"At last, it is here... Isn't it interesting to think that such a day would come?"

Those words, pronounced with both anticipation and solemnity, escaped the mouth of a man in his late thirties as he rolled up his sleeves.

He was quite the singular person, and anybody laying eyes on him would only feel this sense of strangeness emanatting from him, as though this feeling had become part of his very being. The most striking about him was without a doubt his appearance: it was so unusual and extraordinary he couldn't possibly hide even amidst a crowd.

First was his hair; the silky fibers falling down to his waist like a waterfall had not one colour but two: indeed, those growing from the left side of his cranium were gray like cold ashes, whereas those cascading from the right side of his head bore the strong orange of the silently burning ember.

Then there were his clothes; no matter how one would try to arrange them, they would never go well together as their colors didn't mesh in a way that was pleasurable for the eye. On his chest he wore what seemed to be the unthought mix between a fur coat and an Hawaiian shirt; it was entirely buttoned up in spite of the high temperature and the moisture of the air. The shoes at his feet would seem normal if one merely glanced over them, but a more curious eye would notice the strage way light was reflecting on it. The truth was that the man's shoes were made of wood; more precisely, of mahogany wood. No matter how you looked at it, these weren't meant to be comfortable in any way, and yet their owner was walking around in them at all times.

The result of this uncomprehensible arrangement wasn't an eyesore, as one could expect. On the contrary, especially because it was him this get up created an otherworldy aura around the man that could only be described as 'unique'. The affable expression adorning his face, like that of a gentleman, coupled with the exhaustion in his eyes further reinforced that impression.

The name of this man made of contrasts, this unlikely human who stood out no matter where he stood, was Ivan Pedilefey.

Unlike his appearance which was the fruit of an intelligent being, the area around him had been harmoniously created by nature alone. At the moment, Ivan was crouching inside a cave with walls of white chalk shaped like a natural dome. Dark green moss and algae were partially covering the floor and climbing up the immaculate white walls like wild vines, silently singing how the hands of men had never reached this pristine place.

From the very top of the bell-shaped cave, sunlight shone abundantly through a large hole that seemed to have been made by a falling meteor. It illuminated the inside of the cavern which would have been plunged in the dark otherwise; a lone beam of light amidst the darkness of the underground. The azure blue sky visible through this natural window, devoid of any cloud, as well as the sound of the waves breaking calmly against the sand were indicators that this secret place was located on some uninhabited southern island.

How Ivan had managed to find this place or even knew how to look for it was unknown. Even he wasn't exactly sure how his 'instinct' worked. But the fact was that he was here, and he had found what he had been looking for.

It was there, right in front of his crouching figure: a sight that didn't belong to the realm of nature, yet didn't bear the mark of human intervention either. It looked like some kind of pedestal made of the same white chalk that composed the rest of the grotto; it had probably been sculpted through erosion whenever the sea water filled the cave. But that was of no importance. The true objective of Ivan and what made this place more than a simple cavern, was located on this pedestal like a prized work of art to admire: a chunk of golden metal the size of a fist was embedded into the chalk.

Even though the cracks surrounding it hinted that it had come crashing down through the hole in the ceiling – or that it had created it – the fragment of gold looked as though it had become one with its podium, like a parasite invading the body of its host. The most visible sign of this fusion were thin golden veins which were running on the surface of the pedestal, dancing with the fissures to create a complicated pattern. Each one of the long golden lines could be traced back to the golden fragment, and the latter was like a heart connected to actual veins.

It wasn't just an analogy: it was pulsating.

At a rythm of once every two seconds, the chunk of metal beat like a human heart, diffusing a golden light through the shining veins. Each wave was accompanied by a flow of energy, magical energy which was meaningful only for a magus.

A magus like Ivan was.

"All the preparations are ready. Now, shall we start?"

Finally, he stood up and dusted off his clothes before beholding the result of his endeavor in front of him: there, he had pulled off the moss to reveal the white floor of the cavern and, for the past ten minutes, he had been drawing something.

