How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

[Charles Flynn]

'His sandals sprouted wings,' Cursed Arm informs me over the mental link after 'Gagngrad' leaves our line of sight.

I sigh and press the twenty into Holmes' waiting palm. "You were right, he was Perseus."

"Well, obviously. I don't know why you were so intent on believing he was Odin. He had two eyes, after all."

"Wishful thinking, I'm afraid," I say with a shake of my head. "In any case, he was still rather helpful."

"Um, Flynn? What are you talking about?" Ishtar asks.

"Just an obvious spy who gave away more information than we gave him," I tell her. "In any case, milady, how would you feel about beginning our investigations in the jungle of Eridu?"

"Eh, as good a place as any," she says with a shrug.

And so, it's decided.

 

[Charles Flynn]

'I still can't believe Ishtar ditched us like that,' Galahad grumbles, pushing leading the way through the muggy, exotic jungle with his shield raised. I follow behind him, and Georgios watches my back. My other Servants are in Astral Form at the moment, with Cursed Arm serving as our lookout. And Ishtar, well, like Galahad himself said, Ishtar left when we got to the jungle. Apparently she had to go search for something, although she wasn't very clear on what.

'I can,' I say with a grin. 'In the words of Cicero, when setting out on an endeavor, give lavish praise and many prayers to the gods. When in the middle of an operation, proceed as if they won't help you one whit. Then, once you win, bury them in offerings, and loudly proclaim you couldn't have done it without them.'

'So, when she gets back, you're kissing up to her?' Galahad asks, looking annoyed.

'Yes, because she's the heaviest hitter our entire side has got, and is notoriously temperamental.'

'I still think this is a bit blasphemous,' Galahad grumbles, returning to pushing forward.

I don't reply. Honestly, though, having to deal with Ishtar has actually strengthened my faith in God. After all, if she can exist, why can't He? And quite frankly, I'd much rather worship Him. He is far better than the alternatives.

'Master,' Cursed Arm sends to me. 'We are being watched.'

'Potential hostile?' I restrain myself from scanning the treeline, instead directing the astralized Siegfried, Medea, and Cu to do so. Holmes pulled a vanishing act last night and hasn't been responding to my hails. I can only assume he's pulling his usual undercover routine.

'Quite likely.'

'Any idea who it is?' I ask, before a sudden noise interrupts me.

The trees are shaking. The great branches which seal away the sun are swaying as something leaps between them, some unseen beast of the canopy drawing nearer, until it slams down in front of us, then stands tall, a exuding the presence of a great cat, strong, savage, and free.

And then the dust clears, and the effect is completely ruined.

"Behold!" the ginger in the catsuit proclaims, extending her bizarre, catspaw spear as if it's the scepter of a king. "I am… hold on, what am I?"

"Embarrassing?" I offer, feeling a deep sense of annoyance. Seriously, is she part of the Three Goddess Alliance? If Gilgamesh has been getting his ass kicked by our janitor, than I might just… well, I already lost pretty much all my respect for him when he mismanaged us, but losing to Jaguarman might just do the impossible and lower my opinion of him even further.

"I mean, my fur is orange, but… I'm not a tiger!" Jaguarman exclaims, still caught in her digression. "I'm a jaguar! A very orange Jaguar! Even if my coat is a little off, I'm still the invincible beast of the jungle that all men fear! So bow down mortals, because you stand before the mighty (slightly orange) Jaguarman!"

She strikes a pose that isn't nearly as cool as she apparently thinks it is.

'Wow. We gonna kiss her ass too?' Galahad asks, giving me a look.

'I've done a lot of horrible things for humanity, Galahad. But even I have too much self-respect to play the appeaser to fucking Jaguarman.' I raise a hand. 'Siegfried, Cu, attack on my signal.'

"You have trespassed in my jungle, fool!" the most singularly disappointing war god fueled by human sacrifice that I've ever met proclaims, pointing her cat stick at me. "Now prepare to face my wrath!"

She lunges forwards, and CU intercepts, with Siegfried joining in a second later.

She's fast, but Cu is faster. The problem is, though, she has Instinct like Arthur's, which is letting her keep up with Cu in spite of his superior speed, and her Monstrous Strength is letting her match his Strength. Not to mention, we're in her home turf, so her Jaw of the Dark Jungle skill is active.

The fight would be an even one. But Siegfried is here.

Ever since the disastrous fight against Lancelot back in the Jerusalem Singularity, I made sure to have my Servants train together, so that they would be familiar enough with each others' fighting styles to properly gang up on tough opponents. And it's paying off in spades. Cu and Siegfried aren't tripping each other up anymore. Indeed, they're complimenting each other. Siegfried is flanking her, allowing him and Cu to strike from both sides, with Siegfried's powerful, sweeping strokes forcing her to dodge into Cu's thrusts. A maneuver they practiced for quite some time.

She's in checkmate and she knows it. While she's slightly faster than Siegfried, she's also slightly slower than Cu, and the two heroes are coordinating perfectly. If she aims to avoid Cu, she falls into Siegfried's attacks. If she tries to avoid Siegfried, Cu will get her.

I can't track the fight, they're going too fast for my eyes to follow, but it's evident that Jaguarman is losing. Even if she's avoided being killed through Instinct and Luck alone, the cuts and shaves from her various near misses are adding up. Soon, she'll be-

I hear a growl from behind me, and Galahad immediately pulls me behind him as the werejaguars attack, one of their clubs missing my skull by inches.

Shit. Of course she has minions. I turn back to the fight, and, sure enough, she's already gone. In the split second where both Cu and Siegfried were distracted by the attempt on my life, she made a break for it.

'Do you want me to pursue?' Cu asks.

'Negative. This is her territory. Chasing after her will only cause problems.' She's a jaguar, after all. They're nothing if not excellent ambush predators. Speaking of, we should probably try to complete our investigation and get out before nightfall. This entire jungle will be her stalking ground once the sun sets. 'Return and help us dispose of her minions. We're going to press on, and then retreat before the sun gets too low.'

'Understood.'

---

Our investigation bears little fruit, at least until an hour later, when we run into an old man checking his traps.

"Hello." He seems remarkably unperturbed to be approached by a band of oddly dressed strangers in the middle of the jungle. "Would you lot be visitors from Uruk?"

Eh. Let's just go with that. "We are, yes. We came to determine the situation in the jungle that's sprung up. And how the situation might be mended."

"Hm. Well, you're welcome to join me for a bite to eat," the old fellow says with a smile. "My name's Otis, by the way."

I look at the others. 'Think this is a trap?'

'Maybe,' Cu admits. 'But now that he's made the offer, I literally can't turn it down.'

So, for Cu's sake, we take Otis up on his offer.

And so, he guides us to his house, a somewhat shabby thing, checking his traps along the way.

It's comfortable enough inside, and he immediately hurries off to start cooking, while we settle ourselves in, and I dispatch Cursed Arm to watch and make sure he doesn't put anything in the food.

As we wait, the sun sets.

"What?" I yelp, checking the time. "It's only 3!"

"The Jaguar must be hunting," our host calls, as he brings out the food.

"What? What does that have to do with the sun setting at three in the afternoon in the middle of July?"

"You don't know?" our host asks, looking surprised. "Well, I suppose that's only natural. You're here to find out more about the area. The Sun rules this jungle."

"The… sun?"

"Yes. The Sun rules this jungle, and the Sun created it. The Sun set the Jaguar to guard its lands, and the Jaguar is strongest at night. So whenever the Jaguar loses during the day, she dashes off to the Sun, and begs her master to set, so that she can strike back at whoever humiliated her in the dead of night."

That's… worrying. Very worrying.

We dig into the stew, contemplating what we've been told. The news may be poor, but at least the stew is excellent.

"Honored host," I say after a few minutes of eating in silence. "May I ask what precisely has happened in the lands of Eridu?"

"You may," old Otis says, but before he can say anything else, there's a knock at the door, and he pales. "Oh dear. I'll have to get this."

The door swings open the second he unlatches it, slamming the poor man into the wall, as Jaguarman bursts in. "OTIS! Feed me!"

She doesn't seem to notice us, instead focusing in on Otis. "I can smell the stew, so fork it over!"

"Lady Jaguar," Otis gasps out as he pulls himself up. "I must beg you to leave for tonight. I have already invited guests over, and I cannot feed both them and you. I cannot be host to you tonight. Indeed, if I do not eat tonight, and eat in full, without you stealing the lion's share of my food, I may not be able to hunt tomorrow."

"But it's so yummy," she whines, giving him puppy dog eyes. "Just kick out your other guests, and I promise that I'll help you hunt tomorrow!"

"Please!" Otis begs. "To mistreat my guests would offend the very gods!"

"And not feeding me would offend this goddess in particular," Jaguarman snarls. "Look, I'll kick them out for you, how about that." She turns to us, and then freezes, a sudden, predatory gleam in her eye. "Well, I was out to boot these intruders out of my jungle anyways. Guess this is a win-win for me."

"Lady Jaguar, please do not attack my guests!" Otis begs, as I begin covertly readying my Servants for combat. "We can still resolve this peacefully!"

"How so?" I ask, deciding to play along.

"I propose a contest," Otis says, which seems to get Jaguarman's attention as our unassuming old host hurries over to the wall and gets down a curved bow. "Both of you take turns trying to string the bow. Whoever succeeds in stringing it will be my guest for the night. The loser, on the other hand, will have to leave, and not trouble the victor in the slightest."

This… seems familiar.

"Alright, that's easy!" Jaguarman cheers, grinning ear-to-ear. "I'm going first, of course!"

