How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

[JustNewGuy]

Someone get the Hulk here, we have a puny god to smash.

 

[Ashborn]

not sure what you mean.

Click to shrink...

Right, allow me to explain then.
=
Firstly, Shirou is a practitioner of a nigh-suicidal art known as circuit forging, where said practitioner converts their flesh, nerves, etc, into magic circuits. He manages to survive doing so on a daily, or close enough, basis due to having Avalon within himself and being able to heal off the negative effects of doing so, something which would be even more effective in the presence of Saber during the war.

Secondly, the only reason why his nerve-circuits degrade and have to be re-forged between uses, is due to their existence lacking a foundation, something necessary to avoid them being eroded by Gaia. Natural Circuits are linked to a magus' soul as their foundation, while inherited ones, mostly in the form of magic crests, are built upon a foundation consisting of an artifact and/or magical entity, etc, which acts as an anchor and keystone upon which to build the crest itself.

Thirdly, Shirou learns EMIYA's magecraft over the course of the war, and also catalyzes the development of his own Reality Marble by fighting him.

Fourthly, Shirou is capable of both internally deploying his Reality Marble, as well as altering the forms of the swords traced from it, which are themselves projections of the blades which are both contained within and a part of his Unlimited Blade Works.

Fifthly, Shirou is capable of recording more than swords within his Unlimited Blade Works, something primarily exhibited by his use of Rho Aias, but which also includes spears.

Sixthly, Saber has memories of the previous Grail War, where she fought Diarmuid, who wielded Gáe Buidhe: The Yellow Rose of Mortality, which causes wounds which cannot be healed.
-
Now, Shirou probably doesn't need everything on this list to pull this off, but basically it should be well within his EMIYA-enhanced capabilities to perform alteration on his nerves (, which is how he forges them into pseudo-circuits in the first place,) and have them take on the attributes of the swords within his Reality Marble by Tracing their properties across, linking them to his Unlimited Blade Works in the process, and preventing their degradation as a result.

It is proven that such a thing would work due to how his weapons within his Reality Marble function, costing nothing to manifest initially when said Marble itself manifests, yet still costing power to replace. Given Nasuverse mechanics as a whole? Said weapons are connected to and passively drawing power from the Root, especially the Noble Phantasms which are recorded in the subsection of the Root known as the Throne of Heroes as distinct concepts associated with the legends of their wielders. This in turn means that using them as the foundation of his circuits would have them passively channel Od in the same manner, reinforcing their existence and preventing degradation due to Gaia.

If that somehow failed? Have him share a dream cycle with Saber regarding the last Grail War and her battles with Diarmuid, obtaining Gáe Buidhe as a result. Then have him use Gáe Buidhe as a basis for a circuit, granting said circuit the properties of the spear it's derived from, then use the resulting curse-tainted Od to forge additional circuits, breaking the Buidhe-circuit as needed in order to let him heal via Avalon, before re-forging it and trying again until he does so without harming himself, thus allowing the curse to hold the new 'injuries' in place.

Given all of this and Shirou's ability to substitute for any crucial missing steps with a modicum of effort? Having Rin take him under her wing to 'fix' him has done a lot more harm then good, at least where his base attributes (such as circuit count) are concerned. At the very least, she should have helped him complete the half-finished art that Kiritsugu imparted on him, though to be fair she had no way of knowing of Kiritsugu's 'Severing & Binding' origin in order to guess his affinity with Shirou's 'Sword' one, and by extension little way to realize Shirou would strike it rich if he managed to stay and advance upon his current course.

 

[wryyyyy]

can i copy this and put it in the general nasu thread?

 

[Charles Flynn]

"And here we are, folks, the final round!" Loki cries out to his imaginary audience. "Now we get to watch as Attila the Hun, Bhima of the Pandavas, Hassan-i-Sabbah of the Cursed Arm," He takes a breath, "Richard the Lionheart, Gudrun of the Gjukungs, Signy and Sinfjotli of the Volsungs, and Erik Bloodaxe all duke it out for the Holy Grail! Only one can win!"

"Wait, Richard the Lionheart? That's who you picked for Cursed Arm's opponent?"

"Yeah, yeah. He was the best Crusades-themed Heroic Spirit I could find."

"Yeah, fair enough."

The screens fire up again, and they all display… Attila.

---​

He looks off into the distance for a moment, and then licks his finger and raises it up, as if testing the air. Then he takes off like a shot in a completely different direction.

I'm about to question what the hell he's doing when he rounds a corner and then socks an extremely surprised Bhima in the jaw.

"Bet you can't catch me!" the Scourge of God shouts, before running away in the opposite direction.

Bhima takes the bait, and the chase is on, Attila keeping in the lead and shouting insults at Bhima to keep his pursuer motivated.

---​

"What the Hell is he doing?" I ask, staring at the screen in blank confusion.

"Watch," Loki says, literally on the edge of his seat. "There's a method to his madness."

---​

Attila rounds a corner and comes face to face with a confused blond man.

"All right, partner!" Attila shouts, loud enough for Bhima to hear. "You hold him off while I get the others!"

"I-what?" the man I'm assuming is Richard the Lionheart stammers.

"SO, YOU STAND WITH THE COWARD!" Bhima roars, smashing through the corner and almost dashing in Richard's skull. "YOU WILL DIE ALL THE SAME, BE THERE TWO, TWENTY, OR TWO HUNDRED OF YOU!"

"Wait, no, I'm not-"

Whatever else Richard has to say is lost as Attila rounds another corner, and the duel he set off between his enemies passes out of sight.

Then, he changes direction, unerringly making his way towards some target that I can't figure out.

Down a block, turn right, go straight, and then…

He skids to a stop in front of Sinfjotli and Signy, who're both leveling weapons at him.

"Well, good thing that I found you guys in time!" he calls cheerfully, acting like he doesn't have a care in the world, with no regard for the swords pointed his way. "I want to discuss a team-up!"

Signy pauses, as if considering the prospects, and then looks him in the eye. "Start talking."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, Bhima of the Pandavas is here, and I don't fancy any of us Age of Man Heroic Spirits against a legendary warrior from the strongest family of the Age of the Gods."

Signy's face turns icy. "We are from the Age of the Gods."

"Well, yeah," Attila says, effortlessly adopting the mannerisms of the reluctant bearer of bad news. "But, you know how everybody talks, and…"

"They think us weaker than the Pandavas?" Signy screeches, while Sinfjotli seems torn between outrage at his family's honor being impugned and fear of his mother.

"Your words, not mine. Anyways, I'm banding the strongest of us normal Heroic Spirits together to take down Bhima, but I understand if you're too scared to join. I mean, you're a woman, and Sinfjotli is the son of King Siggeir. Running from battle would be understandable."

Signy catches herself mid screech of fury, barely pulling herself together. "No. No. I'm not going don't trust you, you're obviously playing us, and…"

"You're avoiding a fight?" Attila asks incredulously, before uttering his six-word coup de grace. "Are you sure you're a Volsung?"

Signy and Sinfjotli freeze. There it is. The six words no man woman or child of the line of Volsung could ever resist. Signy raises her hand. "Sinfjotli."

"Yes, Mother?"

"Don your pelt. We're joining him."

"As you command, Mother." He draws forth a ring from his pocket and slips it onto his finger. "ULFSERKER: FLESH OF FENRIR!"

His skin, starting at the ring finger, peels back, and silver fur, the same color as his hair, creeps up his arms, while his bones crack and shudder, bending into new, strange shapes. And then, where once stood a man, there stands a wolf the size of a Volkswagen.

"Right, this way!" Attila calls out, and they charge back towards the fight between Richard and Bhima.

---​

To his credit, Richard the Lionheart has been holding out well against Bhima.

"EXCALIBUR!" The golden beam of power pours forth from a broken piece of rebar, and slams into Bhima.

The wrestler of the Pandavas falls to his knees, but doesn't seem to be severely injured.

"Impressive, man of the East!" Richard calls out, picking up another sword. "But no matter your strength, or your durability, no amount of guts will let you beat me. Why haven't you used your Noble Phantasm yet?"

Richard dances forwards, ready to finish his foeman off. But he takes just one step too close.

Bhima's hand wraps tight around one leg, and I can hear the crunch of bone. "Because, upstart, unlike you, I need no crutches."

Richard tries to break away, but it's in vain. The strongest of the Pandavas has him by the leg, and he won't let go.