It was a circle; a large dark red circle of at least two meters of diameter, containing in its center a star of David. Filling it were numerous complicated scriptures and symbols which together culminated into a thoroughly complexe design, so intricate it was hard to believe Ivan had drawn it by hand and without making a single mistake.

It was a magic circle, something that would seem dangerous and ominous to the masses, but was in truth nothing more than a tool for rituals. As to what he had drawn it with, it would be the blood that used to be contained in the empty bottle laying at his feet.

Satisfied with his work, Ivan left his positing for an instant before coming back with a peculiar object in his hands. It was a large wooden sword the size of a claymore, so thick and sturdy it could be used as a baseball bat. It's surface, which had probably been decorated in the distant past, was now nothing more than decaying wood. The sword itself was only a dummy, a pale copy of the original it was supposed to impersonate, yet it was still an ancient artifact filled with Mystery.

It would do quite nicely as a Catalyst.

"Let silver and steel be the essence

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation."

After putting down the wooden sword in the middle of the magic circle, Ivan begun reciting the magical formulas without waiting a single minute more. Raising his arm in front of him, he felt his prana burn within his magic circuits like boiling water. A mistake in the ritual wouldn't be without consequences, yet the paradoxical man showed neither hesitation nor fear: on the contrary, his eyes display his same usual calm, whereas the grin splitting his face did a poor job hiding his excitement.

"Let white be the color I pay tribute to."

Wether or not he realized it, with this single sentence Ivan Pedilefey betrayed the very essence of the ritual known as the Holy Grail War. A tournament between magi to reach the Root; the seven Masters chosen by the Grail; the seven Servants fighting the war in their stead.

All of those rule were broken at once from the moment he had announced the colour of his flag.

"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

Let it be declared now;

your flesh shall serve under me and my fate shall be with your sword.

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.

Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth.

An oath shall be sworn here.

I shall attain all virtues of all heavens;

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."

The summoning ritual was almost complete; only a single line was left to be pronounced. By now the prana flowing from Ivan's body to the magic circle had become a storm of raging energy swepting dust away with a strong wing which filled the whole cave. Ivan's heart was beating faster and faster before ventually the last words left his mouth fiercely.

«From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power,

come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!»

The raging storm gathered in a single point in the middle of circle, envelopping the Catalyst chosen by Ivan, before exploding in a wave of energy that almost threw him off his feet.

And amidst the flying dust and the last gleams of prana, the life that didn't exist in this place a second before stood proudly. Slowly as the all the dust finished falling to the ground, in front of Ivan was a muscular man wearing what looked like red body thights with some pieces of armor on his shoulders and knees. His hair and his beard were of crimson red deeper than that if his clothes, and his eyes of light green glinted with strength and confidence.

"According to the summon, I present myself -Saber of White. My fate shall be with you and my sword shall be as your sword."

Prologue: The Power Unleashed

The office was filled with a tension so thick you could cut with a knife.

It was a simple room all in all: the only furnitures present in this study were a few shelves filled with numerous ancient-looking book with richly decorated binding, a dark green carpet large enough that it almost covered the entire floor, and a huge table of blackish wood with foure chairs disposed around it in a way so that those sitting there could see the person in front of them.

The books stored in those shelves had to be extremely rare and precious – not only because they seemed older than most people crawling the Earth, but because this study was located nowhere else than in the Clock Tower of London, one of the few places in teh world where knowledge about magecraft and the world of magi was concentrated to such an extent. Other such organizations would be the Wandering Sea and Atlas Academy; that was how rare it was. Therefore, for these antique books to be here, they'd have to be priceless at least for those who dwelled in the Mage's Association.

But what would be even more precious would be the people sitting around the large table in the center of the room: three men of different ages and ranks had gathered here in the same room for the same goal, even though some of them were from opposing factions within the Mage's Association.

Obviously the pressure emanatted from the three of them, but it wasn't directed at each other. They were impatiently waiting for someone, for the man who would fill the fourth chair next to them. However, none of that tension showed in their expression, an dif anything they looked calm but serious.

