The door to the church swung open, Erika proudly stepping inside. "Mister Overseer!" She yelled out to the empty church. The birch pews were empty, and the black altar stood unattended.
"Eh?"
"Fuu believes the overseer isn't in Master." Fuu stated, before Hi yipped. "Oh really jackass? What could have possibly led you to that conclusion?! The dead silence and lack of a pedophile?!"
"Knock it off Hi." Erika muttered as she stepped deeper inside, the familiar treading behind her. "Still, it's odd. The overseer should be here, maybe he went to take a piss?"
"Or he has a dungeon of children in the basement and he's using their souls to charge his magical death machine!" Hi "helpfully" commented.
A door at the side of the building creaked open, a man stepping through the door. "Nah, he's just occupied." He said, light blonde hair and deep blue eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight, his priest robes several sizes too big on his diminutive frame. "Hello! How may I help you today?"
"See? Look at that face and tell me he doesn't spike the communion wine!" Hi asked shamelessly.
"Hi. Shut up." Erika ordered, looking at the happy priest. "Are you not the overseer? Where is he?"
"He's perfectly fine I assure you Miss. I assume you're here for that nasty little squabble happening in I say… a day or two?" He counted on his fingers before shrugging. "I'm here to help him with the stress, and management of his position."
"Oh….Okay?" Erika replied, not really sure what else to say. "I suppose that makes sense. Kinda."
"Well of course it does you silly goose! You here to chit chat, or are you registering?" He cheerfully asked.
"Register." She raised her hand, revealing her circular command seals. "I, Erika Hearn, plan on becoming the Master of Saber as quickly as possible." The priest smiled sheepishly as she finished, snickering behind his hand. "A hair too late for that my dear. Saber was summoned last night."
"What?!" She squawked, Hi laughing at her feet. "Uh, okay I'll summon Archer! They're one of the strongest classes with their Noble Phantasms!"
"That was yesterday too." He replied, Erika's dreams of summoning a jacked titan of muscle with an awesome sword or a devilish rouge being crushed immediately. "Bullshit! Damnit, fucking cockatiel!" She growled, Hi now rolling around as he began full on cackling.
"Lancer's still free though." "Well that's great! Wanna know what every single Heroic Spirit I can think of using a spear has in common?"
The priest, who she was now mentally calling the Dumb Blonde, stuck out his tongue in concentration. "Well, Cu Chulainn died by circumstances, Diarmuid of the Love Spot accidentally charmed his boss's wife, and Karna of India was killed when his chariot got stuck and was shot in the back."
"Do you not see the correlation! All of them have the worst possible luck imaginable! I'd rather summon Caster than Lancer! Or Assassin! The classes who can only kill damn Masters!" She yelled, grabbing her hair as Fuu bopped himself on the head, Hi growling at him.
"Well, then I guess it's going to waste." The priest sighed. "Such a shame, it was so hard to obtain this catalyst well." Erika blinked. "Eh? What catalyst? Aren't the church supposed to be impartial?"
"Correction, the Overseer is supposed to be impartial." He reminded with a 'tut tut' as he walked behind the altar and grabbing a book. "I can't even be called a priest in the slightest tier, which means I can do this." He explained, handing the book to Erika.
"This Servant should be able to avoid the pesky Magic Resistance problem, and his luck shouldn't be half bad. After all, he did prove something very important." He continued, Erika glazing over the cover. She knew some English and German thanks to her dad, but the language on the book may as well be Pig Latin. She started to pull open the book's cover-Blonde slammed his hand on the cover, keeping it shut.
"Sorry, it's a very old book that I'd rather not have it be destroyed before it fulfills its purpose." He apologized, a way too creepy look on his face as he gently pushed her to the door. "Fight well Erika Hearn, and perhaps you shall be rewarded with your life when the storm is over." He stated grandly, closing the door in her face.
"Yep, definitely a pedophile. Nobody normal says poetic shit like that."
"Hi I swear to every goddamn kami in existence, shut up."
...
Personal Skill:
Powerless Shell: A+
A skill that makes the user difficult to perceive as a Servant, declining one's parameters and suppresses one's Skills. A useful skill for reconnaissance or scouting.
...
Ruler sighed as the door shut, ruffling up his hair out of its neat cut. "She's gone now Master. You can come out from your shadow."
As the same door from earlier opened, Matthew kept a neutral expression as he walked to a window, watching the Japanese girl walk away with the fox right next to her feet. "She was given the appropriate catalyst, correct?"
