You nearly got me in trouble!" she whined. Saber sighed in response.

"Pick your head up," she tutted. "Despite what Chaldea's director said, it seems she's given us quite an amount of information already."

Chabi peeked up from behind her bangs. "Yeah, all that stuff she said about last suppers, not having a chance to say anything later, saving the world, the Coffins, and Assassin showing up and mentioning that..." she trailed off, but it was clear that the young magus had come to more or less the same conclusion as the others.

Their time had come, they were being called up the big leagues.

Master and servant then turned their attention to the master of Assassin, curious to hear what she had to say.

Cordelia visibly shrank back in her seat at the Director's threat to unsummon her Servant. She understood and...even if Samson was an asshole, she'd feel bad about him being replaced. Even if someone else might be easier overall, a relatively "sane" Berserker like him was rare, and a lot easier to control in combat than the usual raging Berserkers she'd seen her peers with sometimes.

All she had to offer was silence until Assassin and her Master arrived. Then, she placed her hands over her mouth to muffle a scream. Her Master looked dead, and Assassin had blood on her face...what was going on!? Leaning over the table just enough to just...stare into her soup, Cordelia was hoping that on some level, the soup had an answer. Maybe she'd just feign sickness to get out of this...everyone here felt somewhat insane, except for maybe Reggie, Michel, and...some of the Servants. "...I'm just...going to go along with whatever the Director says, at this point. This is too many twists at once for me." In all honesty, she was really regretting not accepting Michel's generous offer of a dumpling.

Humming, Samson would fold his arms across his chest as Assassin came in, tilting his head and observing her. Mostly her legs, honestly. He wasn't even being subtle about it at a point, before solemnly nodding his head. "Mhm. Yep. Legs." With that absolute nothing of a statement made, he would rest his head against the back of Cordelia's seat. "I'm fine and dandy for Singularity work, but I'm not sure if my Master's up to snuff. She quakes in her boots just talking to mages."

Cordelia...didn't have a retort for that one. Her Servant knew that even that act of "Bravery" to stop his skill was entirely dependent on him just quitting it out of boredom. Cordelia was certain that, out of everyone here, she'd be the one most likely to run as soon as a situation appeared utterly hopeless. "...I...e-even if you're right Samson, I imagine the Director knows that!