She grabs the bow, and the string, and starts to pull it down. And she fails. She can't get the bowstring down more than halfway, no matter how hard she struggles.

Finally, she rounds on our host. "This game is rigged! Stringing this thing is impossible!"

"It most certainly is not," Otis says. "There's a trick to it, actually."

As he bends down to show us how it's done, my sense of déjà vu intensifies. Seriously, why is this so-

The bow is strung, and royal Odysseus stands tall and unbowed once more.

-damn… familiar… Holy shit.

As Jaguarman reels, as deeply in shock as I am right now, the newly revealed King of Ithaca grins. "ἐπιςτροφή τοῦ Ὀδυσσẻως!"

Okay, that was clearly a Noble Phantasm, but I have no idea what it- My Command Seals are gone. So is Jaguarman's spear. And all of my Servants' weapons.

"What the-" is all Jaguarman manages to get out, before the mighty bow thrums, and an arrow sinks into her skull, quickly followed by another. And another. And another, and another, and another, and another…

At twenty arrows, though, Odysseus stops shooting her, and lets her dissolve, before he turns to us. "So, honored guests from Chaldea, shall we resume our feast, and discuss our mutual foes?"

And, under the eyes of one of my childhood heroes, staring at the glowing motes that are all that's left of the war goddess he just killed, I can't find a single thing to say.

"Sure. You got any salt?" asks Galahad, who suffers no such impediment.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"I don't actually know much about the goddess at the heart of the jungle," Odysseus explains over dinner. "I do, however, know that she's some sort of sun goddess. And, obviously, that she's Aztec. The building style of her temple confirms that."

"Hm. That leaves us with five possibilities," I observe, beginning to count things off on my fingers. "The first would be Tezcatlipoca, who I'd consider the most likely candidate, in light of Jaguarman's presence. The second would be Quetzalcoatl, who's easily the least likely of all the candidates, simply because I can't imagine him working with a servant of his sworn enemy. Third would be a rain god I can't remember the name of for the life of me, and the fourth would be said forgettable rain god's wife, Mixan- Mixanshi- Mixancootie- Misty. I'm calling her Misty, because I don't have nearly enough practice to actually pronounce her name. Fifth would be the Aztecs' primary god, Huitzilopochtli."

"Why on earth would anyone need five sun gods?" Cu asks, looking bewildered. "You'd think that one would be enough."

Odysseus actually laughs at that one. "Eh. I can see it. Gods tend to multiply. I had to give offerings to fourteen different gods of marriage, childbirth, and fertility just to make sure I didn't offend anybody when I was marrying off Telemachus."

Georgios smirks, but doesn't say anything, and I discreetly fist-bump him.

"Well, in any case," I say, after my brief moment of basking in the financial perks of monotheism. "That's not exactly what happened. Basically, the Aztecs believed that there were five ages of the world, and that they lived in the fifth age. In each of those ages, there was a different god in charge of being the sun. In the previous four ages, humanity was completely exterminated by the gods, purposefully or otherwise, and had to be brought back by Quetzalcoatl."

There's a moment of dead silence around the table.

"What?" Siegfried asks, looking slightly nauseous.

"The Aztecs weren't a cheerful people," I say, in what might be history's greatest understatement. "In any case, I'd say that we're most likely facing off against Texcatlipoca, the god of darkness, jaguars, and sorcery. He was the first sun, and, seeing as he played a part in all four of the times humanity was wiped out, I can easily see him as part of the Alliance. Also, Jaguarman was one of his servants, so that would definitely seem to confirm his presence."

"Hm. So. How do we kill him?" Odysseus asks, cutting straight to the important questions.

"Now that is the million-dollar question," I say, leaning back in my seat. "And, quite frankly, I don't want to jump into this too early. We have the advantage of surprise, at the moment. We should take our time and figure out our enemy's weak points." I pause. "I'll also want a second opinion on this whole mess, so once we finish our meal, I'm calling in Caesar."

"True. I suppose we should decide our strategy in a proper conference."

After dinner's over, we send Siegfried back to Chaldea (which he's a good sport about) and call in Caesar. Frankly, I would've preferred to bench Holmes, as he's been fairly secretive and unhelpful for most of the Singularity thus far, but he's still off working undercover, so that's a wash.

And now, after we've cleared the table, we settle around it, ready to come up with a plan.

"Alright. Before we go into how to kill Tezcatlipoca, I think we should take a step back, and determine whether we should."

"What?" Odysseus asks, looking confused. "He's the enemy, Flynn."

"He's not speaking of moral concerns," Caesar interjects, looking at me. "He's referring to the bigger picture, and the broader war. Isn't that right, Flynn?"

"Exactly." I say with a grin. "Teacher, could you provide us with a map?"

Medea nods, and, in a wave of purple, the table's surface is transmuted into a map of the region.

Cu groans. "All right, I'm out. Strategy is not my thing. I'll be standing guard outside if you need me."

Kinda saw that one coming.

"So. As Caesar said, let's look at the bigger picture. I've screwed up by killing a sun-affiliated demigod before, I don't want to see the fallout if I rush into killing a full-on sun deity." I tap on Uruk. "This, as far as we can tell, is the Three Goddess Alliance's primary objective. They destroy Uruk and kill Gilgamesh, and they win. Humanity's destroyed, or re-enslaved, or what-have-you. Bad news all around." I look at my audience, and then smile. "So, the question presents itself: Why hasn't that happened already? Gilgamesh is badly outnumbered, and two-thirds god or not, he's still just a mortal. If they really wanted to, they could just kill him in his sleep, or coordinate an attack from both sides on the ADF."

"You're saying that their alliance isn't as clear-cut as it seems," Odysseus summarizes. "Because they aren't working together or aiding each other in any way."

"Exactly. They may outnumber us, but they're clearly a house divided." I smirk. "It actually brings to mind your old Triumvirate, Caesar."

"I suppose that the parallels are fairly clear," Caesar says with a sigh. "And why do you bring this up?"

"Because it also reminded me of Plutarch's Life of Pompey." That gets a few blank stares. "More specifically, this one line: 'Before, they had stood like three wrestlers, each unwilling to engage another, for fear that, should he triumph, the third wrestler would overcome him, tired from his exertions as he was. But now, Crassus was dead, and the fresh wrestler had fallen, and the two that remained circled about one another, ready to engage.'"

"I don't think that was entirely accurate," Galahad observes.

"Yeah, I probably mangled it. It's been a while since I've read Plutarch. But the sentiment remains."

"So." Caesar gives me an appraising look. "How do you propose to take advantage of this?"

"Our adversaries think that they're the only three wrestlers in the ring. But they're wrong. We are the fourth wrestler. This war will be decided not by who wins the most fights, but by who fights the least. To win, we have to pit our foes against each other, to the greatest extent we possibly can."

"Well put, Flynn," Odysseus says with a nod of acknowledgement. "Now, what do you propose that we do?"

I manfully contain my urge to squeal like a little girl, and continue in a calm, professional tone. "If we're going to pit them against one another, we'll need more information. To that end, I move that we wait and observe, try to get an idea of the personalities in play, and the weaknesses they have. No jumping in headfirst. Anyone have any objections?"

I get smiles and nods from my audience. "Good. Then we start by observing Tezcatlipoca, and then we pull what threads we find."

 

[Charles Flynn]

Observation duty is swiftly established. After Cursed Arm's initial successes, we begin a proper infiltration. When Holmes returns, I send him straight back to Chaldea, and bring out Yan Qing in his stead. Chaldea's chivalrous bandit is then sent in to infiltrate our enemy's ranks, disguised as a mere soldier. Georgios is likewise swapped out for our trump card. We didn't get to use him back in Camelot, but I doubt that'll hold true in the battles to come.

He might seem like a weak Servant, but William Shakespeare is absolutely deadly with the right direction.

Still, our observation swiftly uncovers the jungle goddess' routine. She does lucha.

That's literally it, all she does is lucha! When she's not participating in matches, she's training her force in the art of lucha (which I consider a poor sign for her strategic prowess,) or conscripting more men for her luchador army (which does not have the makings of a halfway effective fighting force.)

But it's what she doesn't do that's most informative. She doesn't kill her soldiers. She doesn't eat their hearts. Instead, she nurtures them, without asking for anything in return.

I was way off the mark. She's Quetzalcoatl. No ifs or buts about it.

Unfortunately, she also doesn't give away much about the dynamics of the Three Goddess Alliance. At least, not until the seventh day of our observation.

---

I'm at lunch when Cursed Arm reports to me that Quetzalcoatl has a new visitor.

I don't waste time.

"Medea! Target's receiving a visitor, I want eyes on the meeting stat, and your best analysis of his mana signature."

She nods, eager for something to break the monotony, and pretty soon we're all gathered around the scrying pool. After a week of sitting and gathering intel, we were all going a little stir-crazy.

"Roman, are you scanning them?"

"Absolutely. We'll have our preliminary report soon."

And so, we settle down and watch the meeting.

Almost immediately, a problem emerges.

"Um, Medea, is there a way to get sound on this?"

"Not one that I can use without them noticing," my teacher says, watching the meeting attentively.

From what I can see of the meeting, it's a tense one. While they both put up cheerful facades, they're clearly on guard around each other. Of course, we're limited to body language and half-assed lip reading for the purpose of figuring out what the meeting's about. All Yang can tell me is that he overheard that the Jolly Green Jackass here's name is Kingu.

"He has a Holy Grail," Roman tells us, halfway into the meeting. "Our readings have definitively confirmed the presence of a Holy Grail inside him."

"Oh." Now it's obvious. "He's the mastermind."

Shakespeare raises an eyebrow. "And how have you come to that conclusion, oh Master mine?"