"Of course, with that catalyst there is no other option than summoning Caster. But, I question your choice in the Heroic Spirit."
The priest scoffed. "You questioning my actions? How out of character for you Ruler. Normally you wouldn't degrade yourself to such levels when you already know the answer." He stated as the jester snickered as he materialized his costume.
"Of course, but I desire to hear you say it yourself. If you're taking my words to heart, I'd enjoy seeing what you plan to do."
"It is all rather simple Ruler. I have only a limited amount of catalysts I can obtain without draining church funds too much, and I believe I picked the correct one for my plans once this war concludes."
The jester laughed again as he stalled over to his Master, pulling himself to his face. "How amusing, my foolish Master is still trying to hide from me. You know you hold no secrets from me, I can see through as clear as glass."
With a smirk, the jester backed away. "But, you'll talk. They all did before, and all humans are the same in the end. Our greatest strength and weakness in the end."
...
The sun was rising, gently illuminating the beautiful mountainside and forest, the creek trickling as water cascaded over the stones on the riverbed.
Yet, this all went over his head, as the only thing that mattered was the steel in his hands. Again and again he had tempered it, days spent slaving away at its design. The bend was just slight enough to not sacrifice blade length for speed, the thickness was only comparable to a fingernail, yet was as tough as an oni's skin.
He held it, giving a few practice swings as he stepped from his small forge to a target. Three bundled up tatami mats, wound tightly enough that any blade short of perfect would be immediately caught. Only one forged by a master craftsman was worth even attempting one, much less three.
He held it level to the mats, aiming to cut it perfectly level to the ground. He held it back, and quicker than an arrow's flight he attacked. From one end to the other, it would need enough for e to throw one of these mats several meters away from him.
The cut was perfect, but the blade was imperfect.
...
The boy, Kenji Tachibana, nearly leaped out of his bed in an onslaught of fear he had not felt until only the night before. The dream was so massively vivid, he could still see the shimmer of the sword as the sun beat down on his skin. Of course, there was a very large reason for this dream.
Sitting cross legged, ash coated knucles clawing his knees through his patchy and dirty kimono, his eyes desperately shut in an attempt to hold madness at bay, sat his Servant, Berserker. The air was coated in a film of his madness, that if he hadn't seen it before he would probably freeze in terror and recognition of the stronger being.
In between breathes, the Servant said something to him, his old Japanese accent making him sound like a foreigner in his own country. Through their link, Kenji knew it was a small amount of "Good morning" and the word "Kill" over and over again.
"G-good morning Berserker. Stay in spirit form, please." He ordered, the Servant nodding with a groan before dissipating into thin air, yet the aura didn't vanish, only weakening slightly.
The teen, shaking off the massive fear he got from the Servant, no, his Servant! How the hell did he get into this mess!
…
It was cold in the home, the winter chill of the outside elements easily penetrating the relatively open house. But he felt none of it. As he ran an additional lap, his blood boiled within his veins from the physical strain.
Nineteen laps had been finished, and he was coming up on the cusp of completing his twentieth when the sun flashed in his eyes. Distracted momentarily, he didn't see the rock he had successfully avoided the last nineteen laps, and slammed his toes into it.
For a brief second, he was airborne. After said second of weightlessness, he was acquainted painfully with the dirt, catching a mouthful of dirt and a rock to his forehead.
A door slid open on the house. "Did you fall nii-chan? Again?" A soft, quiet voice asked. If he wasn't currently spitting out dirt, he would have said something about her stating the obvious, but he was too concerned with spitting out said dirt. "Yeah, I fell. Again."
The curvy dark haired teenager giggled as her brother dusted himself off, before gasping. "Nii-chan, you're bleeding!"
"Yep." He grunted as he wiped at the blood, grimacing. "It's only a little cut, so I'll be fine."
"Hold on, this a good time for practice. Come here and I'll heal it." She said, hints of an orderly tone in her voice.
Sighing, he walked up to the raised balcony, dramatically falling backwards onto his rear. Delicately taking his head into her hands, she closed her eyes. A slight warmness spread from his temples to his forehead; a pleasant tingling sensation.
After a second, she pulled her hands away, Kenji wiping away non-existent sweat. "How do you feel?" He asked, her slender fingers falling into the lap of her robes. "A little lightheaded, but I feel okay."
He smiled. "You're getting better at managing your od nee-san, you don't feel faint or sick anywhere?" He asked, his scarred eyebrow knitting together with it's pair in worry. Putting on a mask he had grown to well to seeing, she smiled. "I feel okay, I promise."
