I was once Atosaki Kurokawa; unable to remember, unable to forget.

There were no words in places like these, where brackish dew beaded on dying eyes, their heedless ennui of despair a miasma in its purest and most potent form. We traipsed in the faltering steps of humankind, luckless enough to have survived what should have been the end. Those distorted, interminable memories coalesced into truth, but only in the landscape of our febrile minds.

White darkness and white noise now enrobed the void space where life once abounded. Little remained of this ostentatious reality misconstrued as paradise. With indigestible hulls mauling its belly, an entire nation sank into the blurred oceans. Those who lasted did so only by design; a handful outlived the rest. They sought solace in a small city known as Fuyuki. We thought we were safe.

I'd never forget how the sky burned with innocent blood and a crimson rainbow. Massive heaps of scorched, twisted bodies lay amongst buildings reduced to ashes. Roads came to an end. Fire razed everything in its path. I lost my parents, my friends, anything else I held dear. This had to be a nightmare. But no, it was Hell on Earth.

Darkened under the shades of night, the corpses began resuming and recomposing, even in a changed form; they came alive again. We witnessed through a window of madness atrocities that even language could not comprehend. They feasted on us more and more until only seven remained, all divided, all hope lost. Those pinions which stood for freedom were rent asunder, and not even when we begged for mercy could we clip them.

A void was forming in our chests, whether we were aware of its conception or not, unknown. It began to rip open at the edges, inexorably, like seams coming undone under pressure. And we were so friable. Every night I lost my mind, and every morning it slowly came back. How I managed to stay alive was beyond me.

The wreck we called our government relayed a single message: "Kill them or be killed." They left us alone in the dying world without any salvation in sight. We were to fight in this crucible of the dead for nothing but our lives.

Somehow, I wanted them to know my name. It was that girl—that "me"—born from perdition and sanctified in fire who had the temerity to defy her death, today, again. All I acknowledged was the retention of my sanity; of the others I could merely dream.

As the infernal sun blazed above, I swore then upon my sole appellation that I would survive. Only one question remained: for what reason? With no answer, I cried on the passing days, legs aching as I ran and ran and ran...

In this loose and unstable world I breathed, unable to take a step forward. The twilight shone on the other side, but with my back dyed red I did not think I would make it to see another sunrise or feel that sadness before dawn. When the long night ended, what would I be? Only a small promise made in the dark kept me awake.

Time approached as I traveled to the other side, an oath burning on my lips.

"Live."

I was once Atosaki Kurokawa; unable to remember, unable to forget. I would never be as I was before. That girl, whoever she may have been, no longer existed. Things were falling apart right before my eyes. My body had not a chance to rest, and for my suffering the evening sorrowed as the heavens cried. The earth puckered with layers of ash lay still, but above me the sky swam.

There was no reason to keep running. I wanted to sleep, but to sleep was to die. A sense of frustration marauded in my head, anger waxing, flowering outward in spiral profusions. It ended. It grew deeper. I drowned in a sunless sea.

The weather worsened and with it the flames diminished. I could taste salt at the corner of my mouth, but I didn't bother to wipe away the tears. Behind a cage of rib bones paced my heart, pounding incessantly, the sound like a second set of footsteps.

It hurt. Everything hurt. I tasted something coppery and sickening. My knees balked and buckled with each step until I finally stumbled, my hands scrabbling at air and then asphalt. I lay there a moment, staring into a puddle of rainwater at the girl reflected there.

Her hair was black and stringy, lopped off messily in front, long at the back. A threadbare summer dress hung from a small, emaciated and bloodied body, just barely preserving its owner's modesty. Everything about her was faded, from her lightly bronzed skin to those eyes gazing back expectantly into mine. Surely they held some secret to a contented life in their brown irises. I wanted to know when this would end. She could not tell me.

I tensed as a hollow, spine-chilling howl resounded from the darkness. They were on the move again, and from what I knew, their speed and vitality increased exponentially when hungry. If I'd known then what I know now, perhaps I would not have become separated from the other six survivors. And now, I could not go on.