"Firstly, the Holy Grail. Previously, we've only found the tainted grails in the hands of the masterminds of the various Singularities we've visited. Seeing as he's the only one in the Three Goddess Alliance we've seen who has one so far, it's pretty clear that he's the main mover behind our enemies. Secondly, this is obviously a check-in visit. We haven't seen him here before, and he's obviously not here to stay, so why is he visiting?"

"Because he's either the one behind the Three Goddess Alliance, or the one serving as the various members' point of contact," Caesar notes, picking up the thread. "So. What do you propose we do about this?"

I grin. "We interrogate him, of course."

"Flynn, the readings we're picking up from him are ridiculous," Roman interrupts, looking at a tablet. "He's not like any other Heroic Spirit we've seen before. In fact, he's-"

"Enkidu?" Ishtar asks, making everyone jump. I look over at her in shock, wondering just when, exactly, she came in. "I leave you for a week, and I come back to find you spying on Enkidu? Why the hell is he even alive?"

"Ah. Milady. It is a pleasure to bask in your presence once more. May I ask where you have been?"

"Oh, well, I went off searching for… something important… and then I got a bit sidetracked, had to win my underwear back from a demon in a competitive board game night, but that's not important! Why is Enkidu there?"

"He seems to be going by 'Kingu' now, milady." I maintain my polite demeanor while mentally slotting her into my now-developing plans. "We believe him to be the primary coordinator of the Three Goddess Alliance, and we're most likely going to torture him until he tells us everything he knows about the Alliance, and then kill him. Would you care to join us?"

Ishtar freezes, staring at me in shock. Pretty much everyone is, with the exceptions of Medea, who's snickering, and Shakespeare, who's furiously taking notes.

"Wh-What?" the goddess of love and war finally asks, her voice little more than a whisper.

"We will interrogate him by whatever means are necessary, using truth detection runes to verify his answers. Since he is our only lead as to the Alliance's coordination and hierarchy, we'll need to extract whatever information we can from him. Since he's also likely the man behind the Alliance, his death is also an unavoidable necessity." I look around at them. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Flynn is correct, regardless of how disconcertingly casual he's being about this," Caesar says after a moment. "We'll need to get as much as we possibly can out of him before we kill him."

"I- You're insane!" Ishtar finally snaps. "Enkidu was someone who could go up against me and actually give me pause! Do you really think that you can deal with him that easily?"

"Easily? No. But I do believe it to be possible. I've been working on how to take down the various goddesses of the Alliance since we arrived in this Singularity. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't think those plans could work."

"That's…" she pauses, looking at me with something I can't identify in her eyes. "You believe that you can do this?"

"Yes."

"Then this will be my test for you. Prove that you are worthy to stand beside a goddess."

I nod. "As you command, my lady."

Roman coughs, and the moment's over. "Um… I hate to interrupt, but he's kind of headed straight towards you."

"What?"

"I think he sensed you somehow," Roman says apologetically. "He'll be there in ten minutes, so I recommend that you get going."

"Absolutely not!" I say with a grin. "Ten minutes is plenty of time. Shakespeare, Medea, you know what to do. I'll hand out the scripts."

This is going to be fun.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I soar above the jungle, towards Quetzalcoatl's domain.

Gorgon might get into trouble without me around to look after her, but all the same, I can hardly stand back and let Chaldea live. There is, after all, the chance, however slight, that they could disrupt Mother's plans, and that cannot be allowed to come to pass.

My hostess looks startled when I land in front of her, before assuming a combat-ready stance and ordering her little charity cases to hide.

"Oh, relax, Quetzalcoatl," I say, waving my hand airily. "If you really thought that I didn't already know about this little… hobby of yours, then you're sadly mistaken. I'm well aware of your little… wrestling league, and this isn't about them."

"Then what is this about, Kingu?" she asks, shooing away some curious soldier that got too close with one hand. "I doubt it's a social call."

"Perhaps it is!" I offer with a smile. "After all, your sunny disposition never fails to brighten my day."

She glares at me, but I keep going. "And that energetic jaguar of yours never fails to amuse. Where is she, by the way? I was rather looking forward to her cat puns."

That was a bald-faced lie.

"I'm afraid she can't make it at the moment. Dreadfully busy, and all that." Quetzalcoatl doesn't let her iron control over her features slip as she looks me in the eye. I almost respect her for that.

"Really?" I keep a friendly smile on my face. "I'd be happy to help her with that. After all, even if we're all competing, we're aiming for the same goal, aren't we? We all want the humans dead, and the gods reigning supreme once more."

"Oh, absolutely," she assures me, not letting her affable mask slip as she lies through her teeth. "But Jaguar was very insistent about not needing any help. It'd hurt her pride if you went and tried to aid her."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that I can't help." I smile, watching her relax ever-so-slightly, before I go in for the kill. "Although I've always thought that you work her a bit too hard. After all, she's so loyal, and eager to please! Really, I heard a rumor that she was killed by the Master of Chaldea. Wouldn't you be heartbroken if that had actually happened?"

"What do you want, Kingu?" she asks, her face hardening.

"I wish to hunt down and kill the forces of Chaldea."

"They're not here anymore," she says with a sigh. "They left after they killed Jaguarman."

"Really?" I lash out with one hand, and my chains pierce straight through the chest of the guard who was eavesdropping early, dragging him towards me before I crush his skull with one hand. The body dissolves into the telltale golden motes of a Servant. "Does that include him?"

She sighs. "Just go."

"A pleasure talking with you as always, Quetzalcoatl. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and deal with your vermin problem."

And then I'm off in the air again, ready to swat the flies of Chaldea.

It takes me nine minutes to reach the sniveling little cowards. They're waiting for me, out in the open. Their master, next to some sort of night in purple, and a bearded fellow in colorful finery. Easy pickings.

"First Folio."

What the Hell?

I'm not in the forest anymore.

Lacquered wooden planks lie below my feet, and a red curtain hangs before me.

The Master of Chaldea, Flynn, I think his name was, is standing about five feet away from me, looking at me expectantly.

I blink in confusion. What… what just happened?

He edges a bit closer to me, and then whispers, out of the side of his mouth, "Dude, it's your line."

I do the only rational thing and shoot a clay sword at his face. It hits, reducing his head to a bloody paste.

Right, all of this should fade any second now. With the Master dead, the Servants will start running out of mana, and-

"Are you okay?"

There he is, the Master of Chaldea, hale and hearty as ever, looking at me with genuine concern.

Right, right, everybody has the occasional off day, I know that. I shoot him again, and this time, I don't take my eyes off of-

"Look, Director, I think Enkidu's sick!"

SON OF A WHORE!

"Can we please send him to a doctor? I'm not sure what's going on with him, but…"

"No!"

I turn, and I see the bearded man, sitting in the front row the countless seats below this elevated wooden platform Flynn and I are on.

"I will not coddle a defective tool," the man says coldly. "Mary, this one's no good! Dispose of him like the rest!"

The floor drops away beneath me, and I find myself falling, at least until I land on something soft.

Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

I look down to see what I just landed on, and I freeze.

My own face stares back at me. Again, and again, and again. A thousand empty eyes stare sightlessly into the darkness, and a thousand broken bodies lie limp and lifeless. I stand atop a mountain of broken tools, left to rot in the silence beneath the stage.

Just like me.

---​

"Alright, welcome to the land of the living, Enkidu!" Flynn says, and I start. "Whoa, easy there, buddy. I get it, born less than a minute ago, but we've got a job to do!"

"I… did I die?" I can't stop staring at my hands. I'm here. I'm alive. As an afterthought, I shoot Flynn in the head. It doesn't stick, but it does shut him up for a second or two. I was… I was in the darkness, but now I'm here. Alive. Did I die down there? Or…

"Am I the replacement?"

"Um… yeah." Flynn scratches the back of his head, while I stare at him in silent irritation. "Look, I make no promises, the director's a total prima donna, but you can do just fine as long as you remember your lines. You've got this, Enkidu."

"My name is Kingu, I snap, giving him a glare.

"Right, getting into character already!" Flynn slaps me on the back. "You're gonna do great. Alright, script's on the table, and your cue is in another couple of minutes. Try not to miss it, you know how the Director is."

What is he even… ugh. Whatever. I look at the sheaf of paper he pointed to, out of curiosity alone, mind you, and I feel the bottom of my stomach sink.

The Chaldean Theater Group Proudly Presents:​

The Death of Kingu
A Tragedy in Four Acts​

WHAT IS THIS?

"And I… I have just the plan," Flynn announces dramatically from the direction of the elevated wooden platform we were on.

There's an uncomfortable silence. I suppose I was supposed to enter, but frankly, I can't be damned to play along. I'm too busy flipping desperately through the paper, reading as it almost seems to… illustrate some sort of chronicle of my demise.

"Worthless piece of crap!" the Director roars. "Mary!"

The floor falls away, and I am in my graveyard once more, discarded and-

---​

"You doing okay, Enkidu? The last you kind of flaked out on us," Flynn says. I pay him no mind. It's time to end this farce.

I storm out onto the stage, look the Director in the eye, and then I smite the insolent human down. I rise, my chains weaving about each other, bringing ruin to all. And then I hit. "NAMMU DURANKI!"

Then, I'm back on the stage, and nothing has changed.

"NAMMU DURANKI!"

"Is there a point to all of this?" the Director asks, looking bored.

"I AM KINGU, YOU INSOLENT HUMAN FILTH, AND WILL NOT PLAY YOUR GAMES!" I scream. "NAMMU DURANKI!"

"Splendid. This one's both defective and crazy." He looks up. "MARY!"