And now that he's got a proper hold on his opponent, Bhima finally starts to get some proper hits in, and unlike Richard, he can make his hits stick. He stands up to his full height, his left hand seizing Richard's sword arm and squeezing, and I hear an unpleasant squelch from the arm as Bhima, finally having properly seized his opponent, raises him up over his knee, ready to break his back.

"Goodbye mosquito. You were an annoying opponent to face, if not a particularly memorable one."

And that, of course, is when more than three hundred pounds of wolf slam into Bhima from behind, forcing him to drop his crippled opponent in order to deal with the Demonic Beast gnawing on the back of his head.

"Great job holding him, Rick!" Attila calls cheerfully, even as Sinfjotli and Bhima stagger every which way, locked in a life-or-death struggle between man and beast. "I honestly didn't think you'd live that long!"

"It's… Richard…" the Crusader King groans.

"Sure. Let me guess, you had him on the ropes with your speed before you got cocky and he turned your left kneecap into a paste?" Attila asks, while nonchalantly sticking out a leg like he's doing a lunge.

"How did you…"

"I'm very observant." Attila smirks as Bhima, still blinded by the wolf currently mauling him, trips over the Hun's extended leg. "For instance, I can see that the other three of our merry band, yeah, looking at you, Cursed Arm, Gudrun, and Erik, are hiding there, there, and there." He points, and they drop their concealment to glare at him. "Way to not help out, guys!"

"How did you know?" Cursed Arm asks conversationally.

"You guys couldn't properly blend the ripple effect in the local background mana levels caused by your increased spiritron density." He looks nonplussed by the blank looks he's getting. "What? You guys can't see those?"

As Bhima struggles against Sinfjotli, Attila, without missing a beat, drives the Sword of Mars into the wrestler's chest. Where Richard's false Excalibur failed, the Divine Contruct, driven home by Attila's strength, pierces Bhima's Spirt Core.

"Right then!" Attila smiles as he pulls his sword free. "Truce over."

And like lightning, Attila tosses Richard into the jaws of the lunging Sinfjotli, stuffing the werewolf's mouth shut as he leaps towards him, and then sidesteps the lunge. And as Sinfjotli chokes, Attila leaps onto his back, and rides the wolf like a bucking bronco, effortlessly dodging the attacks launched at him by every other surviving participant in this farce of a Grail War as he does so.

Finally, the wolf stills, bent to the will and Riding skill of its rider, and Attila stands tall and proud, easily deflecting another thrown dirk from Cursed Arm.

"Now then," Attila says, smiling as he surveys his opponents. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Attila the Hun."

He raises his sword to the heavens, and they come. His Hunnic hordes. No. His true Noble Phantasm. And they roar his name as one.

"And you have sinned greatly, to have earned a punishment such as me."

He levels his sword at his enemies, and, as one, the Huns attack.

 

[FourthPear]

God damn, why couldn't canon Altera be this dope?

 

[Darko]

Ahh Attila, a warrior version of Grant Morrison.

Both are crazy, but still extremely good at what they do, and we love them for it.

God damn, why couldn't canon Altera be this dope?

Click to shrink...

Because animes need to change the characteristics of historical characters for various reasons, mostly for the lulz.

Also containing this much crazy, awesome, insane madness may have been difficult.

 

[FourthPear]

Ahh Attila, a warrior version of Grant Morrison.

Both are crazy, but still extremely good at what they do, and we love them for it.



Because animes need loli's, no matter how ridiculous the measures they take are.

Click to shrink...

...she's...not a loli?

 

[Darko]

...she's...not a loli?

Click to shrink...

Ehh, fairly short and skinny girl, so it's easy to make a comparison to a loli.

Still she's possibly the tallest loli in anime.

 

[FourthPear]

Ehh, fairly short and skinny girl, so it's easy to make a comparison to a loli.

Still she's possibly the tallest loli in anime.

Click to shrink...

That's because she is a full grown, if rather flat, woman. A teenager at least. That's not a loli in any sense of the word.

 

[Darko]

That's because she is a full grown, if rather flat, woman. A teenager at least. That's not a loli in any sense of the word.

Click to shrink...

Okay, I'll change it to something else.

 

[Hammers_Bjorn]

I see.

Incredible. Fucker just fought against an entire Holy Grail worth of badasses, and while limiting his actual participation in the melee to the killing blow.

So whereas Altera in canon is like a sledgehammer to the face, great power without any real nuance in the approach, Attila is like a greatsword wielded by a bullshit-good swordsman like Kojiro.

There's power there, of course, but its tricky as all hell, and have a few suprises hidden away.

Altera is cute, but Attila's a Chad. Hell yeah.

 

[Ashborn]

can i copy this and put it in the general nasu thread?

Click to shrink...

Sure, go ahead

 

[Silver W. King]

can i copy this and put it in the general nasu thread?

Click to shrink...

Do you mean the Nasuverse ideas and discussion thread or somewhere else?

 

[wryyyyy]

Sure, go ahead

Click to shrink...

Do you mean the Nasuverse ideas and discussion thread or somewhere else?

Click to shrink...

meh, im abandoning that idea it will only create chaos

 

[Ashborn]

meh, im abandoning that idea it will only create chaos

Click to shrink...

But, but Chaos...

 

[Darko]

I see.

Incredible. Fucker just fought against an entire Holy Grail worth of badasses, and while limiting his actual participation in the melee to the killing blow.

So whereas Altera in canon is like a sledgehammer to the face, great power without any real nuance in the approach, Attila is like a greatsword wielded by a bullshit-good swordsman like Kojiro.

There's power there, of course, but its tricky as all hell, and have a few suprises hidden away.

Altera is cute, but Attila's a Chad. Hell yeah.

Click to shrink...

I must say, this version of Attila has become something akin to the Abridged versions of Nappa and Kirito.

I now find it difficult to think of canon Attila as being the true Attila.

Congratulations Charles Flynn, your changing of the character has earned him a special place in my heart, right next to Abridged Nappa and Kirito.

And I'm sure other readers of this wonderful story will agree.

 

[wryyyyy]

But, but Chaos...

Click to shrink...

hey, i think you should move your plan to spacebattles

 

[Charles Flynn]

The battle lines are quickly drawn, every Servant united in the face of the unstoppable juggernaut that was Attila.

"Buy me time, I have something that can kill him!" Signy shouts, and then she withdraws as the horde closes in.

"Is she running?" Erik asks incredulously, readying his axe.

"No." Gudrun unslings a spear and runs a Hun through. "She's a Volsung. They're always as good as their word. I should know, I married one." She steps back. "You lot delay, I'll set up a defensive line!"

Then she dashes back a few blocks to begin desperately carving runes.

"What is it with Volsung women and telling us to hold the line?" Erik muses, kicking in a Hun's kneecaps and then taking off the unfortunate fellow's head.

Cursed Arm, having disappeared while nobody was looking at him, pointedly doesn't respond.

Erik sighs. "Well, fuck my life. Death or glory it is." And then, as his muscles bulge, his horns grow, and his eyes glow red from the force of his fury, he utters but two words: "BLOODBATH CROOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWNN!"

He becomes a hurricane, a whirlwind of blood, death, and fear as he carves his way through the ranks of his enemies, never once stopping, never once touched by fear. They die beneath his axe, and, pushing himself to the very limits of what he's capable of, he presses onwards, carving a bloody road five feet across through the ranks of the Huns, pointing straight towards Attila. And then, as his endurance flags, he comes before his goal, and brings down his axe with all the strength he can muster.

Attila parries it, easily deflecting the blow harmlessly to the right, and then ripostes, taking off the Bloodaxe King's head.

"You know," he says to Erik's headless corpse. "I'll never understand why you Northmen were always so enamored with battle-madness. In my experience, it just makes you an easy target. But still, A for effort." He looks around and finds that his Hunnic horde stopped its advance. "Okay, what the Hell, guys? We have one awesome fight, and everyone stops to watch?"

"ATTILA! ATTILA!" the horde of Huns chants with almost religious fervor.

"Right. Forgot. Braindead fanboys more focused on stroking my ego than actually following orders!" Attila snaps. "Really, it's almost like I never died."

He leans out of the way as one of Cursed Arm's dirks flies past his head. "Nice try. You gonna test your luck?"

Cursed Arm doesn't take the bait, so Attila shrugs, and then points his sword in the direction of Gudrun. "ALRIGHT YOU LAZY SCOUNDRELS, YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS! WE'RE MARCHING THATTAWAY, AND WE'LL RAPE, RAVAGE, AND RUIN ALL THAT STANDS AGAINST US!"

The Huns roar, and then charge, while Attila drives Sinfjotli on at a cautious lope, staying firmly in the middle of the horde.

