OverMaster's Little Crummy Corner of Sub-Par Writing

[OverMaster]

Fate/Stay Night, Fate EXTRA, Fate Extella, Fate Hollow Ataraxia, Fate Grand Order, Fate Zero, Fate Kaleid Prisma Illya, Fate Apocrypha, Fate Prototype, Fate Requiem, Fate Strange/Fake and Fate Type/Redline are the creation and intellectual properties of Type-Moon and Nasu Kinoko.

---

A few days had passed, now.

"So," Sakura asked as she and Galahad hung the clothes to dry in the backyard of the Tohsaka residence, "how is Sempai doing with the toaster? Any progress yet?"

"No, there haven't been any more incidents all week long, neither accidental nor intended for," Galahad sighed, now wearing some of Sakura's old clothes. Since Rin's house was bigger and more palatial than Shirou's, not to mention built in a much more Western style, the Knights of the Round had taken residence there for the time being while Musashi and Kojiro stayed with Shirou.

Besides, Rin had more of a budget to feed Arthur with. Still, they regularly visited Shirou to see if there were any breakthroughs. Sakura hummed as she pondered that, briefly glancing at Galahad's figure and how well she fit into clothes that would hung rather loose around Rin's svelter frame. "What do you think about Sempai, Galahad-san?" she asked then, placing one of Rin's skirt on the clothesline. "I mean, you said you traveled with him for weeks, didn't you? What impression did you get about him then?"

"Eh-- Eh?" Galahad blinked a couple times. "Well... He's nice and hard working, that's for sure. I didn't get to interact that much with him, Sir Lancelot and Sir Mordred spent more time with him than I ever did..."

"Sir Lancelot is your father, isn't he? Why don't you just address him as such?"

Galahad fumed, her usual polite mood ever soured only by that particular detail. "He's never acted as much of a father, and I haven't ever made that a secret for him. I don't want to sound petty about it, but... even now, it's like he worries more about impressing pretty girls and fighting than about making up for all the lost time. The latter I can understand, the duties come before anything else. But, the first..."

"No family is ever perfect," Sakura mused distantly, in her English that was clumsier than Rin's but still slightly more polished than Shirou's. "My father left me with another family when I was very young, because the Tohsakas just couldn't train two heirs at the same time."

"Then, how did you--"

Sakura gave a sigh. "A good man gathered proof that family was... not fit taking care of a child, and I was forcibly returned to Rin's side. Special arrangements were made, so we could live together after all. But Father had died already. He never got to tell me how sorry he was... and I never could tell him again, how much I loved him."

"I am so sorry, Miss Sakura..."

"It's okay," Sakura tried to smile, poking a tear out the corner of a purple eye with a finger. They listened to Rin and Mordred's latest outburst from within the house.

"You could learn much better if you just took that stupid thing off and bothered to pay attention with open ears...!"

"I'll take this helmet off for the likes of you the day I'm on my death bed, Tohsaka Rin!"

"Why doesn't he ever take it off before others, anyway?" Sakura asked Galahad. "Does he have scars he doesn't want to show? We know some magic healing, and while neither of us is a Merlin, perhaps..."

"No, no, it's a vow he once made, and vows must be fulfilled no matter what," Galahad informed her. "I agree that it'd make it easier for him to listen to his Japanese lessons, or anything else really, not to mention visiting Sempai's house, and I'll admit we're all curious about how he looks like, but..."

"You called him Sempai," Sakura noted quietly.

"Ah? No, sorry, did I? That was a goof, I'm rather new in the Round Table myself, but Sir Mordred still joined after me."

"No, no, you called Emiya-sempai that," Sakura explained, looking passively at Galahad's face. "That's what I meant."

"Ooohhh..." Galahad said, and Sakura could swear she saw the faintest shade of a blush on her cheeks for a moment. Then the Knight laughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry, it's just that you call him that way so often, it must have stuck on me!"

"Ah. Of course. How silly of me," Sakura nodded very slowly, placing the pincers on the bed covers she had just hung to dry.

It was another peaceful, uneventful day.

---


Fate: Time and Punishment.

---

Based on an original screenplay by Greg Daniels and Dan Mc Grath.

 

[chiufan95]

Time for a twofer + extra, the era of Ancient Greece, specifically the Argonauts.

 

[OverMaster]

"Musashi-san, Kojiro-san, I'm home... Oh," Shirou stopped as soon as he'd entered the house seeing Musashi on the couch and reading a book on Japanese history. "Um, I thought we all had agreed you guys wouldn't--"

"I'm not sure this is going to change the past either way, Shirou-chan," Musashi said very seriously, closing the book. "The more I've read on this Miyamoto Musashi, the more convinced I grow this wasn't ever me."

"Why, because history recorded you as a man?" Shirou said, setting the bags of groceries down. "The same could be said about King Arthur, and yet..."

"I don't know about King Arthur," she replied, tapping on the couch with the tome, "but she came from much further back into history than me, didn't she? My legend is still relatively recent, though. There's less time for the historical records, incomplete as they may be, to get my gender wrong."

"Then what do you suppose happened? Are they talking about another Miyamoto?"

"Maybe it's that, much like there were many claiming the name of Kojiro," she shrugged, crossing her long, slender legs in short shorts. "Or maybe it's that we come from a past different from yours. You traveled in time, but that doesn't have to mean you made a linear travel."

Shirou stared on. "... you lost me."

Musashi sighed, stood up, placed her hands on her hips and rotated them with a bored yawn. "I've also been reading and watching these... television things on time travel speculation, you know? They often say traveling to your actual past is impossible, since the past is, effectively, something that stops existing once its time has passed. It's not like you can go to a place that doesn't exist anymore, right? That's a theory, of course, and I don't claim being right, but in my opinion, and since the history I know doesn't mesh with the history you know, maybe they are two fully different histories."

"Even so, the toaster did take Tohsaka and me back from your pasts to this very same time and place," Shirou argued, folding his arms. "Isn't that proof enough your pasts and this present follow the same sequence?"

"Or maybe you were moving from one side to the other and back, rather than going back and forth in the same timeline," Musashi disagreed, gesturing with her hands for effect. "We won't ever know, of course, unless we actively try to change the past, which is an idiotic thing to do since we can't be sure either way, but just in the event we can't ever go back, I don't think we're risking the whole of existence or anything... at least, I would like to think so."

Shirou lowered his gaze. "Things aren't always the way we'd like them to be, Musashi-san."

"Tell me about it! I'm not saying this because I'd like to change my past, I'd be much happier if I could return to the times of sword duels and happy wandering, but maybe you should start pondering whether it wouldn't be nice to tell King Arthur a few things," she reasoned, now grabbing a book on Arthurian lore and holding it for him to see.

Shirou gulped and glanced aside. "Dammit, if you are right and they come from another world rather than this one... what is the point? For all we know none of those things will ever happen to them. What am I supposed to do, turn them against each other long before that could happen on its own?"

"I realize it's not a problem with an easy solution, Shirou," she conceded. "Still, think about it while we can, will you? Then again, if you just fixed that blasted thing already you wouldn't have to worry anyway, just send us back and let Kami-sama sort us out, as you say now..."

He looked at this woman who baffled him so much, even more than most other women he'd ever met, and wondered how anyone could be so fearfully insightful and yet obtuse, often at alternating periods, but mostly at the exact same time.

 

[OverMaster]

"Oh, I remember now, that old thing?" the tall, well built, black haired man with dead eyes spoke again after a moment of introspection. Sitting behind the desk of his office, in the priestly robes of his office, Kotomine Kirei was, as usual, opposite a scowling Rin, still in her uniform after classes. "It was so long ago, when I bought it from a second hand store. You said you didn't need anything fancy for your birthday, so I thought that'd be enough..."

"Yes. Yes, it was for a while, thank you," Rin said tensely, trying to read his expressions and finding it impossible as ever. Kirei didn't have expressions, he had lacks of them. "It certainly was an upgrade from those clothes, and... I'm thankful," she added with a lot of effort, "but I'd like it if you could give me the ship's name. For a refund."

"You shouldn't be that stingy with your money, Rin, that is a sin," Father Kirei told her. "Just buy yourself another and be done with the matter."

"I could be less careful with my money if you hadn't lost so much of it on bad investments!" Rin growled, closing her eyes tight for a moment. "But if you really don't remember, then I guess there's nothing I can do..."

"I didn't say I couldn't remember," Kirei said, taking pen and paper and writing something on the former. "I'll give you the address, although I still think it's a trifle for you to concern over. Never let be said I didn't do anything for you and Sakura."

Rin blinked, taking the paper with more honest awe than she'd had when she had found herself in the Sengoku period. "Oh... thank you very much. I'll repay you eventually, you can be sure of that, hmmm..."

"Pay it no mind," he waved her off, subtly gesturing towards the door. "May you find the answers you are looking for, Rin."

"D-Don't phrase it that way, it's just a stupid bread toaster after all!" she said as she moved for the door. "Have a good day, sir!"

As she walked out of the Church, the young novice sitting on the front steps waved off her while her much smaller, dark skinned swept in a diligent silence with a new broom. "How did it go, Sempai?"

"Well enough, I guess," Rin shrugged, without looking back. "See you later, Misora, Cocone-chan."

When she got to the given address, however, she found the old store gone, replaced with a brand new beauty salon. The management confirmed there'd been a cheap store there before, but they could not give her any indications on the whereabouts of its owners, so even if Kirei had not lied to her, that was a dead end regardless.

Rin went over to a small park and sat on a bench, sighing deeply to herself. She began looking through her thoughts, trying to figure out what to do next, when she heard someone calling her name.

"What is the problem, Tohsaka Rin? You look depressed."

It wasn't a loud voice, but a soft one, that of a child, and yet still undeniably mocking and condescending. Rin looked in the direction the voice had come from, and saw a little girl, not that much older than Negi-sensei or Cocone-chan, standing a few steps from her, with a tiny fist cocked on her hip and smiling smugly.

She had very pale albino skin and large, round red eyes, plus long silver hair and a thin, waiflike build. She wore tall boots, a buttoned dark purple jacket, and a short skirt of a lighter shade of purple. Rin felt her skin crawl at the sight. In the circles of learned magecraft, albinism and red eyes were a well known trait of a most infamous clan from Europe. "Einzbern...!" the word left her even before she realized she was pronouncing it.

"Indeed," the little girl made a courtsie, sporting an impish perverse adorable smirk. "Our reputation precedes us, I'm sure. I would like, if possible, to talk about some findings my family recently made on this city's leylines. A city I also have a partial claim on, I might add, as the heiress to Emiya Kiritsugu."

Rin made the longest groan and roll back of eyes of her life.

 

[OverMaster]

Shirou opened the front door.

"Ah, good afternoon, Tohsaka," he greeted his classmate and her ashen expression. "Why the long face?"

For all answer, Rin stepped aside and gestured at the little girl stepping onto the doorstep and smirking up at Shirou.

After a beat, Shirou smiled at her and patted her head. "Nice to meet you, Ojou-chan. And your name is...?"

"Ah, you can recognize social prestige when you see it. Good, good," the little girl said haughtily, tossing some hair aside and marching past Shirou and into the house, followed by two women of milky faces and calm red eyes, wearing executive suits. One of them extremely busty, the other... not at all. "So this is my father's humble abode, honestly I expected better, maybe I'll just sell the land for a mini-mall or something..."

"Um... your shoes, please?" Shirou meekly asked before the two women took their high heels off and placed them on his hands. "Ah, thank you, I think you haven't told me yet-- Wait, what was that about your father?!"

The little girl sat cross legged on a sofa and snapped her fingers, the two ladies quickly kneeling by her to take the boots off. "I'm Illyasviel von Einzbern, daughter to Emiya Kiritsugu and Irisviel von Einzbern."

"The.. The what of what now?!" Shirou all but screamed.

"Sella, cigar," Illyasviel said, the servant with a small chest producing a box of chocolate cigars, pulling one out, and putting it in her young Master's mouth. She began chewing on it with a wicked grin, telling Shirou, "Yes, I'm the child your foster father left behind! Shocking, huh? Soap opera swerve, I bet you weren't expecting that, huh? Relax, I really didn't come here to kill you or anything. I have five mansions in Germany and two in Russia, do you think I care that much about a dump in this backwater parody of a country?"

"Sorry," Musashi said, walking in from the next room with Kojiro following her, "my Patriotic Sense was just tingling and-- Who's the kid, Shirou?"

"She is... Shirou's sister, actually," Rin numbly said, hanging her jacket by the door.

"N-No, she can't be!" Emiya said. "This must be some sort of misunderstanding, Dad never told me anything about a daughter!"

"Look, I don't care much either way," Illyasviel exposed, bringing her hands together in the manner of a businesswoman. "I'm not sentimental woman, you don't have to overreact like that. I wouldn't have wasted the plane tickets here if we hadn't taken these concerning readings from our experts, coming all the way from our old castle in the ruins of Fuyuki..."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Imouto-chan," Musashi said while the busty woman offered Kojiro a chocolate cigar, earning her a glare from Sella. "When you talk to Shirou, you've got to make sure you're supplying the info slowly, otherwise he overloads..."