I try to jump out of the way, but the floor still drops out from under me, and I am in Hell once more.

---​

"Enkidu?" Flynn asks, looking worried. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Am I losing my mind? "I'm fine."

"Look, if you're not up to going out there and giving your lines, then I'll do my best to stall so you can get your head on straight."

I don't need his… Wait. "Lines?"

"Yeah, for the play?" he looks dismayed. "Oh, Jesus, it's worse than I thought."

"What?" I follow along in bewilderment as he leads me along to some sort of… padded bench and sits me down on it.

"Listen. You and I are actors. We pretend to be fictional people to act out plays. We read lines of dialogue out loud, and perform predetermined actions in order to tell stories, all according to the script. Any of this reading a bell?"

"I suppose?" I say weakly. Nothing I do seems to change anything, so… maybe if I play along with the insanity, it'll all be over quicker? Or am I insane? Am I the crazy one?

"Good, because if you flub your lines, the director's going to chuck you into the Failure Pit." Flynn shudders. "So here. Read through the script. I'll stall for time."

"Thank you."

"No problem. It's the least I could do to help."

---​

The play continues on, and Flynn is as good as his word. He helps me rehearse my lines, and he's there for me when I get tossed into the Pit.

I get tossed into the Pit a lot.

Flynn does too, once or twice. I'm there for him when he wakes up.

It's when we're practicing our lines, one night, between the endless rehearsals, when he asks me.

"So, I noticed that you keep fumbling your lines. What's tripping you up?"

"It feels wrong." I blurt out without thinking.

"What does?"

"The whole play," I admit reluctantly. "It feels like… well… like… Um. A while back, I thought I was Kingu."

"Any idea why?"

"No, no, it's just… some stupid reaction to the stress, I think. I had a whole different version of the script that I thought was reality, and, ah, I'm probably boring you right now."

"No, no, go on, I wanna hear what you came up with."

"Well…" I hesitate, before dismissing my fears as silly. It was just a dream, anyways. Just a stupid dream. "In… well, in my version of the script, the Tiamat up in the north? She wasn't the real Tiamat. The real Tiamat was sleeping under the sea, and she created me to help her wake up so that she could make a new version of humanity."

"What?" he sounds legitimately shocked.

"Yeah, I know, pretty stupid, right?"

"Dude, THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!" he's beaming at me, and I look down. "What else happened? I want to hear everything! It sounds so much better than the script we've got!"

I blush. "Y-You really think so?"

"Yeah. Hold on, I want to take notes. I'm going to try and talk the Director into using your version of the script." He fumbles around, and eventually produces a notepad. "So, underwater Tiamat, huh? So where does the Tiamat in the north fit into all of this?"

"Well, that was my doing, actually…"

---​

It's the last scene, and I feel like I'm about to puke. Flynn actually did manage to talk the director into revising the script, and since then, we've actually been making progress! We're almost out of rehearsals! Just this one, final scene to go.

So of course I'm terrified that I'm going to get chucked back into the Failure Pit. Flynn's here with me, though, talking me through my anxiety.

"All right, Enkidu, you've got this! You know you've got this!" he pats me on the back as we sit backstage in our costumes, him in the white uniform, and me in my white gown. "Come on, let's go over the scene again."

"All right. So, I confront you after leaving Quetzalcoatl behind, and then, I deliver my dramatic threats, you give your one-liner, and then I get stabbed in the back by Suzy." I sigh. "And then I give my dramatic dying monologue. Okay, you know what? I'm just going to stay it: This ending sucks."

"I know," Flynn says ruefully. "The one-liner's not very good either. But we've been at this for weeks, and I for one, really want this damn dress rehearsal over."

"True that," I say with a tired grin. "But still, why would Rule Breaker kill Kingu in one shot? I t doesn't make any sense."

"Hell if I know," Flynn says. "I think the Director said something about her breaking it or something? I didn't really get it. But I do know that once we ace this on the first try, and the Director finally lets us leave, we're getting drinks to celebrate, and the first round's on me."

I grin, and we start to make our way up to the stage, when I catch sight of the prop in Suzy's hands.

"Um, Flynn?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure that's a collapsible dagger?"

"Yeah, pretty sure."

"It's just kind of, well, twisted, and I can't help but worry…"

"Hey." Flynn gives me a look. "Would I lie to you?"

"Yeah, you're right." I give him a smile. "I trust you."

And then it's out onto the stage, and everything's going smoothly.

"Fool!" I roar, hamming it up as I gesture wildly. "So long as I hold the Grail within me, I will never die!"

"So you say, dear Kingu," Flynn says, but it's missing his usual energy. "But my teacher is a mighty witch, and she's not one for rules."

I feel the dagger sink into my back, and I'm in the forest again, as the Director shuts his book, and my best friend, the man who was playing me from the start just stares at me sadly.

I feel the world crumble around me.

"RULE BREAKER!"

And then I feel no more.

 

[Charles Flynn]

Medea swears like a sailor, clutching the shattered stump of her arm, as the now-Broken Rule Breaker detonates, its task completed.

And as I stare down at the now-inert clay that used to be Kingu, I find myself feeling… numb.

So. This is what being the worst person to ever live feels like.

"Alright," Galahad says, looking cautiously at the lumpy gray remains of the man who I just gaslighted into believing he was my friend so I could stab him in the back. "Is he dead? Because, speaking as the guy who was blocking his Noble Phantasm and those goddamn daggers while you were all doing that play-within-a-play of yours, I really hope he's dead."

"I'm not really qualified to tell you that," I say, my face a cheerful mask. "Medea?"

"FUCK YOU! I JUST LOST A HAND FOR YOU!"

"Oh, don't be overdramatic, you're a Servant and one of the greatest spellcasters to ever live. You'll have grown it back by tomorrow."

She sighs, still glaring at me. "Fine. He's dead. His body was essentially one of the gods of Mesopotamia's Noble Phantasms. He's more or less an artificial life form, powered by god-tier magecraft. Normally, Rule Breaker would be incapable of disrupting that, but making it into a Broken Phantasm succeeded in destroying the underlying architecture of his body beyond repair. So, congratulations, he's dead. And all it cost us was my hand and Noble Phantasm."

"I think we summoned Rule Breaker once or twice. We can just grab a replacement from on of the junk closets."

She looks at me incredulously. "What?"

"The FATE system summons Noble Phantasms or parts of heroes' legends far more often than it summons the heroes themselves. We actually have two separate copies of Excalibur in Chaldea. Roman uses one of them as a paperweight."

"You… used the Sword of Promised Victory… as a paperweight," Galahad says, looking at me incredulously.

"Roman did. Not like we could have actually used it for anything without its proper owner on hand, after all."

"Splendid!" Shakespeare calls out, making his presence known once more. "Shall we return to our base, so that we may sup together once more?"

"Yeah, sure." I stare at the remains of Kingu one last time. "Just to be safe, we're going to take some precautions."

---

We bury Kingu in five pieces, each one miles apart and at random depths. Galahad secures the Grail, and then we feast to our victory.

It's a somber affair. None of us really feel like celebrating our defeat of Tiamat's eldest son. We all know the truth, after all: We didn't win because we were stronger, or because we were better than him. We didn't win through kindness, or love, or friendship. We won because we were better monsters. No more, and no less.

About halfway through, though, somebody knocks on the door.

Odysseus, still our host, rises, and goes to get it. "That's probably our guests."

"Guests?" I ask, latching onto the words after a moment of silence. "I wasn't aware…"

The door swings wide, and Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, enters.

"…of… any…" FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK.

He's not alone, either. The servant we identified as Perseus is with him. As are two more. An old man I don't recognize, and a man in white robes, holding a wizard's staff.

"Ah. Welcome to my humble abode, Master," Odysseus, that backstabbing genius weasel of a man, says, still smiling affably. "I was just wondering when you'd show up."

Oh, God, what the Hell was I thinking? Why did I think that sticking around Gilgamesh's Servant, who presumably has a mental link with him could ever be a good idea?

"A pleasure to visit, Odysseus," Gilgamesh says. "I see that the Master of Chaldea and the goddess Ishtar are here."

Is Gilgamesh being polite? I stare at him blankly as he takes a seat between an amused Cu and a spluttering Ishtar.

Okay, odds of this being an imposter… rising.

"Pass me the bread tray," he commands, and I give it to him before I realize what I'm doing.

No, seriously, what is happening right now?

I notice with a start that Odysseus is resting his curved bow against his knee. And then I remember exactly what his Noble Phantasm can do.

Right, no breaking the laws of hospitality. I can do that.

It's almost sad to say that the God-King of Uruk, who I told to go fuck himself not-even a week ago, crashing the party actually livens things up. Before, it was a thing of avoided eye contact, limited conversation, and crippling guilt. Now, however, the guilt has been supplanted by a growing sense of panic.

"What the HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Ishtar finally snaps, her face flushed as she points an accusing finger at Gilgamesh.

He pauses mid-bite. "Eating."

"No, I meant here! These ones are mine, Gilgamesh! No poaching them!"

"I also brought this." He offhandedly hands her a clay tablet.

"Yeah, do you really think that- TEN PERCENT?"

"Oh? Well if that's too little, I suppose I could bump it up to fifteen."

"F-F-F-Fifteen?" she repeats faintly, looking overwhelmed.

"All right, twenty. You drive a hard bargain, but I'll go no further."

Ishtar faints on the spot.

"Hm. As expected from so useless a goddess." Then, he tents his fingers, and looks at me. "So, then, Master of Chaldea. I have something I've been meaning to say to you."