Then they come to the wall of fire, with a fatigued Gudrun waiting on the other side.

"Stealing other women's tricks, now, are we?" Attila calls out from atop Sinfjotli.

"If it works, then it works," Gudrun says with a shrug. "And if I didn't have a habit of stealing from Brynnhildr, then you wouldn't have caught me on the rebound."

Their hands tighten around their weapons as they face off across the wall of flame.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to go over there and fight you myself," Attila says. "Wouldn't do to keep a lady waiting."

"Really?" she tilts her head coyly, ever-present smile still in full force. "The mighty Attila, coming to see little old me? I'm flattered."

"Oh, but what kind of husband doesn't visit with his wife?" Attila says, sheathing the Sword of Mars and holding out his hand. "SPEAR!"

One of his Huns passes him a cavalry lance, and he urges Sinfjotli forwards. Gudrun braces herself, her smile eager.

"Before we start, though," Attila says, twirling his lance. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" Gudrun asks, amused.

"For teaching me what it is to be human."

"…I beg your pardon?"

"Before I married you, I felt… nothing. Or rather I felt strangely. I couldn't quite connect with regular humans. There was just something… missing. I lacked a point of commonality, a Rosetta Stone, if you will." Attila takes a breath, and then he smiles. "And then I met you."

Gudrun raises an eyebrow.

"At our last feast together, when you told me that you'd killed our sons, and that they were the mystery meat in those delicious little hors d'ouevres you'd been serving me? For the first time in my life, I felt hatred! And when you barred the doors while I was too drunk to stand, and then set the whole building on fire? For the first time in my life, I felt fear!"

Gudrun's smile quivers slightly. "I'm… not sure I understand."

"You did what literal gods couldn't, you made me fear for my life! And suddenly, I had a point of reference! I had my Rosetta Stone for human nature! So, even while I was busy making sure you thought I'd died, meeting up with Bleda, and then invading Rome to get away from you, I knew that you'd given me something priceless." He pauses, and then looks her in the eye. "So, I guess that what I'm trying to say is… thank you. Thank you for teaching me hate. Thank you for teaching me fear. Thank you for teaching me humanity."

Gudrun laughs. "H-Happy to be of service!"

And then Attila urges Sinfjotli into a charge, and then, just as he draws up to the fire's edge, the Bastard Wolf of the Volsungs leaps. He clears the fire and bears his rider with him into Gudrun's domain.

The first three exchanges are like lightning. Sinfjotli almost moves faster than the eye can follow, and Attila is nearly his equal in agility. But Gudrun manages to keep up, as Attila's spear sparks off her shield.
It becomes a pattern, and I can almost see glimpses of the larger whole, from where the fight's participants are visible, instead of mere blurs of frenzied motion. Little snapshots between the clashes. Here Sinfjotli, low to the ground, snarling in tune with his equally savage rider, skidding to a halt after his first pass and turning back around for another go. There Gudrun, her shield in her left hand, her sword in her right, bracing for another exchange. And there Attila, atop his snarling steed, spear in his right hand, braced for another charge.

Three passes in six seconds, and the daughter of Giuki stands.

And then, on the fourth, Attila charges in, and she raises her shield to deflect his strike… only for the spear now in his left hand to pierce her heart.

The battle grinds to a halt, as Gudrun falls to her knees, and Attila pulls free his spear.

"Didn't see you… switch hands," she chokes out.

"It'd be a poor trick if you did," Attila says, before chopping her skull open with the Sword of Mars.

She fades, and he's silent, staring down at the ground where she faded. And then he pulls himself together and tosses his spear back to one of his Huns.

"ALL RIGHT, BOYS, TWO MORE TO GO! LET'S FUCK 'EM UP!"

---​

"Hot damn."

I stare at the screen in awe, before turning to Loki. "All right, I guess that this show might be worth the price of admission."

"Oh, trust me, it gets better," Loki says with a smile, and I turn back to the screens.

This is gonna be good.

---​

Attila and his horde are advancing at a steady trot when it happens. The world shudders, and is replaced by a dark forest, leading up to a towering mead hall.

Attila raises an eyebrow. "Huh. Bounded Field."

He opens the doors to the hall, and sees a great wooden table, with thirteen men seated about it. And they are Volsungs, of that there can be no doubt. Their hair is white, but more than that, they have the very same mania I saw in Signy. An unchecked vigor, a will to live wholeheartedly and without restraint, and refrain from nothing in the pursuit of their goals. A strange species of self-destructive obsession which elevated them above the petty trifles of lesser men.

And the man at the head of the table is the greatest of them all. Upon his brow rests a crown of iron, and he is old, with wrinkled skin over corded muscles, and a beard that comes down to his waist.

And Signy kneels before him.

"Father, please! They'll be here any moment!"

"I will not join in your endeavors, Signy. This foolishness is yours, and yours alone," King Volsung says, not even deigning to look at her.

"WHY DON'T YOU WANT THIS?" Signy screams, tears trailing down her face. "You could live! You don't have to die to Siggeir, you can live, and we can be happy together again! As a family!"

"Happy?" Volsung repeats, looking at her directly. She shrinks beneath his gaze. "HAPPY? Foolish daughter, I AM VOLSUNG, SON OF RERIR, SON OF SIGI, SON OF ODIN, AND I AM A WARRIOR, FORGED FROM TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY ALIKE!" He slams his fist down against the table, and it breaks beneath his blow. "Happiness is for lesser men than me." He waves his hand in a clear gesture of dismissal. "Go. Pursue your folly elsewhere. You are no longer welcome in my halls."

"But… I… I did everything to avenge you!" she screams. "I just wanted to go home! Why wouldn't you let me stay with you?"

"Because I believed that you ought to outlive this old man. A decision I regret, having seen what an unsightly creature you've become."

That, of course, is when Attila makes his entrance. "Hi! Attila the Hun. I'm here to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Everyone stares at him in silent confusion for a few seconds. Then Volsung speaks up. "Your request is denied."

"Shoot. And after I brought all my barbarian hordes along for the wedding party!" Attila mimes a sudden epiphany. "But waaaaaait, what if, and just hear me out here, because this is gonna sound crazy, but what if me and my army just killed you all, and I married your daughter anyways?"

Volsung draws his sword, and around him, his twelve sons do likewise. "Signy."

"Yes, Father?"

"You are permitted to join us."

I don't think I've ever seen a woman cry more tears of joy at being invited to a hopeless last stand.

The mead hall erupts into a sea of fire and blood, with the united Volsungs killing Huns by the score. But even the Volsungs could not stand against Attila.

He faces King Volsung on foot, having been knocked from Sinfjotli's back by the press of bodies. Twelve times his sword draws blood, and Volsung's drinks once in return, before he is slain.

Volsung's children, on the other hand, are barely a challenge, until, at last, he comes to the twins.

Sigmund and Signy, Volsung's youngest, fight him side by side, one locking his blade so the other can strike, but the Huns around them flank them far faster than they could flank Attila.

Sigmund falls, and then, there is one.

A borrowed spear through Signy's chest pins her to the ground, and the now-burning hall begins to fade.

"Well fought," Attila says with a grunt.

"Thank you."

"I'm… sorry?"

Signy smiles, and it's like the sun coming out after a rainy day. "You let me die with them."

"It was nothing."

"Everything… to me. You're a kinder man than you seem."

And then she's gone.

"Well then," Attila turns to face his foe. "Just one Volsung left."

Sinfjotli snarls.

 

[Hammers_Bjorn]

Oh, okay, wow. This one is... amazing. You somehow outdid yourself again, Flynn. Truly.

Erik sighs. "Well, fuck my life. Death or glory it is." And then, as his muscles bulge, his horns grow, and his eyes glow red from the force of his fury, he utters but two words: "BLOODBATH CROOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWNN!"

Click to shrink...

Ah, yes. The original BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, SKULL FOR THE SKULL THRONE warrior culture realized within one bastard and his crazy wife.

Attila parries it, easily deflecting the blow harmlessly to the right, and then ripostes, taking off the Bloodaxe King's head.

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Sadly, just because you're channeling the blood rage of Khorne doesn't mean you can one-up the Scourge of God. But, as Attila says, A for effort, Erik! At least you get a better overall showing here than you'd ever will in FGO canon!

Cursed Arm doesn't take the bait, so Attila shrugs, and then points his sword in the direction of Gudrun. "ALRIGHT YOU LAZY SCOUNDRELS, YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS! WE'RE MARCHING THATTAWAY, AND WE'LL RAPE, RAVAGE, AND RUIN ALL THAT STANDS AGAINST US!"