Or, perhaps it wasn't that I could not, it was that I refused to. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. Why would I want to live in a world like this? I had no answer to that. But I was scared as well, scared of dying, and those trapped in a corner were the ones who fought back the hardest.

Slowly the rain shifted into an unhappy drizzle, soft against my face, washing away the blood and death that clung to me like a thin, sticky film.

It felt warm and peaceful. Perhaps dying would be like falling into a dreamless sleep. I kept to that notion and closed my eyes, tying myself tightly to Death. I did not care. I did not have the energy to care. The last thing I remembered was the sound of my tapered breathing, in and out, hold and release. And then nothing.

With a shocking suddenness I rose again to consciousness, although it was a hazy, blurred sort of state, like a lucid dream. My surroundings rambled about, both liquid and solid at the same time, moving like a mist over unknown waters. I must have died from exhaustion. Either that or the zombies got me. What a shame, I thought, that I never woke up to keep on fighting.

With that note the image hardened, all at once crystallizing into the scene of a vacant neighborhood. My heart twisted into a knot as I realized that this was my home before the apocalypse. The details, foggy as they seemed, were all there. Even that streetlight with a flickering bulb. I wanted to cry, but nothing established itself in my eyes. I simply felt numb.

Someone's warm hand touched upon my shoulder, and I turned without looking, sobbing uncontrollably, until I was nearly suffocating in the soft folds of their clothing. They patted me on the back, whispering words inaudible.

I raised my head to meet their eyes, but no one was there.

"Who—?"

I found myself looking down. A spear protruded from my chest, where the heart was, shining red with the fresh bloodstain of murder. The zombies were upon me, clawing at my legs, and it was all too real. Their thin, mottled skin stretched over skulls in which were set eyes like artesian wells: black hollows of madness. They stared into my soul, freezing me as my lifeblood drained into those gaping mouths…

I screamed and jolted upright, suddenly cracking heads with someone looming over me.

"Hey, watch it!"

A girl with dark, wavy hair and crimson clothing stared at me with the hauteur of one expecting some expression of penitence. Her aqua blue eyes shone like a flame's heart, vivid and full of life, so unlike mine which were dull and dying. She had to have been my age, if not younger, yet she appeared unscathed, save the ripped tights and slight dishevelment.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, rubbing my forehead and leaning away from her. "I didn't… mean to…"

"You mean nothing and everything," she said in complete seriousness, arms folded. "What is your name?"

"Err… Atosaki."

"So Atosaki is one of them," mumbled the girl. "Me too, by the way. I'm Rin. Rin Tohsaka."

"Nice to meet you." I smiled nervously. Though my heart utterly sang to see a live human being, she seemed to vacillate between calculating and friendly personae. It seemed odd to me.

"Just 'nice?' I saved you back there, I'll have you know. If it weren't for me, you'd be food for the undead."

"…So that's it… I mean, thank you."

"You're welcome. I expect you would do the same for a fellow survivor."

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Well, I suppose you pass the trust test. For now, anyway." Rin handed me a golden goblet filled to the brim with a clear liquid.

"Water," I gasped before grabbing at the cup's stem and draining its contents.

"You're a master of deduction, aren't you?"

I wiped at my mouth with the back of one hand and nodded. "Where are we?"

"A church. You better enjoy that holy rain water; there's barely any left."

Dim moonlight filtered into the prayer hall through cracked stained glass windows. Aside from the smashed pews and doorways with no doors, everything seemed to be in fairly good shape in comparison to what the world outside.

"How have they not gotten in?" I asked, sucking down a second drink of water. "You know, those mutated bodies."

"I don't know," replied Rin. "They just don't."

"Why haven't the others stayed here?"

"They might be dead."

"…Oh."

I stared vacantly ahead for one painfully protracted moment before noticing something glimmer behind the altar.

"Rin, over there. What is that?"

I struggled to stand, finally gaining enough balance to propel myself forward. I landed on hands and knees, finding nothing solid in my grasp. A strange red glow emanated from beneath me, and suddenly a voice boomed throughout the church.