"You've taken to modern lingo fast, haven't you?" Shirou wondered dazedly.

"Maybe you're right, he doesn't seem to be too bright," Illyasviel hummed, tapping a foot down. "Okay, we'll start from the beginning. I'll bet Father never told you anything, so... Centuries ago, my clan, the Tohsakas, and some Russian underachievers conspired to stage a ritual in the Fuyuki lands, so they could reach the Root, because of course, that's the only crap old fart Magi ever worry about, amirite? This ritual, called a Heaven's Feel or Holy Grail War, was all about summoning the spirits of ancient historical figures and make them duke out until only one survived. That Heroic Spirit and their Master would then claim access to the Root and whatever that entails, although I'm sure opening a door to the ultimate source of all things and powers would only destroy Earth. But hey, the heart wants what it wants, right?"

Shirou made a face of disgust. "Such savagery!"

"It sounds rather intriguing, actually," Kojiro allowed.

"Predictably, the whole stupid idea never quite worked out right, and so the bastards kept on trying four freaking times even when every War ended in a disaster without them having anything to show for it," Illyasviel narrated while her bodyguards massaged her feet. "Our father fought in the final and fourth Heaven's Feel, taking Mother along with him, and sure enough, they bit the big one, as did Tohsaka's papa, leaving us orphaned and all alone in the world, well, me not so much, I have Grandpa and an army of maids, and you... you have someone in your life, don't you?" she casually asked Rin. "You don't look like the type who can feed herself."

Rin made an obscene sound and slapped a hand on her own face.

"So that... that was what caused the fire that destroyed Fuyuki!" Shirou gulped. "The fire that killed my birth family! And now... it's gonna happen again, right?! There's another Grail War coming, and that's why you're here!"

"Of course not, dumbass, Father destroyed the Grail powering the War," Illyasviel clucked her tongue in a dismissive way. "For all his faults the old man could destroy things but well. As far as ruining them goes, he was the undisputed master! The Grail is gone. Kaput. Finito. The Fuyuki land housing it is so badly burnt and dead they had to move all of you survivors here to the Mahora area. No way that wasteland can supply enough mana for such a stunt ever again!"

"Oh," Shirou said, feeling oddly disappointed, in a way, for some reason. "Then, what...?"

"Well, we had cut our losses on this country," Illyasviel explained, "but recently we got these signals. The old castle had caught alterations in the continuum influx coming from this crummy city, akin to those the Grail used to pull Heroic Spirits from the Throne of Heroes."

"Throne of Heroes?" Musashi repeated.

Illyasviel rasped, then moved her fingers towards her. "Throne of Heroes, big immaterial thing holding copies of heroes' souls! Grail, manmade magical thingy that powers itself with heroes' souls! Boom! For Grail War, Grail accesses Throne, Throne acceses time and space, battle royale is presto! Was that clear enough, or will Leysritt have to bring the blackboard?"

Musashi scowled. "You're a pretty detestable child!"

"I'm eighteen, bitch," Illyasviel purred, biting the tip off another chocolate cigar. "Now, the signals we have caught don't match those of Servant summonings--- Servants were Heroic Spirits once bound to their Masters, by the duuuuhhhh way-- but they came close enough as to be a concern for us. Just be glad we noticed before Clock Tower could or you all would have Sealing Designations on your asses already. Then, can you show me what you losers have been doing with the rules of causality like right now, or do Sella and Leysritt start breaking some legs?"

Musashi smirked. "I'd like to see them tr--"

Shirou lifted a hand to impose silence, and to her credit, Musashi obeyed with a frown while an amused Kojiro watched on, munching on his next cigar. "Illya-chan... I can call you Illya-chan, can't I?"

"You sound like you struggle with big foreign words, so I will let you."

"Thank you. Hm. So, it appears you know a whole lot about magic, and if you really are my sister, well... maybe you could help us with this, since I don't know what else to do, anymore."

Rin sprang into alarm. "Emiya, no!"

"Just promise you won't laugh when I tell you about it, please," Shirou asked Illya.

She brought the hands togther again. "I'm a serious woman, Shirou. I don't play around. Tell me, whatever it is, and I will deal with it efficient and definitively."

"It's a toaster that manipulates time and can bring people from any point of human history."

Illya was left frozen for a moment, then began laughing hysterically.

 

[OverMaster]

"So this is the infamous 'time machine', the powerful device to pierce the fabric of relity itself and bring mankind's finest to you," Illya mocked dryly, eyeing the remains of the toaster on the work table. Next, she looked up, "And why is there a hole in your ceiling?"

"Whatever you do, don't touch it," Shirou begged, while Rin made sure to stay the hell back away, by the workshop's door. Sella, Leysritt, Kojiro and Musashi kept a milder distance. "It hasn't reacted in over a week, but who knows..."

Illya huffed, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. "I have to establish contact if I am to analyze this thing. I have two doctorates on Anormal Displacement of Matter and one on Applicated Theory of Magical Transmission. Don't fear, I know exactly how to handle unstable implements like this."

"Where did you get those doctorates?" Rin asked. "I've never seen you in Clock Tower!"

"Being homeschooled is never a disadvantage when you have your own staff of qualified teachers, shut up!" Illya barked at her, picking some of the pieces and starting to study them under a monocle piece attached to her left eye. "Ah-hah, this is quite interesting, there are signs of tampering dating from ten years ago..."

"From the Fourth Grail War, you mean?" asked Musashi.

"It could be that, or it could be related to the disappearance of the Thousand Master in Istambul around the same time, you never know when it comes to matters of Ala Rubra," Illya detachedly said, recalibrating the eye piece and clicking another part of the toaster with the first one, then skillfully wrapping some cable around them. "Now I have established a preliminary circuit, but don't be afraid, it won't work unless it receives any influx of energy, which right now is-"

"Illya," Leysritt quietly noted, pointing down at an electric socket, "you didn't check, but it is plugged in."

Illya's hair stood in point. "Why didn't you tell me...!-!-!"

---

"Mochi-mochi?" Sakura said, picking the phone.

Arthur peeked in. "Are you calling for pizza?"

"Shhhh, it's Neesan," Sakura hushed her. "Please speak slower, Neesan, I can't- Oh. Oh, oh, I see, that... that is bad. His... His sister, you said? W-Well, Kiritsugu-san was a magus after all... What. What? Oh... Oh, no, don't tell me that! How could you, you should have-!"

Arthur leaned closer, over Sakura's neck, invading her personal space only to hear a madly garbled babble in Japanese, of which she didn't understand a single word. "You know how he is, as soon as he saw her spasming he grabbed her and tried to pull her back, and now they're gone again, won't this ever stop! That is it, Sakura, if they ever return we're just burning the damn thing and pouring the ashes into cement, you hear me?! I'm fed up of this crap already...!"

While she couldn't understand the words, however, the wise King understood the intent. "How many did he took with him this time?" she asked Sakura.

The younger Tohsaka leveled her a glare while covering the speaker with a hand. "Do you mind, please? Why don't you go see if Sir Mordred is stuck in the toilet again?"

---

"This is all your fault," Illya decided as they sat on the rocky ruins of what once surely had to be a beautiful coast village, littered with fastuous temples and convenient stands of food for the visitors. "If only you hadn't left this thing stupidly plugged!" she growled, holding the toaster up in a hand. "Seriously, don't you know you should unplug all appliances whenever you aren't using them?! I thought the Japanese were more mindful of conservation of energy than this!"

Shirou moaned, taking both hands to his face. "Still, you should have made sure before you touched it! And I told you not to touch it in the first place!"

"I couldn't be expected to analyze it without direct contact, you dolt!" the albino kept on scolding him. "It could have shocked me to death! Your own sister!"

"I am sorry, okay?! I've been too worried over everything of late, I haven't been sleeping well, and frankly, I feel like-!"

"I'll give you sleep, you..." Illya hissed, lifting the toaster over her head and coming this close to mash it down on Shirou's head, until she blinked at the sea before them. There was a small ship sailing towards them and under the pale light of the white half moon. "Who is that masked man?"

Shirou squinted to get a better look; indeed, there seemed to be a single man on that boat now touching the shore, one wearing a gray and black mask hiding all of his face. The top of his head, however, remained uncovered, pinkish hair flowing around freely, like masses of seaweed. This made Shirou flinch slightly for some reason. The tall, lean stranger was otherwise wrapped in a long black cape hugging the whole lenght of his body, down to his legs.

Shirou and Illya only could gaze, muted, at this man as he came towards them, stopping a few steps away from them, regarding them with an unreadable mood behind the shiny, polished mask. "Are you two insane?" he finally asked them in a language Shirou could not understand in the slightest. "What are you doing in this hell forsaken by the gods themselves?"

"Ah, ancient Greek. I can handle this," Illya smiled, puffing her small chest up with pride. "Good evening, Sir, I am Illyasviel, adventurer, archaelogist and prospector for the Einzbern clan! This is my slave Shirou, a disposable pawn as you can see from his stupid face, who caused us to lose our way and end up in this miserable looking land. If you could be charitable enough as to inform us of this site's place, I would be immensely grateful to you."

The man seemed to look at her with a mixture of contempt and distrust behind the dead eyes of the mask. His body language spoke for him, even restricted by the cape as it was. "Fools! This is the Shapeless Island, home of the vile Gorgons! You have signed your death sentence by coming here!"

Illya began choking desperately in her saliva, growing several shades of paler somehow under the mark of the albinism, and taking a hand to her throat. After a moment, Shirou gently patted her back, and asked, "Did he say something about someone named Gordon? So we are in America, but that's obviously not English, so... Canada, and he's speaking French?" he asked hopefully, trying to crack a warm smile.

Illya punched him in the teeth.

 

[OverMaster]

I have to work again starting tomorrow, so don't expect updates as frequent as the last two days' for the rest of the week, please.

 

[Simonbob]

I have to work again starting tomorrow, so don't expect updates as frequent as the last two days' for the rest of the week, please.

Click to shrink...

Understood.

I will regret you having to vulgar things for money, even if that whole "Buying Food" stuff might be needed.

After all, it's time away from writing.

 

[OverMaster]

Atop the tallest mountain of the island, there was a large temple where three divine entities resided. A temple full of statues of muscular, well armed Greek heroes, fearless adventurers and demigods, and the occasional Jehovah's Witness. Right now, one of said deities was walking in from a balcony, a set of modern binoculars hanging from her milky delicate neck. Don't ask. I just write the thing.

"Medusa," Euryale asked her much taller and voluptuous little sister, currently lounging on a couch reading a scroll under the light of several candles. "I just saw a ship carrying another knucklehead. Go deal with him."

"Yes, Sister," the curvaceous woman of long purplish hair in the black minidress and boots said very quietly, pulling a blindfold around her eyes.

The third sister, who was just as petite and slim as the first, stopped playing the lyre. There were only so many hobbies you could engage into in an isolated island before the television and Internet. "And this time, try not to petrify any candy and jewelry they happen to bring along, will you, Meduseless?"

"I will not, Stheno," Medusa promised, moving for the gates of the temple.

"Aren't you going to put on a scarf at least?" Euryale chided her. "You'll catch a cold again, and then we'll have to look after you for weeks, and—"

"She hasn't caught a cold in years now, you know idiots don't," Stheno said, slightly irritated. "You baby her too much just because she is a mortal."

"Well, if she dies of a cold you are burying her!" Euryale shot back while Medusa rolled her eyes under the blindfold. "Anyway, Medusa, when you are done with him bring him over, we need another statue by the fountain after someone shattered the last one…"

"I regret nothing, that guy was hideous!" Stheno threw her hands up. "This one better be good looking!"

Medusa sighed and jumped out into the icy night.

"She didn't even say goodbye," Euryale said. "She's going through a rebellious teenage phase, I'm telling you!"

"It's all your fault, you don't insult her enough," Stheno said. "That's how children grow all arrogant and uppity."

"Oh, don't start with that again, you know I insult her as much as I can. Where did you leave the flute? I'm so bored…"

 

[Simonbob]

"Oh, don't start with that again, you know I insult her as much as I can. Where did you leave the flute? I'm so bored…"

Click to shrink...

"First, the spankings. Then, the oral sex!"
"Oh, not that movie again. Why can't we get internet again?"
"Ask the Author."

Those Goddesses know not what they ask, methinks!

 

[OverMaster]

"I can't believe it!" a thrilled Illya gushed, trailing behind the masked man across the narrow, shadowed passages of the island's ruins. "No, wait, scratch that off, I can believe it, but Grandfather never will! I need photo evidence!"

She pulled a cellphone out and began taking pics of the man's back. "To think the mighty Perseus, son of Zeus, was real, and not only that, I'm meeting him! Could you please turn around? I need photos of your face, I swear it's not going to steal your soul or anything..."

"You talk far too much," Perseus decided. "Why won't you stay behind? The task ahead is a grim one and death is all but certain. This is not a place for freakishly pretty girls or their dimwitted servants."