Click to shrink...

Cursed Arm is going to have a surprise appearance later on in this War, isn't he? Since I don't see him in the burning halls of the Volsung after this one assassination attempt, and just bailing out doesn't seem like a very Hassan thing to do...

"Before we start, though," Attila says, twirling his lance. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" Gudrun asks, amused.

"For teaching me what it is to be human."

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This is actually one of the things that makes your version of Attila better than Altera, Charles Flynn, namely that you've humanized Attila better and...

"At our last feast together, when you told me that you'd killed our sons, and that they were the mystery meat in those delicious little hors d'ouevres you'd been serving me? For the first time in my life, I felt hatred! And when you barred the doors while I was too drunk to stand, and then set the whole building on fire? For the first time in my life, I felt fear!"

Click to shrink...

... with very good reasons and process. I mean, Altera became human after being mating-pressed by some generic harem protags, which, admittedly, isn't that bad of a humanizing method, but it lacks the depth that Attila went through.

Gudrun laughs. "H-Happy to be of service!"

Click to shrink...

Attila, bringing happiness to people fraught with personal tragedy by murdering them. Proving that sometimes homicide is the best option!

He opens the doors to the hall, and sees a great wooden table, with thirteen men seated about it. And they are Volsungs, of that there can be no doubt. Their hair is white, but more than that, they have the very same mania I saw in Signy. An unchecked vigor, a will to live wholeheartedly and without restraint, and refrain from nothing in the pursuit of their goals. A strange species of self-destructive obsession which elevated them above the petty trifles of lesser men.

Click to shrink...

I think the greatest difference between the old Germanic heroes and the Viking legends is that one strives for pain and to conquer that torment into glory, living up to the Superman ideals of Nietzsche. The other, however, just wants loot and booty for the sake of it, with a side of a morbid appreciation for death and war. One is of honor and tragic ambition, the other of living life to the fullest, of taking no prisoners, of charging headlong to Valhalla.

"Happy?" Volsung repeats, looking at her directly. She shrinks beneath his gaze. "HAPPY? Foolish daughter, I AM VOLSUNG, SON OF RERIR, SON OF SIGI, SON OF ODIN, AND I AM A WARRIOR, FORGED FROM TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY ALIKE!" He slams his fist down against the table, and it breaks beneath his blow. "Happiness is for lesser men than me." He waves his hand in a clear gesture of dismissal. "Go. Pursue your folly elsewhere. You are no longer welcome in my halls."

Click to shrink...

Yep. Old Germanic hero at his finest, ladies and gent.

"But… I… I did everything to avenge you!" she screams. "I just wanted to go home! Why wouldn't you let me stay with you?"

"Because I believed that you ought to outlive this old man. A decision I regret, having seen what an unsightly creature you've become."

Click to shrink...

Kind of harsh, when your little girl just wants to be with her father again, but I suppose a civilian can never understand the logic of warriors.

Volsung draws his sword, and around him, his twelve sons do likewise. "Signy."

"Yes, Father?"

"You are permitted to join us."

Click to shrink...

Well, that's one way to do it. Go go Attila, bring happiness and reconciliation through extreme violence across the land!

"Thank you."

"I'm… sorry?"

Signy smiles, and it's like the sun coming out after a rainy day. "You let me die with them."

"It was nothing."

"Everything… to me. You're a kinder man than you seem."

Click to shrink...

Huh. Is this Attila's way of channeling his inherent nature as a world-destroyer to help others? Because this is actually quite a feels-charged scene for me. Attila the alien-forged machine of mass destruction... building some measure of goodness in a cruel world.

So, yeah. The Copenhagen Grail War seems less like the story of how SI!Flynn survives the machinations of Loki, and more of an in-depth study in Attila... which is something that come to love. He's a great character, and the way the story is played out truly brings out the most out of him.

The only gripe I have about this is that we don't get more of Duryodhana. Well, that, and that Bhima gets to kill him again. Would be nice if we had a Marie-Sanson kind of thing, where historical advantage between Servants got screwed over and the loser can actually one up the winner for once.

 

[Froggo]

The battle lines are quickly drawn, every Servant united in the face of the unstoppable juggernaut that was Attila.

"Buy me time, I have something that can kill him!" Signy shouts, and then she withdraws as the horde closes in.

"Is she running?" Erik asks incredulously, readying his axe.

"No." Gudrun unslings a spear and runs a Hun through. "She's a Volsung. They're always as good as their word. I should know, I married one." She steps back. "You lot delay, I'll set up a defensive line!"

Then she dashes back a few blocks to begin desperately carving runes.

"What is it with Volsung women and telling us to hold the line?" Erik muses, kicking in a Hun's kneecaps and then taking off the unfortunate fellow's head.

Cursed Arm, having disappeared while nobody was looking at him, pointedly doesn't respond.

Erik sighs. "Well, fuck my life. Death or glory it is." And then, as his muscles bulge, his horns grow, and his eyes glow red from the force of his fury, he utters but two words: "BLOODBATH CROOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWNN!"

He becomes a hurricane, a whirlwind of blood, death, and fear as he carves his way through the ranks of his enemies, never once stopping, never once touched by fear. They die beneath his axe, and, pushing himself to the very limits of what he's capable of, he presses onwards, carving a bloody road five feet across through the ranks of the Huns, pointing straight towards Attila. And then, as his endurance flags, he comes before his goal, and brings down his axe with all the strength he can muster.

Attila parries it, easily deflecting the blow harmlessly to the right, and then ripostes, taking off the Bloodaxe King's head.

"You know," he says to Erik's headless corpse. "I'll never understand why you Northmen were always so enamored with battle-madness. In my experience, it just makes you an easy target. But still, A for effort." He looks around and finds that his Hunnic horde stopped its advance. "Okay, what the Hell, guys? We have one awesome fight, and everyone stops to watch?"

"ATTILA! ATTILA!" the horde of Huns chants with almost religious fervor.

"Right. Forgot. Braindead fanboys more focused on stroking my ego than actually following orders!" Attila snaps. "Really, it's almost like I never died."

He leans out of the way as one of Cursed Arm's dirks flies past his head. "Nice try. You gonna test your luck?"

Cursed Arm doesn't take the bait, so Attila shrugs, and then points his sword in the direction of Gudrun. "ALRIGHT YOU LAZY SCOUNDRELS, YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS! WE'RE MARCHING THATTAWAY, AND WE'LL RAPE, RAVAGE, AND RUIN ALL THAT STANDS AGAINST US!"

The Huns roar, and then charge, while Attila drives Sinfjotli on at a cautious lope, staying firmly in the middle of the horde.

Then they come to the wall of fire, with a fatigued Gudrun waiting on the other side.

"Stealing other women's tricks, now, are we?" Attila calls out from atop Sinfjotli.

"If it works, then it works," Gudrun says with a shrug. "And if I didn't have a habit of stealing from Brynnhildr, then you wouldn't have caught me on the rebound."

Their hands tighten around their weapons as they face off across the wall of flame.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to go over there and fight you myself," Attila says. "Wouldn't do to keep a lady waiting."

"Really?" she tilts her head coyly, ever-present smile still in full force. "The mighty Attila, coming to see little old me? I'm flattered."

"Oh, but what kind of husband doesn't visit with his wife?" Attila says, sheathing the Sword of Mars and holding out his hand. "SPEAR!"

One of his Huns passes him a cavalry lance, and he urges Sinfjotli forwards. Gudrun braces herself, her smile eager.

"Before we start, though," Attila says, twirling his lance. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" Gudrun asks, amused.

"For teaching me what it is to be human."

"…I beg your pardon?"

"Before I married you, I felt… nothing. Or rather I felt strangely. I couldn't quite connect with regular humans. There was just something… missing. I lacked a point of commonality, a Rosetta Stone, if you will." Attila takes a breath, and then he smiles. "And then I met you."

Gudrun raises an eyebrow.

"At our last feast together, when you told me that you'd killed our sons, and that they were the mystery meat in those delicious little hors d'ouevres you'd been serving me? For the first time in my life, I felt hatred! And when you barred the doors while I was too drunk to stand, and then set the whole building on fire? For the first time in my life, I felt fear!"

Gudrun's smile quivers slightly. "I'm… not sure I understand."

"You did what literal gods couldn't, you made me fear for my life! And suddenly, I had a point of reference! I had my Rosetta Stone for human nature! So, even while I was busy making sure you thought I'd died, meeting up with Bleda, and then invading Rome to get away from you, I knew that you'd given me something priceless." He pauses, and then looks her in the eye. "So, I guess that what I'm trying to say is… thank you. Thank you for teaching me hate. Thank you for teaching me fear. Thank you for teaching me humanity."