"Welcome, Masters Numbers Two and Three. If you are hearing this message, it means that I have passed into the hands of our Father. Do not despair. I bring good tidings, though you may not like to hear what I have to say."

A man seemed to be talking over a loudspeaker, but there was no electricity and no equipment in sight. I imagined him to be a priest wearing a somber cassock, although his tone seemed somehow too scornful.

"What did you do?" asked a very pale Rin.

"Nothing! I don't know! And what's wrong with you?"

"I—"

"The world has fallen into ruin. There will be no survivors… except one. Whosoever outlasts the others among you seven will have the chance to wish upon the Holy Grail."

A great crash could be heard in the background, accompanied by a spate of white noise.

"There's not much time left. Things are different this time. The rules of this War were corrupted. Black magic flows through every vessel available, including the Servants. There is no Supervisor, no Command Seals until they are earned, if that is even possible. The Grail has predetermined and summoned your Servants for you, so be prepared to face them at any given moment—"

The voice spoke faster with every passing second, until I could hardly understand the message being conveyed. It made no sense to me. I turned to Rin for some explanation, only to find her trembling and withdrawn.

"This isn't good," she whispered. "We should go, Atosaki. It's not safe here."

"Not safe? But the zombies…"

"It's not them you should be afraid of."

"Shouldn't we be listening to the priest?"

"—the First Empirical Holy Grail War. Farewell and good luck."

Rin muttered some very colorful language beneath her breath, cursing fate or something of that matter.

"Rin… What did he mean by Holy Grail? And a wish? Servants… magic… and the war. I don't understand. It sounds like an interesting story for a manga, but not for my life."

She regarded me with sympathetic eyes. "You really don't know, do you? You've only survived this long because you're a Master. I mean, you're a participant in this battle for some reason or another. I always knew this day would come, but not like this. He spoke about corruption, didn't he?"

"I still don't get it," I said, sounding dumb even to myself. Regardless of my awareness or lack thereof, I simply needed to accept the facts. We were already so deeply embroiled in this disaster that escape would be simply unthinkable. I sighed, resigned to the situation.

"If only one person can make this so-called wish, does that mean we're enemies?"

Rin lowered her eyes. "Well, technically speaking, we—oh my God."

"We owe your God? Priestly much?"

She only pointed with one slightly trembling finger.

To the thing behind me.

What felt like an iron fist closed around my waist and lifted me from the ground. I was afraid to look at what had me in its grasp. My ribs felt like they were cracking under the pressure.

"Rin," I said as calmly as possible, "could you please tell me the identity of what has me in its great clutches?"

"Werewolf," she cried, firing a hazy black orb from her forefinger like a bullet.

It subsequently struck the enemy, evidenced by its howl of pain and me being dropped on the floor like a ragdoll.

I rolled onto my back, staring into the maw of the beast. Ultramarine fur bristled on its heavily muscled and armored body as it sat back on its haunches, growling in my direction despite wearing a strange metal visor over unseeing eyes.

Blood dripped from the claws of one of its large, almost hand-like front paws, and I grimaced, hands wrapped around my sides. I drew up my right hand, finding it covered in liquid red.

"R-Rin, help…" Tears formed in my eyes. I could barely see her anymore.

With a terrifying roar, the werewolf dove toward where I lay, grabbing me roughly, albeit painlessly, in its jaws and swatting Rin away before escaping the church's confines.

I felt myself fading out, my head bouncing with every bound. I would either die of blood loss or consumption by werewolf, and I didn't know which one was worse. Reasoning no longer existing. At least I wasn't in too much pain. It would've been fun to ride on him, if only I weren't being carried around like a battered chew toy.

The werewolf's saliva soaked my body, though it was odorless and warm enough to be slightly comforting. I wouldn't win the Empirical Grail War or whatever; Rin was the one with magic, not me. This wolf here would probably eat me anyway. I closed my eyes, my limbs fell limp, and my consciousness floated away like a paper boat taken by the current.