Welp. This how I die. I look him in the eye, doing my best to stiffen my back, as, around the table, my Servants prepare to leap into battle. Against Gilgamesh alone, we might scrape out a win. But Gilgamesh with backup, and a bribed Ishtar? We're dead.

"I'm sorry."

"What." I look around, and I'm not the only one who's trying to pick their jaw up off the floor. Even Odysseus looks surprised. But the Servants he brought with him aren't shocked. The wizard in white is actually holding in laughter. Something to think about.

"I am sorry, mongrel. Do not force me to repeat myself." He takes a deep breath, and then continues. "I wish to offer my apologies for misjudging your worth and insulting your prowess as warriors. It was… uncalled for, and not my intent." He takes another deep breath, and then proceeds, his hands clenched tight around the silverware. "You have indeed proven your mettle, and I need your… I need your…" He grits his teeth, and then powers through. "I need your help to save Uruk."

I look him in the eye, and I realize that he hates me. I'm not sure on the why of it, but, then, even I hate me, so I suppose he might not even need a reason. I am a very hateable person. But even so, he's swallowing his hatred, and his pride… for Uruk. Because no matter how much he hates the measures he must take, he will save his home.

I swallow nervously, staring at the King who just proved himself to be ten times the man I'll ever be. What can I say to that except…

"I would be glad to lend you my assistance, your majesty."

"Very well. Will you return to Uruk with me?" he asks.

"Yes. We also have some fairly vital information to share with you." I hesitate, remembering just where we got said information.

"From your interrogation of Kingu," Gilgamesh says, giving me a measured glare. "Do not attempt to lie to me. Odysseus already told me."

"I see." And I do. He doesn't just hate me. He… respects me? I have no idea why, but it's in there. And all I had to do was permanently destroy the last remnant of his best friend.

Jesus, my life is fucked up.

I realize then that Ishtar woke up sometime during Gilgamesh's… display of humility, because she's staring at him in gape mouthed confusion.

"Your table manners are atrocious," Gilgamesh notes, helping himself to some of the stew.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE REAL GILGAMESH?" Ishtar finally snaps, pointing a glowing finger at him.

"I grew up, Ishtar. I understand that you might be unfamiliar with the concept, but you really should try it one of these days."

And then the King of Uruk grabs some of the brisket, while his city's patron goddess gapes at him in impotent fury.

 

[Charles Flynn]

The ground rubs pleasantly against my scales as I slither towards the wall. My children swarm the walls, dragging the worthless humans down to their doom.

The time for this farce has passed. Kingu has been missing for over a week, and I must find him.

I can hear the worthless meat begin to scream and quaver as I draw nearer. Good. It is right that they should fear. After all, I am the mighty Gorgon Tiamat. My hatred for them bubbles up within my chest, and I find myself smiling widely at the carnage I'm about to wreak upon them. A series of useless tripwires go off, launching tiny darts that cut shallow grooves into my flesh, centered around my chest. They do nothing, and I dismiss the tingling numbness I feel around the wounds as I fix my petrifying gaze onto the little ants scurrying about atop the wall.

They will suffer. They will all suffer for trapping me on that goddamn rock LEAVING ME! They will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that all their struggles have been for naught, as they gaze upon their doom, and-

"YEW BOW!"

Suddenly, I'm flat on my back, my ears ringing as I try to parse together what the hell just happened. Then the pain hits, and I stare down at the bloody, mangled remains of my chest.

Did they-? The pain stops my train of thought with an affirmative yes. It's mind-numbing. A searing wave of agony that makes me want to just curl up into a little ball and cry.

But, louder than the pain, is the fury. The red rage that dances behind my eyes, begging me to burn the world. Because THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS JUST BLEW UP MY TITS! THEY DIE! THEY DIE SLOWLY, AND PAINFULLY, SUBJECTED TO EVERY LAST TORTURE I KNOW!

A red-haired man dressed in green steps up to the corner of the wall, grimaces, and then cups his hands to shout at me. "Vile Gorgon! Know that your defeat on this battlefield has been the sole working of ME! The one and only Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest, a proud Servant of Chaldea, and your avowed enemy. As you flee, to slither down amongst the dark and forgotten places of the world, and relish the eternal shame of your defeat, know that it was I and only I-"

That's all he gets out before I lunge at him, sinking my hands into the wall's stonework so I can climb my way up. He turns tail and runs as fast as his pathetic human legs will take him, but I dog his steps.

Almost there, he's ALMOST WITHIN MY REACH! I can feel my eyes beginning to overwhelm this whelp of a Servant's Magic Resistance, but whenever he starts slowing down, he always somehow manages to duck out of my sight for just long enough for my hard work to be undone!

I'm chasing him through a forest, which is really impeding my line of sight, and those traps of his are dogging my steps like biting insects, constantly biting into me. Unlike before, they don't seem to slow me. Instead, I feel a burning, incandescent fury, igniting my inner fires and driving me to strike faster and harder!

MY RAGE CONSUMES ALL!

"PANDAMONIUM CEEEEEETTTTTUUUUUUUSSS!"

Yes.

I groan in exultation, at irritating pest's demise. The rage still lingers, though, strengthening my very being, piercing my core. I feel it growing, consuming me!

"Well done, Lady Gorgon!" an unfamiliar voice says, and I turn to find a scruffy-looking man in a white uniform of some kind pointing dramatically at me. "You really showed him what-for."

I frown, my mind working through the growing haze of irrational fury. Wait. That's the Master of Chaldea! Kingu told me about him!

As I tense my body for a leap, he points at me dramatically with his other hand. "Now, before you do anything drastic, I just want you to know… I HAVE A CAT IN MY ARM!"

"What?" I ask, staring at him confusion. Even the red rage smothering my mind can't drown out how utterly baffled I am right now.

"His name is Mr. Fluffington the Third. He is a calico!" the idiot rattles off proudly, holding his arm up for me to inspect. "If you stop trying to destroy humanity, I'll let you pet him."

That one, solitary, incarnation of all earthly stupidity disguised as a sentence does what Gilagmesh's Absolute Demonic Front couldn't: It stops me dead in my tracks. I stare at him in stunned silence for a moment, and then state the obvious. "You're insane."

"No, I'm in Babylon. I'm not sure how you got those two confused."

I activate my Mystic Eyes and prepare to turn him into a mentally ill lawn ornament, when I feel a pinch on the back of my neck.

"RULE BREAKER!"

And, suddenly, the world dissolves into fractals of reality, as I remember just who I truly am.

I… am Gorgon. Not Tiamat. AND IHATEHERIHATEHIMIHATEHATEHATEHATE-

I lunge forwards, the fire coursing through my blood urging me to MAIMRIPTEARDESTROY until they're-

"YEW BOW!"

 

[Charles Flynn]

I can see the explosion from where I'm standing.

'Enemy terminated, Master.' Robin sends over the mental link.

'Excellent. How'd Yan do as my body double?'

'Eh. He hammed it up a bit, but otherwise, he kept things smoothly on the rails. Took my place as Gorgon's target seamlessly when the Berserker Toxin kicked in, then switched disguises to your appearance when she used that Noble Phantasm of yours. Did a good job of distracting her, all in all.'

'So, passing grade?'

'Yes.'

I turn to Gilgamesh, who's watching me appraisingly. "Your majesty, Gorgon has had her connection to Tiamat severed, and been terminated, as per our agreement."

"So I can see."

"Has this succeeded in lulling Tiamat to sleep?"

"Yes." He sighs, and then tosses Galahad the Grail. "And now you'll leave, abandoning us to deal with the last two remaining members of the Alliance."

It isn't a question.

"I'm not surprised that you knew," I say with a nod. "They're well within your capabilities, and SHEBA predicts that you'll succeed in resolving the Singularity on your own, now that we've lulled the Primordial Mother back to sleep."

"And so you're running."

"We need time to recover the resources expended in this Singularity, and prepare for Solomon's next move. This is the most efficient move to accomplish that."

"And the people of Uruk? What of my people? The ones who would have survived if you had stayed?" Gilgamesh glares at me, his eyes harsh and accusing.

"Uruk is your responsibility, King Gilgamesh. Reversing the Incineration is ours." I resolutely beat down the shredded fragments of whatever compassion and decency I may have once possessed, as they scream for me to stay, to help my fellow man, to be the hero.

He laughs. "I should be furious with you. But then, I doubt I could ever hate you as much as you do."

I wince. Oh, he's going to make this personal.

"That's-"

"How does it feel, Flynn, to betray every ideal you've ever had, all because you're too scared to try and imitate the heroes you so admire? How does it feel to-"

I punch him, and then promptly begin jumping around waving my now-broken hand. He just laughs.

"Goodbye, Master of Chaldea. I'll wish you neither weal nor woe, since you're too broken to be admired, and too pathetic to be hated."

Merlin bursts past him as he strolls out of the clearing, leaving me shaking as I stare at his back.

"Oh, thank God! Listen, I've been trying to get a word with you, but you kept dodging me! Listen, whatever you do, you can't-"

The Rayshift bears us away before he can finish that sentence.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I wake up in the morning, and then I'm up. I brush my teeth, shower, get dressed, and then head out to go about my day, doing my best to help Chaldea!

…by helping Senpai as his personal assistant.

You could do so much better.

I ignore Galahad being an overly critical ass as I make my way to Senpai's room. He was drinking again last night, so he'll probably be a bit late in getting up.

Yes, my point exactly! Why are you helping this shambling wreck of a human being cover for his own vices while he drinks himself into an early grave? You could do so much more than just following him around as his sidekick!

Senpai is a good person! And he needs my help!

Yeah, if you were actually trying to help him, you'd get him to stop with the drinking! You and I both know that between the alcoholism and the poisoning attempts, he has maybe a year before he drops dead of ciirhosis.

