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Chapter Text

Who was he – the angel-like Master of the Flaming Sword? She remembered well his burning eyes, as blue as the cloudless sky, filled with immense desire, which can be found only in despair.

"Have I… fallen asleep?"

It seemed impossible. She was only an old soul, resting in an incorporeal place beyond time and space. Waiting eternally. To be summoned, to fight, to defend, and die for the sake of mortals.

In her mental landscape she was lying comfortably on the golden throne, caressing lion heads on its armrests. Normally countless rose petals were dancing in the air of her eternal theater, making this magical scenery even more nostalgic than it already was.

Now strange black feathers appeared in here, boldly invading her personal space.

She blinked several times, trying to shake off this weird illusion. But the feathers were still here, kept dancing with the rose petals, teasing them, seducing even. A quite charming spectacle, but…

What had she done to let it happen? Was she sleeping? Dreaming? What dimensions her weary mind had crossed to hear that man's calling? Who was he – the angel-like Master of the Flaming Sword? She remembered well his burning eyes, as blue as the cloudless sky, filled with immense desire, which can be found only in despair.

Or maybe the beauty of the poem he was reading truly piqued her interest? One line in particular had stuck in her memory:

'The wind sails over the water's surface

Quietly, but surely.'

She reached out her hand to catch a single black feather. It seemed slightly damaged and smelled like pure magic, but was evidently real, if anything could be called like that in this non-existing place.

The Emperor sighed. She needed answers, which could be obtained only by leaving to the material world again. What a pain, unless…

"Umu." She smiled to herself, after making a very important decision. When she hears that man's voice again, she will answer the call - not for him, but for herself.

After all, as a fellow artist, she deserved to know how this beautiful poem ends!

"Poor thing," the female voice said with cruelty, barely hidden under pretended compassion. "You're decaying."

Genesis Rhapsodos, the former first class SOLDIER, knew that already. It was the reason he betrayed the company and ended up in such pitiful state, hunted by everyone, even his so-called friends.

"Do you wish to live? To be cured, cleansed and more powerful than ever before?" The voice paused, giving Genesis a moment to consider new possibilities. "Are you ready to fight for it?"

He closed his eyes, blinded by the overwhelming whiteness. Almost as if the light tried to devour him, maybe was actually doing it.

"Come to me then! Come, and claim this miracle for yourself. I consider you worthy."

Not sure what was happening, Genesis sighed mentally. Could it be the voice he hoped to hear his entire life? Either the Goddess had spoken to him or he went completely mad in his delirium.

He didn't care anymore. False or not, the voice gave him something his heart needed the most. Hope.

Having nothing to lose, Genesis answered the call and dived into the white nothingness, to meet his fate in a new, unknown world.

"What the hell has just happened?!"

When the smoke and dust inside the chapel in the Einzbern castle finally vanished, both Irisviel and Kiritsugu stopped breathing for a moment, utterly shocked. The ritual was successful, but their new Servant…

"My, my, it's been a while! I almost forgot how much fun being a Servant is! Are you happy as well, Master?"

Emiya frowned, not sure how to react. The freshly summoned Heroic Spirit, although somehow connected to Excalibur, was certainly NOT King Arthur. He wasn't even a knight – instead of a sword he carried the weirdest magical staff imagined. His extremely long, white – or not? - hair and, somehow inhuman, purple eyes were even more suspicious. Kiritsugu could easily tell that he had obtained a powerful 'familiar', but it did not make him any bit happier.

"What am I supposed to do with you, Caster?" He reached for the pack of cigarettes with his shaking hands, but changed his mind halfway and growled: "Who are you?!"

"Oh, forgive me my manners, I was distracted!" His Servant bowed slightly with a smile, so polite it felt somehow offensive. Or mocking, at the very least. "I am commonly known as the Kingmaker, the Mage of Flowers. But you can call me Merlin, my Master."

"M-merlin?" Irisviel stepped back and lost her balance, when she bumped into the altar. Caster caught her gently, before she would hurt herself. Too gently, in Kiritsugu's opinion. "This makes sense now. You're connected to this holy sword as much as King Arthur."

"Maybe more." The man chuckled awkwardly; his carefree attitude was getting on Kiritsugu's nerves. "You may say that I started this legendary mess, lady…"

"Irisviel."

"Irisviel. A charming name for a charming lady!"

