Disclaimer: I do not own any works by Type-Moon or From Software.

Fate/Stay Night and all related works belong to Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon by extension.

Dark Souls is property of FromSoftware.


Bazett completed the ritual's chant, and the world was engulfed in light. Smoke from the explosion of prana began to subside, and Bazett and Kotomine Kirei looked to the center of the circle in hopes to see her hero, the great Cu Chulain resurrected from his death.

What stood in the circle, however, was not the Hound of Ulster. A figure clad in golden armor stood instead, his face obscured by a beautiful helmet carved in the likeness of a lion with a luscious red plum at the end. He towered over Bazett and Kotomine, his mere presence commanding power and authority. His gaze looked towards the woman, and a voice echoed from beneath the armor.

"Tell me mortal, are you the one, I am to bequeath the title 'Master' upon?" His tone was strong and commanding, like the growls of a lion that ruled over his herd with power and respect.

For a moment, Bazett's mind was frozen. This…being had just asked her if she was his master. The answer was obvious. She had to be his master; she had summoned him, whoever he was. But the words didn't form; her mind couldn't process the words. Kirei spotted an open opportunity, and allowed his lips to curl into a minute grin. Now was his chance.

Slowly, he reached for the black keys hidden up his sleeve, ready to cut down Bazett, to see the life in her eyes fade as he took this Servant for his own.

His brain barely registered the Servant's movements before the severed arm and huge gash appeared on his right chest muscle.

Kirei's screams of pain shocked Bazett out of her frozen state, and she turned to see the plot caught in action: the drawn black keys, the black blood, and the Servant standing on the other side of the room, his weapon drawn.

"Ahhh!"

"I asked the woman if she was my master. I did not ask you, traitorous priest. And she has yet to answer my question." The golden knight stared down at the priest, his gaze boring through the man's eyes and into his being.

"Thus, I am bound to hear her decision, and to protect her from any harm until such. Thus I will not let you have your wish."

The life of Kotomine Kirei faded away as the knight finished his declaration. With one last breath, he sighed in wonder, if God would welcome a broken human like he was.

The knight shifted his gaze to Bazett as his weapon vanished, and she was overcome by fear of this armored being.

"I will not repeat myself again. Woman, are you the person who summoned me to this war?"

Bazett trembled. Whoever this knight was, he was not human. But that was true of all Servants, as they were creatures beyond human ability. This being was above that. He deserved to be the leader in this war, not her. But if she backed down, she would be a Master without a Servant. And if his actions toward Kirei had been any sign, the power he held was beyond incredible. She steeled her will, and swallowed.

"Yes. I, Bazett Fraga McRemitz, do hereby accept this contract. If thou shalt serve as my sword and shield in this war, then I shall abide by our Contract."

A surge of pain ignited over her right hand, as if something were burning itself over the skin. Moments passed, and the pain vanished. She pulled off the rune-inscribed gloves to see the marks. Three symbols, each a condensed miracle, appeared on her hand.

Command Seals. The marks of a master chosen to fight in the Holy Grail War.

"The ritual is complete. On my honor, I, Servant Lancer, pledge to fight by your side in this Holy Grail War, master."

The golden knight kneeled himself before Bazett, but his height made her only stand slightly shorter than his head.

Well, this wasn't what I expected. Bazett thought.

A realization occurred to her.

"If you're here as a Lancer, then why didn't I see your weapon when you appeared?"

"My weapon's identity, though not recognized at first sight, is a significant part of my legend. If I were to display its power before anyone other than another Servant, I fear it might show my identity." His answer came without pause. His machine-like attitude unnerved Bazett.

"Do you think you could stop talking like I'm your king? I don't mean to offend, but I find it easier if we were equals in this."

The air chilled a few degrees.

"…As equals?" Lancer's tone dropped to barely a whisper, but it cut deeper than any sword could.

Bazett felt incomparably small as Lancer stood to his full height, his stride measured, and terrifying. With each step, Bazett inched away, her Servant's measured fury growing with each syllable.

"You, a mere mortal, dare suggest, that I lower myself, to an equal status as yourself?"

Bazett felt herself against the wall, cornered by the enormous warrior, his eyes locking her in place.

"I always knew that mortals had pride within themselves. But to believe you, even when only our ashes remain, would think US as being equals? I cannot believe such arrogance among humanity exists. Even if I am bound by you, Master," He raised an armored finger right at Bazett's heart.

"To compare your kind to mine is to compare a blade of grass to a mountain. You exist because we formed the ground you grew from." Lancer lowered himself so he could meet Bazett's eyes with his own.

"Never forget that."

Lancer broke the stare and walked off, his body shifting to spirit form, invisible to human eyes. Bazett slumped down as her body collapsed from what she'd faced. Her breath came in shallow panics of breath, and she was certain that her heart was now inside of her skull. Eventually, she regained her composure. However, the experience, and the words of her servant, remained. But one phrase kept repeating itself:

'You exist because we formed the ground you grew from.'

If Lancer wasn't lying, then he came from a time before human legends. And that meant, whoever Lancer was, boasted power perhaps without equal. She may have just won this Holy Grail War already.

"But how do I keep him from impaling me before that?" She murmured.

It was going to be a long war.