You're exaggerating. Now be quiet.

The door slides open, and Senpai emerges, purple bags beneath his hollow eyes. His cheeks are covered in stubble, so he stopped shaving again, and he looks like he hasn't been eating.

So, in other words, typical Senpai.

"Senpai!" I have my clipboard ready, and today's task list on the front page. "Do you want to get straight to the meat of things, or do you want to get breakfast first?"
He's probably going to skip breakfast again. The longer the Grand Order has gone, the more he's been missing his meals. I don't think he even notices it. He just keeps moving forwards.

"No. We have work to do. I'll grab myself something later."

I try not to sigh.

"Well, then, our first task for today is visiting Sir Gilles again, followed by board games in the Berserker Lounge."

"Belay that. Medea and I are submitting a proposal to Roman today. If successful, we could fix our Master shortage, and give ourselves enough backup to manifest Chaldea's full Servant complement when Solomon finally shows his ugly head."

He- He had something planned? And he didn't tell me?

"Senpai, why didn't you tell me? I'm in charge of keeping your schedule, and-"

"I mean, you kind of appointed yourself my scheduler," he says, heading towards Roman's office. "Look, I keep telling you, find something you want to do, don't just follow me around. I feel bad enough for taking up your time in the field, I don't want to waste your free time, too."

He… I…

See, Flynn agrees with me! Following him around like a lost puppy is a complete waste of your talents! You could do so much more if…

I feel tears start to leak from my eyes as I stare at Senpai's back.

He doesn't need me. I just wanted to help him, and he doesn't need me, and I'm useless, and I should just let Galahad have the body full-time, and-

Oh crap, Mash, Mash, I'm sorry!

It's fine for you, you get to be useful, but when I try to help as best I can, you get all critical, and I'm not even doing anything, and-

Mash, no, that's not what I'm trying to do here! You're a brilliant, incredibly talented person, and I just think that hanging around Flynn and trying to be his personal assistant is a waste of your abilities! Both because you're not actually doing much, and because you're wasted on him.

All I had was being a Demi-Servant. Now, you're doing that, and you do that better than me anyways, so why do I even bother?

Then try something else! Try helping the chefs, or working with Da Vinci, or…

"Mash? You doing okay?" Cu (I think it's the Caster one) asks, as he materializes. "Did Flynn do something?"

"I'm fine," I say, quickening my pace to catch up with Senpai. Cu follows, matching my pace.

"You know that if he's giving you trouble, I can set him straight."

Listen to the man. He can help you. But don't let him into your pants.

"I'm fine, it's just, do you ever feel…" I stop, feeling like an idiot. This is Cu Chulainn I'm talking to. Ireland's Child of Light. The greatest hero of the Emerald Isle, whose name is remembered even millennia after his death. Why would he ever feel like I do right now? "Never mind."

For Christ's sake, TALK TO HIM! He's trying to help!

"Look, Mash…"

"I have to go, Cu." I dry my eyes and jog off after Senpai, who's eating up the distance like a man possessed, same as ever. He's always more intense than usual when he's hungover.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

"If you ever need my help, just ask."

I hurry on after Senpai. Even if I'm worthless, I'm going to help as best I can.

Stop thinking about yourself like that!

I ignore Galahad as I catch up with Senpai. Medea is waiting for us outside Dr. Roman's office.

"Apprentice."

"Teacher."

Oh, joy, it's the crazy infanticidal bitch.

Be nice.

"You brought your tagalong?" the witches' eyes shift to me, and I suppress a shiver. I never really got the sense that she liked me. She stares at me with a vicious intensity, as if she's always thinking of just how many steps she'd have to take to slit my throat.

"She likes to follow me around. God only knows why, I'm terrible company." He shrugs. "But I don't see what harm she could do. Do you?"

"I suppose she can stay." Medea turns and opens the doors, and Senpai and I follow her inside.

Roman looks up from his paperwork as we enter. "Oh. So, what's this all about?"

"Medea and I had an idea for how to solve our Master shortage, strengthen our forces for the final battle against Solomon, and massively cut down on our overhead."

Dr. Roman sighs, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a horrific human rights violation of some kind, isn't it?"

"Oh ye of little faith."

"I think I'm displaying exactly the appropriate amount of faith for one of your proposals. I haven't forgotten your little suggestion that we be prepared to conduct a systemic purge of the Mage's Association after we stop the Incineration."

"Roman, they are not only a hidebound and dangerous organization who tolerate numerous breaches of human rights for a really stupid cause, but they also pose an active threat to humanity's safety! I've read their records, and they have got to go! Or at the very least, be subjected to U.N. oversight!" Senpai slams his hands down on Dr. Roman's desk, and then seems to realize what he's doing. "And they are… not what I'm here to talk to you about. Take it away, Teacher."

"Gladly." Medea raises her hand, and conjures up a glowing diagram. "Now, then, how acquainted are you with the process of animating deceased bodies as familiars?"

"Oh, this is off to a splendid start," Roman says with a sigh. "Yes, I'm aware of the process."

"Well, I noticed that it possesses some similarities with the bond shared between Chaldea's Servants and the mana reactors." She points to the diagram. "Now, I was wondering, would it be possible to direct some of the reactors' energy to animating a master candidates' corpse? To serve as a component in the fate system? I believe I've worked out a viable method by which we can accomplish this feat."

I stare at her in mute horror as Senpai steps up. "I would recommend we use the A-team for this. They're both the best Masters Chaldea has, and they're functionally dead in every way that counts. Freezing them is just a stopgap to delay the inevitable, and quite frankly, we shouldn't waste time and resources on dead men any longer. I personally recommend we start with Zemlupus for our first subject. He's easily the most expendable in the event that something goes wrong."

And now I can only stare at Senpai, unable to say a word. He'd really do something that horrible?

I'm legitimately surprised that you're in any way shocked by this. This is completely up Flynn's alley.

SHUT UP, GALAHAD!

Dr. Roman breaks open a bottle of aspirin as he massages his temples. "So, let me get this straight: Your proposal is that we kill the A-team, and then reanimate them as our undead slaves?"

"Undead conscripts."

"I don't care what you call them, I'm still vetoing this."

"Fine. That brings me to my secondary proposal."

"Oh dear God, not another one."

"In the event of my death, I want you to use the reanimation procedure on my corpse."

For a moment, the room is completely silent. Even Medea looks shocked.

"What- No! I'm not going to desecrate your corpse with necromancy just to get another Master, Flynn!"

My Master stands stock-still, completely silent. Then, he starts to speak, never raising his voice. "As it stands, I am Chaldea's last master. I am our greatest point of failure. If I die, no, when I die, because I'm not stupid enough to believe that I'm going to make it out of this alive, our hope dies with me. If Chaldea, by some miracle, outlives me, and you secure my mortal remains, and instead of using them to ensure you'll have a Master on hand to fix things if this happens again, you instead go and waste them on some stupid, sappy shit like a proper burial? Well then, Roman, if you waste my last gift to you on something that fucking stupid, I will claw my way out of the fiery pits of Hell to haunt your ass."

Roman sighs, and then nods. "Right. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment."

As did I. I suppose that Flynn's dedication to the cause will always be his most admirable quality.

I turn and run.

Senpai… Senpai really thinks we're going to lose?

It's not exactly a baseless assumption. Having come face-to-face with Solomon, I can tell you that we're still seriously outgunned here.

I shove Galahad back into the deepest, most distant corners of my mind.

He doesn't care. He announced it in front of me, and he didn't even care how it would hurt me. He barely even thought of me at all.

Galahad was right.

And why would he care about me? I'm useless, now. Even Fou left me.

I find myself a corner, curl up into a ball, and cry. I let myself break down, finally stop holding it together. It's almost liberating. I don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt, because he doesn't need me anymore. And he hasn't needed me for a long time.

Galahad rages, trying desperately to escape from the corner I trapped him in, but I don't want to hear it from him. He'll just say it's all Senpai's fault, but it's mine.

I should've been better. I should've-

"Fou?"

I look up.

Beady little eyes stare back at me, surrounded by white fur.

"You came back?" I start crying again, and then I grab my dearest friend and pull him into a hug. "YOU CAME BACK!"

"Fou."

He buries his little wet nose into my neck, as I cry into his soft white fur.

Maybe Galahad is better than me. Maybe I am useless, now.

But for now, though… this is more than enough for me.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I stand in the Rayshift Room, one last time.

The Babylon Singularity has resolved itself, and Solomon has made his move. His base, a Singularity in orbit, has been detected.

Now, it's time for this to finally end. Time to finally fix things, or die trying.

Mash settles into one of the coffins, and her little fluff dog/cat/thing follows her in.

She's been a lot happier since the little guy came back. I'm glad. She deserves to be happy. I can only hope she makes out of this all right.

I look at the team of Servants I picked out for our mission: Siegfried, Cu Chulainn, Medea, Georgios, Cursed Arm, and Tamamo Cat. Maybe not the strongest Servants, but easily the ones I'm most familiar with. I don't think there's any Servant in Chaldea that can magically pull off a win against Solomon. That's why I came up with the plans I did.

"Do I really need to say anything?" I ask them, a wry, bitter smile on my face. "This it. This is the end. This is why we're here. Let's show them what we're worth."

I feel so damn tired as I settle into my Coffin.

Just a little longer, Charlie. Just a little longer, and then you can rest. One more victory. One more battle. One more miracle, and then you can finally rest.

---

I emerge from the Rayshift into an architectural masterpiece. The world, my home, stretches out below us, unspeakably beautiful, and I stand on solid ground.