Gudrun laughs. "H-Happy to be of service!"

And then Attila urges Sinfjotli into a charge, and then, just as he draws up to the fire's edge, the Bastard Wolf of the Volsungs leaps. He clears the fire and bears his rider with him into Gudrun's domain.

The first three exchanges are like lightning. Sinfjotli almost moves faster than the eye can follow, and Attila is nearly his equal in agility. But Gudrun manages to keep up, as Attila's spear sparks off her shield.
It becomes a pattern, and I can almost see glimpses of the larger whole, from where the fight's participants are visible, instead of mere blurs of frenzied motion. Little snapshots between the clashes. Here Sinfjotli, low to the ground, snarling in tune with his equally savage rider, skidding to a halt after his first pass and turning back around for another go. There Gudrun, her shield in her left hand, her sword in her right, bracing for another exchange. And there Attila, atop his snarling steed, spear in his right hand, braced for another charge.

Three passes in six seconds, and the daughter of Giuki stands.

And then, on the fourth, Attila charges in, and she raises her shield to deflect his strike… only for the spear now in his left hand to pierce her heart.

The battle grinds to a halt, as Gudrun falls to her knees, and Attila pulls free his spear.

"Didn't see you… switch hands," she chokes out.

"It'd be a poor trick if you did," Attila says, before chopping her skull open with the Sword of Mars.

She fades, and he's silent, staring down at the ground where she faded. And then he pulls himself together and tosses his spear back to one of his Huns.

"ALL RIGHT, BOYS, TWO MORE TO GO! LET'S FUCK 'EM UP!"

---​

"Hot damn."

I stare at the screen in awe, before turning to Loki. "All right, I guess that this show might be worth the price of admission."

"Oh, trust me, it gets better," Loki says with a smile, and I turn back to the screens.

This is gonna be good.

---​

Attila and his horde are advancing at a steady trot when it happens. The world shudders, and is replaced by a dark forest, leading up to a towering mead hall.

Attila raises an eyebrow. "Huh. Bounded Field."

He opens the doors to the hall, and sees a great wooden table, with thirteen men seated about it. And they are Volsungs, of that there can be no doubt. Their hair is white, but more than that, they have the very same mania I saw in Signy. An unchecked vigor, a will to live wholeheartedly and without restraint, and refrain from nothing in the pursuit of their goals. A strange species of self-destructive obsession which elevated them above the petty trifles of lesser men.

And the man at the head of the table is the greatest of them all. Upon his brow rests a crown of iron, and he is old, with wrinkled skin over corded muscles, and a beard that comes down to his waist.

And Signy kneels before him.

"Father, please! They'll be here any moment!"

"I will not join in your endeavors, Signy. This foolishness is yours, and yours alone," King Volsung says, not even deigning to look at her.

"WHY DON'T YOU WANT THIS?" Signy screams, tears trailing down her face. "You could live! You don't have to die to Siggeir, you can live, and we can be happy together again! As a family!"

"Happy?" Volsung repeats, looking at her directly. She shrinks beneath his gaze. "HAPPY? Foolish daughter, I AM VOLSUNG, SON OF RERIR, SON OF SIGI, SON OF ODIN, AND I AM A WARRIOR, FORGED FROM TRIUMPH AND TRAGEDY ALIKE!" He slams his fist down against the table, and it breaks beneath his blow. "Happiness is for lesser men than me." He waves his hand in a clear gesture of dismissal. "Go. Pursue your folly elsewhere. You are no longer welcome in my halls."

"But… I… I did everything to avenge you!" she screams. "I just wanted to go home! Why wouldn't you let me stay with you?"

"Because I believed that you ought to outlive this old man. A decision I regret, having seen what an unsightly creature you've become."

That, of course, is when Attila makes his entrance. "Hi! Attila the Hun. I'm here to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Everyone stares at him in silent confusion for a few seconds. Then Volsung speaks up. "Your request is denied."

"Shoot. And after I brought all my barbarian hordes along for the wedding party!" Attila mimes a sudden epiphany. "But waaaaaait, what if, and just hear me out here, because this is gonna sound crazy, but what if me and my army just killed you all, and I married your daughter anyways?"

Volsung draws his sword, and around him, his twelve sons do likewise. "Signy."

"Yes, Father?"

"You are permitted to join us."

I don't think I've ever seen a woman cry more tears of joy at being invited to a hopeless last stand.

The mead hall erupts into a sea of fire and blood, with the united Volsungs killing Huns by the score. But even the Volsungs could not stand against Attila.

He faces King Volsung on foot, having been knocked from Sinfjotli's back by the press of bodies. Twelve times his sword draws blood, and Volsung's drinks once in return, before he is slain.

Volsung's children, on the other hand, are barely a challenge, until, at last, he comes to the twins.

Sigmund and Signy, Volsung's youngest, fight him side by side, one locking his blade so the other can strike, but the Huns around them flank them far faster than they could flank Attila.

Sigmund falls, and then, there is one.

A borrowed spear through Signy's chest pins her to the ground, and the now-burning hall begins to fade.

"Well fought," Attila says with a grunt.

"Thank you."

"I'm… sorry?"

Signy smiles, and it's like the sun coming out after a rainy day. "You let me die with them."

"It was nothing."

"Everything… to me. You're a kinder man than you seem."

And then she's gone.

"Well then," Attila turns to face his foe. "Just one Volsung left."

Sinfjotli snarls.

Click to shrink...

aw yeah

 

[BigNibba69]

For some reason I expect Cursed Arm Hassan to pull off a comeback. (Unless I read the chapter wrong)

 

[Charles Flynn]

"And so, it comes down to this," Loki says, as on the screen, the two Servants face off. "The last two Servants of the Grail War."

"What about Cursed Arm?" I ask.

Loki blinks. "I… don't know, actually. He's just played so little of a part in the Grail War that I kind of forgot about him."

"Hm. Epic final battle is still going on, though."

---​

"Well, now," Attila says, as he firmly sets his feet in preparation for Sinfjotli's charge. "This is hardly fair. I think we'll need a handicap to even the odds a bit."

Sinfjotli chuffs at the thought.

Then Attila tosses away his sword. "There. I think that makes us about even."

Sinfjotli's pure, unadulterated look of confusion isn't particularly hard to grasp the meaning of.

"Oh?" Attila asks with a smirk. "Why so surprised? I made us even, after all. You might be a wolf, but I am Attila."

Sinfjotli dips his head, in what I can only assume to be grudging respect, before lunging at his foe.

Attila ducks low and nails him with an uppercut to the stomach mid-lunge, and with that, the battle's begun.

Their fight is hesitant, at first, the two combatants circling each other. Sinfjotli will lunge in, fast as lightning, and Attila counters perfectly, never letting the wolf sink his teeth in. But mere punches cannot break the hide of a Demonic Beast, and so the stalemate continues.

Five passes. And then, Attila makes his move.

On the sixth pass, Sinfjotli charges in, and Attila counters, squatting down, and then flipping Sinfjotli onto his back, wrapping his arms tightly around the wolf's thick neck and squeezing tight, cutting off Sinfjotli's airflow in a textbook chokehold.

Well, not exactly textbook. I don't think they actually make textbooks for beating giant demon wolves to death with your bare hands.

Sinfjotli doesn't go down easy, bucking like a bronco, and desperately lashing out with his paws as Attila squeezes ever tighter. But then, with a mighty snap, his body body goes slack, and begins to dissolve.

And Attila stands triumphant, arms stretching up to the heavens in the universal sign of victory.

"SO!" he roars, pacing about like a caged beast. "WHO IS NEXT? WHO WILL FACE THE SCOURGE OF GOD!"

Silence is his answer.

---​

Back in the control room, I turn to Loki. "I don't think Cursed Arm is there."

"His only chance of winning is by killing Attila," Loki says. "He'll show himself. Or you'll pay the price."

---​

"OH?" Attila asks, still roaring like a lion. "IS THE LITTLE ASSASSIN TO BE MY LAST ADVERSARY?"

He grabs his sword, and then turns about every which way, his voice dropping a few decibels.

"Oh come now, where are you, Assassin? We're at the end of the game. It's time to show your hand."

---​

"Can't you find Cursed Arm?" I ask.

"Not when he's using Presence Concealment," Loki says.

