Fate/Grandiose Delusion IC

P

Phantom Zero

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The Diary of a Deluded Gentleman circa February 1872, white
"We have succeeded in manifesting the Grail. If you would like to witness this miracle, join us and become Masters"

Truly a grand jest! Everyone should know that only a great man such as I could achieve such a feat. And as I had expected, their grandiose delusion was nothing but a fruitless endeavour to steal what did not belong to them. Undoubtedly this result was merely another attestation to my Akashic Providence, my fate as one who will reach the Truth of the World and the Answer of Humanity, my destiny as the saviour who will become the perfect messiah and cleanse this flawed world in order to bring forth a [scribbled lines] new age.

The Einzberns, Makiri and Tohsaka were nothing but a conglomerate of deluded gentlemen who could not even achieve their promised miracle even with the plans of someone far surpassing their skill (me of course) who had conceptualized the idea first as a much more noble goal. Even so, I have gone to the trouble of acquiring their research notes regarding the pathetic facsimile of my Master Plan. They may have claimed it was theft, but the Akashic Records and I know it was simply retrieving what I most rightfully deserved as compensation for the theft of my genius and its corruption into a mere "omnipotent" wishgranting artifact.

Naturally I will remedy these flaws during my corrections of their failure. I have taken the liberty of increasing the number of Heroic Spirits summoned to nine, simply because seven was obviously far too low a quantity of individuals to sacrifice. Unfortunately even my great genius could not reduce the necessary participants to a more manageable number nor get rid of the system entirely. One may say it is a sign of my incompetence, but I consider this nothing more than additional compensation. It is a give and take of ideas, and a display of my unending generosity by allowing eight more individuals to become a part of something greater than themselves: my ideals. Assuredly there will be dangerous and volatile individuals who may be driven to participate to further their unclean goals, but this is obviously of no concern for a great magus such as I. My assured victories against the other participants will merely cement my power further in the eyes of the unwashed masses.

My second and final prepartion is that I have procured land far surpassing their Asiatic, backwater excuse for a battleground. While it may not be as luxurious a locale as the such an occasion deserves, 60 years henceforth it will be the setting for the grand finale of this Age of Man, in which I will claim my rightful victory over the fools who dare stand in the way of progress.

[a diagram of late 19th century La Mancha, California can be seen, with markings on areas roughly corresponding to the North Point Lighthouse, the Church, the Abandoned Mansion, and the La Mancha Central Park]

Begin February 4, 2005 - Day Zero/Dusk​
 
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[Pythagoras, Lighthouse Interior Top Floor, North Point Lighthouse]

Lift not the seal of □□□□□, lest ye □□□□□□□ the □□□□□ seven times over.​

From the Lighthouse, he looked over the world.

A slight laugh heaved out from him at the thought of the new war, of the new tales he would bear witness to, the new fights these heroes of ages past would carve into the world.

After all, a hero may have been undefeated in their life, but what if they fight another hero who was undefeated? Heroes. The Heroic Spirits, angels and demons of mankind who have been wrought into guardians. Above humans, monsters, dragons, and gods.

But the Grail War was special for one simple reason.

The warrior who cut down a king of monsters clashed with the being who slayed a dragon.

The god-killer fought with the king that gods sang praises of.

And that is the rule of the war. If everybody is special, nobody is. Even if you were unique, powerful in statistics, or powerful in your proof of legend, you are not fighting a human, monster, dragon, or god. You are fighting heroes.

The soul within the mind whirred to life, as the False Eye of God he had become opened its lens once more.

An observation device must be fair. If it is to observe, there must be nothing unseen. Thus, it required capabilities for knowing everything about the Earth.

However, he was no mere observer. An observer must not have a mind. For the observer to have a mind would result in the meaning of things being decided by the observer. Thus, he was not a true Eye which would keep to maintaining its absolute objectivity as an eye.

However, like an observer, he had become "blank". Thus, this existence had no conception of good and evil, no desire for the future, not even an outcome. It was simply there.

The reason for this was simple: this was the outcome for anyone who called himself an Alchemist. This was a truth he had discovered even while alive, the end point of any Alchemist's calculation. That designation necessarily meant one would achieve the answer awaiting the end of the tunnel.

-There is no possible way to avert the conclusion of the world.

This is an absolute truth beyond absolute truth. In that sense, the modern organization known as the Atlas Academy is simply a place designed to drive individuals to insanity. Once they have learned that truth, they will attempt to override it, but this is ultimately impossible.

That is why the man who stood inside the lighthouse did not have a plan involving what came after the conclusion, nor something similar to the thousand year plan of a man who became a phenomenon.

No, no. Rather, his goal could be gleaned by the fact that he had not left this territory, that he would participate in a Grail War once more.

Because after all, this war was a farce.

Why are you here?​

A wish, it sounds so fanciful, so wondrous, doesn't it? After all, if that omnipotent cup filled by 'God' can grant any wish, what human wouldn't traverse heaven and hell to find it? That's the premise that lures fools in.

Consider what a Heroic Spirit is. These wonderful, dazzling heroes of ages past, they are just thoughts of men turned into something special. They are illusions, the collective sum of mankind's imagination.

If the Holy Grail is a mere container to form and maintain those illusions, then does it have any real purpose? The Holy Grail is a creator of fakes. It takes the base Heroic Spirit and copies them. And that ritual, that incantation to summon a Servant isn't to summon a Servant at all. No, the ritual is merely to bind a Servant.

From the very first step you take, the Holy Grail War is a sham. Magi 'prepare' for it, but that's utterly nonsensical. Preparing for an absurdity of this nature...it makes you even less than incompetent.

However...

The Heroic Spirits, the height of mankind, are here by choice, are they not? Then even they have been tricked, brought to this ritual and fooled as much as any magus.

From the beginning, this war is an illusion in its own right.