"The biggest troublemaker from the entire story, then?" Emiya sighed, heavily and loudly, annoyed by Caster's behavior around Iri. A half-incubus in the house! Great. Just wonderful. "I expect you to behave like a Servant should."

"Well, of course, Master! Just say what you want, I will be glad to be useful to you!"

Kiritsugu did not doubt it, but the suspicious eagerness of the Servant somehow disturbed him more than an openly rebellious attitude. Merlin was a powerful card in the Grail game. But Emiya had been including a Saber class Servant in all his plans so far. Now he was forced to reconsider his tactics, starting with a literal blank page again. What a pain.

"At least the ritual was successful," he said eventually. To think of it, what were the odds that Merlin had answered his summons just to mess things up, as he used to do with every story he'd been a part of? No matter. Such tiny inconvenience could not stop Kiritsugu, when the goal was within his reach at last. "Let's go to our rooms. We need to talk."

Kirei Kotomine frowned, surprised by the latest news. He knew about the mysterious disappearances of young girls in Fuyuki, but this time an entire family was missing. Also a random pair hadn't returned from a date in the Miyama Town. And an old man, who had vanished while walking his dog few days ago. They all could have fallen victim to one serial killer, in Kirei's opinion.

If an enemy Servant was behind this, his hunting grounds must have been covering the foreigners' district. Father Risei would soon order to hunt down the criminal for violating the rules of the Holy Grail War, no doubt about it. As a protector of these lands, Tokiomi Tohsaka was oblidged to investigate the case, but his Archer would be deeply insulted by such order. Since he was too powerful to take his demands of respect lightly, the job would most likely be passed on Assassin, for whom such task should be a piece of cake…

Of course, the younger Kotomine thought with a weird smirk. The 'should' part was crucial in his case.

They had planned to summon an Assassin from the very beginning, but a very specific Heroic Spirit answered the call. She possessed almost no spying talents. Tokiomi would sooner or later want to get rid of this problem, probably by sacrificing the Servant to discover weaknesses of some powerful enemy.

But Kirei didn't like this idea. Such reaction felt new to him – annoyance, was it? Or maybe anger? Unexpected desire to oppose both his father and mentor filled his usually cold heart for some unknown reason.

Maybe his connection with Assassin, the so-called 'bond' between a mage in his familiar, had reached so deep already? Or they were just similar? Neither good nor evil, they both felt somehow aloof, drifting far beyond typical human morality. Like innocent monsters, who find satisfaction only in things unacceptable in any society.

"Beauty, huh?" Kirei sat on the sofa and opened a bottle of wine. He was watching for a while, how the red liquid slowly filled the cup. His Servant resided in the basement, busy with her own kind of crimson pleasure, mastering her skills and becoming more powerful. All of this right under the nose of the supervisor of this war, Kotomine thought, smirking from behind the glass. If father only knew!

Pleasure and beauty… Will he, too, find their true meaning someday? For the first time since the day he had decided to join the war, Kirei believed it was possible. If not the Grail itself, then maybe his Servant or the Mage Killer, Kiritsugu Emiya, might let him achieve this goal.

Matou Zouken was observing the city from the roof of a particularly high building. He did not expect much from Kariya, just the opposite – intended to torture the naïve and weak young man by letting him summon a Berserker. Watching his painful fall could be an extremely satisfying, pleasurable experience.

Not everything went as the old vampire had planned, though. A peculiar Heroic Spirit had been bound by their spells, a psychopath without restraints, not half as draining for its owner as a typical Berserker. Being more a monster than a human, the creature could effectively replenish magical energy all by herself.

From Zouken's point of view it was a complete failure. Yet the old magus found himself curious, how the things would turn out for these two. Not only their fall could be amusing to witness, but also all the destruction they might accidentally cause.

If Berserker is left alone do to as she pleases, the entire town will suffer greatly. Many people may die on her whim. Who knows, maybe they can go further than I expected?

Zouken could already feel the distant smell of blood in the air. Other participants were getting nervous, impatient and, as a consequence, reckless. At least two Servants went out hunting tonight, even if the Einzberns hadn't arrived to Fuyuki yet. And Saber…

Sudden burst of magical energy somewhere near the river interrupted the flow of the old mage's thoughts. Everyone connected to the Grail, or at least to the local leylines, must have felt it. The spies, maybe even Servants, had been already on the move, hurrying to gather information on the unknown danger.