"He just insulted me, didn't he?" Shirou asked in Japanese, following Illya in turn. "I'd know that kind of sneer anywhere, it's the same one Shinji always uses... Who is he anyway, and why are you so stuck on him?"

Illya sighed, glaring back at him. "I suppose I should tell you so you'll shut up. This is Perseus, the famous hero of legend who-"

Shirou gasped. "The one who killed the monster Medusa?!"

Illya nodded. "Yes, and a matter of fact, this is the Shapeless Island, home of Medusa herself and her terrible sisters, the Gorgons..."

"Then why did you come after him?! Everyone knows the Medusa could kill with only a stare! Do you want to die?!"

Illya sniffled haughtily. "I know I'll be safe if a great hero protects me! I'll be much safer around him than if I stayed behind with a weakling like you!"

Shirou grumbled, snapping a branch from a nearby dead tree and Reinforcing it as they walked. "If you really knew your myths you'd know what happens to mere mortals who spent too long around Greek heroes!"

"Your slave sounds like he's very disrespectful," Perseus told Illya without looking back. "Perhaps you should just go to my boat and wait for me."

"That won't be necessary," Illya argued, "and I wouldn't trust this moron with your boat. I don't think he-" she bit her tongue when Perseus came to a sudden halt, stretching an arm aside to block her way. She felt like she'd just caught a large rock in her throat. "Oh my God, she's upon us, isn't she."

A fascinating creature walked out of the ruins of a bakery to greet them, swinging a long chain with daggers attached to each end in each hand. Long and silky purple hair, tight black minidress, tall boots, a blindfold, and a profound smell of blood drafting from her. She smirked in a way that was inhuman in the true sense of the word, without the cruelty of men but neither any of their empathy.

"Oh, thank God!" Shirou sighed. "I thought it'd be Medusa...!"

"Medusa, I assume," Perseus clenched his teeth, standing her ground between the newcomer and those stupid clueless foreigners. "I'm Perseus, Prince of-!"

"I don't care," Medusa dryly said.

"I have been tasked with the duty of-!" he roared, swiftly pulling a shiny shield out of his concealing clothes, and holding it before himself.

"No, seriously, I don't care," she insisted. "You're all the same to me, you are just another intruder who wants to kidnap my sisters..."

Perseus blinked behind the mask. "Your sisters?" he asked, holding a golden sickle in his other hand. "No, you're mistaken, I wasn't told anything about taking any sisters back home! I'm here to kill you and nothing else!"

"You are...?" she doubted, sounding honestly surprised. "Ah, they will be upset. Everyone always wants to seduce and force them, so... Are you gay?"

"No! I'm bisexual like any able bodied, hot blooded Greek man, you monstrously tall creature of humongous chest!"

Illya hummed, studiously taking notes on a small red notebook. "Interesting, this proves my theory true. All ancient Greek men were into other men and lolis..."

Shirou blinked, holding the branch defensively, like a club. "S-So neither of us is safe from either of them, then?!"

At the sound of Illya's cutesy perky voice, Medusa tensed up considerably. She craned her neck in her direction, and then, like a living blur, rocketed towards her, bareeling through Perseus, who barely could get out of the way in time, swinging his sickle at her and only managing to chop some of her hair off. Illya blinked, rooted in place, as Shirou came before her, batting the branch and hitting Medusa in the face, only to be slapped aside by her, swatted like a mosquito, against a large nearby rock, making him wince and shout in pain. "Why you...!" he hissed, wiping some blood off his nose and standing back to protect this ungrateful sister of his... when he and Perseus saw Medusa simply lift Illya in her arms like a kitten, regaling her with a huge, mesmerized smile of fascination.

"So... You're so cute...!"

Illya blinked, much like Shirou, oddly enough. "Say what?"

Medusa began touching Illya's face with her thumbs, giddily, much to the albino's discomfort while Perseus shifted his legs around awkwardly and Shirou only could gape in confusion. "I wasn't wrong, you really are as cute as you sound...! Cute, cute, cute...!"

"Th-Th-That much is true, I won't deny it, but-!" Illya gasped, right before Medusa hugged her against her ample bosom and began rocking her back and forth, Illya growing strangely quiet and relaxed.

"I will call you Meredith, and I will love you and pet you and squeeze you..." Medusa cooed, right as Perseus seized his chance and tried to stab her in the back, only to be casually backhanded a dozen feet back.

 

[OverMaster]

"And you let them live, just because of that?!" the incredulous Euryale cried out, sitting next to Stheno. "Truly, you are Meduseless!"

"I apologize, but Mer—that is, Illyasviel says this is a powerful tool with a rival to compare that of gods," Medusa bowed her head, presenting her sisters with the toaster she extended over at them. "As for the others, I always could kill them right here and now."

"She's talking about killing us, isn't she?" Shirou asked Illya, sitting behind Medusa on the floor of the temple.

"Well," Illya rasped, "if you really need to know…"

"Sh-Shut, you insensate!" Euryale told Medusa, then turned her eyes at the sky. "She doesn't really mean the 'to rival the gods' part, O mighty Zeus, ever zealous Hera, magnificently belligerent Ares! You know she's just slow in the head…!"

"So this is an offering to us in trade for her life?" Stheno asked aloofly, grabbing the toaster and looking at her without any real interest. "What is it supposed to do?"

"Illya says it can take us anywhere in time, no matter how far in the past or future," Medusa replied, casually punching Perseus in the head and he discreetly tried to pull a dagger out. "Granted, she wouldn't say it until I held her brother's neck in my hand, but I still thought you would like to know."

"You will believe just anything," Euryale grouched, "this is an age of enlightenment and illustration, for Zeus' sake! And you're well read, you should know better!"

Stheno hummed musically, gently shaking the toaster around. "Seriously? Could it take us to untold places to visit, so we could relieve our infinite boredom? If so, that is such a great boon. It might even earn this young lady a place by our side. I'd be nice to have another girl to… talk with, after all. Nudge nudge, wink wink."

Illya gulped.

"You don't really believe that whole load of—" Euryale began telling her twin.

Stheno looked at Perseus' feet. "Are those Hermes' sandals? Are they your offering? Euryale could use them, she's been gaining weight and this could help her jogging."

"I'm not!" Euryale said.

"These are gifts from the gods themselves, I can't just give them away!" Perseus argued. "They'd kill me or turn me into a hedgehog! Or a hedgehog's tapeworm!" He held a golden bag up. "At most I could give you the Kibisis!"

Stheno squinted at it. "Is this a jest? What use could we have for a bag for holding heads? Do I look like some horned sinister bastard who goes around shouting 'Give me thee head…!'?"

"That… That was oddly specific," Illya gulped.

"You'd better put that bag on your head, it'd make a much better job to hide your face than that ridiculous mask," Stheno taunted Perseus before looking at Shirou. "And you, boy? What would be your sacred offering to us?"

"What did she ask me?" Shirou asked Illya.

"She wants to know what can you give her to spare your life," Illya informed.

Shirou nodded, rolling his sleeves up. "Well, I don't have anything valuable on me, but if you'll just tell her to take me to their kitchen, maybe we can arrange something."

A full hour later, an impressed Stheno, sitting at the large ceremonial table with them, primly wiped the corners of her small mouth with a tissue and said, "Well. That was decent enough. You will make for a good wife."

Euryale visibly stifled a sob back. "It'd been so long since I last had a meal like the gods intended us to…! Meduseless is such a horrible cook…!"

Illya herself was fairly taken aback. "Shirou, that was pretty good! Did Father teach you this?"

"No, I took a mail course," Shirou said. "Will they spare me?"

Illya looked back at the Gorgons, all of whom gave a thumbs up.

Illya smiled at Shirou. "You will live, you lucky bastard!"

"Perseus, however, is to die," Stheno informed solemnly. "At the very least, he had a very good last meal."

"N-No, why me, I'm the chosen of the gods after all!" Perseus gasped. "They will get mad at you! They shall smithe you! Sink your island under the waves! Hermes wants these sandals back after all!"

"He's got a point, Stheno, they'll never forgive us if we don't give the stuff back," Euryale said.

Stheno shrugged. "Maybe we can just mail it all back to Olympus, with a note of apologies and a basket of Shirou's cooking?"

"But then Lord Zeus will kidnap Shirou to be his personal chef and boytoy, and we'll never eat like this again!"

"You've got a point," Stheno allowed, stroking her chin. "We must consult the Oracle, then. She will know what to do."

"What are they saying now?" Shirou asked Illya.

"They are going to consult their Oracle," Illya answered. "Based on what she says, we'll be allowed to get back home, spend the rest of our lives here, or be sent to Mount Olympus so Zeus can sexually abuse us for the rest of eternity."

"…" Shirou said.

Perseus patted Shirou's shoulder. "I can put a good word on my Father for you. All you need is being careful around Hera, really, I heard Ganymede is doing just fine for himself."

"I have no idea what are you telling me, but I'm sure I don't like it!"

 

[OverMaster]

Now Illya, Shirou, Perseus and the Gorgons all stood before a large, deep crack on the ground right behind the temple.

"Where's the Oracle?" Illya asked.

Medusa pointed down the gorge, the visitors seeing nothing but an abyss of the most pitch black darkness. "Come on, woman!" Perseus complained. "What trickery is this?!"

"The Oracle lives at the bottom," Euryale explained. "There she sleeps in the mass of her boundless knowledge, dreaming of things to be."

"And you entrust your lives and questions to a faceless thing living down below in a festering hole?!" Illya questioned.

"She is never wrong with her predictions," Euryale lectured. "We have made many a fortune in the stock market thanks to her."

"Then why do you live in the middle of ruins?!"

"Meduseless keeps petrifying all builders we contract to build us a villa. She is too overprotective of us, unless cute girls are involved, then she lowers her guard like the idiot she is."

Medusa only lowered her head and said nothing.

"O Oracle, Oracle, please wake from your slumber," Stheno chanted, burning some incense by the edge. "The three sisters appeal to you…"

After several moments of complete silence, a low, female voice creepily rose from the depths. "Belldandy… Urd… Skuld… Is that you…?"

Illya gasped, open mouthed, while Shirou and Perseus manly shivered at the uncomfortable eeriness of this voice. It sounded like something that only existed to cause men trouble, somehow.

"No, Oracle," Stheno half-sighed. "It's us, the Gorgons."

"Ah," the voice sounded, apparently disappointed. "What do you want?"

"We offer this conundrum for your pondering, Wise One," Stheno intoned, holding the toaster over the abyss. "It is a device from realms beyond, brought by fools claiming it bends the rules of nature, breaks the chains Chronos himself forged, and toasts delicious bread to be properly buttered and mayonnaised. What are we to do with these souls, and that of Perseus, Prince of—Well, this guy, I wasn't paying attention when he explained that part?"

The abyss was silent again, until the voice returned. "There is magic, indeed, in this contraption. A most dangerous magecraft, but a necessary evil to court. Fifteen times it can break the veils. Three times it has done so already. It wants you to collect the numbers to pit against darkness. That is its sole purpose."

"What does she mean with that?" Illya whispered to Medusa.

"The Oracle always speaks in riddles," the tallest Gorgon explained, "but from what I gather of this one, it is telling you to prepare yourselves, gathering allies for a confrontation versus a suitably mysterious enemy."

"Can you ask her to tell us the name of this enemy?" Perseus asked.

"You clearly ignore much about how this job is done," the Oracle told him condescendingly. "An Oracle must be cryptic. An Oracle must be vague. An Oracle must say the things the sage will take advantage of, and cause the fool's perdition."

"This," Euryale told the visitors, "doesn't forebode well for any of you."

"Can't we just kill them already?" Perseus asked Illya, holding the shield more tightly.

"Fifteen times, I see," Stheno pondered. "That is fitting since this epic should be comprised of around fifteen chapters, plus one for the final battle, probably one for an epilogue, perhaps a few omake and filler…"

"What-What in the world are you saying?!" Perseus demanded.

"I am a goddess after all," Stheno explained.

"Me too, and yet I don't have any idea either when you start saying weird things like these!" her twin protested.

"Ufufufu," Stheno chuckled, holding the toaster close to her chest. "Then you and we have twelve more chances, to break through the unknown before facing our fate. Ah, what a bother. To think I wished so much for a relief from my boredom, and when it comes to me, it bears this poisoned gift…"

"I don't think," Shirou mused aloud, "we should be trusting a hole in the ground with our lives, much less our virginities. Illya-chan? Will they let us go or not?"

Stheno smiled strangely, handing him the toaster back. "If this truly began with you, with you it should continue, and then end. Show the way, hapless boy. Convince me mankind is worth holding its own reins."

Shirou blinked, then looked at Illya. "Uhhhh… Translation, please?"

"Honestly, I think she's just inhaled too much incense," Illya admitted. Then she told Stheno, "Listen, apparently, the device needs a direct influx from an energy source, or strong stimuli from a supernatural source, otherwise it cannot function!"

Coolly as ever, Stheno grabbed the toaster's cable and threw its end into the abyss of the Oracle.