It is a simple sacrificial ritual.

It is nothing more than a typical ritual at a grander scale, so it can only actualize a miracle equally mundane.

Since that was the case, his reason for being present in this war for a second time carried an obvious meaning behind it.

"Well, let's begin then."

Enough of that, though.

Time to see what this round's Servants would be like.

The preparations were made long ago.

And so, as he looked out over the city that would soon be engulfed in war, he could only nod impassively.

"Come, heroes. Come fight, rage, and die once more."
 
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The Cross Dressing Emperor...

The Strong Warlord...

The Warrior King...

The Strongest Man who ever lived...

The Man who tried to free Scotland...

The man who freed his people...

The Old (Wo)Man of The Mountain...

The Ten headed Demon...

And The Great Mathematician...

All come together in a City, to fight, for a wish.

[Aaron White; Airport, Road, and Abandoned Mansion; Mainland]

Aaron pulled his Cessna Citation Mustang Model 510 into the Hangar.

"Alright, Mr Johnson! Here's your stop! La Mancha, California!"
Aaron wasn't lying of course, It was Mr Johnson's stop, but Aaron also had another reason for visiting. He was chosen as a master in a Holy Grail War.
Aaron helped the man down out of the plane, then he helped the man's Daughter and Nurse out of the Plane. Aaron brushed off his Pilot uniform revealing the Mark made on his right hand by the Command Seals.

"What's that?" The woman said. "Is it a permanent Tattoo? I will not have my Daddy flying with someone who has a tattoo!"

"Relax, it's just Henna! It will be off in a few days." Aaron said in a snarky tone of voice

"Good, because My Daddy wouldn't interact with Common Rabble who have tattoos." The daughter said stunned "He is of absolutely the highest Quality, and wouldn't dare work with them!"

The old man in the wheelchair laughed. "Oh, Maria, This is the son of an old friend. I would do anything for my old army buddy's family. I actually think that tattoo is kind of interesting."
"Be Quiet,Daddy! I don't care! Tattoos are common and! Oh!" The woman shrieked and fainted for some unknown reason. Aaron turned to the nurse.

"Take care of both of them. Please, if there are any issues, please call me." Aaron said. "I can take care of it, or get you out of the city." The Nurse nodded and took the now fainted girl, and the Wheelchair bound man to the terminal.

Aaron went back into his plane, grabbed his knives, his Bible, and his backpack. He closed the plane's door, and walked to the terminal. He got into the car he had rented earlier and drove to the Old mansion on the map he was given. Att a gas station he pointed to the location, and the clerk said something about demons. What did Aaron care? He had a Bible, he could chase them out. Aaron finished the drive in relative peace. He pulled into the driveway.
"I can see why people think it's haunted! Jesus!" Aaron said as he walked into the door. This place would be perfect for summoning.
 
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[Arisa Senmatsu; A clearing; The Wilderness]
​
Arisa had the cellphone up to her ear a she was talking to her mother also known as her manager.

"Don't worry, Mom. No one is here, and I have the summoning set up."

"Okay. Make sure you summon the most powerful servant ever." Arisa heard from the other end of the line.

"I got it. Don't forget to book some shows. I have to make it seem like I came from Japan, so I can extend my audience, not for the war." Arisa told her mother. To be honest, Arisa only wanted the attention, she gets from the shows, not the cover. The Holy Grail War wouldn't give her all the attention she needed.

"Already did. Good luck with your summoning. Remember go big or go home." Her mother said before hanging up the phone.

Arisa took out her phone, and took a picture of the summoning set-up. She had the magic circle drawn in chalk on a DIY project she did with a mirror, and chalk board spray. The had a relic set up in the middle of the circle. She doesn't know what they relic is, all she knows is that her mother brought it from a collector in Europe. She then used the messaging app to send it to her mother. 'It's all ready!;)' She wrote in the text box before sending it to her mother.

She put away her phone into the back pocket of her blue jeans, and stretched out her hands. "Okay. Time to get this show on the road."​
 
[Mankur Nakir; Paciencia Town; Hotel]

Mankur sighed as he recalled the tumultuous trip to La Mancha. It was not one distinguished by any real impediments, but one that required ample usage of basic trances and suggestions in order to prevent questionings and searches by authorities. He could not blame these American authorities though, as Mankur's intimidating brawn and ethnicity presented an impressionable image of a potential threat to security. Perhaps he should not have undergone the burden of attempting to enter this fanciful ritual, as he himself had to admit his wish was inane and intolerant to pragmatism when assessed with the ultimate value of life. Yet the thrill of such a novel prospect allured Mankur, scintillating an allure unable to be grasped by mere jobs as an enforcer. The whole romanticism of the ordeal was quite the compelling motivator. Surely the chance to witness a heroic spirit of old alive and at its prime was to be a superb sight to intake. The entire setting of a battle royale and the threats of death were mere nuances compared to the poetry of the event to Mankur's mind, and so there was no reason to refuse participation in the ritual. All throughout his life, Mankur led an ephemeral existence grasping at fleeting enjoyments and indulging in luxuries. A continued existence of debauchery had eventually worn down on Mankur, and now he sought the thrill of the extreme to quell his ardent fervor for entertainment. All this was not to say he lacked any sense of duty, and indeed Mankur did possess some sort of ideal and resolution to elevate his family's name. Perhaps such a goal would have been more impressionable had Mankur's nature been different, but as it was now, the outward thrill of the present appealed more so than future aspiration.