"At last." Zouken smiled to himself, overjoyed by the news he'd just received from one of his bug familiars. "With all Servants summoned, let's the slaughter begin!"

Chapter Text

Her every move was filled with passion – the way she raised her crimson sword and stepped forward, the way she slightly tilted her head before launching an attack. It looked like she was constantly on the scene, performing in the greatest spectacle of all time as a main soloist.

It was cold. Well, colder than in Banora, at least. Especially when he was lying flat on the ground with no strength or motivation to get up.

Genesis could hear the sounds of cars and distant humming of a city. It seemed similar to Midgar, but so very different at the same time. Smaller, less polluted. And free of mako, for sure.

He tasted these new aromas for a while. Grass, trees, even the river smelled somehow different than in his homeland. The former SOLDIER didn't know what to think about it, but was strangely sure that here he would see the stars. He only needed to open his eyes

And then something fell at him from above, like a raging beast or a predatory bird.

A barely noticeable 'shwoooosh' in the night air and heavy, metallic smell, similar to that of freshly spilled blood, alarmed Genesis and forced him to wake up from his strange slumber. He rolled on the pavement, avoiding the strike of a strange, curved piece of steel in the last possible moment.

He almost chuckled, thinking that he should thank Sephiroth for making him this alert and flexible – whenever they sparred, the silver bastard always attacked from above without warning. And this new, unknown enemy wasn't even half as fast or strong as the Shinra's perfect monster.

Genesis did not intend to helplessly wait for another swing. He was already in a battle stance, with his red sword drawn and his wing…

Right, the wing. It 'disappeared' during his journey to another dimension. But not completely, he could feel it under the skin, ready to emerge in the time of need. Good, he could use it as an element of surprise, in case things would get too violent for his sublime taste.

Now the enemy attacked faster, but still not enough to startle the former SOLDIER. Genesis suspected that the creature had taken him for a mere human at first and now tried to adjust the speed. For Genesis' general well-being would be the best to end the fight quickly, before she could overpower him.

For that he needed to read her first. He started from the weapon - it was a scythe or a lance with a curved tip. His instincts of a killing machine told him to not get wounded by this thing no matter what, and he decided to trust this feeling.

After a short but intense exchange of blows, Genesis managed to finally perform a proper counterattack. He pushed the raging woman with such force, that she had no choice but to jump back. The former SOLDIER could finally see his opponent in all her glory.

Long strands of pink hair seemed to move on their own, like curling snakes. Strange, bloody-red tattoos covered her gorgeous left leg. She would be very attractive, if not something monstrous in her eyes and movements. An aura of pure madness covered her like a mist and Genesis could swear he smelled rotten corpses from her.

And something was definitely wrong with the woman's eyes… Or maybe golden ones with rectangle pupils were a normal thing in this strange place?

"You're annoying," she said, or rather hissed like an angry reptile, with the weapon spinning behind her back. "What about adding you to my collection of sculptures instead, so I could torment you for all eternity?"

The air vibrated around Genesis, when she activated her Mystic Eyes. The former SOLDIER could feel how a wave of cold energy tried to invade his brain, ordering it to stay still, freezing the blood in his veins, changing it into something hard and solid.

He almost chuckled at this pitiful attempt to petrify him. Hadn't the snake-woman noticed already that he was a monster, not a human? Or maybe insanity clouded her eyes, so she couldn't see the obvious facts…

Genesis used this moment of consternation to charge at the enemy, aiming for the fragment of bare skin between her breasts. A short, disappointed "Tch!" escaped his throat – such a powerful thrust should pierce her through, but did nothing more than a tiny scratch.

"Too bad," the woman teased with a cruel smirk. "You may be strong and talented, but you're only a human mage. As you are now, you cannot truly hurt a Servant."

The smile immediately vanished from her lips, when a ball of condensed fire almost hit her between the eyes.

"Are you so sure about that?" Genesis didn't smile, focused on another flame, which was slowly raising on a tip of his finger. "For me it looks rather like a fight between monsters."

His words must have pulled some kind of trigger in the strange woman – with a low, animalistic growl, she morphed her hair into chains and launched at him a bold 'all-or-nothing' attack.

Genesis parried the chains with a wall of fire. A short cry, like a shriek of a wounded beast, was the ultimate proof of effectiveness of this new tactic.

