[b]I will not be erased[/b]

Deep within the Grail, something stirred, a man- no, an entire lineage of souls - all melded into one body. It was not unlike the machinations of a certain bloodsucker, but far more chaotic. The mixture of the countless thoughts writhed, one moment wishing for death, and the other, utterly disgusted at the thought of going quietly into that good night.

Indeed, it would not be erased. That was the wish that all souls shared collectively - even if they wished for death, they still sought to be remembered in some way - that was simply the depth of their pride that even in this state of undeath, they still wished to leave a mark.

And leave a mark they would. Kyoto would be turned into rubble, that was the last wish of a dying clan. From the very deepest crevices of the Grail’s power, the chimeric existence that was once the Fujiwara clan summoned forth a single soul.

Blackness and shadows would coalesce into the center, the screams of over twenty thousand men, women and children crying slowly getting louder and louder as the swirling vortex of black particles began to speed up more and more. Within the cavern of the Grail’s storage, the holy waters that made up the lifeblood of the artifact stirred, as if it was boiled to the point that the primordial stew within it would separate into different parts.

It was like the heating of a vegetable to remove the starch - the separation of corruption from the pure. For decades, the part of the Grail that had been corrupted and the parts that remained pure were entangled in each other, neutralizing each other’s effects, but now? They had wholly separated with the summoning of the Ghost Liner.

The shadows faded, and the Spirit emerged from the canopy of black. There was a moment of realization, of the circumstances of the summoning as he stared at the pitiful, chimeric mass of flesh and spiritual residue in front of him, but that moment of thoughtful rebellion would be banished the moment its Master opened its many mouths to speak: “With my command spells, I order to you to put a stain on this very land, to engrave the very legend that you so despise into your very existence.”

Many voices spoke in unison - one of the only times they were united - and the crimson flames started to engulf the Servant. 

He screamed, his pale skin and hair seemingly stretching and pulling as his body began to transform, and in his last breaths of sanity, he spoke: “I am not a vampire!”

The screams would continue for a while, before suddenly being cut off by an eerie silence. With the emergence of this new form, the chimeric existence began to calm down, and the Servant looked at its Master, before uttering opening its mouth: “Disgusting.”

Those were the last words the chimera would hear, before it was enveloped in hundreds of small stakes, all of them piercing the flesh of the gelatinous form, yet it could not recover, unable to regenerate - a curse placed on him by the newly crowned prince of darkness, and the ruler of the Grail.

As the form of its “Master” began to fade away, the Servant would slowly approach the exit to the cavern, the shadows seemingly following him, as if he was their master. As he approached the surface, bats began to become visible in the light of the moon, shining so silently through the forest - oh yes, it was a forest, as he emerged from the entrance of the cavern and quickly glimpsed the full moon high above, illuminating the trees.

“Ha.” He would chuckle, holding his precious spear in his hand.

“Hahaha!” The laughter would not be heard by anyone else, but he still laughed anyway.

“What a wonderful world! Truly, it is ripe for corruption!” He would laugh and laugh, as the corrupted mud of the Grail would follow him, shadowing their master, but in the depths of the cavern, something else would begin to form. As the vampire would leave the scene, a single remnant of its Master would crawl into the pit that still had the purity of the Grail, a single puddle left from the overflowing of the goblet as the corrupted mud rapidly exited its form.

Slowly but surely, nerves began to form, then bones, and then flesh, before finally, over the course of minutes, the form of a human began to finally take shape. He was mature, barely above his thirties, and for a few moments, the only expression on his face was a blank countenance, yet this would of course be a transient thing, as the beginnings of a smile would begin to appear on his face.

“Ah, yes.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, almost devoid of emotion, save for the hint of excitement in his voice.

“Victory… I have claimed victory, yet I have not yet destroyed that corruption.” He looked to the entrance of the cavern, seeing the traces of the vampire who had just  left.

“Saint Graph Classification: Ruler - Spiritual Signature: Unknown. Most closely related to Heroic Spirits.” A robotic voice would speak out from within his mind, the knowledge that the Grail provided flooding into his consciousness.

His smile would grow wider, after all he - the last of a dying lineage - had somehow cheated a fate worse than death. Elsewhere, the overseers of the war, the mage from the Clocktower and the priest of the Church, would detect the dissonance in the Grail, and the two anomalies that had just been summoned.

Shortly after, an announcement would ring out through the minds of the Servants and Masters participating in the War: “Two anomalous Ghost  Liners have been detected, and corruption has been detected within the boundaries of Kyoto. Cease all fighting and focus on destroying the two threats. The purification of the Grail is paramount.”