"H-Hey, Stheno," Euryale gulped, "maybe we should talk this over before carrying on with it, this is a triumvirate after all…"

Medusa's blindfold twitched, signaling a strong blink. "Triumvirate? But, I've never been called to decide on anything…"

"That's because the occasion never rose before," Euryale said, "you're the tiebreaker, but since Stheno and I were always right and you always were wrong, our decisions always won on a 2-to-1 basis."

"Ahhh. That makes good sense."

"That won't do, anyway," Illya groaned, "even if we assume this Oracle entity can work as a supernatural battery of mana for the device, the cable will never come anywhere close to the bottom unless we throw the toaster all the way down, and then we would be—"

The world exploded in a flash of pure white.

 

[OverMaster]

"Oh, welcome back," Musashi casually greeted the bunch of people who had just materialized before her, Kojiro, Rin, Sakura and the Knights, in the now quite cramped workshop. Then she extended a hand towards Kojiro. "I told you it wouldn't even take them a full day to get back. Now pay up!"

Sasaki sighed and began handing her several old, rusty coins. "This is why gambling with death is easier than gambling for money. For the former, you only have to rely on your skill..."

Shirou muffled something from under Medusa's breasts, then crawled out of the pile of stunned bodies, panting for air. "Ah... Tohsaka! Sakura! You won't believe it, this is Perseus, and these are the Gorgons, and no, they don't have snakes for hair, I was as surprised as you are..."

Rin, not sounding all too surprised or interested by the Gorgons, folded her arms and tapped her foot on the, by now, somewhat torched floor after so many incidents of violent time-space displacement. "Oh, really? That's nice, now hand me my toaster back, I've decided I'm going to destr- MEDUSA?!" she finally backed away and shielded her face with her arms in an 'X', the other shoe having dropped. "Which one, which one, point at her so I can't look at her...!"

"What's a Medusa?" Kojiro asked.

"Meh-douh-sahh..." Gawain struggled with the word, frowning. "Would that mean... Ah! My Liege!" she moved before Arthur, shielding her with his body just at the same time Mordred, Galahad, Lancelot, Agravain and Gareth chose doing the same, all colliding with each other. Bedivere, who despite being the smartest once she got going but was the slowest of mind of them all, thinking of wooden witches and Trojan rabbits in the meanwhile, just stayed behind, blinking her confusion, for the time being. "One of these must be the evil murderous witch from Greek lore...!" he growled, pulling Galatine out from the tangle of knights and forcing Gareth to duck her head under the table in the nick of time. "To hell with thee, enchantress, you shall get the King over this knight's grave...!"

Illya groaned, pulling her skirt long enough as to pull a spiral-eyed Euryale's head from under it, and also worked her way free, dusting herself off with great dignity. "Where are Sella and Leysritt?" she asked in English.

"There was no room for them in here, and I was left wishing for pizza, after Sakura wouldn't call for it," Arthur stoically said, gallantly helping Medusa back to her feet, "so I sent them for some."

"You sent- Who in the world are you to order my maids around now?!" Illya yelled.

"I'm King Arthur," Arthur plainly said.

"... I'm sorry I asked," Illya said amidst clenched perfect teeth. "A-hem! Regardless, now that I have pulled Miss Tohsaka's report on the damned device's partial origins together with some mystical information I astutely gained from our unexpected sojourn, I have determined a course of action. No more stumbling around time blindly, now we have to move with a clear purpose in mind!" she announced in Japanese.

"Meaning?" Musashi asked, eyebrow high.

Illya gave a smug smirk, even as Medusa quietly hugged her from behind. "I think I can find a way to program our magical tomentor into an obedient slave to our magical needs!"

"Famous magi last words..." Sakura said very quietly.

Illya slammed a fist on her own open hand. "I'll tame this infernal thing into doing my will yet! It will take me to the point it gained the capacity to break all logical magical laws and I will unearth its secrets! It will take me... TEN YEARS AGO!"

"And... And I will meet Dad?!" Shirou gasped.

"And I'll meet Mama!" Illya nodded, fists on her hips.

"And I could meet Dad too?!" Rin quickly switched from cynicism to awestruck optimism, so much that even those who didn't know the language felt whiplash.

"Neesan," Sakura groaned, "I can sympathize with your enthusiasm, but remember what you've always told me, you can't turn life back, and we should not, I've suffered more than anybody else, not that I'm complaining, and yet I wouldn't-" She caught a better glimpse of Perseus' still fallen body and his slipping mask, and demanded almost angrily, "Sempai, why does this man look so much like Matou Shinji?!"

---

To be Continued?

 

[OverMaster]

Fate/Stay Night, Fate EXTRA, Fate Extella, Fate Hollow Ataraxia, Fate Grand Order, Fate Zero, Fate Kaleid Prisma Illya, Fate Apocrypha, Fate Prototype, Fate Requiem, Fate Strange/Fake and Fate Type/Redline are the creation and intellectual properties of Type-Moon and Nasu Kinoko.

---

Somewhere else, sometime else, the heavens were bleeding.

The skies all over the planet had been blood red for a few days now, as matter of fact, not that Irisviel von Einzbern had any way of knowing for sure. She was fairly sure of it- and as usual, she was correct- but lacking the capacity to observe the situation beyond the Fuyuki area for now, she only could make educated guesses. But judging from the release of energy detected from the Holy Grail- perhaps it was time to stop calling it that, at the very least, it didn't feel right to keep calling it 'Holy'- she highly doubted the effects from the resulting chain reaction had been limited to Fuyuki, or even merely to Japan as a whole.

Moving through the no man's land of what once had been a thriving city, with fast moving threads of silver death moving between the fingers of each hand, the still gorgeous, well shaped woman with pale eyes and red eyes moved from one piece of debris to the next, under a sky that had remained constantly red for over a week now, ever since Iri's victory in the Fourth Heaven's Feel. In truth, and if she had to be honest to herself while also serving herself by taking some of the guilt away, it had been less like an active victory, and to a large degree a matter of lucking into surviving to the end of the War. Afterwards, time seemed to have stopped, frozen in an endless dark age of misery and decay, shrouded by those bleeding skies presiding over toppled towers and shattered streets.

Somewhere, far too close for comfort, massive hooves thundered, and Irisviel rushed to hide under the remains of what had once been a fast food stand, resting on her stomach on the dirt. From this position, she could get a fleeting glimpse of the giant of a tanned man in his chariot, laughing derangedly behind the pulling beasts. The animals showed exposed bone and rotting flesh everywhere, and the man himself had massive, crimson veins all over his body, the marks of taint and corruption. Irisviel kept on shivering even after the Rider passed, and the laughter and the hooves grew quiet again in the red darkness.

"Saber..." she whispered to herself.

The city borders were close now, however. If there was any chance for an escape, this was it. She could not possibly turn back for the ever vague chance to save her from the pestilence that had claimed the metropolis.

And yet...

Irisviel decided to rest where she was for a while, lowering her face and closing her eyes. Returning to the castle in the woods seemed so impossible, so illogical, now. So pointless, as well. Returning without Saber would be like returning without her own heart. And twice as painful.

She didn't realize when she started to weep in silence after that. But it couldn't have taken long.

---

Fate: Time and Punishment.

---

Based on an original screenplay by- no, you know what, I think we've diverged enough from that story by now.

---

And now, for something completely different.

"Lemonade," Mordred said, extending an armored arm and handing Illya a full glass.

The little girl, now sitting on the backyard's grass under the sweltering sun, and wearing only shorts and a light tee-shirt, accepted the cold drink after a moment of perplexity, realizing that yes, this was a Knight of the Round giving her lemonade, and that was a part of her life now. "Thanks," she said, looking back at where Shirou, Sakura and Rin kept on working on the project, on their hands and knees around the assembled and stretched circuitry, the older sister and the young man frequently bickering over the details. "I think it's coming out fine, if I can say it myself. Spreading the machinery on the form of a platform gives us a much wider and more reliable range, so we'll be able to control who gets sent and who doesn't. The difficult part is calibrating the exact time period since the device seems to do it at random so far, but we do know it keeps pulling its subjects back to this time and place invariably. I'm hoping Sakura's knowledge of Imaginary Numbers theory may help me with this, since-"

"You're still talking in English, aren't you?" Mordred asked. "Bottom line, will it keep toasting bread? The King wants to know."

Illya stared up at them, pouting.

"That was a joke," Mordred said. "But I guess it's hard for people to tell when I'm joking, what with the helmet and all."

Illya shrugged. "If you really must keep it on, who am I to argue?"

She found it testing to work in a project partially overlooked by someone known as 'the Knight of Treachery', but then again, she had to admit Tohsaka was right in that they shouldn't mention anything related to the Fall of Camelot to any of the knights. The last thing they needed was a massive fight between them breaking out while they still were sorting this out.

"How old are you anyway?" Mordred asked out of the blue. "Shirou said you said you were eighteen, but that was you just joking, correct? If your father left you ten years ago, then you surely were a baby back then."

"No, I was eight. I remember my parents with perfect clarity," Illya said, vaguely annoyed, buts mostly feeling a faint, familiar pain. "Are you wondering why do I still look like this? I am half homunculus, Mom was a product of Grandfather's workshops. I have... slightly unusual growth patterns."

"I see..." Mordred said, in a slightly strange, almost spaced out, contemplative tone. "The King... is like that too, sort of. You will notice he looks too young for someone with such a fabled legend already behind."

"I assumed this was King Arthur from the start of his rule?"

"No, our King has been governing Britain for over a decade now," Mordred said, voice brimming with genuine admiration. Illya was surprised at how good an actor this legendary heel was, no doubt he fooled Camelot for so long. "The magic of the Sword in the Stone has kept him youthful and vital ever since he pulled it out. I don't know how long will that stand, since obviously he doesn't rule anymore. But I look forward to learning, upon a lifetime of service, when we get back home. I want to see Britannia ruling ever stronger and wider under his decades to come."

"He... will leave an everlasting mark on human history. There is no person alive today who doesn't know who King Arthur was," Illya said uneasily. Then she managed to crack a smile. "I mean, even Shirou knows."

Mordred laughed. "I like you, little one! But don't let Medusa know."

"I won't," she reassured him.

For a villain, an icon of depravity, this certainly was a charming person once one got to know him well enough and yet not that well enough, Illya thought, finding some amusement at the irony.

Perhaps, in a way, her own father, the deserter, the man who carried her mother to her death, had been that way too.

Now that was a scary thought.

 

[OverMaster]

"It is ready!" Illya announced proudly in Japanese, standing on the platform before the small crowd assembled at Shirou's backyard. Kojiro, Musashi, Sella and Lesyritt had even brought folding chairs for themselves. "Behold the fruit of my genius, the Chaldea system!"

Sella and Lesyritt clapped politely before the former translated into English and then Greek, "It is ready! Behold the fruit of Illya's genius, the Chaldea system!"

"Why is it called Chaldea?" Stheno asked.

"Because I built it and I wanted to call it that," Illya replied.

"Fair enough, but it's also fair enough mentioning to you that you are in my Disrespect Hit List as of now."

Euryale looked dubiously at the platform, comprised mostly of stretched wire attached to strategically placed chips, plus several tuning forks and clocks of several sizes attached to the whole. "That," she said, "doesn't look like a true work of genius. Rather, it looks like something you threw together over the course of an afternoon."

"THREE afternoons!" Illya screeched. "Just for that, and the Hit List crap, you won't be coming with us now!"

Medusa pouted while Stheno just said, "Fine with me, I'd rather spend my time getting acquainted with this new era before trying any other."

"Good!" Illya huffed, then switched back to Japanese. "Now, since King Arthur's forces comprise most of our armed might, it has been decided Shirou and I will go with the King hers- himself, his best offensive card Sir Lancelot, and his best defensive card, Sir Galahad."

Once again, Sella translated for everyone else. The Knights of the Round bowed their heads in approval, but Perseus saw fit to protest. "What about me?! This is an insult, an outrage! Am I not to be trusted? Are these gifts from the gods themselves to be left to waste? Just because I apparently resemble some fellow who is a wimp and a cad?!"

"And a despicable bastard," Rin added, her Greek rather rough at the edges but still passable. "But I object as well! If Shirou gets to meet his father again, why couldn't I? I'm sure to be much more careful with the timeline! I'd never tell my parents how much I love them, or save their lives from certain doom or anything! Unlike him, I have the hardened heart of a magus!"

"You saved this guy's life and you didn't even know him!" Musashi said, slapping a hand on Kojiro's chest. "But I want to protest too! My sword grows dull! Its edge demands for exercise! Sure, the food and the trashy reality shows are good and all, but this isn't a good era for fights!"

"You always could do battle with me again, Miyamoto-dono," Sasaki offered.

"I'm not wasting any more jewels on you!" Rin warned.

"I don't like the idea of letting Illya go without a proper guardian," Medusa similarly objected, earning her a piercing glare from Sella. What an upstart! "These warriors might be powerful—of which I have seen no proof yet—but I have to be convinced they have her best interests in mind."

"Oh, don't start acting as if you'd known her for a long while," Stheno said. "It's just a crush, it will come to pass."