"Let's do this my way then, with sword and fire. The SOLDIER's way."

The snow was falling again, slowly, peacefully. A nice change after so many years on a field of flowers.

"Have you considered our offer, Caster?"

Irisviel's calm voice brought Merlin back to reality. He smiled to her gently and picked up a cup of black, still steaming tea.

"It won't be necessary. I know my upkeep can be troublesome, even for a talented mage, but it shouldn't be a problem this time. No need to waste resources on the batteries, I will be careful. I'm here because I like being a Servant, Lady Irisviel, not to drain my Master dry."

He took his time, observing changes on Iri's face in reaction to his words. First, there was an unspoken relief, that not knowing how many homunculi like her would not die for the sake of feeding him magical energy. Then a small piece of guilt, that she dared to think about it. And, eventually, a worried frown at the mention of Caster's difficult partnership with Kiritsugu.

"Don't be mad at your Master," she said softly, staring into her cup. "It's not that he's upset about summoning you. He's only… nervous, maybe even frustrated. No wonder, he has too much to lose."

"Oh?" The magician raised an eyebrow; even now a smile seemed glued to his face. "I thought you're the one who has too much to lose, Lady Irisviel."

"I…" She blushed, suddenly not sure where to look or what to do with her hands. Of course he knew what was her role in the Grail War, as expected from one of the strongest mages in history. "It's not…"

"Forgive me, Lady Irisviel." Merlin gently touched her hand. Iri looked up at him questioningly. "Disturbing you was not my intention. I promise to watch over my Master for you. I hope it will make you feel better."

"It will." A short but powerful answer. Caster was amazed how much determination could fit into such fragile, artificial body. He found it adorable.

He could also see that she wanted to ask another question, but hesitated for some reason. He waited patiently, curious what it might be.

"Tell me… what was he like? King Arthur?"

Caster's smile widened – it was something he could talk about for hours. His eyes were shining, when he thought of his famous pupil, but Iri could swear she saw also something disturbingly mischievous in his gaze.

"How to say it… Hmmm… An ideal knight, for sure. And a beautiful, shining soul."

"I see." Irisviel hummed, pleased with the answer. "I bet you did everything you could to raise him that way."

"There's always more, Lady Irisviel." For a second Iri expected that smile to vanish, but it was probably just a wandering shadow. "No matter how hard you try."

"See? Don't use the flames, if you're not ready to be consumed by them! Now you're literally falling apart!" The woman laughed madly at Genesis, swinging her weapon again and again, like if she wasn't capable of getting tired. Every following strike seemed stronger than the previous one for the former SOLDIER – or maybe his condition worsened so much during their prolonged duel? "Pathetic, decaying mage! How does it feel - to be defeated even before summoning a Servant?!"

Right, he should use a new kind of weapon to participate in the tournament. Genesis almost forgot about it. Confident in his inhuman strength, he expected to win this war alone… and he was sure he would, if his damn cells weren't degrading so rapidly!

"Well, I can use some help this time," he said, thinking intensively. The skin on his right hand itched under a glove, as in response to those words.

"You really think I'll let you?" The raging woman jumped at him again, forcing the former SOLDIER to focus on blocking her strange weapon. Her attacks were so intense, he could only parry them desperately and keep stepping back in full defensive.

How he supposed to summon anything now, without a proper Materia? Maybe mages of this world recited some secret formulas, like in old fairy tales for Cetra children?

Even if that was the case, Genesis realized he didn't know the incantation. Or spell. Or whatever was needed to 'summon a Servant'.

Fine, I'll improvise then. Is this new, strange world ready for the finest poem ever written?

He smiled, thinking how his favorite piece of literature could be used to describe his current situation. Well, with a dose of good will and imagination, but it still worked for him.

"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end

The goddess descends from the sky…"

So she did. In a column of light and twirling rose petals. Golden hair, green eyes. So beautiful and proud. Everything about her was shiny and screamed for attention.

Her outfit, which looked like an unique marriage of a dress and a parade uniform, was strangely uncovering around the most crucial parts of her body. Genesis raised an eyebrow at the view, but was far from judging anyone. He already knew someone so strong that he faced his enemies with his chest bared, probably just to mock them.