"Really?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Yes, really. Why are you surprised? He's got A+ Presence Concealment! Even Bounded Fields can't detect him!"

---​

"Come on out, Cursed Arm," Attila calls as he begins to make his way through the streets. "Come on, try your luck. You knew you'd have to eventually."

He grins and spreads his arms. "We're at the end of things, and you've got your target in sight. So try your luck! Creep up on behind him, raise that demon arm of yours, and say the magic word."

---​

"Zabaniya."

---​

Attila grins.

---​

I stare in shock as Cursed Arm comes into view, a crushed heart in hand…

Behind Loki.

"H-How?" the God of Mischief asks, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth.

"It's real simple, Liesmith," Attila says, looking straight at us through the scrying matrix. "See, the other Servants? They were playing your games. Me and Cursed Arm? We were playing you."

"Im-Impossible, you…"

"Cursed Arm, finish the job," I command. "And then cut me loose from this chair."

"As you command, my Master," Cursed Arm says, driving two throwing knives into Loki's skull and putting him down for good. "Attila is already en route to secure the Grail."

"Good to hear," I say. "And well done. I legitimately didn't see that coming."

"That was rather the point," Cursed Arm says, cutting the ropes.

We watch to make sure Loki's body dissolves, and then we head off to rendezvous with Attila, with Cursed Arm helping me down the stairs.

---​

We find him at an abandoned bar, Grail in hand, staring at a bottle of 100 proof whisky contemplatively.

"Hey, Flynn," he says with a nod. "Cursed Arm."

"Attila," I reply, nodding in turn.

"I'm torn. On the one hand I really do want to give this over to you, help the war effort and all that, but…"

"On the other hand?" I prompt him.

"On the other hand, I really just want to chug cheap booze out of the cup of God."

I take the stool next to him. "May I ask why?"

"For the bragging rights, obviously!"

"And why haven't you?"

"Because it might mess things up, and I really don't want to accidentally sabotage you guys."

"Huh." I think it over. "Well, why not hold off, and use the next one as your beer mug?"

"Next one?" Attila repeats.

"Well, there's a lot of other Grail wars out there, obviously. And the Throne of Heroes exists independently of time and space, and can even reach into other dimensions, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, of course you're going to be summoned into another Grail War. You're Attila the Hun. Prospective Master would have to be crazy not to try and get you as their Servant. And of course you'll win, you're… well, you. So really, when you think about it, you getting your hands on another Grail is inevitable."

"I suppose so." Attila says with a grin, handing the Grail off to Cursed Arm. "And, by any chance, would one of those Masters who'd be crazy not to try and summon me be you?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Fair enough. Good seeing you, Flynn."

"Same here. Take care of yourself, Attila."

"And you don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I give him a look.

"Yes, I know how narrow a category that is. Now get going, you!"

And as the light engulfs us, I watch Rome's Bane wave farewell.

 

[Narmish]

Well, it might be quite some time until we get a sequel, given that they seemingly decided alter egos can get their own singularity and lost belts can be split into 2 parts. Might be 2 or more years.

 

[Froggo]

love it

 

[Darko]

Well, not exactly textbook. I don't think they actually make textbooks for beating giant demon wolves to death with your bare hands.

Click to shrink...

They may have made those in the ancient past of the Nasu verse.

"On the other hand, I really just want to chug cheap booze out of the cup of God."

Click to shrink...

Well at least Gil isn't the only one.

"For the bragging rights, obviously!"

Click to shrink...

Obviously.

Prospective Master would have to be crazy not to try and get you as their Servant

Click to shrink...

Or crazy to try and get him as one.

"And, by any chance, would one of those Masters who'd be crazy not to try and summon me be you?"

Click to shrink...

Well Charlie's mental health is debatable sometimes.

Great chapter.

Will you be making more of these, or will you just wait until you can write the sequel?

I noticed you left some things unresolved in this story, like the Santa Vlad thing, so I'm hoping they'll be more of these so we can get by until the sequel.

 

[BigNibba69]

Damn almost called it but it was Loki instead of Attila getting their heart smushed

 

[Charles Flynn]

I'm halfway to bed from the Singularity we just resolved (and dear God do I hate having to resolve Singularities in Feudal Japan. That is not a fun place to be a foreigner in,) when the intercom crackles to life.

"Hey, Charlie, I'm sorry to call you up like this, but-"

"Roman," I sigh, a note of pleading entering my voice. "Please tell me this is just a routine maintenance call or something. Please."

"I'm sorry. But we both know I'd be lying if I told you that." He does sound legitimately remorseful, which only makes it worse.

"Roman, I just got back from the Kyoto Incident. In the past twenty-four hours alone, I was doused in pig shit, had rocks thrown at me, learned a lot of fun new archaic Japanese curse words that they apparently reserve for foreigners, got punched twice, nearly got eaten by cannibalistic demon ogres, and had to put up with Kintoki's love affair with the word 'Golden.' Please, for the love of God, just… don't. I've showered five times, and I still can't get the pig shit smell off me. I need to sleep."

He sighs. "All right. I guess it's not that important, anyway."

I turn to my bed, my sweet, inviting bed, calling to me with its tantalizing, soft sheets, and thick, comforting mattress as I start unbuttoning my jacket. "I'll head out to retrieve the Grail in the morning, all right?"

"Well…" he sounds uncomfortable, and… NO! No, nononononononononoooooooooooo! Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. Don't you dare be all apologetic and likeable as you tell me something that'll drag me away from my well-earned rest! "The Singularity will probably have drifted out of our range by then, actually. It's some sort of overlay from a parallel dimension. But it's not like it can affect our own time stream, so it's actually fine if you want to take it easy. God knows I'd be a hypocrite if I chastised you over taking some time for yourself."

My hands stop.

"Does it have a Grail we can poach?" I ask, beginning to button my jacket back up, before deciding not to wear the white jacket covered in pig shit, instead grabbing a fresh one from my dresser.

"Yes, but-"

I give my bed one last longing look as I pull on my jacket. "Where's the Singularity at?"

"Japan."

I freeze.

"Look, you've had a rough day, and not getting enough sleep is bad for your health. Just sit this one out. We'll get more opportunities to collect Grails in the future. It's fine to let this one pass us by."

In my lethargy, my eyes cross the room, alighting on the picture I keep by my bedside.

I'm not important. But they are.

"I'll be at the meeting room in ten minutes."

I tune out Roman's objections as I walk out the door.

---​

"So, what are we facing?" I ask as I walk into the meeting room.

"Some sort of Holy Grail War, we think," Da Vinci answers, looking me over with concern. "Flynn, are you okay? You look even worse than usual."

I take a sip from the thermos Medea prepared for me. "I'm fine. Teacher gave me something to take the sleep deprivation's edge off. I'm proud to say that I'm fighting fit, and ready for active duty!"

Everybody seems to be giving me worried looks all of a sudden.

"Um, Charlie, are you sure that's a good idea?" Roman asks.

"Eh, probably not, but I'm already riding pretty high on whatever kind of Ancient Greek Adderall she put in this thing, and she assured me that just this much will keep me functional for at least three days before I start vomiting blood and pass out. Compared to what she's already put my liver through, this is actually pretty mild." I take a sip from my thermos while they continue to stare at me in silent horror. "So, are we doing this thing or what?"

"No, absolutely not!" Roman shouts. "Look, we need to-"

"Roman. I am already chugging the magic Ancient Greek twenty-four hour energy juice like it's Red Bull." I punctuate the point with another swig. "I'd prefer that, when I inevitably puke myself unconscious in three days, it has served a higher purpose."

He sighs, and then sits back down.

"So, where are we going?" I ask again.

"Fuyuki City, in 1994," Roman says. "Again, it's some sort of alternate universe, so we don't know exactly what we're getting into."

"Sounds like fun!" I say cheerfully, humming to myself as my mind races. Roman's hair is kind of weird, now that I think of it. It looks just like King David's!

"Yes, you'll have to gather information on the ground," Roman says. He hesitates. "You seem kind of out of it, are you sure you're up for this?"

"Tip top shape, Roman!" I assure him cheerfully. "Now let's hop to it, my liver isn't getting any less horrifically damaged!"

---​

My team stands assembled in the Rayshift Room. Fergus mac Roich, Arash, Cursed Arm, Serenity, Medea, and Atalanta. I hum tunelessly to myself as I enter the room, before coming to a stop in front of them.

"All right, folks, you know the deal," I say, momentarily getting distracted admiring my Command Spells before snapping back to attention. "Galahad won't be joining us, Mash needs her sleep and all, so Medea will be on bodyguard duty. Arash, you're our sniper. Fergus and Atalanta, you'll be our melee screen to tie up the enemy Servants, and the Hassans will assassinate the enemy Masters while their Servants are occupied. That clear?"