The hotel room that Mankur had booked was quite expansive, decorated with ornate wooden furniture and spotless clean marble and rug floors. A fine hotel, possibly the best of what La Mancha had to offer in any case. After inspecting the room and deeming it to his satisfaction, Mankur laid down his luggage which consisted of two sturdy metal suitcases and one massive rectangular clay container strapped to Mankur's back. The luggage was rather bare for the most part, consisting mainly of changes in clothes and his general equipment. Mankur sat down heavily on the king size bed placed on the corner of the room. The bed creaked and groaned before adjusting itself to Mankur's weight. The room had a sharp earthy smell to it. It was a pleasing smell, reminding Mankur of cedar wood with hints of natural earthen pungency beneath. Opposite to where Mankur was sitting stood a screen glass door leading to a viewing balcony which laid bare the beautiful cityscape of the Paciencia suburbs, illuminated by a sheen of vibrant sunlight. And now there was the servant summoning to attend to. But first, Mankur needed to attune himself to a calmer state where he was more capable of focusing. In order to accomplish such a task, he would have to feel the winds caress over his body, which was currently being restricted by the pink floral pattern Hawaiian shirt and khaki trousers attire that he donned.

Mankur pulled irritably at the collar of the suit, obviously unused to the stifling attire even when it would be considered attire for maximizing comfort. It had bothered him all throughout the arduous plane ride from his home country to America, and then had continued to scathe at his comfort from the moment he landed to the present. Such heavy covering was a foreign concept to Mankur, and though he occasionally had to wear "normal" attire, in all such occasions he felt restricted, as if some invisible force was slowly squeezing his air intake. A smile of eagerness spread across Mankur's chiseled face as he walked out the room and began the ascent up to the roof of the hotel where he would summon his servant. When he reached the roof, the wind flew by him in smooth, gentle ripples, muffled by his clothes. Mankur could wait no longer to receive the blessing of the wind, and with a swift motion, ripped apart his shirt. He quickly tore apart his trousers immediately afterwards, letting the large scraps of cloth drop heavily on the cement ground of the roof. Now Mankur was finally in his natural state, feeling the unparalleled wonder of a light breeze swirling around his skin. He was almost completely naked before the sun, with but his standard loincloth left to cover for a bare sense of human decency. The sun's rays illuminated his skin in a radiant shade of gold. Golden ear rings, armbands, and head wear glittered in the sun, generously adding their share of majesty to Mankur's form, as if shrouding him in an aura of glittering sparkles.

It was utterly sublime. The wind that streaked past almost every inch of Mankur's skin, the light and comforting warmth of the sun, and the vast canvas of cityscape that La Mancha heralded all swirled together into a harmonious vision of excellence. Mankur thrust out his arms towards the sun, his massive, rippling muscles flexing as he struck a magnificent pose by extending his legs forward like a half leg split while arching his back at a near impossible angle, as if he was being swayed by the splendor of the sun. He stayed in this pose for a minute or two, feeling the contrasting but complementary comforts of cool wind and heating sunlight in perfect balance. His complexion was calm and enriched with ecstasy, eyes closed in near reverence and a light smile expressing heartfelt wonder.

>>>>>SKIP 30 MINUTES BECAUSE I'M LAZY<<<<<<

Mankur was finished with the preparations. The summoning circle lay ready and all that was required now was a simple chant. A distinct feeling of wonderful excitement welled up within Mankur as he anticipated the honor he was to be bestowed. Mankur stowed away any superfluous thoughts before flowing out the chant for the summoning with a deep but crystal clear voice lacking in power but characterized with firmness,
"Silver and iron to the origin.
Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.
Let the descending winds become a wall.
Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.
Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
—Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate (doom) rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!
—I make my oath here.
I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings,
O keeper of the balance—!"
The summoning circle burst into a shower of light that overpowered even the brilliant rays of the sun around it, swallowing Mankur as he began to perceive the form of his servant.

______________
@YuriLucien​
 
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[Aaron White, Abandoned mansion, La Mancha outskirts]

Aaron put down the Katana in the center of the circle. He muttered something in Latin, and cut his hand, dropping Blood into the circle. He winced from the pain, and even let out an ungodly scream. Aaron pulled up the hood on his robe. He felt like a generic TV Satanist. Aaron stared up at the large picture of a man with Mutton Chops, and a Confederate General style mustache. Aaron felt really goofy, considering this was the type of person he typically used to hunt. He heard laughing and a door open in the entrance hall. Aaron knew they weren't ghosts. He had done every religion's ritual's to get rid of ghosts and demons and spirits, Heck, he even used an Atheist Science textbook to prove they didn't exist. Aaron started chanting in broken Japanese, and then that's when the door opened. It was two teenage girls, and two boys. Aaron felt really awkward. Here he was in a supposedly haunted house, performing a ritual that looked like a Satanist ritual, trying to summon something that for all he knew was a demon. One girl was a brunette, the other a Blonde. The boys seemed to be football players. They all looked at each other for a moment, and Aaron pulled down his hood, and ruffled his hair.
"So, uh, you just gonna stand there? or?" Aaron said. "I'm not a cultist of any kind. I'm just doing something for my boss." Yeah, it was the biggest BS ever, but who cared. he would probably be arrested.

The Blonde girl stepped forward. "Please don't hurt us! We're only kids!" She said. "Please!"

"Leslie, Come back!" One of the boys motioned.

"You guys should go, but don't talk about ANYTHING you saw here!" Aaron shouted. "Go, now."

They nodded, and left the building. Aaron muttered
""Silver and iron to the origin.
Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.
Let the descending winds become a wall.
Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.
Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
—Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate (doom) rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!
—I make my oath here.
I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings,
O keeper of the balance." Aaron cut himself again. he winced.
" Yamato Takeru, Please help me gain my wish. I summon thee!" With that, there was a large blast of light, and there stood a figure.
 
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[Pythagoras, Lighthouse Interior Top Floor, North Point Lighthouse]

...what?

Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable. No, no, it was not unbelievable given that he had long since calculated this, but witnessing it was still repulsive. Were the magi of this degenerate age really so foolish? So shortsighted, so forgetful, that they could not even think to disguise themselves? "Gods, the common man of my age may have been a fool, but this is leagues beyond that." He muttered to himself, before raising his voice slightly as though he was speaking to another. "I may be sending you out for offensive reasons sooner than expected, if this sets some form of precedent for things to come."

Summoning in daylight, with other humans around and without investigating to ensure he was alone? Not even remembering to establish a Bounded Field to conceal the ritual? Pythagoras could not believe the boy's rashness. And so, with that in mind...

Link established. Reduction to numerical values formed. Foundation accessed. Checksum verified.

The process took a mere "instant". As to what would be its result...that would be seen in due time. It was certainly no harsh punishment given how early in the war it was, but it was no slap on the wrist.
 
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[Charles, The Island, La Mancha Central Park] @NRVNQSR

Charles was stock still as he sat in a tree, watching people go about their day through the lens of his camera. He was waiting for the assistants his father gave him to finish laying out the basic circle in the bounded field he had created just a little ways away in a corpse of trees, hiding the preparations from view. To pass the time, he ad sought to take picture of the populace of this town, but so far no interesting subjects had come up, just boring run of the mill people. A ding from his phone alerted Charles that the Circle was ready, so he hopped down from the tree. Not caring if anyone saw him because no one could. He was using a mental interference spell, thus anyone that looked in his direction would unconsciously skip over him, as if he wash;t even their. It was a useful spell for avoiding the attention of non-magus, as well as for staking out areas for long periods of time in order to get a good shot.

He set a good pace for the area where the ritual would take place, excitement rushing through his veins as he thought about what was soon to come, a battle royale like nothing he's ever seen before, where the sprits of long dead heroes would rise to fight once more. Just the thought of all that was possible got his blood pumping, adrenaline racing, and heart rate seemed to triple. He never felt more alive then when he was faced with something that was actually challenging, it was also for that very reason that he wasn't using a relic to summon his Servant. He didn't care who he got, or how much of an advantage or disadvantage it put him in, in fact, he wanted to get a servant that would disadvantage him a bit. It would only make the war that much more fun.

He stepped into the bounded field, and after walking a ways in, found his two assistants, Mary and Jane, each holding a camera in their hands pointed towards the summoning circle placed in the middle of the circle. He had bought them yesterday while looking around the downtown area, they weren't the best of camera but were still pretty good. He'd been in the town for about a week now, prepping for the war by getting a base of operations, a hotel on the island, and taking note of where the leylines were. He was also interested in seeing a concert showing soon by some idol, he forgot the name, but he didn't want to miss the opprotunity to catch some pics of something interesting.

But enough of that, the big moment was at hand. With a wide smile on his face he stood in front of the circle, hand out as spoke the Aria.

"Silver and iron to the origin.
Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.
Let the descending winds become a wall.
Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.
Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
—Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate (doom) rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!
—I make my oath here.
I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings,
O keeper of the balance!"
​
As he spoke the words of summoning, the circle began to glow with great intensity, a ringing sound emanating from the circle as beam of light blast upwards, momentarily blinding Charles and his assistants as they sought to cover their eyes. When the light began to die down, and Charles vision returned, he brought his hand down to behold the Heroic Spirit he would have command over.

"Hello, my Servant, My name is Charles Dorvain, and I am your Master for this Holy Grail War. May we know victory in the end of this battle, but if not, then may it be a time of great excitement and glory for the both of us."

[Saber,Abandoned Mansion, La Mancha Outskirts] @The Silver Paladin

As the light died down, a tall figure stepped forward only stopping when he was right in front of Aaron. Decked in an intimidating garb of Samurai armor, complete with a fanged face mask, the only thing visible about the man were his piercing grey eyes, which seem to stare right through the other man eyes, gazing into his soul. For a moment, there was nothing, then the samurai gave Aaron a small bow, indicating he recognized him as his master, but also telling that he had yet to accept him as such.

One he had risen from the bow, he moved past his Master to close the doors to the mansion, before taking a seat on some ruined furniture, which groaned under his weight. He removed his helmet to show the face of a handsome looking young man, and spoke to his master, his voice somewhat deep and holding a lack of any respect for the man before him.

"I must say that I expected a bit more from a Master, but I guess beggars can't be choosers. Who knows, you might actually be somewhat skilled, though I can't say I'm too hopeful on that front."​
 
[Saisha I. Nazari, Higher Ground Entrance, Paciencia Mine]
​
"Step 1: Finding an isolated place for the summoning."

Far away enough from the bustling town to carry out the ritual and other things uninterrupted, but still close enough, so that it wouldn't become a great inconvenience, if she ever needed to go there. The mine system would also proof useful later on, in more than one way, but first things first, Saisha still had to prepare the summoning after all.

"Check. Step 2: Erecting a bounded field."

She had arrived in La Mancha this morning by plane and after announcing her participation to the moderator at the local church, Saisha had managed to make her way to the upper entrance of the abandoned mine at which point it was already past one in the afternoon. After checking for any travelers, she had then proceeded to create a simple bounded field, to avoid getting noticed later on from further away. Greater rituals had the habit of being flashy.

"Check. Step 3: Drawing the summoning circle."

The unprepared magus would have to hunt for some wild animals or buy them in a store, in order to get their blood. The crude ones would get the same from the next person who happened to walk past them. Saisha however was neither, so she detached the vials filled with blood from her belt and started to paint the red magic circle on the ground. A few minutes later she was done and went on to the most important part.

"Check. Step 4: Summoning the Servant."