"Look, the circuitry only can be stretched so far and the platform only can be this wide," Illya argued, as Shirou, Lancelot, Galahad and Arthur all stepped on it with him. "We'd have room for more, but Galahad's shield takes enough room for three people. Regardless, I don't think it's wise to have mixed groups when most of you can't even understand each other!"

"I'm sure we would argue a lot more if we could," Euryale mused.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why Shirou gets a pass when he's a joke of a magus!" Rin insisted.

"Because it's my backyard," Shirou said, putting his foot down on the subject.

"And that was my toaster you gutted out, what's your—Oooohh, have it your way!" Rin snapped, while the gloomily silent Sakura patted her quietly on a shoulder. "Fine, see if I care!"

"You know we live for your approval, Tohsaka. Please don't do this to us," Illya snarked. Pulling a remote control she had cobbled together with Shirou's technical assistance, she began pressing on a few buttons, and the clocks began marching and ticking. "Okay, I think we have successfully asserted a landing point ten years ago, so we hopefully can learn the secrets behind this machine and thusly understand what do we need to do about it. Don't panic if you see any changes to the environment around you, like dinosaurs popping out of thin air or the Nazi party seizing power, just wait for us to fix whatever Shirou may have ruined in the past."

Shirou only frowned.

"We don't have a Nazi party," Sakura faintly said.

"Lucky country," Illya sighed, as the platform began buzzing. "Remember never touching Chaldea while we are gone, don't let Shirou's teacher or any other random animals touch it either, cover it with a large blanket whenever it's not being used, don't worry too much about the rain, but build a shed around it in the event of typh—"

Then they vanished in a huge blink of light.

"Riiiight, so, someone bring hammers and nails," Musashi deadpanned. "We're gonna need that shed, because what with the luck we've been having…"

 

[OverMaster]

"Okay, so maybe I overshot the date a little, but the site was scored perfectly," Illya said. They were still standing on the same backyard, but now the red was crimson, the house was a series of piles of rubble, and columns of fire and smoke rose from several points across the neighborhood.

"Well, congratulations on a job well done!" Lancelot said as he took hold piece of debris after piece of debris and threw them aside, doing a frantic effort to free the sighing and pinned down Galahad as best as he could. "Your Majesty, are you okay?!"

"It would seem I am," Arthur said, dusting herself off and then moving on to help Lancelot and Shirou lift the wreckage from Galahad. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small, Shirou thought as he saw her easily lifting large chunks he would have greatly struggled with. "How did you manage in such an unfortunate fashion anyway, Galahad? Did this wall collapse on you as you appeared?"

"I honestly don't know, Sir," the busty girl sighed, trying to pull herself and her shield free. She was still buried down to her waist, although at the very least she could still feel her legs, not always a given outcome when one went adventuring with the knights of Camelot. "My apologies, perhaps Gareth is right and I should wear sturdier armor after all."

"That only would make it more difficult to disentangle you from this," Arthur said, gently grabbing her by an arm and tugging on her while Lancelot and Shirou tried themselves to lift the biggest piece of wall from her. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Heaven's Feel Four must be finished by this point," Illya hummed, stroking her delicate chin. "That's good in that we won't have to worry about the Servants and their Masters anymore, but on the minus side, odds are whatever forces have forged the time violating magecraft have done their work already. Whoever they were, they must be gone as well…"

"We'll worry about that later, fine?!" Shirou answered, helping Galahad sit up now she finally was freed from all that rubble. "Hang in there, Galahad-san! Try to stay awake! If you see any strange light, don't follow it yet! Breathe in and out, slowly..."

Galahad coughed, then sighed. "It's okay, Sempai. Thank you... and you as well, Sir Lancelot. But Lord Camelot protected me from the impact, I still can fight..."

Shirou blinked. "Sempai?"

Lancelot frowned at this for a moment before exhaling. "Don't even mention it, child. It's something that I would have done for any other Knight of our order."

Galahad gave him a mild glare. "Okay."

"Oh? Did I say anything bad?"

"No, you didn't! There's no reason why we shouldn't all be equals in each other's eyes, is there? As a matter of fact—" As she said this, a tall, lanky, sinister figure in solid, inky black interrupted only by the bone white of a macabre skull mask loomed from behind the unsuspecting siblings, perfectly silent and stealthy, poised to strike down with elegant and deadly precision...

But then, Galahad let out a panicked cry. "Sempai, Miss Illya! Behind you...!"

 

[wellis]

It seems like they went to bad some alternate past, considering the blood red skies covering the entire world, and the Grail tainting everything?

 

[OverMaster]

Before anyone else could react, King Arthur jumped between this mysterious outsiders and the siblings, and in turn the dark presence rammed ahead, slamming into her like a train at full speed. However, somehow, the young female managed to block it with an armored gauntlet, then swiftly swung the she had been carrying, slashing through a section of her attacker's festering, decaying ribcage overran by red veins, although missing its center. The figure of shadow backed away with a skillful flip and a twist of wrists, a dirk now in each hand.

"Foul creature of darkness," the woman growled, keeping her sword ready and easily falling into a protective stand before Shirou and Illya. Lancelot and Galahad similarly tensed for battle, but would not get in her way. "I can detect your cruel killing intent even easier than I'd see the light of the sun in the middle of the Summer. And it's not even the dutiful urge to slay an enemy in war, is it?"

"I am..." the would be assassin spoke, head tilting aside as if about to drop from his shoulders, and Shirou now could see his neck seemed to be decomposing, barely attached to the body by thick ligaments of viscous appearance, "naught but one of many tools, and my intent is nothing next to that of the combined Evils. Enough of this," this sinister figure spoke, throwing his dirks ahead, only for Arthur to easily deflect aside with her blade, just as she did with the next ones. She kept on advancing on him, slashing ever closer as he kept on throwing, and then, with brutal efficiency, she made a final charge at him and cleaved decisively, bisecting the masked man, black blood splattering in all directions.

Yet this thing still laughed, a crass, humorless laugh, as his halves fell on the dirt. "You have deleted just one face of many," he taunted her, arms twitching their death rattle. "And even should all the Hassan fall, you still have to defeat all other evils. Fool..."

Arthur grimaced and brought her foot down, shattering the bone visage and caving it into his face, just as he began evaporating into dense, sporelike foul things, piece that floated and evaporated adding to the deadly stench of the unholy night. "Begone," was all she said, and then stood grimly pensive, contemplating.

Illya broke the subdued silence from the others with a single word. "Assassin."

Shirou looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Berserker and Assassin," Illya said. "Those were the seven Classes of Heroic Souls summoned for a Heaven's Feel. This was an Assassin, the stalker and killer from the shadows. A Hassan, soldier from the secret society this most dark profession is named after."

"I thought," Lancelot said, "you said all these 'Servants' should be dead by now."

Illya ran a hand down her own face. "Nothing makes sense anymore. For starters, it should be nearly impossible for a human being to kill a Servant... but then again, if one wields Excalibur, one wields the means to kill pretty much any supernatural being."

"Thank you," Arthur said stoically, sheathing the legendary weapon back. "Where do we go to now, Illyasviel?"

"I... I'm not sure," Illya hesitated, although 'back to our own time' was sounding better and better by the moment now. Nervously, she felt the remote controller in her breast pocket and hoped it really would work just as fine to pull them back as the toaster did previously. "Um, before this, I had thought of going to the Ryuudou Temple, the site of manifestation for the Holy Grail, but under these circumstances, that must be the most dangerous place right now..."

"Did you ever harbor hopes our ultimate destination wouldn't be the deadliest place of all?" the King asked. "The greatest secrets always lie behind the best guarded gates. Don't fear. We shall protect you no matter what."

"B-But-!"

"It's okay," Shirou said, gripping his bokken very tightly. "We- She obliterated a Dark Grail before. I'm sure she can do it again. Which way to the temple?"

Illya swallowed and pointed her hand towards the burning hills in the West.

Arthur nodded and began walking in that direction. "On the double," she said, Lancelot and Galahad quickly going after her.

Illya was still rooted to her feet with fear when Shirou picked her up and sat her down on his shoulders. "H-Hey, what's your big idea...!"

"I don't want you to tire yourself. Don't mind it," he plainly said, beginning to follow the Bretons.

"B-B-But I make a much easier target if I'm held this high, you idiot! You- You- Arrrgghh, why do I ever bother talking to you?!"

Unnoticed to them, they were watched by two figures sitting on the rooftop of a nearby house, one still standing precariously.

"Well, what would you know, there is still more for us, Lancer," said the lithe, waiflike barefoot girl, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. She reached up to delicately rub the handsome cheek of the tall, lean but muscular man standing by her side, holding a fabled spear in each hand and fixedly looking at those walking towards the horizon of the hellish red dawn. "Aren't you glad I freed you from those two awful, horrible Masters, my Prince Charming?"

"I never could regret, My Dame," the dark haired man formally said, always the living picture of gallantry, and the petite pale girl in the white dress smiled. She swung her legs back and forth contentedly.

"It was all thanks to you, you know!" she chirped, moving her head aside so it could rub his arm. The tick, bulging red veins unnaturally creeping all over his flesh and contrasting with the solid black his body armor had been coated with only made his contact feel even better. "If not for you, I would have remained the failure my father was. I owe everything to you, all we have managed, all we will achieve from now on."

"Looking forward to it, My Dame," he smiled suavely, looking aside at her, and disspelling one of his spears so he could place a hand tenderly on her head, rubbing on it and ellicting a happy purr from her. "But it is you who has saved me from my tragedy. Truly, only thanks to you-"

"A true love story is never ending," said a voice from somewhere else on the rooftop, "but I'm afraid this one must pause while this humble retainer offers an explanation."

Lancer frowned, and his lady pouted, as they looked behind them, to face the sinister female figure in black sporting the mask of the white skull. "What do you want, Assassin?" the short young woman asked. "There's no need to explain anything. We saw how badly your other self fared."

The dark skinned woman fell to a knee before them. "Then you also saw the nature of that who defeated him. This is unnatural. That sword, that fighting style, that cannot be anyone but the Saber, yet she-"

"I know, I know," the small girl yawned coquettishly, waving a hand at her. "We will solve this conundrum our own way, you don't need to bother yourself anymore. Make yourself scarce before Lancer skewers you."

"But," the Assassin, insisted, "Saber does need to know-"

"No," the blonde narrowed her eyes at her, sweetness replaced by an incredibly vicious and poisoned snarl. "No, she does not! We will handle this ourselves. All of you would do well to keep that in mind!"

The fractured piece of the whole, not being a fraction especially prone to questioning, ended up bowing her head. "Yes," she said, and afterwards disappeared in the crimson haze.

The petite lady cooed, fingers tickling all over her warrior's arm. "Ooooh, this is good. Uncertainty, I never knew how much I'd miss it until now. Let us go, Lancer. The dream is worth chasing only as long as it keeps fluttering ahead of you."

"But of course," he agreed, easily scooping her up in his arms and leaping to begin his own way towards the mountainside, following the strangers' trail.

 

[OverMaster]

She had to be insane, as she reasoned while running back her steps, along the ravaged shores of Fuyuki City.

The port had not suffered as much as the rest of the metropolis, and the air was mostly breathable there, but even so, just turning back had been a demented move on her part, and she realized it. Yet, the heart had its reasons that reason could not know.

She thought she heard a forbidden song rising from the blackened sea, and tried not to look at it, not to notice the small tentacled creatures swarming across the surface. Somewhere, no doubt, the Caster laughed, but she had not been attacked so far, so he had to remain still unaware of her presence, her very survival. Her boots clacked against the cracked pavement as she ran, and she dreaded every step could denounce her existence, and that something would jump from somewhere and onto her.

She feared, and yet she kept running, this suicide race, all for the sake of-

"Mama?!" a voice rang, of a sudden.

Surprised, Irisviel came to a screeching halt and looked back, without thinking of the trick this child's voice had to be. Through the red mist lingering across the port, she saw a large man in white armor carrying a huge sword, and a shapely young lady in for body hugging black armor and boots, easily hefting a shield that dwarfed her in size. Not a pair of strange sights for these peculiar days. Along them stood a red haired young man, with a practice wooden sword in his hand, and a little girl, oddly similar to Irisviel herself, gaping and mounted on his shoulders. Rattling sights indeed, partially because of how out of place they seemed in this malignant city of the dead.

And yet, she could not pay them any mind, as of now.

For she had just noticed the small figure at their lead, still the same, still untouched, still accelerating her heart with only a look. Irisviel felt her eyes watering and, throwing every caution and fear to the wind, ran towards her, tackling her over with a high pitched, amorous scream of "Saaaaaberrrrrrr!"

"What in the-?!" Lancelot gasped, as this harmless looking woman took his Liege by total surprise, bringing her down with herself in a sudden rapid fit of giddy nervousness. Arthur, just as astonished, allowed herself to drop as this stranger nuzzled her head against her neck, sniffling and sobbing with obvious signs of combined pain and happiness.

"Ah... Do I know you?" Arthur asked, unable to do anything at the moment but staring at that horrible sky.

The woman blinked, briefly pulling back from her. "Saber, don't you recognize me? It's me! Irisviel!"