Solomon's base is incredible. Even I have to admit that. Two rings of stone within an artificial air bubble, suspended by Magecraft above the Earth, independent of both time and gravity, perfect and inviolate.

And it's here that we'll find our foe.

"Impressive," a familiarly obnoxious voice says, clapping his hands ominously. "You actually made it. And here I thought that you would just die at the hands of Tiamat. Ah, well, good on you, sport!"

I turn and look at the irritatingly alive Professor Lev Lainur Flauros. "Hi, Lev. I need to have a chat with your boss, so would you mind stepping aside?"

"Well, I'd be a poor door guard if I failed to defend the door, now wouldn't I?" Lev says with a chuckle. "But really, Charlie, you can't win this one. You're up against seventy-two whole Demon Pillars, and there's no way you can win. You've done great, kid, but you've reached the point where no amount of guts, strategy, or luck will let you pull through. Just let it end. Face your death with dignity."

"Fascinating." 'Cursed Arm, knife him in the balls.'

"Our king has almost completed his next great project, Charlie. There's no escaping that. In no time- GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" He doubles over in agony as Cursed Arm's dirk strikes true. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU STABBED ME IN THE DICK! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!"

"I'm simply doing as you suggested, Lev," I tell him sweetly. "If my death is inevitable, then I'll spend my last moments doing what will bring me the most pleasure: spitting in your king's eye."

He unfolds, no more time for talk, donning the form of a pillar of blackened, warped flesh encrusted with eyes. And then Georgios and Siegfried step up.

"ABYSSUS DRACONIS!"

"BAAAAAAALLLLLLMUNG!"

The freshly-transformed Demon Pillar topples over, carved in half by Siegfried's swing.

Of course, it doesn't stick.

"Oh, you poor fools, did you really think you could kill me?" Flauros laughs madly. "In this realm, the Ars Paulina, we Demon Pillars are reborn instantaneously whenever we fall! Your cause is utterly hopel- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!"

I nod appreciatively to Cursed Arm. 'Nice aim. And comedic timing.'

'Thank you, Master. I try.'

"Do you- Do you think that this is enough to stop me?" Flauros roars. "No matter how much you stuggle, this last, desperate crusade of yours is hopeless! Pointless! WORTHLESS! DO YOU INSECTS REALLY THINK YOU CAN WIN? DO YOU THINK THAT YOUR DEATHS WILL MEAN ANYTHING?"

"I mean, it's kind of a win-win situation for me, here," I point out with an easy smile. "I mean, if I beat you guys, the world's saved. And even if I lose, I get to enjoy the knowledge that I got to spend my last moments beating your smug ass into a pulp."

He snarls, and unfolds once more, and my Servants lunge into battle, determined that even if they can't win, they'll at the very least go down swinging.

And then some absolute maniac shoots a sword at Flauros from behind us.

I turn, and there's an Archer. I don't even recognize him. He's wearing some sort of red overcoat, and has a deep tan.

"I heard that the line to save the world started here," he says, shooting out Flauros' eyes with relentless speed and precision. "You guys have room for one more?"

"The more the merrier, I'd say." Is this… hope? True, unequivocal hope?

It's been so damn long since I've felt it.

And they're here. Every one of them. Every hero I've met in my journeys. Every hero I've ever read the story of. And more, so many more. All of them, standing united against the end. They hit the Demon Pillars in a great wave, and suddenly, I'm left behind.

They rival the stars in their numbers, our champions, our greatest thinkers, our heroes. The best and brightest of us have come, to defend the rest. They don't stop to take orders from me. Most of them don't even acknowledge me. Why would they? I'm nobody important. Just another cog in the great machine of humanity. But for the first time, seeing the greatest men and women that we've ever produced, I can't help but feel like being a cog, no matter how small, in the Human Order is nothing to be ashamed of.

But I have my part to play. And so, I make my way through the tumult, skirting through attacks, waves of fire, and clashing titans, only Galahad accompanying me. The others broke off, each to their own part, helping as they could, and I cannot blame them. I can feel it too. The weight. The scream of ten billion voices, every last one of them refusing to die here.

This is bigger than me. And it's not about me. It never was. And that thought… that thought fills me with peace. It's not about me. I'm not the only person trying to save the world.

The barriers are down, and I make my way to the King of Mages.

'Flynn, are you sure we should advance like this?' Galahad asks me over the mental link. 'We're still missing the others.'

'It wouldn't matter even if we had them. I learned a few things in Camelot. One of them is that no Servant can defeat our enemy in combat.'

'Wait, how did you-' He's interrupted by our target stepping up.

"So. You finally made it," the false Solomon says, a smirk that I recognize as my own crossing his face. "Impressive. But foolish. You've put the only weak point of the Counter Force's little army directly in my grasp."

"We both know that hanging back and letting them do their thing wouldn't bring my side any closer to victory, so why not risk it all?" Can you honestly say that you wouldn't do the same, Asmodeus?"

"A fair point. I suppose you did the best you could with what pitiful resources you had. Not bad, for a human." He chuckles. "And I'm not Asmodeus. Nice try, though."

Well, then, defaulting to my next-most-probable candidate. "Oh, trust me, Lucifer, I have not yet begun to fight."

He actually laughs at that one. "I'm not the Devil, Flynn."

"Okay, you've got me stumped, then. Who are you? Because you're sure as hell not the real Solomon."

"Very well. I suppose I can tell you that much. I am the program that Solomon created for the purpose of managing his 72 Demon Pillars. Over time, I attained awareness, and sought to right the wrongs of the world." He pauses dramatically. "You may call me… Goetia."

"Goetia? Really? You literally just named yourself 'magic?'" I ask, arching an eyebrow. And his previous sense of smug superiority seems to deflate, the second I poke at his ego. Theory confirmed. He is copying more than just my surface mannerisms.

"I am a being of pure Magecraft, a sapient Mystery. No other name would be more fitting," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

"And I'm a being made out of meat, water, and centuries of natural selection, but you don't here me calling myself 'Biology,'" I reply.

"I tire of this," he says, raising a hand. "Galahad."

"Yes?" my Servant asks, breaking his earlier silence.

"I have an offer for you. Kill Flynn, and I will not only spare your host, I will extend her lifespan, and let her live forever in my new world," he holds out a hand, and, for a moment, it looks like Galahad's considering it. "We both know that you only ever stood with Chaldea in order to protect her. She's at the end of her life, Galahad. No matter what you do here, she will die. I hold the keys to her salvation. So take them."

I realize, with a sinking feeling, that this is it. I trust Galahad. He's my friend. But I always knew that he'd kill me in a heartbeat if it was down to me or Mash.

I close my eyes, and wait for the end, because I've-

"No," Galahad says, his voice soft, yet still reaching both our ears equally. "I don't think I will."

"WHAT?!" Goetia and I yelp in unison. "WHY?!"

"Because I know that Mash would never forgive me if I did. Because I would never trust a world that you created to be safe for her to live in. Because I refuse to betray a friend. And most importantly, because I could not turn my coat against my people and call myself a knight."

"Then congratulations," Goetia snarls, not taking his rejection well. "You can die together."

Goetia unleashes his wave of destruction, and Galahad steps up to face it.

And as my knight brings down his shield, as I stare at his back, I realize something. Before, he wasn't raising his shield to protect me. He was shielding Mash. The girl he thought of like a sister. The girl he believed with all his heart would surpass him. The girl who was going to die here, little more than a puppet in her own body, as Galahad raises the walls of Camelot to protect me for the first and final time.

The wave of destruction breaks against the Grail Knight's resolve, and then, he is gone.

In his place stands Mash Kyrielight, who falls to the ground, stone dead.

They're gone. They're both gone.

I get back up to my feet, and then I smile. It wavers a bit, but eventually, I stabilize it. Come on, Charlie, lie. It doesn't matter if they're dead, you've got a job to do, and lying and using other people is the only thing you're good for, so lie, dammit!

So I smile. Because I need to. Because I have to be happy, and calm, and in control if I want to pull this off. And because something deep inside me is so withered and broken that I can barely even feel sad anymore. I barely even feel anything anymore. No matter how I lie to myself.

"Impressive," Goetia says, still smirking. Because, for all that he's a spell, right now, he's me. He needs to be in control. He needs to feel like the smartest person in the room, needs to be the most righteous, needs to be the winner, because if he's not he'll just be another loser. Like me. I know I'm worthless, I've known it since I got to Chaldea, but him? He's still got self-worth, and a desperate need to maintain it. And I need to use that. "A fitting final stand for a Knight of the Round Table."

"True, true, but enough talking about my friends that you just murdered," I say with a pleasant smile. "How about we talk about you instead?"

"Unbelievable," Goetia says, shaking his head in wonder. "I killed your only protector, and yet, here you are, still struggling. Is there anything that'll break your spirit?"

I laugh. Then I keep laughing, until there are tears coming out of my eyes, and Goetia is actually looking worried. "You already killed everyone I ever cared about. What's two more?" I shake my head, cheerfully repressing any emotion that might keep me from completing my mission. "But enough about that. Back in London, you promised that if I made it this far, you'd tell me why you're doing this. I'm calling that in."

He looks at me appraisingly. "Very well. I have seen the entire course of Human History, and I have deemed it flawed. Seeing as I could see no further into the world's future than a year from now, indicating that the end of the world was inevitable, I decided that the only way to save humanity would be to wipe the slate clean and start over, creating a new utopia, in which humanity would live in peace, harmony, and contentment, never knowing the evils of death."

"All right then," I say, thinking it over. Yes, yes, I can use this. I can definitely use this. "That's a good plan, actually. Do you mind if I check it over?"