Suddenly, the three of them heard the door of the office open and shut behind them and they looked at the newcomer, the person they had been waiting for. It was a man probably in his mid-fourties, visibly the oldest person in the room. His clothing couldn't be called anything but elegant, yet at the same time is seemed so discreet he could walk in the street without sticking out like a sore thumb. His gaze bore a similar elegance, although it was mixed with severity and a hint of hatred which was characteristic of him.

His name was Victor Vasilia, one of the Lords of the Clock Tower of London. He was a man of fearsome reputation, not because of the eerie rumors on his experiments – those wouldn't make a proper magus wince – but because he was notorious as a plotter who uses his wits.

"Gentlemen." He greeted them without an ounce of warmth. "I see everyone is here already, that will spare us any more wait. At any rate, I believe none of you truly ignore our current situation."

"""...""" None of them opened his mouth to either greet him or blame him as he was the late one. They didn't care for this; all they were interested in was what he had to say.

It was true though, all of them more or less had an idea of what was going on. Out of the three men sitted around the table, two of them were of great reknown within the Mage's Association: there was Bram Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri, the head of the Department of Evocation. Because of his position, it was already obvious he was to be involved. The person sitting in front of him was Lord El-Melloi II. The presence of this instructor, who took part in a certain ritual in the year 1994, made it clearer and clearer what the matter at hand was, but until words would cast it in stone, they simply stared at Lord Vasilia in silence.

"Twelve years ago, a ritual known as the Holy Grail War took place in a Japanese town of the name of Fuyuki City. I'll skip the details since you already know them, and I'll go straight to the matter at hand. The Holy Grail War of 2004 was the fifth one, and presumably the last one." Lord Vasilia paused. "Or so we thought, until a couple weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago..." Another voice rose within the room – it was El-Melloi's, who had reacted to Vasilia's comment. "Are you saying that this incident with the ley lines is related to the Holy Grail?"

'This incident' was referring to a strange event which had occured at the same time Vasilia had mentioned. Roughly two weeks prior to this meeting, several ley lines all around the world – from Europe to Asia, including archipelagos – had activated at the same time. It wasn't that they had been dried before, but it had been as though they were sending a signal; or reacting to something. But after a full day, they stopped their strange demeanor, and nothing more happened afterward.

"The Holy Grail would have been the reason why the ley lines reacted? Had it only been one, I'd understand, but why would such faraway ley lines behave like that? More importantly, what happened to the Grail?!"

"..." Again, there was a short pause from Lord Vasilia, who closed his eyes before uttering two words. "Grail Shards."

"...?"

"That's how I've named it – that is, my theory. The Grail was supposedly destroyed during the last ritual, but as far as we know it was only the Lesser Grail. In other words, the Greater Grail is intact and functioning perfectly; the Heaven's Feel can still take place. Yet we haven't heard anything about a new Lesser Grail from the Einzbern. I don't need to mention that this is highly improbable considering they are the only one capable of constructing one. That's how I've reached the conclusion, from what little information we have, that the Lesser Grail from the previous war hasn't been destroyed."

"But didn't you just said it was?" Bram interjected. "If it has survived, then how comes we haven't heard of it in twelve years?"

"'Destroyed' isn't the exact word; it would be more correct to say it was split in several pieces – those I've referred to as Grail Shards. Upon it's destruction, the Grail split in several shards which moved away from Fuyuki City, the original location of the ritual, to land in different part of the planet. All the ley lines which reacted a couple weeks ago are quite powerful in their own right, but they are away from civilization. Anyway, if this part is speculation, it is afatc that a new Holy Grail War has started."

"What of it? Even if a new War starts, the Mage's Association role regarding it is only to send a representative as one of the Masters. As a matter of fact, what evidence have you found about a new Holy Grail War?"