He should push it, make her be honest. Lying about her sickness was dangerous, but he held his tongue and smiled. "Good! Wanna head inside?"
"Gladly."
…
Of course, the morning incident couldn't just be the only problem he would have that day involving his sister. After dinner, they had brought both of the siblings to the local shrine. Their father, a slightly older, rugged looking man who wouldn't look out of place in a manga like Vagabond, was calmly inscribing a large circle in the sand of the small zen garden. To Kenji, he had no idea what he was looking at, the clearly Western circle's complexity going completely his head.
"Circle is completed, offering of blood necessary." Father mumbled, turning to his young daughter. "Hiri, your hand please."
She nodded, pulling back her kimono sleeve to reveal her pale skin to the moonlight. With as much care as he could, he grabbed her hand, lightly slicing her palm. He winced, the mask his sister worse doing little to prevent the pained gasp.
The crimson leaked from her palm, lightly cascading over the ground and into the grooves of the circle. Kenji reached towards her cut. "Father, is so much blood necessary? We don't want her to get sick agai-" "Silence boy, and stand back." He stated coldly.
"We are dying, if we ever want to be remembered as highly as the Western magi then this Grail War is a must. All we can do is have your sister participate in this ritual and bring us respect and power we need." He scolded as he closed his daughter's palm. "Now, Hiri, recite the ritual."
"Y-yes father." She said, closing her eyes as she recounted the aria.
"Silver and iron of the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The creator is my great master Schweinorg.
The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate.
Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill,
Repeat every five times.
Simply, shatter once filled.
I announce.
Your self is under me, our fate is in your sword.
In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.
Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead." She continued, her legs falling out from beneath her, and Kenji's heart froze in his chest. This was hurting her, he had to stop it now! Before he could even think he was already running to her side.
Then, his foot was caught, and he was thrown forward.
You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the-Kenji!" she cried, as he screamed and landed next to his circle, the stones on the ground spilling his blood into the ritual.
As he watched in horror as the ritual finished, he almost didn't notice as instead of feeling nothing, he felt HIS od being pulled into the circle as it burst in a sudden outflux of pure od.
When the smoke cleared, there he stood. His kimono rotting off one of his shoulders, his hands covered in soot, and an unsuppressed aura of barely restrained rage.
He looked down to Kenji as the command seals finished imprinting themselves on his hand, and grunted.
…
It moved through the home, clinging to the shadows as the pale light from the Moon proved its adversary. It must escape, find its targets and fulfill its purpose. Several more feeble ones were in the mansion, but it was easy to beat them, possessing no true wills to live.
It darted through the countryside, its unmatched speed tearing through plants and beasts alike. Too feeble to use as targets, their minds being pathetic even to the feeble ones. Those who did glimpse its form merely fell, entering the untouchable sleep.
Then, it came upon a home, it was small compared to the mansion, but a feeble one lay inside. Bypassing any defense by breaking in was unnecessary, when slipping through the door frame was easily done. From the small living space to the cooking space, it found its target.
It was sitting at a small chair, looking into a mirror as she fashioned clothing on to her pale flesh. They had to be sick, with eyes of blood and hair of snow, it would require nothing to make them fear. It moved closer, the coldness of its soul permeating the room. Ever so closer, it brought hands to her face.
She gasped, and it launched itself towards her.
But, it recoiled off, the feeling of discomfort from a failed attack scalding its form. She did not fear it, why how why how why how why why why why WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?!
She looked at it, and instead of freezing, recoiling and crying like all the others did, she smiled. "You're back? I-I haven't seen one of you in years."
She spoke to it, but deep in its being, it remembered several of its limbs being born from a child like this woman. They were the same, so It pulled one of the forms she made from its being. A hog, with massive jaws and tusks that would rend the world and devour the flesh of little girls who didn't behave, yes this form was one of hers.
"But, what are you doing here?" She asked as she stood up and kneeled by its form. It was depleting, fast. Soon it would be gone. So it told her, and she panicked. "But, now? After so long you're just going to say goodbye! You, you were my friend!"
Friend, not friend, merely an existence she made. But if it was to be friend, then it would match it. So it told her that it could be saved, if she made a pact.
"Please! I'll do anything!" She cried as she pulled it close, stroking its fur.
It said to make a pact with it, to help it fulfill its duty. If they were friends then she must accept, letting it die would not help it as a friend does.
"Yes! I promise I'll do anything to help you!" She cried. Her soul opened to it, it felt energy flow into it, the mark of control appearing onto her flesh.
It told her she was a good friend, and it purred to ease her mind.
...