"Ah, Irisviel, of course. Apologies." She leaned her head back so she could look at Illya, who regarded them curiously from Shirou's shoulders. "So, do you recognize this as your mother, Illyasviel?"

"My... what?" Irisviel blinked, also looking up to stare at that small face, so much like her own. "Oh dear. This is Father's fault, I just know it."

"Mama... Mama, it's me! Illya!" Illya cried, extending her open arms towards her. "I'm here to save you, Mama!"

"Muh-Muh... Mama?" the silver haired woman gulped, pulling back to a sitting position on the ground, and quite clearly confused. "Oh my, I'm not sure what were you told, but... how should I put this..."

"Ah, so Miyamoto-san was right after all," Shirou said in a very distant tone. "We're gone somewhere else."

Galahad took a hand to her own head. "What a pain."

Then, from the other end of the piers, a girlish giggle, and steps.

Irisviel froze as a feeling of deja vu came over to her. Events, they often said, moved in circles, and when making her way back through this area, she hadn't stopped to think it had been in this general vicinity where Saber had her first combat in the Grail War. As if to mock her current thoughts, it was indeed the same figure who had greeted them back then, which was now stepping out into sight, brandishing twin spears with calm skill. Only now, this handsome man was not alone, and his beauty had changed, subtly twisted into something darker and ominous, the sincere light in his eyes gone and replaced by a golden eerieness.

The barefoot blonde in white by Lancer's side skipped along, arms folded behind her back. "Riddle me this, riddle me that," she sing sang, and Shirou blinked several times at how strange she looked, all childlike purity in this grim environment, in a way even Illya couldn't match. "How many times do you need to kill a King of Britain before she is dead?"

Lancelot and Galahad grimaced and moved before their King, ready to protect her.

"Oh, has the chivalrous Saber abandoned her code of honor?" the strange girl put two fingers on her own chin. "She doesn't fight her own battles anymore?"

"I believe," Arthur evenly said, stepping past her knights, "you have mistaken me for someone else. I am not a part of your games of blood. Begone, unless you wish to be cut down."

The waif twisted her pale lips into a cruel smile. "Prince," she said, her voice pure silk. "Make me happy."

With a mad scream more befitting beast than man, the Lancer shot himself forward at breakneck speed, obliging her.

 

[wellis]

The barefoot blonde in white by Lancer's side skipped along, arms folded behind her back. "Riddle me this, riddle me that," she sing sang, and Shirou blinked several times at how strange she looked, all childlike purity in this grim environment, in a way even Illya couldn't match. "How many times do you need to kill a King of Britain before she is dead?"

Lancelot and Galahad grimaced and moved before their King, ready to protect her.

"Oh, has the chivalrous Saber abandoned her code of honor?" the strange girl put two fingers on her own chin. "She doesn't fight her own battles anymore?"

"I believe," Arthur evenly said, stepping past her knights, "you have mistaken me for someone else. I am not a part of your games of blood. Begone, unless you wish to be cut down."

The waif twisted her pale lips into a cruel smile. "Prince," she said, her voice pure silk. "Make me happy."

With a mad scream more befitting beast than man, the Lancer shot himself forward at breakneck speed, obliging her.

Click to shrink...

That is Manaka, isn't it?

 

[OverMaster]

Emiya Kiritsugu carefully set himself down at the observation point he'd just picked, one close enough to the battle yet also distant enough for him to, hopefully, remain unnoticed. Wrapped in a long black coat and hood that barely served as camouflage in the crimson darkness, he crouched on the roof of the badly damaged Naba Heavy Industries warehouse and set his sniper rifle. Sure enough, he had found his target at last, and against all of his expectations Old Man Acht had been right and she still lived. But apparently not for long if the current events were any indication.

Shooting at the man currently engaging into heavy melee with the woman in the blue dress—the target's Servant, if Acht's intelligence was to be believed—would do nothing but drawing attention to himself. Instead, he was there to find any other nearby Masters, if they still lived, and take them out. Only if a second enemy appeared, he was to help the target directly. In the meanwhile, he would have to trust this Saber to hold her own against this Lancer and concentrate on the enemy Master. As he carefully studied the scene and took on all the extraneous assembled players to determine whom to shoot first, Maiya appeared on the roof, shortly behind him. "I got the information you wanted," she said.

"Meaning, Maiya?" Kiritsugu replied, still focused on his task. She took only a second to stare down at the woman with the titanic shield and the man with the nearly as imposing sword, and then spoke her answer.

"Caster has taken fort in the sewer system," the woman with short black hair told him, holding a gun in each hand, "He's rounded up all surviving children and… is using them both to recharge his prana and… for other, recreational purposes," and despite her cold, professional demeanor, she looked like she was stifling the urges to vomit at the memories of what she had seen.

"Forget that now," the black haired man whispered back, focusing his aim on the pretty little head of the girl behind Lancer. The dumb looking boy surely was another Master, probably to the Servant with the shield, but he had no idea what to think of the small female who looked improbably like Irisviel. She had not been anywhere in the info Acht had supplied him with. "Take your own position and, should any of the other Servants engage the Saber, blow the boy's brains off immediately."

"Yes," the woman named Maiya said, taking her own spot by Emiya's side, and pulling out a much smaller, yet still also functional from this distance, sniper rifle from the large bag on her back. As she clicked it down in place, she couldn't help admiring the silver haired woman's fascinating beauty. This had been the first time she'd ever seen her personally, and photographies, she knew now, just couldn't compare. "Could those be her allies?"

"Allegiances can be broken at the faintest whim of convenience," Kiritsugu reminded her coldly, finger on the trigger, waiting for the best moment, as Lancer pushed the fight from the blonde with his dazzling speed, putting even the mighty Saber against the ropes.

"Whenever you are ready," Maiya said, choosing to look at the battle now. This was another first for her; she only had been able to witness footage from familiars from some of the previous battles, from before everything literally exploded sour, but this was much different. It was real, despite, or precisely because of, how surreal it felt at the same time. In a way, it was pretty much like the first time, so long ago, she had seen other being killed before her, back when such things had also seemed distant impossibilities.

Maiya had studied about Heroic Spirits while preparing to help Kiritsugu for this mission. She knew King Arthur's legend was one of the richest, best known and most prestigious in the world, lending an impressive power to its leading figure. And said power was obvious from the graceful, yet devastating way the Saber moved and swung. There was no way of denying Einzbern had summoned one of the best Heroic Spirits.

And even so, Lancer, despite belonging to a Class traditionally weak to Sabers, seemed to be holding his own, with a savage vigor more fitting a Berserker. A joint slash from his spears had just grazed and pushed Saber back and away from him. Were they enchanted? If they were, they had to be charged with highly potent magic to work at all, despite the Saber Class' Magic Resistance Skill.

Not that Excalibur was proving itself unfit for the task regardless, the legendary sword clashing in superior terms with the spears whenever they collided, Lancer being forced to attack from the sides by using his velocity rather than directly. Even if its true power was far from being released yet, surely that had to be…

"Damn it all," she heard Kiritsugu say in a dry, subdued tone.

Maiya followed his gaze, now he had taken it aside for some reason. And she saw it too.

THOOM.

It thundered with each bounce, from one rooftop to the next, each time louder as it came closer.

THOOM.

"That is… Berserker, isn't he?" Maiya asked, gulping for once.

THOOM!

"Could he be anyone else?" Kiritsugu said, coldly controlling his own awe and dread.

THOOM!

The colossus jumped cleanly over the duo, without even noticing them, as if they were less than ants to it. During this latest bounce towards the boulevard, Saber and Lancer stopped their duel and looked up as one. So did the amazed Irisviel and her strange new hanger-ons. And then it had landed before them, the ground shaking violently, so much Irisviel had to grab onto Galahad's arm for support lest she would trip over and plummet. It stood impossibly tall, bigger than life itself. A mountain of black armor, surrounded by thick puffs of black vapor, the red veins of the Lancer also present on it, but if anything even more accentuated and deformed, opening slight cracks on the metallic plates and joints. Within the narrow confines of its helmet's red visor shone the eyes of a heartless brute. Its shadow loomed huge over them all.

The feeling of being living a recurring nightmare returned to Irisviel with a rabid vengeance, sending her to the edge of panic, making her sweat and tremble. "Oh, no, no, no! Not again…!" she lamented.

The little blonde pouted, raising an eyebrow and folding her arms under her flat chest. "Aw, what are you doing here? Did we, at any point, ever call for you?"

"Wow," Illya said, half mesmerized. "Wicked cool…"

"What a day," was all Shirou could say.

Lancelot, impervious to ill feelings and prone to laugh at bad omens, could not help shivering at the sights of this, as if someone had just stepped on his own grave. "What… What manner of abomination…?"

"I don't know," Galahad said, "but he is repulsive."

But Arthur Pendragon did not flinch. "Who are you?" she icily asked this stranger.

Its tone was guttural and inhuman, as much as the sound erupting from its throat itself.

"RRRRRTHRRRRRRR!-!-!-!-!"

 

[OverMaster]

A whole day had passed, and Emiya-kun hadn't returned yet.

That was bad. For Sakura, that was. Sakura would surely suffer if Emiya-kun never came back.

Not that Rin was worried Emiya wouldn't return! After all, he was with King Arthur herself! And apparently the stories about his competence were more accurate than those about his gender, and time hadn't collapsed on them yet, the Nazi party—which did indeed exist, and might Kami-sama bless Sakura's innocent soul—hadn't risen to power yet, so it appeared things would turn out fine after all.

Rin took another bite from her bento pondering this. Sitting alone on a bench of one of several small parks in the Mahora Academy campus, she tried to enjoy her lunch break under a pleasant spring sun. From the previous time, it didn't look like the way time ran in the current day ever ran parallel with the passage of time elsewhere—for instance, Emiya-kun's adventures with the Knights of the Round Table had taken place for weeks, yet a single night had passed when he woke up from his accidental displacement. There was no way of knowing when would they return, but Rin felt confident in that they—

"Excuse me," a shy looking, bookish girl with glasses and very long hair pulled into a pair of gigantic sidetails approached the bench. "Are you Tohsaka Rin-san?"

Rin sighed. "Yes, nice to meet you, how may I help you?"

The girl looked around, making sure there was no one nearby, and told him, "My name is Akuta Hinako."

"That's a very nice name, Akuta-san," Rin patiently said, waiting for the moment this girl would pull the love letter out, and getting into the mindset to gently but firmly reject her. She knew the type all too well. "Would you like to—"

"Clock Tower would like to know what moved Illyasviel von Einzbern to visit you."

Rin's smile froze on her face. After a pregnant beat, she looked aside to project her best false smile at the girl, the lower half of whose face was primly hidden behind the small yellow book she was holding open. "How is Lord El-Melloi doing?" she asked sweetly.

"I wasn't sent by his office," Hinako said, and Rin instantly lost all hopes of squirming her way out through her association with him. "For the heiress to leave their estate, heading towards your jurisdiction, that is a matter demanding for our attention." She sat down next to Rin and flipped a page, beginning to read from the next. "I am willing to listen. Should I fail to receive an explanation, others with less patience will arrive."

Rin sighed. "You really have eyes everywhere, huh…Very well, how should I put it… I know what you must be thinking, but the Einzberns and the Tohsakas aren't working together to bring the Heaven's Feel back into functionality. That's the last thing either of us wants, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Oh, really," Hinako passively said, turning the page again.

"Really," Rin confirmed. "Miss Einzbern is just making research on the possible after effects of the massive mana releases ten years ago, and is using some of Father's research to help herself on the subject." That was the cover story Illya had supplied them with in the event anyone came snooping around, and Rin had agreed it was sound enough. In part because it was partially true. "Should she find anything she considers of your incumbency, she will gladly deliver the pertinent data to your superiors."

"That would be a show of good will from her, since her clan is not affiliated with us," Hinako said, sounding rather indifferent from someone who had just flown from another continent only to look into this matter. "As a matter of fact, the Einzberns being cooperative with us is an unusual phenomenon on itself."

"Um, if you say so. I wouldn't be so sure since I don't know much about the inner politics of the Einzberns," Rin admitted.

Hinako closed the little yellow book and set it down on her lap. "Tohsaka-san," she said. "I would like to talk with Miss Einzbern personally. Take me with her, please."

Rin began sweating in the inside, the official marks of the Designation Seals already flashing before her eyes. "Ah, she doesn't answer personally to me, you know. I have no idea where is she right now…"

"How about 'when', then?" Hinako asked just as flatly as before.

"I, I… I beg your pardon?"

Without glancing back at her, Hinako extended an arm, took Rin's throat in a grip of iron just strong enough so those oh so very thin fingers wouldn't snap her neck, and politely answered, "No, you don't have to beg. Yet."

Wherever he was, Rin really was envying Emiya-kun now.

 

[OverMaster]

Shirou still felt very weak and dizzy from the glancing blow to his head as he was being carried bridal style in Galahad's arms as they all fled from the roaring, foaming out the mouth mad Berserker, shaking the huge chunk of sidewalk he'd ripped off at them. Galahad had also slung Illya and Irisviel over a shoulder each. They ran down the streets, and Shirou could swear he was hearing the shouts of Arthur and Lancelot racing after them, battered as they were themselves.