With a wave of his hand which betrayed his annoyance at Sophia-Ri's comment, Victor Vasilia indicated the fourth man sitting across the table. The latter was so different from the three magi he seemed quite strange, in the sense that he seemed too normal for this strange place. He wasn't exactly dressed sloppily, but his get-up was visibly more average-looking than his peer's rich clothes. It was only that, but his face only told of normalcy. In anything, he looked like any familyman.

"Our guest here is the younger brother of the current head of the Argas family – Michael Argas. Usually he would have nothing to do here, but... Mr. Argas, if you will."

Apparently unwilling to explain everything, Vasilia gave the man a cryptic order. Upon hearing it, Michael Argas raised his hand which until now had been hidden under the table. On the back, a peculiar tatoo of a deep crimson red was showing, contrasting with his everyday appearance. It was composed of three parts which together formed some sort of triskele. They allowed no further doubt for Lord El-Melloi II and Bram Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri, for those were the mark of one designated as a Master – the Command Seals.

"The presence of a Master among us should be enough proof. He isn't the only one, several persons inside the Clock Tower have been chosen as Masters. And to answer your first question, Lord Sophia-Ri – as to why we are gathered here – it is imperative that we gather these Masters as well as powerful Catalysts as fast as possible."

"?" Neither El-Melloi nor Sophia-Ri understood. "Lord Vasilia, it seems there is a misunderstanding. Why should we interfere in this matter?"

"...We've received a declaration of war."

At the same moment, thousands of kilometers away from the Mage's Association's headquarter, in a room plunged in the dark there was a single man. His appearance had nothing extraordinary in a way; well-combed hair and an expensive business suit – he looked like a typical businessman.

The same went for the room he was in, had the lights been on: It was a study of sort with a large desk occupying a good third of it, while the rest of it was filled by bookshelves, low tables and piles of documents. On his desk, there was nothing but a computer, a few pencils and more paperwork. No matter how one looked at it, it was quite the common workplace, at least in appearance. But that was also all it was, for the study lacked any hint of personality, not a single proof that it belonged to one person rather than another. Be it pictures, small decorations or even photographs, none of it found their way to this underground room.

If asked, this man would probably answer that such things didn't have their place in there, and that what this room represented was already all his life. He wouldn't be wrong to say that, though it could also be said that, by its very lack of personal display, this study was a reflection of himself. As to what he was personally doing in these darkness, the simplest answer would be nothing; merely, he was spacing out, thinking and remembering with his eyes closed.

His name was Alexander Alan Lendric. He was the head of an international organization which went by the name of New Edge; as far as the masses were concerned, it was specialized in supplying various kinds of products, from military uniforms to lab equipment. Simply put, it answered requests through the use of its connections and partnerships. On the inside though, there was a side of this organization which was to remain secret, but which spelled its true purpose.

Knock, knock!

The sound of someone knocking lightly on the door pulled Alexander out of his reverie – without waiting for his approval of even a reaction, the door opened, casting light inside the otherwise dark study. He opened his eyes just enough not to be blinded by the sudden illumination, and his gaze landed in a blackened figure standing in the door frame.

The figure sighed and extended their hand to the switch next to the door. After blinking a few times, the cold artificial light of the neon lamps on the ceiling chased the shadows away and illuminated the person who was now standing upright in front of Alexander's desk: it was a woman not any older than Alexander himself – which meant she had to be in her early thirties – with thistle violet hair tied into an elaborate and wearing an office uniform. This woman with an air of strictness to her was Loïa Beddway, Alexander's personal secretary.

"Mr. Lendric, may I know what you were doing in the dark?" Without so much as greeting him, she gave him a suspicious gaze.

"Just saving on the electricity bill." He replied jokingly, not bothered in the slightest by his secretary's coldness. "Just kidding, I'm just taking a break."

Loïa heaved a small sigh, but didn't add anything.

"Rest while you can." Her expression softened a bit before she resumed speaking. "Anyway, we're done with the first step."

"How did it go?"

"They reacted pretty much as you expected. They didn't take us seriously, until we mentioned the Holy Grail."