She carefully pulled out the last gift her master had presented her with and put it down in the middle of the circle. To any ordinary person it just looked like a chip of wood, but anyone who knew of the workings of a Holy Grail War would understand that it was a catalyst to summon a specific heroic spirit. Where exactly the splinter had been from, her master did not tell her, that was just how he was, but Saisha was confident that it would grant her the means to achieve her goals either way. Holding out her right hand, she started with the incantation.
​

"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let my great master Schweinorg be the ancestor.
Raise a wall, against the wind that shall fall. Close the four cardinal gates.
Come out from the crown.
Rotate the three-branched road reaching the Kingdom.
Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Let each be turned over five times, simply breaking asunder the fulfilled time.
I shall declare here. Your body shall serve under me.
My fate shall be with your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
If you will submit to this will and this reason…… then answer!
An oath shall be sworn here!
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, Protector of the Balance!"
​
The further she got with the incantation, the stronger the summoning circle started to shine, until it exploded in an arc of light when the last letter left her lips. Now the mystery her master had left her with would finally be revealed.

"Check."​
 
@Raijinslayer
[Rider,The Island, La Mancha Central Park]
Heracles stared down at the punitive man before him, a massive, pillar like figure standing firmly as the light and wind of the summoning slowly dissipated. He processed the swirl of information granted by the Grail, and assessed his situation before entering contemplation as to his future actions. Seven servants to fight and tear their way to a goal of a wish, seven heroic spirits of old given form. A true war among monsters it seemed this ritual was, and yet Heracles felt no trace of intimidation. He was firm in his skill and strength that had christened him as the greatest of the formidable Greek heroes. All that was to be laid bare was to witness the glory of fellow heroic spirits upon the crimson stained arena of combat. Whether the curtain of valor drew down upon such an arena was left to his opponents, and Heracles himself placed compunction behind the priority of shrewd rationality and pragmatism. The same mindset that had carried him through a lifetime of incredible turmoils and challenges, one that could not afford raw idealism and yet one that fostered a fortitude in nobility so as to define Heracles as a true hero. It seemed that the undertaking before Heracles this time would be quite a formidable one, but one to be rife with the splendor befit of heroes. But ruminating about upcoming battles so hazy and undefined was illogical, so Heracles began to inspect his master who was to be the first variable that fluctuated Heracles's rate of success.

Heracles's eye, of a dull and almost feral shade of yellow, gleaned information from outward appearance. The man's build was trained, exhibiting form in body that indicated a distinctive strength of physique. The calmness by which he conducted himself showed no traces of affected intent. His way of bearing was firm and confident, paced and practiced. The image of his master overall was quite positive, but Heracles instinctively sensed that he was no radiant star of perfection. Of course, Heracles had heard clearly his master's proclamation and greeting, but did not respond for several empty and still seconds, his gaze fixated on his master but engrossed in some other matter. Heracles inhaled a light breath, his barrel like chest shielded in rippling muscle inflating as air was taken. With his exhalation, Heracles responded, his voice uncharacteristically smooth and light in comparison to his fierce some and massive build that engendered a sense of raw power. It was a calm, steady voice that flowed like a stream of crystalline clear water, rolling and distinct but soothing and soft. A voice one would expect some great poet or story teller to have. But beneath such a voice lay a distinct edge underneath, a strength in the projection of voice that indicated a force of will and strength of character radiant among men.
"Greetings my master. I will be your servant Rider for this war."
A wry smile formed on Heracles's face as he spoke once more,
"A time of excitement and glory often cannot be married with victory. Whatever path you choose, of glory or victory, is ultimately decided upon your heart. And please, cease the formalities. Do not consider me an existence above yourself in any way, for as though you may address me in high terms I too address you as master. Battle is best taken to with kindred souls, not bound respect."​
 
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[Aaron, Abandoned Mansion, La Mancha outskirts.]

Aaron looked at the man.
"I understand sir. I am not to sure of myself Either." Aaron bowed in front of the great Japanese Emperor. "You don't even have to listen to me. Just take my mana." Aaron shut the door that the teenagers came through. He looked back up at the picture. "We should probably check in with the priest, and then check into my hotel." He picked up the bucket of water and threw it on the candles and chalk circle. He then bowed again and handed the man his sword. "It is an honor, sir."
 
[Saber, Abandoned Mansion, La Mancha outskirts]

Yamato could only stare at his Master in silence for a bit, before he suddenly burst into a fit of wild, boisterous laughter. He continued like this for a while, and when he finally calmed down, he snatched his blade away from the man before him, though he hesitated to call him that after his slightly pitiful display of submission. "Flattery will get you no-where with me, Master, but if you insist than I will take your mana for this war and pay your commands no mind. But really, to be so utterly cowed by one who is supposed to serve you, have you no sense of pride or honor." He took another look at the man before him, turning around with a snicker. "So be it, let us go to the church and see this priest. And be sure to pick up your spine on the way there, as I'm afraid that you've seemed to have left it somewhere, and I doubt you'll get very far in this war with out one." With that said he faded away, taking on his Spiritual body to better follow Aaron to he church, "And please try your best to refer to me as Saber from now on, as our enemies may spy on us from the shadows at any moment,so the less information they have on us, the better."

@The Silver Paladin

[Charles, The Island, La Mancha Central Park]

Charles could only look in wonder at the Servant he had summoned, it was as if the very definition of the words Warrior and Hero had materialized before him. Truly fate had seemed to bless him with a rather powerful servant for something summoned on the luck of the draw. He stood there, admiring him for a few moments longer with the eye of a seasoned photographer, when his servant spoke. 'Such a smooth and powerful voice, it seems so unfitting with his image, and yet, I could not imagine hearing it from anything else. Truly fascinating.'

"Rider, I believe this is the beginning of a very wonderful partnership, and let me say that it is an honor to be able to battle with one such as you. Now then, lets get down to business: Firstly, I would like for you to tell me your true name, as a matter of formality and because I summoned you with out a relic and thus have no idea who you maybe, Secondly, when we leave this area could you switch to your Spiritual body until I tell you otherwise, as you are rather conspicous if I say so myself, and Lastly, just stay still for a couple of minutes."