Surely, soon they would have all of the other 'Servants' in the city hot after them, endangering them even more, but as much as he tried, he couldn't even pull free to start fighting again. He was too exhausted to move that much in the short haired girl's slim but strong arms, and he was so sure something had gone really wrong with this time jump that he wasn't even all that sure it would make much of a difference. Surely they had abused the magic too much and now he was paying the consequences of his actions. He only wished he could make up to everyone for all the hassle he had brought upon them...

"Why are we running away!" Shirou growled as she ran, immediately ruining those noble intentions. "If we truly are Heroes of Justice, we shouldn't be running away!"

"We aren't running away, we are bravely turning our tail and fleeing!" Galahad reasoned, struggling to keep herself ahead of their pursuer. This ugly bloke sure was fast on his feet, and she had to strain herself to her limits to make a match of her fleeing- sorry, retreating- speed. "As soon as I leave you somewhere safe, I'll get back and help the King!"

"Get back here and fight, foul felon!" Lancelot shouted after the black knight, not able to fully match Arthur's chasing speed but mostly keeping up. "I am your opponent tonight!"

"This is strange, he seemed so enraged and focused on us, until he noticed Sir Galahad's presence," Arthur mused as she ran, briefly pausing to dodge to throw a lamppost their quarry had just tossed back at them in another attempt to either stall or kill them. "I wonder why?"

"No doubt his foulness felt her purity, and- My Lord!" Lancelot gasped, noticing a large red gash on Arthur's side. "The fiend did hurt you, but when-!"

"It was not him, but the spearman," Arthur told him, not showing her pain. "He did it before this madman could arrive, not that you could see, so fast he was."

"Sir, then perhaps you should rest while I take care-" Lancelit suggested, pressing on to gain more ground on the Berserker, and ducking under a bench thrown at him. "Oh, you sodding wanker, fight like a man!" he swore, proving he'd spent too much time in the Isles.

"No!" Arthur barked, accelerating as well so Lancelot wouldn't get ahead of her. "A king must lead with the example! I would be unworthy of my throne otherwise!"

"Hey, maybe you could run faster if you saved breath by talking less...!" Illya cried at them. "You don't have to make a posing drama out of every action sequence, Mallory isn't writing you right now!"

Lancelot blinked. "Who is Mallory?"

"Beats me," Arthur shrugged, even as she saw Galahad screeching to a halt upon reaching a dead end made by a toppled office building blocking her way. On the plus side, the Lancer appeared to have stayed behind, perhaps at his master's request. The knight in black had also stopped, hissing and seething, wide shoulders trembling erratically as he looked down at Galahad. "rrrthhhrrrr..."

"Okay! If I must make a last stand, so be it!" Galahad decided, putting Shirou and the two albinos on the ground behind herself, and standing her ground behind her shield. "You shall never prevail against the forces of Camelot, pitiful beast! Do your worst! You won't be able to break through my defenses!"

The colossal Berserker took pause, regarding her with something different of his previous mad animosity, and then briefly rushed back towards Arthur and Lancelot like a mad living locomotive, ramming them away from them. "RRRRTHRRRR!-!-!-!-!" he roared, louder than before, and Illya had to cover her ears as the scream made several of the few windows in the closest buildings shatter and explode, along a few assorted street lamps.

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," Shirou flinched, witnessing the hideous monster grabbing Sir Lancelot by a leg and pummeling against the pavement, once again quickly gaining a clear advantage on him. Arthur was also promptly tackled down and bashed brutally, getting a few good stabs of her own in the proccess but only cracking a few bleeding holes on the behemoth's armor. The young man coughed, also feeling weaker and woozier by the moment. "Hey, you, stop already! Why are you even doing all of this?!"

"I... I don't think you're ever going to reason successfully with him," Irisviel gulped, taking the child in her arms protectively, and also watching on as Galahad joined the fray. "Saber! Flee already, I beg you!" She tightened a fist and waved it desperately. "The Command Seals, why won't they work...!"

"I told you! Mistaking me! With someone else!" Arthur shouted back, clenching her teeth, her gauntlets squeezing on the handle of her sword and stabbing on Berserker's breastplate while Galahad bashed him on the head with Lord Camelot from behind, over and over.

From where he was supporting himself on a wall of the toppled tower, Shirou could vaguely see and hear her through the haze of his stupor, as the blonde King closed her eyes and chanted, quiet and controlled, "O mighty wind..."

Lancelot forced a grin. "Oath to my King! Reaching the very end, beyond the boundaries..."

Illya blinked. "But they aren't Servants, why are they chanting their attacks as if they were Noble Phantasms? Are they that chuuni?"

"You mean they are not-?" Irisviel blinked at her. "Huh, w-well, I suppose you don't get to become a great hero of renown without some eccentricities. Especially if you're British."

Arthur's Excalibur was glowing gloriously now, its lines classic and sleek, elegant and conventional, yet unmistakably lethal and unopposable. While nowhere as big as Lancelot's weapon, which probably explains a few things about Guinevere, it was just as impressive in its own way. "Step clear back, everyone!" she screamed her warning.

"King on the other side, look at this light! Arondight- OVERLOAD!-!" Lancelot cried right afterwards.

"I'm sorry," Arthur softly said, and with a final explosion of mana, Excalibur wrapped itself in its full light, even brighter than that night in the cavern. Shirou extended a hand towards her and screamed, Arthur pointing at Berserker while Galahad covered herself with her shield and braced herself, hoping for the best. "EXXXX-CALIBUUUURRRRRRR!" the King shouted at the top of her lungs, despite the agony she was feeling from her wound.

And the power was unleashed, and the air seemed to explode to deafening degrees, as the might from both mythical blades darted forward, with unerring accuracy, towards their intended goal.

 

[OverMaster]

"Please be quiet," Arthur requested, kneeling by the prone, lethally wounded Berserker, and taking hold of his helmet. "You should die like the man you once were rather than a rabid… oh, my God," she breathed out as she saw the face just revealed by the headpiece she'd just pulled off.

"Sorcery!" Lancelot hissed, while Galahad took both hands to her mouth. For this face was also his face, an eye swollen and blackened, and blood flowing out its nose and blood, but otherwise his mirror image.

"No," the dying warrior said. "Many forms I once took, to mislead others and pull them to the abyss with myself. But this… is my real self. Pray to the Lord, stranger, you stray from this doomed path of mine."

Shirou staggered close, coughing. "Like I said, Musashi-san must have been correct. We can't change the past. This isn't our world."

"Tell us, cur!" Lancelot demanded of his counterpart. "What did you ever to, to earn such madness?! Where in your road did you stumble?! What—"

The fallen one smirked weakly, a mouth full of sharp teeth like those of a shark. "Too many were my sins, for me to recount in this short a time. I failed my king and kingdom, and I traded my mind for the chance of forget my faults. Yet in doing so, I only increased my load to bear."

"Speak with clarity, man!" Lancelot protested. "This is important! For all my faults, I never spoke in riddles!"

"He wasn't lucid at all moments ago, maybe you're expecting too much from him," Galahad said, crouching to hold the dying man's hand gently. "If mine was part of the fault for whatever happened to you, I apologize, for what it may be worth. I never wished you any ill."

"Well, that's good to know," her real father muttered under his breath. "Sometimes, one wonders…"

"You never did anything to me," Berserker smiled, a huge gauntlet moving to softly stroke her cheek. "You are the sole thing I did in life that I hold no regrets for. You were all I should have been, and never got to be."

Illya blinked. "So you actually always wanted to be a woman?"

"I do not!" the other Lancelot claimed.

"Not the tiiiiime!" Irisviel said.

"This is more than this sinner should ask for, to die holding his child's hand, without his king's rancor," Berserker hewed, closing his eyes. "My apologies, noble Artoria, one second time. May your light shine eternal."

He breathed once more, deep and troubled, and then breathed no more.

A long, blunt silence reigned for moments around the heavy still body, until Lancelot spoke quietly. "That wasn't of much help. I wasn't expecting for a detailed handbook of what NOT to do, but had he cut back on the flowery speech a little, he might—"

"You probably shouldn't think with your—sorry, I cannot say it, but you know what I mean, so much, that's all," Galahad sighed, letting go of the brute's hand. "It's like I'm always telling you, that's going to chip away at your virtue one of these days…"

"Did he call you 'Artoria'?" Shirou asked Arthur.

She glanced aside uncomfortably, holding her wound with a hand. "That… was the name I was given at birth, but not one fitting a man to seize the throne. So I am Arthur now."

"Let me see that, now," Irisviel said with growing concern, moving past a blinking Illya, and tending to Artoria's injury. "Oh my, just like I thought, he did it again. Diarmuid's Gáe Buidhe inflicts a curse upon striking, one that will drain your life and strength away. It's a miracle you could use Excalibur as well as you did, but that must have taken a toll on you, poor thing…"

"It will… come to pass," Artoria winced as Irisviel placed her hands on her, whispering a healing spell. "I have survived worse."

"This will stall the curse for a while," the other woman warned, pulling her hands back, "but I'm afraid the effects won't disappear until Diarmuid is killed or Gáe Buidhe is destroyed. It's astonishing; you are so much like Saber, my beloved Servant. I have to assume you are the actual King of Britain her Legendary Soul came from."

Then she gently glanced back at the sobbing Illya. "And you said you are my daughter, if I'm not mistaken?"

"MAMA!" Illya bawled, running into her open arms and hugging her tightly.

Shirou smiled at the scene as Irisviel cooed and lovingly patted this strange girl's head, kindly humoring her weirdness. He limped close to them and announced himself, "And I'm Shirou, Kiritsugu's adopted son, after he—w-well, I think I spoke out of turn, um, how do I explain this, but…"

Irisiviel looked at him curiously. "Who's Kiritsugu?"

Illya stopped crying, and her eyes popped wide open, round as oranges.

Shirou scratched himself on a cheek. "The hits just won't stop coming, huh..?"

 

[OverMaster]

"I see, so this is the miraculous device you engineered yourselves to transport you through time and space," Hinako blandly said, staring at the crude looking construct in Shirou's backyard. "And it was originally made from—"

"A toaster, yes," Sakura regretfully confirmed, standing behind her along Musashi, Kojiro, and a Rin who was still rubbing her throat and wincing.

Hinako reached over with a foot, daintily touched on it, and then gave it a good stomp.

"H-Hey!" Rin said while Sakura gasped. "If you destroy it, Illya and Emiya-kun will be lost in the past forever!"

"Well, the official instructions from Clock Tower are that, were I to ever find a device designed for these goals, I am to destroy it immediately and kill its creators," Hinako heartlessly said. "Of course, the unofficial, real instructions state that I should confiscate the device for my teachers and bring the creators over for questioning instead."

"Oh, that sound somewhat better," Musashi allowed.

"Not quite, odds are the questioning would be carried through torture and mind probing, and then they would be put to a slow death," Hinako said, Rin and Sakura losing every bit of color from their faces.

Kojiro frowned, taking a hand to the handle of the sword by his hip. "You should be warned that I would never surrender my life without a fight, Akuta-dono, not even to a woman."

"I wouldn't expect any less if you truly are Sasaki Kojiro, or someone who might pass for him," Hinako replied. "No, for the two of you, the protocol would be different. You would be simply tested and questioned, and if you are found to qualify for the individuals you claim being, Clock Tower would gladly employ you for any price you wish stating. Should you be found lacking, you would be treated as charlatans and punished accordingly."

"Ah, now that sounds like a reasonable deal," Musashi nodded. "I've been thinking of finding myself a job here, so…"

"Are you just leaving us to die like that?!" Rin said.

"S-Surely we can negotiate an alternative solution for this, Akuta-sempai?" Sakura all but begged. "We never intended for any of this to happen…!"

"Yeah, and besides, fair warning, if you rub Illya off, you won't just have to deal with her clan, but with Medusa," Rin added.

Hinako looked back, passively, at the Chaldeas platform. "Have you ever been to China?" she asked, as if an afterthought, past a moment.

Rin blinked. "Eh?"

 

[OverMaster]

Chapter Four, dumped all at once.

 

[OverMaster]

I thought the tale was getting too serious for its own good-- and mine-- and so I chose dragging it back to the earlier silly wackiness. But it'll probably keep having relapses, back and forth.

---

Fate/Stay Night, Fate EXTRA, Fate Extella, Fate Hollow Ataraxia, Fate Grand Order, Fate Zero, Fate Kaleid Prisma Illya, Fate Apocrypha, Fate Prototype, Fate Requiem, Fate Strange/Fake and Fate Type/Redline are the creation and intellectual properties of Type-Moon and Nasu Kinoko.

---

Saber still managed to smile, even through the thick blood, poisoned with Grail Mud, flowing down her perfect features. "I see," she softly said, while her body began collapsing down. "You still retain the power born from defending others, while I lost mine, and with it my edge. Ultimately, no matter how Fate changes, I'm doomed to face the same destiny when I'm left alone."