Alexander grinned. It was a ferocious smile, the smile of someone who just took their revenche on a long-time enemy.

The 'first step' Loïa had mentioned was the accomplishment of New Edge's fundamental purpose: to declare war on the Mage's Association. It was a strange thing, to think they, a lowly organization would have the recklessness and the boldness to directly confront the millenia-old Mage's Association which reigned tyranically on the wowld of magi. Even if New Edge was also an organization meant to gather mages, it was nowhere near the Clock Tower in term of importance and influence and a confrontation between the two organisations would invariably end with their loss.

For them to take such an action, they'd have to be mad. That, or he's need to have the means to win.

Alexander lifted his hand to take alook at the crimson red pattern drawn on it; his Command Seals had a shape vaguely ressembling a pair of wings with a feathered tail in the middle. Those on Loïa's hand looked like a trio of eyes, the likes of which Hindu deities had.

Such was the message they had sent:

"The New Edge Corporation hereby declares war on the Mage's Association in accordance to the rules of the Holy Grail War. We have gathered seven Masters of our own and shall compete to claim the Holy Grail to destroy the Mage's Association."

The Holy Grail War. Alexander couldn't be thankful enough for it to have suddenly happened, and in such a flashy way. What the message said was the entire truth: as soon as Alexander has understood a new War was underway, he moved Heavens and Earth to find more Masters and to gather Catalysts for them. In the end he has ended up with Seven Masters – ironically, that was the original number of participants for the ritual known as the Holy Grail War.

There was no way in hell he would waste this god given occasion fate had layed out before him.

However, there was one thing that still bothered him and wouldn't stop gnawing at him: New Edge had gathered seven Masters, and the Clock Tower will probably have seven as well – for some reasons, it seemed the failsafe of the Holy Grail had been activated, resulting in fourteen Command Selas being distributed.

Or so it should have been. Yet when New Edge detected the anomaly in the ley lines one month prior to this day, they've noticed the quantity of mana released was way higher than it should have been for fourteen participants; to put it bluntly, there were probably twenty-one Masters in the whole world. It was unknwon how the Grail could have given out that many rights, but it was still a solid possibility, if not a fact. But what truly intrigued Alexander wasn't that there were so many participants. Aside from his own Masters, he had spotted around the same number of other candidates, but those were already within the grasp of the Clock Tower.

Now...where were the last seven Masters?

"...Well, if I brood too much over the unknown factors, I'll forget what's right in front of me. Now, Loïa, are all of our 'representents' here?"

"Affirmative, Mr. Lendric. The last Masters have finished moving the our headquarters. Only half of them summoned a Servant already though."

"Then please ask those who have summoned theirs yet to do so within a week. We never know when the Mage's Association might make their move."

"Very well, sir."

Alexander stood up and looked at the ceiling, as though starring at something far beyond it, far beyond the reach of his eyesight. The strange determination in his eyes, did they truly look like that of a normal businessman?

"It seems I am too weak to fulfill my wish by myself. Won't you help me then, O Grail?"

Thank you for reading!

Hi everybody starting this serie, this is Legends Storyteller. If you've decided to read this prologue because the premise of this story interest you, you're welcome! If you were just bored an picked it randomely, you're welcome as well!

This is actually a rewriting of Rongodamiant's prologue: two years have already gone by since I started this serie, and unavoidably my writing skills haven't stagnated all the while. I couldn't resist rewriting at least my first few chapters since I don't want those who have come take a look to be put off by the level I and two years ago.

You can't begin how happy it makes me that you people read my stories – it is the pleasure of every writer to be read. If you were convinced, or at the very least intrigued by this prologue, I wish you a good reading experience! I sincerely hope you'll have as much fun reading Rongodamiant than I have writing it.

Please note that the following chapters may not have been rewrited yet at the time you read this message (since rewriting a chapter takes just as much time as writing a new one).

Once again, thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to comment, review or ask a question!

~Legends Storyteller