"We meet at last! It wasn't nice to keep me waiting, but I forgive you this time." The girl scanned Genesis from head to toe, before she nodded with approbation. "Umu! Servant Saber. I have arrived in response to your call." She turned to the other Servant and narrowed her eyes. "Berserker, huh? Why are you still here? Do you wish to die tonight?"

"You…!" The snake-woman growled angrily. "You really expected me to run away just because you showed up? Or should I be scared by some flashy entrance?"

"It was a carefully arranged prologue. A piece of fine art, actually. But I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

Genesis wanted to join the fight, but he only stood there and watched his freshly summoned 'goddess', speechless. Her every move was filled with passion – the way she raised her crimson sword and stepped forward, the way she slightly tilted her head before launching an attack. It looked like she was constantly on the scene, performing in the greatest spectacle of all time as a main soloist.

And that Genesis approved with all his decaying heart.

Two Servants clashed before his eyes in a fountain of sparkles. Saber might not be particularly strong or talented in terms of swordsmanship, but she certainly knew what she was doing. Her reactions were spot-on most of the time, at least until Berserker's weapon broke through her defense…

But Genesis was already there, the tip of his sword stopped the lance before it could sever a tendon in Saber's wrist.

"Careful," he said, pushing the enemy back with a powerful swing. "Don't let her wound you, no matter what."

"M-master…" Saber didn't let the confusion disorient her. Her crimson dress twirled, when she went back into battle stance. "Umu!"

"Would you mind if I join you?" Genesis smirked and stood next to her, mirroring her position.

"Not at all! Let's show her how we dance!"

"Damn you!" Now Berserker was the one to desperately defend herself against the rain of their synchronized strikes. Surrounded and cut mercilessly by two flaming swords, she could either die or escape.

Wisely, she chose the second option.

"You can run away, I don't really care." Genesis took a deep breath and fixed his hair, messed terribly during the fight. He was far from looking as perfect as he used to before the degradation, but old habits were hard to abandon. "Well, that was something, for a first, improvised dance."

"Umu. First victory for the Red Team!" – Saber announced with a wide, expressive gesture. "Shall we celebrate, Master?"

Their eyes met again and they both already knew that their journey together will be like a wild, flaming poem.

From the highest point of the Einzbern castle Merlin was doing what he was best at – observed everything that lived in the present time.

He saw his Master, walking in the snow near the castle with a little homunculi girl. They were counting walnut buds and the poor child couldn't possibly know that it was how her father handled difficult goodbyes.

Then his eyes of a Caster reached far beyond the sea, to the Land of Winter Trees.

"Fuyuki, huh? So this will be the scene of the main event…"

He saw a Lancer in black, a dual-wielder, waiting in the docks for challengers to show up. He saw a boy clung to a strong arm of a Servant in a flying chariot. He saw a golden king, bored and disgusted by the modern world he'd been summoned to.

But something in particular piqued his interest. At the river, near the characteristic red bridge, a very unusual pair was taking a stroll under the moonlight. The Servant, all golden and red, looked too much like Arturia than it should be allowed. And her Master, although visibly ill, had 'something' in him. Something otherworldly and… inhuman.

"A hybrid? Interesting."

Merlin smiled to himself, wondering if he should feel some kind of kinship with this individual. Were they both looking at the human world with the same fascination and sense of incompatibility?

What desperate wish brought this man to their little, disturbed world? Was he trying to become a hero, like Caster's own, adorable but broken, Master?

If that was the case, they should consider themselves lucky, right? Not everyone has a chance to meet the legendary creator of heroes. Not everyone has a chance to have his wishes granted, even if the way to achieve it is filled with death and despair.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing." Merlin tilted his head. "The problem begins when one's dreams become too large for reality."

A lone man was standing on a path under old, twisted apple trees.

His arms were ridiculously broad, the same with the sword he held on his back. He wore a SOLDIER uniform, black like his own, mostly carefully smoothed hair. His stern expression usually made him look older than he truly was.

He looked at the violet apples above his head and clenched his fists in silent frustration. He had lost a trusted companion. A childhood friend. A brother of sorts.

Why did he run away? – the man wondered. Was it because of that tiny wound? Was it jealously he couldn't stand anymore? Because his 'idol' wouldn't want to eat a damn apple with him?

How did he know, if he hadn't even tried to give the guy some?

Having nothing else to cling to in a chaos that was slowly raising around him, the man was determined to discover the truth.