"What in the world does that tone mean, Sire?" Lancelot asked her. "Your wounds are not that grievous. Yet you already talk like a dead man..."

For all answer, Saber pointed at the flames rising from the huge exploded crater upwards, where the black mud writhed and shrieked in the purifying fire born from the bombs. "The unholy Grail keeping me alive is destroyed because of this dark interloper, but I'm regardless thankful to him, because my madness has ceased. Now, my time has passed and rightfully so. Let me vanish into the ether and worry about fighting for the future that is rightfully you-"

"W-Wait, Saber, I implore you!" Irisviel cried. "Y-You don't have to go! I don't want you to! Why don't you... Make another Contract with me and become my Servant again...?!"

"Are you sure that's what your father would like?" asked said interloper, calmly smoking a cigarette while trying his best to ignore the wide eyed, fascinated and nearly tearful look that strange ginger boy kept on giving him even now. "He might protest if I take her back with you, you know? You should be aware he has zero tolerance for failure..."

"Oh, screw Father, I'm in a rebellious teenage phase now!" Irisviel told this annoying stranger, rolling her eyes back.

"I read your files, you are nine years old," Kiritsugu shot back.

"That's teenage enough for a homunculus! Screw you too, you aren't my nanny!"

"Mom! Your language!" Illya whined.

Kiritsugu finally deigned to look at her. "'Mom', you said?"

The little girl wailed further. "You too, Dad?! You too?!"

"I have to assume," Maiya laconically told her teacher, "that this particular homunculus came defective from the Einzbern workshops."

"Obviously..." Kiritsugu pondered quietly.

"This fucking timeline fucking sucks!" Illya began rubbing her teary eyes violently with her fists. "I wanna go back now! We won't learn anything useful in this literal fucking garbage fire!"

"Oh, so now I am the one with the bad language," Iri disapproved, folding her arms and tapping her foot on the burning ground.

"I had a bad example in you, okay?!" her mini-me defended herself.

Saber actually paused enough in her slow, majestic agony as to ask Iri, incredulously, "I beg your pardon? Would you actually forgive me after everything I have done, Irisviel?"

"Oh, it wasn't your fault you were consumed by the very Grail I ordered you to obtain," the other woman said. "After all, what's a random murder attempt or two between good girlfriends! You know I'm not a resentful person, and even if you don't exist as a Servant anymore, I'm certain I still can provide you with mana regularly, nudge nudge wink wink..."

"You... You have just sounded too much like Stheno, right now..." Illya sniffled. "Someone, somewhere up there is laughing at me, isn't that it...?"

Lancelot and Galahad looked at each other, dubiously, then shared exhausted shrugs of shoulders. What was the worst thing that could result from having two perfect kings around, in any case...?

In hindsight, the fact they heard thunder roll at that moment even as Illya's device finally came back to life beeping should probably have clued them in.

---

Fate: Time and Punishment.

 

[OverMaster]

"And that was it all?" Mordred asked.

Saber looked at the horned knight again, with that especially harsh look from her inhuman golden eyes. "What else did you expect would happen?"

They all were gathered around Shirou's lunch table now, and while it was a huge table indeed, there were only seats for the females present, and Kiritsugu, whom Shirou had made sure of giving a seat of honor much to the annoyance of the other males. This included, of course, Mordred, who also stood there, wondering with this King seemed even bitterer towards her than towards everybody else. Sella made sure of translating Illya's florid story for those who only spoke Greek, while Leysritt had been doing the same for those who only spoke English.

"Well, you have to admit, it does sound rather anticlimactic, for a wrapup to your situation," Bedivere said sheepishly, scratching herself on a cheek with the giant gauntlet arm. "W-Wait, but, the King's cursed armor, how did she--!"

"When the Grail was destroyed, Lancer must have perished, so your sovereign shouldn't be afflicted anymore," Saber blandly said, and Artoria nodded, flexing her arms vigorously to prove the point. "More importantly, however, who in the blazes are you?"

"Eeeehhh?!" the pigtailed blonde whined. "You don't remember the second of your knights, the long serving Bedi?!"

"Bedivere was a man," Saber icily replied. "I recognize good Sir Agravain, of course, and noble Gawain, and the brave Gareth, and even Mordred and Lancelot, but you? I had never seen you before. Get thee away from me, pretender."

Bedivere began sobbing. "My Liege…! You are so mean…!"

"What's this 'even Mordred' business?!" Mordred demanded. "What did I ever do to you?!"

Lancelot sighed. "I'm going to regret ever embarking in this whole enterprise, am I not…"

"There, there, don't mind too much, Sempai," Galahad patted her senior's shoulder. "She said the same thing about me; I suppose her Camelot was far less inclusive."

"I never believed on diversity hires, just those based on competence," Saber said.

"We shouldn't expect much from a wayward king without a cowlick," her lighter counterpart hummed.

"Whoa, whoa, we're getting political! Stop it already!" Iri chided. "On the subject of scary girls, what do you think happened to Lancer's Master? Could she have survived after his disappearance?"

Shirou blinked. "Um, why wouldn't she? I imagine she must be angry about that, but what is she going to do? Chasing us here across the dimensions to wreck revenge on us?"

Everyone stared at him then, except Sella, Leysritt, and those who didn't understand Japanese. After the maids translated, those joined in on the staring as well.

Shirou grunted. "Oh, for heaven's sake, you're all paranoid. It's only a girl…!"

The staring grew even harsher and fiercer, especially from Kiritsugu and Saber.

Shirou flinched under the pressure, especially that from his father figure. "Anyway… how should we call you, Second Arthur-san?"

"I was altered by the unholy mud, so you can just call me Alter," she said indifferently. "Or you may call me by the birth name of Artoria. Or just Saber. I don't care."

"Oh! Oh!" Bedivere said. "What if we bring the names of Alter and Artoria together and call you 'Altria'?!"

"No. That's a stupid name."

Bedivere pouted.

Growing fed up with this circus, Hinako slammed a hand on the table. "Very well, that will be enough of this! Fine, I have seen proof your contraption indeed works! I'm even willing to overlook your breach of protocols as you as you comply with this single demand of mine, you are to take me to ancient China and--!"

"Why don't we just kill you instead?" Stheno calmly asked, interrupting the tirade Sella was translating for her as it went.

Hinako stared at her and spat in flawless Greek, "They'll send another one!"

"So we'll kill them as well."

Hinako facepalmed. "Is killing all you can think about?"

"I don't even like doing it myself, that's more like Medusa's vice."

Medusa lowered her head. "It's not that I enjoy it either, really…"

"Yes, you do, you murderous monster, you. Don't play innocent before these nice softhearted people," Stheno calmly chided her.

"Why China anyway?" Rin inquired. "Why does it have to be China? You're Japanese! Why is a pure blooded Japanese fangirling after the Chinese? I mean, I like their cuisine and all, but…"

Illya blinked. "Do you like eating bats and pangolins and all those disgusting stuff? Gross…!"

"That's not the heart of real pure and refined Chinese cooking!" Rin and Hinako angrily told her, as one.

Illya clung to Irisviel's arms. "Mama, the evil hags are bullying me! Sic Aunt Artoria on them!"

"Now, now, Illya," Iri maternally said, "you're overdoing this, plus, I'm sure she'd prefer being called your Uncle…"

"No, I don't care either way anymore," Alter said apathetically. "We can't keep having discussions like this, however, it's a royal pain in the arse. Boy, don't you know anyone who could teach these dolts proper English, in the absence of a Grail to conveniently solve this situation for you?"

Shirou blinked. "Oh, you mean…someone reliable, discreet, able to deal with many troublesome personalities at once, and easy to get along with? W-Well, now that you mention it, I might know someone who fits the bill…"

"Who's troublesome, you spineless, useless maggot?!" Mordred growled. "You've got a lot of nerve, calling us that…!"

"Shut up," Alter told her.

"Okay, you ARE being worse to me than to anyone else! I demand to know why…!"

"You are imagining things, Mordred, she is this curt and vile to everyone, pay her no mind," the Artoria in blue said with great dignity. "The words of the fallen rabble deserve no ears to fall into."

"You," her other self told her, "are a sodding idiot. And a cuckold."

The lighter Artoria lunged at her over the table.

 

[OverMaster]

They'd been given a room in the boy's house, next to that given to the hired killer and his apprentice mistress. Alter and Irisviel had seen no problem with it, and so they retired early.

Iri had recharged her mana the less... intimate way before going to sleep, not that Alter could blame her. It had to be, after all, difficult for her accepting her all over again, in this new state of hers.

Alter thought about that and more, resting on the futon and staring at that unfamiliar ceiling, the Master soundly asleep by her side. After being tainted, it was difficult to bring herself to feel for others again, even if it was for Iri. Right now, she felt like she had lived through two lives, each a different vague dream, and she was but starting the third, a newborn in a fashion.

Of course, she truly was not that sentimental anymore, so this thought did not trouble her particularly. It simply was something she would come to cope with soon enough.

And, on that subject...

The figure in the large armor had somehow sneaked into the room through a window, now standing under the moon light filtering from the outside. Alter looked back at it, reaching over for Excalibur, not lifting it just yet. "Are you here to slay me?" she asked.

"Why... Why would you think I'd do such a thing?" Mordred asked, her voice slightly choked from within the helmet. "I only wish settling the question you wouldn't answer before the others. Why do you hate me?"

Alter sighed, sitting up in the pajamas Rin had lent her. "You truly are not pretending, are you? You still haven't put your mind to it."

"Speak clearly, demon!" Mordred growled. Iri stirred in her dream, and Alter frowned and placed a finger on her own lips, sternly.

When Mordred spoke again, her tone was coldly quiet once more. "I'll repeat myself, what did I ever do to you?"

"It never was about what you did to me," Alter said, "but what about you did to the kingdom."

"Liar! I'd never turn my hand against Britannia!"

"You are far too emotional, always were," the other woman chastised her. "That is why you were not fit the throne. I told you so, and your pride moved you against the whole of Camelot. Because of you, everything was lost, and-"

"No," Mordred said.

"I am telling you exactly what happened, you-"

"That wasn't me!" Mordred barked. "And that's not all of it! Obviously Lancelot failed you and everyone as well, the Berserker proved that, and yet you don't despise him!"

"No, I don't," Alter admitted after a moment.

"Why?!"

"Lancelot's faults were those of a broken heart, yours that of a broken pride," Alter lectured. "There is a huge difference between both."

"My pride! My pride was born from you!" Mordred accused her. "That's the real reason, isn't it! You learned of my origins!"

Alter said nothing, yet her silence told everything.

Mordred took the helmet off, angry tears streaming down her lovely face. "Why is it wrong for me, to feel pride over my birthright, while it was rightful for you?! Is it because of my mother? I never chose the woman who would birth me! Despite her, I always did everything I could to serve my King properly! And I am sure he won't reject me as cruelly as you have!"

"Then," Alter asked plainly, "why haven't you shown him your face yet?"

Mordred gave a step back, eyes growing much rounder.

The ensuing silence was nearly unbearable, a thing of chilling tension, until Irisviel's voice sounded calmly, the woman still not turning around. "It's not fitting a wise ruler," the voice said, "judging a child for the mistakes of another."

"Irisviel," Alter said. "You weren't there."

"No. No, I wasn't. And neither was he... Sorry, her," the homunculus replied while sitting up on the futon, bowing her head to the paralyzed Mordred. "I apologize in the name of my Servant. Her pride as a knight blinds her at times, and while I'd hoped her discussion with the Archer and Rider would have made her reconsider certain things... well, I suppose exposure to primal evil might have set that development back a bit, so please endure her for the time being, Sir Moe."

"I... Sir Moe?! I mean," Mordred gulped, straightening and trying to look arrogant and formal all over again, "of course I wouldn't hold anything of what this deviation does against my King! If she feels differently about me and her bastard, that is her problem, and nothing else! I came here strictly to settle the issue beyond all doubt, that is all!"

"Don't worry, we won't tell you anyone you're such a lovely young man," Iri smiled, and Mordred quickly shoved the helmet back on before the moonlight could betray her blush. "Tell him whenever you feel ready. I will be rooting for you, so you won't stray from the path of the loyal knight."

"You don't know the circumstances-" Alter began.

"Nobody ever knows the full circumstances behind anything," Iri lectured. "We are all creatures of limits, and every thing in this world has untold factors behind. It is up to our hearts, then, to help us navigate through the unknowns, and mine tells me to trust Sir Moe."

"Th-Thank you, but... I think I'd really like it better if you didn't call me that," Mordred rasped. "Since this matter has been solved without the need for bloodletting, then, I will spare your cursed existence and retreat back to my King's side..."

"Not solved, postponed," Alter said.

"Saber!" Iri said as Mordred disappeared back into the night with an indignated huff.

Alter looked back at her. "Do you actually believe she will judge him any differently than I did? That he truly has the capacity my spawn had?"

"I told you, I cannot know anything for sure. My heart still feels they can succeed where you failed." She took her hand in hers. "And hopefully, they can help you pull back from your brink, as well."

Alter was sure they could not, but chose not pursuing the subject further for the time being.