Quickly turning to his assistants, he made a motion for them to commence with the photo session, each taking a moment to walk around Rider, taking a pisture when ever they reached a good spot. Charles joined in as well, taking multiple pictures of the warrior in front of him from every angle, focus being on his face and profile. This continued on for a total of 10 minutes, before Charles snapped his fingers. Mary and Jane ceased the photo op and took to putting away the equipment in a orderly fashion. He did similar, and pointed at the grass in which the magic circle had been painted on. He pointed a finger at it dismissively, remembering that no evidence of the summoning should be left behind.

"Caesio" He whispered under his breath, and from his finger came a fast moving wave of air that barreled through the grass, effectively shredding it to pieces, before he chanted another spell, "Resorbeo", which sucked all of he grass shavings back to him, condensing it all into a little ball. He made a motion, and Jane gave him a lighter, which he used to light the ball in flames, disintegrating the grass shavings, and leaving little to no evidence of them being here. On the way out, he would use a similar procedure to get rid of the marks he had made on several trees to remove the bounded field he had placed over the area.

"Now then, since that's over with, lets go to my hotel Rider, where we can discuss what our immediate course of action should be."

@NRVNQSR
 
[Rider,The Island, La Mancha Central Park]
Heracles observed with curiosity his master's photography. He did not have the faintest clue as to what the mechanical contraption and its flashes, but sensed that it held some sort of importance to his master. Heracles stood as still as a statue until this comical occurrence ended, noting the absorbed complexion donning his master's face throughout the event. When all was said and done, Heracles witnessed his master utilizing his magecraft. It was simple magecraft, but the ease with which it was executed hinted that Charles was at least leagues beyond this simple menial task. The fact that his master was bold enough to enforce such a command did not irk or slight Heracles, instead being another hint of his master's character gleaned from careful observation. During life, it was not raw strength that forwarded Heracles, but rather it was his capacity for observation and subsequent adaptation that truly ensured his survival. Before the "assistants" could put away the cameras, Heracles reached forward and took one to inspect. The object was minute and exceedingly frail under Heracles's strength, and he returned the thing after a few moments of inspection. There was no logical reason to continue unraveling the enigma's mysteries as it had no bearing on the war itself, with only Heracles's curiosity to gain defeat. All he could confirm was that the object was a product of technology, and one that his master obviously enjoyed. If it had any ill bearing, Heracles would likely have sensed such and reacted accordingly. Turning to face Charles once more, Heracles replied to his master's preceding statements.
"My true name would be Heracles. A brave gander you took summoning without a catalyst but it seems that you have drawn a fine card. Spiritual form is what I am most comfortable with in this state as a spiritual body, as materializing me will tax upon your own mana reserves, so you have no need to remind me of such."
As Heracles's towering frame began to fade away, dissipating into the air, he left a small remark.
"Immediately starting with such a forceful command without even thinking that such might overstep your boundaries. You have indeed dropped all formalities."
Whether this mocking last comment engendered a threat or a recognition of audacity was up to Charles to decipher.​
 
[Aaron, Abandoned Mansion, La Mancha Outskirts.]

"Yes, sir, Saber!" Aaron said "We also need to get you some clothes that fit the times if there are spies. We'll stop by the store tomorrow." Aaron zipped his backpack. "Let's be off." Aaron got into the car. He drove down the windi road, and he pulled up to the Church. He knocked on the door.
"Father? It's Saber and his Master. May we come to check in?"
 
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[Marice Gottwald, La Mancha Airport, The Mainland]

Taking her first step into the city of La Mancha, the lone figure of a girl walks out onto the sidewalk and lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"My my, who would have thought it so troublesome to get a flying spear through airport security? Really..."

Somewhere in the back of her head, she silently curses herself for having never asked her Master of how to manipulate memories. It had always been a touchy subject with that man, and since she didn't think at the time that she would be leaving the mountains so soon, she hadn't had time to fill in the gaps in her learning.

A few steps behind her, a blonde, middle-aged man tentatively approaches her back, eyeing the spear on her shoulder warily. He clears his voice and begins to speak, but is immediately cut off-

"Ah, don't worry! I'm not suspicious at all~!" she explains, as she turns towards him to reveal a cool, reassuring smile. For emphasis, she gives a stylish thumbs up, indicating that everything was indeed completely okay.

With this extremely subtle gesture, she begins to walk off into the street, idly resting her spear on her shoulder. It had only been moments since she had disembarked from the plane, and she was already filled to the brim with anticipation for the coming battle.

Of course, she would have to summon a Servant first.

So, she heads in the direction of the Lighthouse she had seen on the way here. She didn't know much of anything about this city, besides that it was warm, and American. Now, she would be fighting here, and against Magi at that. How exciting, she thinks to herself calmly.

Of course, she wasn't really here for the excitement, mostly just because it sounded like a cool idea. And for that reason entirely, she had left the safety of her mountaintop shack, and travelled all the way across the Pacific to find herself here on the very day the war began. There was no preparation time, no overarching strategy in her mind.

I'll just have to wing it then, I guess! It shouldn't be too hard~

...

[La Mancha Airport > North Point Lighthouse]

...

"That was... a little further than I thought."

Now standing possibly the furthest away she could have possibly gone from the La Mancha Airport, without hitting the water, Marice couldn't help but stare at the great phallic structure in awe. She had never actually seen a building like this before, first hand, and was surprised to see just how big it was for herself.

Stilling her thoughts and letting her consciousness probe out into her surroundings, she finds them a bit... different, from the usual enviroment at least. However, the feeling was so vague, so barely out of place, that she payed it little notice for the time being.

"Hmm..."

Cupping her hands in front of her mouth, she casually calls out in the general direction of the nearby lighthouse,

"Hellooooo~? Is anybody there?"
 