Nods all around.

"All right, folks, let's get going! We have a Grail War to win."

And so we file into our coffins, to travel to strange and exotic lands and kill new and interesting people again.

And as the lid closes over me, leaving me in the silence with only the erratic pitter-patter of my heart for company, I grin.

I can hardly wait.

 

[Darko]

Feudal Japan. That is not a fun place to be a foreigner in

Click to shrink...

To be fair a lot of places in the past weren't fun places to be a foreigner in.

Though Japan was pretty bad even by those standards.

"Roman," I sigh, a note of pleading entering my voice. "Please tell me this is just a routine maintenance call or something. Please."

Click to shrink...

You know full well that you're not that lucky and probably never will be.

. "Where's the Singularity at?"

"Japan."

I freeze.

Click to shrink...

And you thought your troubles were over.

Poor, sweet summer child.

"Eh, probably not, but I'm already riding pretty high on whatever kind of Ancient Greek Adderall she put in this thing, and she assured me that just this much will keep me functional for at least three days before I start vomiting blood and pass out. Compared to what she's already put my liver through, this is actually pretty mild."

Click to shrink...

You have the most fascinating relationship with your teacher, Charlie.

"Roman. I am already chugging the magic Ancient Greek twenty-four hour energy juice like it's Red Bull."

Click to shrink...

I can hardly wait.

Click to shrink...

I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

Wonderful to see this story updated.

Hope we see more soon and hope you're doing well.

 

[Froggo]

I'm halfway to bed from the Singularity we just resolved (and dear God do I hate having to resolve Singularities in Feudal Japan. That is not a fun place to be a foreigner in,) when the intercom crackles to life.

"Hey, Charlie, I'm sorry to call you up like this, but-"

"Roman," I sigh, a note of pleading entering my voice. "Please tell me this is just a routine maintenance call or something. Please."

"I'm sorry. But we both know I'd be lying if I told you that." He does sound legitimately remorseful, which only makes it worse.

"Roman, I just got back from the Kyoto Incident. In the past twenty-four hours alone, I was doused in pig shit, had rocks thrown at me, learned a lot of fun new archaic Japanese curse words that they apparently reserve for foreigners, got punched twice, nearly got eaten by cannibalistic demon ogres, and had to put up with Kintoki's love affair with the word 'Golden.' Please, for the love of God, just… don't. I've showered five times, and I still can't get the pig shit smell off me. I need to sleep."

He sighs. "All right. I guess it's not that important, anyway."

I turn to my bed, my sweet, inviting bed, calling to me with its tantalizing, soft sheets, and thick, comforting mattress as I start unbuttoning my jacket. "I'll head out to retrieve the Grail in the morning, all right?"

"Well…" he sounds uncomfortable, and… NO! No, nononononononononoooooooooooo! Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. Don't you dare be all apologetic and likeable as you tell me something that'll drag me away from my well-earned rest! "The Singularity will probably have drifted out of our range by then, actually. It's some sort of overlay from a parallel dimension. But it's not like it can affect our own time stream, so it's actually fine if you want to take it easy. God knows I'd be a hypocrite if I chastised you over taking some time for yourself."

My hands stop.

"Does it have a Grail we can poach?" I ask, beginning to button my jacket back up, before deciding not to wear the white jacket covered in pig shit, instead grabbing a fresh one from my dresser.

"Yes, but-"

I give my bed one last longing look as I pull on my jacket. "Where's the Singularity at?"

"Japan."

I freeze.

"Look, you've had a rough day, and not getting enough sleep is bad for your health. Just sit this one out. We'll get more opportunities to collect Grails in the future. It's fine to let this one pass us by."

In my lethargy, my eyes cross the room, alighting on the picture I keep by my bedside.

I'm not important. But they are.

"I'll be at the meeting room in ten minutes."

I tune out Roman's objections as I walk out the door.

---​

"So, what are we facing?" I ask as I walk into the meeting room.

"Some sort of Holy Grail War, we think," Da Vinci answers, looking me over with concern. "Flynn, are you okay? You look even worse than usual."

I take a sip from the thermos Medea prepared for me. "I'm fine. Teacher gave me something to take the sleep deprivation's edge off. I'm proud to say that I'm fighting fit, and ready for active duty!"

Everybody seems to be giving me worried looks all of a sudden.

"Um, Charlie, are you sure that's a good idea?" Roman asks.

"Eh, probably not, but I'm already riding pretty high on whatever kind of Ancient Greek Adderall she put in this thing, and she assured me that just this much will keep me functional for at least three days before I start vomiting blood and pass out. Compared to what she's already put my liver through, this is actually pretty mild." I take a sip from my thermos while they continue to stare at me in silent horror. "So, are we doing this thing or what?"

"No, absolutely not!" Roman shouts. "Look, we need to-"

"Roman. I am already chugging the magic Ancient Greek twenty-four hour energy juice like it's Red Bull." I punctuate the point with another swig. "I'd prefer that, when I inevitably puke myself unconscious in three days, it has served a higher purpose."

He sighs, and then sits back down.

"So, where are we going?" I ask again.

"Fuyuki City, in 1994," Roman says. "Again, it's some sort of alternate universe, so we don't know exactly what we're getting into."

"Sounds like fun!" I say cheerfully, humming to myself as my mind races. Roman's hair is kind of weird, now that I think of it. It looks just like King David's!

"Yes, you'll have to gather information on the ground," Roman says. He hesitates. "You seem kind of out of it, are you sure you're up for this?"

"Tip top shape, Roman!" I assure him cheerfully. "Now let's hop to it, my liver isn't getting any less horrifically damaged!"

---​

My team stands assembled in the Rayshift Room. Fergus mac Roich, Arash, Cursed Arm, Serenity, Medea, and Atalanta. I hum tunelessly to myself as I enter the room, before coming to a stop in front of them.

"All right, folks, you know the deal," I say, momentarily getting distracted admiring my Command Spells before snapping back to attention. "Galahad won't be joining us, Mash needs her sleep and all, so Medea will be on bodyguard duty. Arash, you're our sniper. Fergus and Atalanta, you'll be our melee screen to tie up the enemy Servants, and the Hassans will assassinate the enemy Masters while their Servants are occupied. That clear?"

Nods all around.

"All right, folks, let's get going! We have a Grail War to win."

And so we file into our coffins, to travel to strange and exotic lands and kill new and interesting people again.

And as the lid closes over me, leaving me in the silence with only the erratic pitter-patter of my heart for company, I grin.

I can hardly wait.

Click to shrink...

Wooo

 

[Charles Flynn]

"Wait a second," I say, as I take in the view from where we Rayshifted in. "Is this the same place as the first Singularity?"

"It would seem so, my apprentice," Medea says neutrally.

"Huh." I pause, and then switch over to the mental link. 'Arash, get up on top of one of those skyscrapers. I want those impossibly accurate eyes of yours watching for Servant activity. This seems to be a normal Grail War, but we'll want to interrogate one of the Masters, just to be on the safe side.'

'As you would have it, Master.'

As our new eye in the sky heads to his assigned post, I start thinking things over.

'All right, while Arash is getting into place, we'll split up into two teams. Medea and Atalanta, you'll find us a secure base, and then establish it as our stronghold using Medea's Territory Creation. The rest will stick with me. When Arash gives us the signal, we'll move to eliminate Servants, and attempt to capture at least one Master.'

They weigh this over, and then I get a few accepting nods.

'I'll contact you as soon as we've established our territory.' Medea promises.

"Good, and get extra ranch dressing while you're at it," I say aloud, to confuse any invisible observers.

The two Argonauts give me a perplexed look, and then vanish into astral form.

'Good. Cursed Arm, Serenity, enter stealth mode and look for any hidden observers. We probably attracted a few with the light show we put on Rayshifting in.'

They nod, and then it's just me and Fergus. We stare at each other awkwardly.

"Wanna play Go Fish?" he asks after a moment of silence.

"Sure, why not?"

---​

We have just enough time to buy a pack of cards from a corner store that was open (Fergus had to act as my translator, although considering how many times he got slapped by the clerk, he might have taken a few liberties with the translation) and figure out that neither of us really remembered how to play Go Fish, before Arash finally gives us what we were waiting for: a call to action.

'There's some sort of conflict going on down by the docks.'