[Pythagoras, Lighthouse Interior Top Floor, North Point Lighthouse]

Mathematics was a shorthand for reality itself. In that sense, everything could be reduced to numbers.

The Servants were composed out of "information", so too were their illusory proofs of heroism. The records, the world, everything was reducible to numbers. With the right sequence of them, it was possible to simulate anything.

After all, for that magnificent crystal which is the eye and mind of God, dwelling in a different universe, this needs to be the case. It reduces everything to base numerical values, from magecraft routines to human souls, and then executes those equations. The cell where the light of heavenly fire is imprisoned, a memory bank that converts light into an immaterial memory storage medium to store total disclosive data.

This was the fundament of Heroic Spirit Pythagoras. No matter what it was, it could be reduced to numbers, and so it would be. Pythagoras's own existence could be reduced to a set of equations in that sense. One set composed each of his parameters. One set composed each of his Class Skills. One for each personal skill. One for his Noble Phantasm, and so on. All of these equations were in turn made of component equations that stood on their own, and all of these also formed a holistic equation between each other, that of Pythagoras himself.

The future was set. Yes, even if absolute fate could be overturned and prediction brought to its knees, it mattered not in this war.

It would seem that some Servants had already been summoned. And out of those ones summoned thus far...

Ah yes, wonderful. Wonderful indeed.

"Numeric foundation accessed. Pure information structure recognized. Executing phenomenological alteration."

Yes, like a character in a book, the ending already decided. Seeing its end but unable to hasten the pace, that was the basis of this war. A single pulse of prana flowed through his being, a herald to the beginning of the war.

That "fucking nerd" skill of his was really doing some heavy lifting, neh?

Regardless, as was conventional, the presence of the one who had just arrived was anticipated and predicted prior to the arrival. Even before the sigils emblazoned on his body had begun to burn, and before she had entered his areas of innate observation, these predictions had been made. Such is the power of math, or something. That however was not worth his regard ordinarily. In this particular instance though, for this particular being with this particular nature...her arrival could be considered more useful than the cumulative power of four Servants. However...

-The existence that had arrived was a girl.

Pythagoras was not good with girls. That is why he had his equations.

Welp, wingin' it. And so, still hiding inside the lighthouse, the mathematician's voice echoed out.

"Anybody is here, yes."

Tactical.

Fuckin'.

Genius.
 
[William Wallace, a clearing, The Wilderness]

William Wllace came out of the flash of light. He wore a kilt, and a banded armor breastplate. One half of his face was covered in blue paint, and he had a wild look. On his back was a double edged sword.
"Are you my master?" He kneeled in front of his master. "I am Sir William Wallace of Scotland. " The Scotsman drew Claymore. "For now, call me Berserker." The scot swung his sword a few times. "Still got it! Now, let us go where we need to go."

@RareSecret
 
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[Charles, The Island, La Mancha Central Park, @NRVNQSR ]

Charles only smirked as he heard Rider's comment, if he wished to be honored kin, then he should accept all the things that come with being put on an equal playing ground. He motioned for Mary and Jane to take the equipment as he walked to his hotel, which was right across the street from the park, contemplating on what he had learned. He had gotten the Rider Class Servant, not the strongest over all, but he could have gotten much worse. Of course, any Servant could be great if in the hands of the right master, and the same goes for the opposite. So far, he and Rider seemed to have reached an understanding and he only hoped that would last, but one could never know. Still, to think that the Heroic Spirit that had the best affinity to him would be Heracles, one of the most famous Heroes to ever exist, well, it certainly inflated his ego a tiny bit, though he quickly nipped that in the bud. Now was not the time to get a big head, know he had to form a plan. Once he got to his hotel room, he would create some familiars to look around both The Island and the Mainland for any odd activity. The focus points would be the town, the wilderness, the Light House, the mines, and the abandoned mansion.

While the town was where he assumed most would stay, thus why it was the only well populated place on his list, the rest were chosen because they were prime spots for summoning since they were usually deserted. He didn't expect to find much of anything, especially on the first day, but you never know when you might get lucky and it was best he set his network up now, it was something he should have done when he first arrived, but he hadn't really felt like it at the time. Oh well, better late than never.

A little while later, Charles was in his three room penthouse suite, actually on the balcony of it, looking over the city skyline. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of the sky, loving the feel of the wind on his face. He had already photographed the skyline many times before, but he just could nevr tire of seeing it. A wonderful sight, and the perfect thing to relax his mind, he was enjoying this moment of piece, cause he had a feeling he would soon be distracted by other things to enjoy it again. Once he was done, he went back inside, where he planned to set up a bounded field to make sure that his privacy was maintained. That was something he should have done while he had lazed away for a week, but oh well, he'd do it later after he and Rider had discussed strategy. From the balcony, he walked into his room, which doubled as his own personal study. It was rather spacious and well furnished, but Charles ignored that as he sat down on the bed.

"Now then, Rider, let's talk strategy and trade some information, shall we? You can stay in your Spirit form if you wish, though these types of talks are best done face to face. Since I summoned you based on luck of the draw, I have no idea what your abilities may be, other than your basic class ones anyway, so please enlighten me if you will. My abilities are rather simple, I have a near mastery of Wind magic, which I gave you a small demonstration of when I removed the evidence of your summoning, and Mental Interference magic, specializing in attacking the mind of my opponent. I'm a mid to Close range fighter, with a focus on getting close after my enemy is properly disabled by Mental Interference and then eviscerating them with Wind Magic up close. I have to say my only weakness is long range fighter's, though Wind Magic does help me in with my range defenses some what."

After finishing his explanation, Charles waited patiently for Rider to respond, laying back on the bed and allowing himself to sink into it's comforts.
 