And like a shot, we're off, Fergus hoisting me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, while Arash provides us with the play-by-play, and, after a few minutes of running about at random, directions to the docks. The Hassans follow along, silent and invisible. At least they say they do, and thanks to the whole 'silent and invisible' thing, I have to take them at their word.

We get there, and I stagger a few steps after Fergus sets me down.

Once the world stops spinning, I survey the situation.

The two knight Servants whose initial duel Arash spotted are still opposite one another, but now they've they're not actively fighting, having turned to regard us new arrivals with suspicion. The pale Master of the Saber is also looking at us warily.

"Sorry I'm late. I think my invitation got lost in the mail," I say, getting to my feet. "Sir Diarmuid. Your Majesty." I look at Saber's master. "…You."

'Was that wise?' Cursed Arm asks.

'Probably not. But I'm still dizzy. Lay off.'

"Who are you, and why have you intruded upon our duel?" Arturia Pendragon asks.

"Well, you see, I came here to warn you about the dangers of Communism." I say, even as I open a channel to the Hassans. 'Serenity, fall back, and keep an eye on the sky.' Wouldn't do for her to get blasted by Diarmuid's Love Spot, after all. 'Cursed Arm, when I say, 'unsustainably dependent upon idealism,' Zabaniya Diarmuid.' After all, half my team is female, and none of them have magic resistance. Best not to take any risks.

"What?" she asks, looking completely and utterly flabbergasted.

"Yeah, I know. Equal distribution of wealth, everyone regarded as equals, it seems like a good deal. I wouldn't blame you for falling to its honey-sweet allure. Many people have. Take Thomas Edison, for example. After he was possessed by Andrew Jackson and mutated into a hyperpatriotic lion man in order to fend off the Irish, he had a hard road ahead of him. But-"

"I… don't think that actually happened," the Master of Saber says timidly, raising her hand. "I mean, I'm not exactly a historian, but-"

"Well, Miss, ummm…."

"Irisviel. Irisviel von Einzbern."

"Ah. The Einzbern representative. I should have guessed." I suddenly hit upon a new tack. 'Alright, one and all. When Cursed Arm emerges, we pretend he's not with us. Fergus, you'll be going by your class name. I have a plan.'

"Enough babbling!" a snooty, aristocratic sounding voice says, from some unseen location. "Lancer, kill the interloper."

And Lancer's Master shows himself, after a fashion. I grin. "All right then. Saber! Respond in kind!"

Arturia looks confused, but Fergus lunges in, his mighty blade driving back the suddenly very confused Diarmuid, who doesn't press the attack.

All right! Lights! Camera! Action! "I suppose it's understandable that you'd quake in fear of my Servant," I brag, doing my best impression of Lancer's Master. "After all, he is a card-carrying member of the strongest class."

Diarmuid looks between Fergus and Arturia, his brow furrowed. "I… thought you were the Saber Servant."

"I am," the Once and Future King says, looking halfway between indignant and puzzled. "Knave, whatever base deception you hold, it will-"

"Oh, step off it, Nero," I say, to throw her off balance. "Whatever bizarre part you're playing, it's not fooling me. You can drop the act."

"Wh-What?" Arturia asks. "I AM ARTHUR KING OF THE BRITONS, YOU BABBLING LUNATIC!"

"So… you're not Nero in a corset?" I ask, making myself look as confused as possible. "Well, I was way off, then. Thanks for giving me your identity anyways, though."

She makes a confusing, garbled noise in the back of her throat, at which point her Master steps forward. "Look, she's my Servant, and I definitely summoned her as a Saber."

"Well, we're back at square one, then, because this is my Servant, and I definitely summoned him as a Saber, too! You can't have two Sabers on one Grail War! Not unless…" I take pleasure in the pause, drawing it out, slowing moving my face in the likeness of a dawning realization, before levelling a furious glare at my new scapegoat. "What did you do?"

"I- I don't know what you're-" she stumbles back, definitely not ready for my sudden change in demeanor, and her Servant steps up protectively.

"Don't play dumb!" I snap in feigned righteous indignation. "You're an Einzbern! Your family helped design this Grail War! Of course you tampered with the system to get the strongest possible Servant!"

She tries to reply, but I don't let her. "Who else helped you with this? The Tohsakas?"

"No!" She interjects, looking panicked.

I press the advantage. "So it's a solo effort to subvert the rules of the Grail War, then. I suppose that I'd expect nothing less from the von Einzbern clan."

Lancer's Master, bless his pointy little head, chimes in. "If one of the founding families of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War has actively subverted the Grail War for their own benefit, then it is clear that I must report their misconduct to the Clocktower."

"No, wait! You've got this all wrong!" Irisviel shouts, actually crying, now.

"Spare us the crocodile tears, Einzbern, everyone knows your family can't be trusted as far as you can throw them." Huh. I feel like I'm missing something. Like there's something that… Oh! Guilt! I'm not feeling guilty at all! Huh. That's weird. But I'm not going to say no to getting a Get-Out-of-Conscience-Free card for my next few atrocities.

'Master.'

Huh, speak of the devil. 'Hey, Serenity. I'm going to need you to kill Saber's Master after Cursed Arm makes his move. And remember, act like you don't know me.'

'No, Master, I was trying to warn you-'

At lot of things can happen in the space of a second. A gun can fire. A Noble Phantasm can go off. Or, in this case, a chariot wreathed in lightning and pulled by oxen can land in the middle of the docks, completely pushing all my schemes out the fucking window.

The chariot's main occupant, a huge, hairy redhead with a little black-haired boy at his side, raises his arms and announces himself. "MY FELLOW HEROIC SPIRITS! I AM ISKANDER THE GREAT! JOIN MY ARMY, AND I SHALL LEAD YOU TO GLORIOUS CONQUEST!"

Well, there's a new priority target! Buuuut… just to confirm… "Excuse me, are you planning to use your wish to conquer the world?"

"No!" He calls out cheerfully. "I will incarnate myself! And then I will conquer that falls in my path, with my own two hands and my friends beside me!"

'Serenity, when the fighting starts, and Cursed Arm has finished his job, kill Rider.'

Suddenly, a man clad in golden armor materializes on top of a lamppost. Oh, Joy. Another Servant. Well, at least we've got an opportunity to sow some more chaos. "A foolhardy endeavor. There is but one king of all the world, and it is I."

"Let me guess!" I interject, doing my best to sound exasperated. "Servant Ruler! I mean, we already know that the Einzbern broke the Grail War, why should we assume that they'd limit their misdemeanors to only the main seven classes!"

He gives me a fierce look. "Servant Archer, mongrel. Mind your tone when addressing your betters." Interesting. He almost sounds… amused.

"Well, that makes two Archer Servants I've seen today, then." I slump back, shifting my weight onto my heels. "I guess it's official: The Einzbern broke the Grail War."

Irisviel tries to protest again, but Iskandar drowns her out as he drags everyone's attention back onto him. "All the better! I am gladdened beyond all words that more Servants may share on this second lease on life with us, and in so doing, live it to the fullest."

"Or just endlessly repeat their mistakes. Like you." I am not going to let World War Three break out because history's most irresponsible conquest junkie got his hands on the Holy Grail.

"Oh?" he asks, shifting his gaze onto me. "I chase an impossible dream, boy! Perhaps some might deem that folly, but I-"

"'Chasing an impossible dream' is a funny way of saying 'endlessly running away from responsibility,'" I reply. "And let's be real here. If you try to pull your old tricks again, the Association will hunt you down like a dog. Or any country with an air force will gun you down. Or maybe they'll just nuke you, leaving you and everyone that follows you a grease stain at the bottom of a smoking, irradiated crater. No matter how you cut it, your little plan to drown the world in blood just so you can bask in the praise of your adoring fanboys is set to end ignominiously. Just like your first campaign did."

"You dare," Alexander snarls, his hands already tightening around his reigns as he strives to control that famous temper of his.

"Let's face it, Alexander. No matter how much you conquer, no matter how much you rape, pillage, and burn all that stands in your way, it's never going to change the simple fact that your father never loved you."

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.

Then the Golden Archer starts clapping. "Encore! Encore!"

Well, as good a time as any to kick off the festivities. 'Cursed Arm. Do it.'

And then, as Alexander the Great looks like he's about to leap out of his chariot and beat me to death with his bare hands, Diarmuid gasps in pain.

Everyone look, to see the grim, skull-faced figure behind him, his hand through the knight's chest. Then, with a squelch, Diarmuid falls.

And I, of course, get the first word in.

"OH MY GOD! EINZBERN KILLED LANCER!"

Pure. Unchecked. Pandemonium.