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[La Mancha, Habor]
​
Not being the type to come unprepared, the woman had worn her bikini underneath her short leather skirt and red halter-top. Her sandals had a slight heel and laced halfway up her calf. She kept her hair braided but a part of her wanted to uncoil it and let the breeze have its way. The port filled her senses with salt and wood. After landing in La Macha airport early that morning, the first thing she had done was wandered around. She let her toes soak in sand and water before making her way to the port. The beautiful island was a nice change from the cold, wintery Russia. She had been there, working on spells for Belphegor. While Russia was beautiful as well, having the sun against her skin and ocean brush her feet, was all too sensational. After having lunch, which was scrumptious crab, scallop and garlic dish, she made her way to the mainland. Finding a good summoning location was the only thing on her mind. As she continued to search, the heat made the leather skirt cling to her hips and legs most uncomfortably. She would have to inch her skirt down every few yards.

A large groups of tourists passed her, a few of the gentlemen whistled as they went by. She ignored the gesture but perked up her ears, listening to the tour guide. The group was headed for the La Mancha Underground: apparently a vast series of passages and tunnels. The place appeared to be a hot-spot—and a great place to summon. It would be so obvious that it just might work.

[La Mancha, Underground]​


She stalked the tour group up until they entered the safest way in. The tour guide teased the visitors by saying there were secret entrances that led to haunted caverns. Ryudia smiled and parted ways, staying discreet. She rolled her shoulder. Her bag of make-up and shoes was getting uncomfortable, in spite of her uncanny strength. Belphegor, of course, was not. He could never be heavy for her.
A part of her would joke, thinking that if she never found a man who could make her submit that she would just marry Belphegor. After all, the two of them made a deadly team.
Above the old corridors, Ryudia carefully traced and followed the manholes. Finally, just as sunset was upon her, she stumbled across an old building. She tilted her head, tip of her braid grazing her calves. She entered swiftly and found the elevator. The building was fairly empty and she wound up riding to the basement level by herself. There were several doors, most locked. It was in the far left corner that she found what she was looking for: a floor hatch covered in rusted chains and locks. She could use Belphegor to destroy the chains, but her strength was surely enough to do the trick. Her slender hands grabbed the rusted, old metal, she gritted her teeth, and pulled snapping the metal.
"Wheew," She breathed out a little before propping the trap door open. Rot, feces, mold and Heaven knows what else burned up into her nostrils violently. She reeled back as bile shot up into her throat. She covered her nose and mouth, glaring at the pitch-black void. She was out of time so this was it.
"Nut-up or shut-up," she convinced herself, took two deep breathes and gripped the edge, legs flipping into the tunnel. Her sandals found the slick ladder steps, next she carefully pulled the hatch door back over the hole. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed harshly. She pressed a shoulder against her ear, grimacing.
Physical strength did not imply coordination, and the woman slipped nearly five times as she crawled into the putrid place. When Ryudia landed, sewer water flooded between her toes and she gagged, "And these weren't cheap!" It wouldn't be use to start the summoning so close to her exit. "No smart animal craps where it sleeps…" She held her mouth still.
It took half an hour of slushing through grotesque fluids, some spots very chunky, for her to find a tunnel where there were no manholes in a five hundred foot radius and a dry space for her magic circles.
Just as she got onto her knees to begin her summoning art, a rat scrambled past her squeaking incessantly. Ryudia dropped her chalk with a muted scream, hands flung to either side of her face. The little vermin trotted into the darkness.
"You're being pathetic…" she scolded herself and grabbed the chalk. Her arms, nor her fingers nor wrist, drove her body forward and around, summoning design spilling from her like a creature possessed. She left hand withdrew Belphegor and slide along the tips of her fingers. She kissed the seeping tips and proceeded to retrace her circle with blood. Her heart spoke, mind closed off.

"Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.
Let the descending winds become a wall. Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.
Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!
—Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate (doom) rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!
—I make my oath here.
I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.
Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings,
O keeper of the balance—!"​

Her lips puckered against the ground as light pulsed high and strong from the circle. She sat with her back pressed straight, "Come forth, my Servant!" The energy sent shivers up her spine.

 
[Avenger, Pacienda Town, Hotel Roof]​

The swirling power had the Servant's thick, dark braid flying about like a snake snapping at its victims. Bronze skin curved over muscles. A thin series of bangs covered one of his piercing eyes. The ancient spirit wore armor and clothes from the prime of his time along with gold, bronze, gem and jade jewelry, from bracelets to earrings to necklaces and much more. On his lower stomach was what appeared to be a tattoo—but was not. It was stain upon his flesh. His posture was seamless, back straight, shoulders high.
Avenger's eyes were adorned with black liner and at the edges, decorative gem stones. His face was structured with high cheek bones and fairly thin jaw, lips thin and pulled down. The man's nose was the perfect blend of strong and lean.
He knew why he had been summoned. Avenger smirked, his strong hand white-knuckled his crescent sword. The only question he had for his Master was could he handle what was in store for them? A weak Master would serve him none.
Once the light faded and Avenger laid eyes on his Master, he stepped forward, maintaining eye contact. He did not have to look the man up and down to take in his immense structure. Mankur resembled something of legend, and that pleased him, although he expressed it none. The summoner's lack of clothing, also, did not shock Avenger in the least. As it happened, Avenger only wore jewelry and a highly ornate dhoti. The Servant did not bow but rather spoke loud and authoritatively, "You have summoned me. What is it you wish, my Master?"
The title alone made Avenger's skin crawl. The idea of being beneath another soul did not leave a good taste in his mouth. His hair brushed against his bare back. In the corners of his eyes he summed up a good deal of his surroundings. Seeing the clouds so close reminded him of venturing up to the heavens, and that made him scoff on the inside. Mankind had no idea what was in store for them. His idea of a "perfect world" was already molding in his mind.

 
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