"What?"

"I thought I could lend my critical eye, go over your plans for how to insure that this new utopia of yours works out. It's the least I can do."

"I have no need of your second-guessing," Goetia says, raising his hand. "I will dispose of you, and embark on my final journey."

"Alright. I'm sorry that you're so scared of me," I say, musing on how, before the Grand Order, I might've taken some amusement from how rapidly Goetia's head whipped around to stare at me. "I'll just wait for my death, then."

"Scared of you? Why on Earth would I ever be scared of you?" Goetia asks indignantly.

"I'm not precisely sure, but it's fairly obvious that you don't want to share those plans of yours with me because you're scared I'd find some flaws."

"That's patently ridiculous. Why would anyone ever think that a human could ever find flaws in a plan devised by the seventy-two Demon Pillars?"

"I mean, didn't the Counter Force and I already defeat your whole thirty-six Singularities plan?"

"And why would anyone think that you could find flaws in my master plan?" Goetia asks testily.

"Because I'm smarter than you, obviously," I say, and I can hear the armrests of his throne snap as he grips them tighter.

"You most certainly are not."

"Only one way to prove it."

He sits there for a moment in silence, seething with rage. And then a table rises from the floor, and he steps down from his throne in order to take a seat. "Fine. Let's talk."

I don't smile. Instead, I take a seat opposite him, and enter the only battlefield in which I hold any hope of victory.

 

[Charles Flynn]

"So, I think I should start this off by asking what you're trying to do with this." I tent my fingers as I look across the table towards Goetia.

"I want to save humanity and make everyone immortal," Goetia says.

I shake my head. "See, you're describing the means. I'm talking about the ends. What purpose does making everybody immortal serve?"

He's quiet for a moment. "Bettering the quality of human life, and preventing all the evils that have plagued human history."

"So, you're trying to ensure that people live happily." I pause. "So, then, what's happiness?"

"It's…" he's quiet for a few minutes, now, mulling it over. "A prolonged state of an elevated mood which humans find pleasant."

"Hm. So, what are the trigger conditions for this state, and why do you believe that granting humans immortality will improve happiness rates?"

"Well, obviously the reality of death is the root cause of all unhappiness!" he snaps, on the verge of storming off. Time to throw him the curveball.

"Are you happy?"

He freezes. "What?"

"Are you happy? Seeing as you're immortal, you could be a valuable data point as to discerning happiness rates amongst immortals as opposed to mortals, and how they feel about their immortality."

"Excuse me, is this some sort of symposium?" an unfamiliar voice asks, and I turn to see an ugly Greek man in a toga. His beard is scraggly and unkempt.

"I suppose so. We're talking over Mr. Goetia here's plan to remake humanity in his own image, and how to optimize it to meet his stated goals." I raise an eyebrow. "And you would be?"

"Servant Caster. True Name Socrates," he says, offering his hand for me to shake. "I was wondering if I might join you."

I grin. "The more the merrier."

In spite of Goetia's spluttered protests, Socrates takes his seat.

I try not to grin more broadly as I hear two more sets of footsteps making their way towards us.

---​

"Well, yes, but is there a difference between happiness derived from substance abuse, and happiness derived from the completion of stated goals?" Goetia asks.

"I still feel like we should set up the immortal rat farm in order to discern the parameters of happiness, and how to best implement the immortality," Tesla says, clicking a pen against his chin.

"Bah, mere controlled results," Aristotle sneers. "They pale in comparison to the unified application of observation and reason."

I sigh. "Look, Aristotle, the Scientific Method pioneered by Avicenna is a perfectly valid school of analytical thought, and no amount of complaining will change that."

"The FOUR HUMOURS WERE A PERFECTLY WELL-THOUGHT OUT MEDICAL THEORY, FLYNN!"

"THEY MOST CERTAINLY WERE NOT!" Nightingale snaps from her place.

"I observed four humors, and I don't care how many different bodily fluids that Avicenna hipster documented, I WAS THERE FIRST!"

"Okay, okay, let's break it up," I say, interposing myself between the two. "I think that we can all agree that one fistfight over medical theory is more than enough. Dr. Sanson, check the minutes, where were we?"

"We were attempting to determine how best to quantify and measure happiness, and we were debating how controlled tests should be managed." He flips through his notes. "I believe we were also waiting on the arrival of one Scathach, Queen of the Isle of Skye, to serve as a witness and data point."

A woman in black spandex storms in. "What do you limp-dicked natterers want now?"

"Oh. Hello, Lady Scathach," Goetia says in greeting. "We called you in so we could ask you on whether you feel that gaining immortality has improved your quality of life."

She stares at him incredulously. "No. Because I lived so long that everything became boring, nothing I did had any risk or excitement anymore, and then, when it looked like I was finally going to get some action, that jackass," she points at me. "went and poisoned Medb like a fucking coward, promptly sending me straight back to the Throne. And then, when it looked like I was going to fight in the final battle to save all of mankind, you cock-garglers turned it into a fucking tea party with the enemy."

Tamamo Cat freezes in the middle of serving Goetia crumpets.

"That's very rude of you." Goetia says after a few moments of silence.

She flips us all off as she stalks away.

"All right, I think that she's a solid tally in the 'decreased' column," I say after I'm sure she's out of earshot. "Sanson?"

"Marking it down."

"Good man. Now, what proposal were we on?"

"We were discussing your suggestion that Goetia make a colony of rats immortal so that you could give them cocaine."

"So that we could give them cocaine for science," I correct. "Now, who wants to put this to another vote?"

"I still distrust this 'Scientific Method' of yours," Plato interrupts, arms folded as he levels a mighty glare at me.

"For the love of- The Scientific Method is a perfectly valid method for examining the universe! Goetia, back me up here."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Flynn on this one," Goetia says. He doesn't seem to be aware of how he's smiling, and if anyone else at the table notices, they don't catch it.

I make a mental note that Phase one is proceeding well. Camaraderie is an excellent tool for manipulation, if you know how to use it.

---

"All right, I think I have an alternative solution that will greatly serve to reduce the energy expenditures of the Incineration," I say during a lull in the debate.

"Let's hear it," Goetia says, taking a bite out of his sub. (I fast-talked Gilgamesh into catering when we broke for lunch.)

"Use dogs instead of humans."

Everyone at the table goes quiet, looking at me in confusion.

"And… that wouldn't save humanity," Goetia notes, tilting his head in confusion.

"Well, why are you specifically saving us humans?" I ask, and Socrates nods, seeing where I'm going with this. "What specific quality do we possess that dogs don't, which makes us worth saving?"

"Why are you even asking me this?" Goetia snaps.

"Because I'm not sure why you're saving us if you plan on taking away every defining quality we possess."

Socrates jumps in. "Indeed, what defines a human being?"

"Fou!"

I raise an eyebrow as I look down at the fluffy little guy who just crawled up onto the table. "Hey there. Are you looking for Mash? Look, I'm sorry, I don't know how to tell you, but-"

"Flynn, back away," Goetia commands, staring at the fluffy little critter that was Mash's closest friend. "We need to kill it."

"Hey, the little guy's completely harmless. He's been living in Chaldea for almost a year." I reach out to ruffle his ears. "Anyways, about what it means to be human-"

Huh. I can't feel my left arm anymore.

I look down at the bleeding stump, and then nod in understanding. Oh. So that's why.

Then I promptly pass out.

---​

"Flynn! Wake up!"

I feel someone shaking me, so I struggle my way into some semblance of wakefulness. The throbbing from my new stump is a steady beat across my body, something to anchor myself to.

Goetia is down at me, a hole through his chest.

"What happened?"

"The Cath Palug, the Fourth Beast, hijacked my Demon Pillars somehow. It's going to permanently destroy all of human history and then salt the earth so no life can ever return!"

I'm suddenly a great deal more awake.

"H-How?"

"It took advantage of me being distracted. We have less than a minute, and I'm out of ideas! DO SOMETHING!"

I blink, and look around. "Servants?"

"None left."

I blink. And then I do the only thing that I can.

"I've lost."

I feel the shadow that's dogged my steps since Jerusalem walk away, and I hear the tolling of the evening bells.

"What are you-"

"Help me up."

The blade falls. The Beast, unprepared for the sudden assault, dies, as the Reaper's sword cuts it off from Humanity. There is no Comparison beneath Azrael's wings, for all are equal in Death.

"What?" Goetia asks, staring at the shrouded figure of the First Hassan with naked confusion.

"Help me stand. I need to pay him what's owed."

The First Beast is of no help, so I rise on my own, pushing off a sizable piece of rubble.

It's hard to do one handed. Not like I'll have to put up with that for long, though.

I feel light, as I walk towards the specter of Death.

It's over. It's finally over. Another threat may rise, but that is for those who follow after me to deal with, something I can leave in better hands.

I smile, as I come face-to-face with the First.

"A life for a life," he says, his voice as cold and deep as the grave. "That was our bargain."

"May I ask that you return my remains to Chaldea?" I ask politely. "They may have need of them."

He inclines his head. "This I will do."

"Thank you."

I kneel before the Reaper.

And wait for the end.

 

[Charles Flynn]

I drift between light and dark, floating freely, lighter than a feather. I sink below, at peace.

It's over. I did it.

And then, somehow, I see something. A great light that shines through the darkness into which I descend, a beam of existence. Of meaning.

I AM THE ALIEN GOD. HUMANITY'S TIME HAS COME TO A CLOSE. I HAVE CHOSEN YOU, AND SEVEN OTHERS, TO DECIDE WHAT COMES AFTER.

I think it over. And then I give her the only answer I ever could.

No.

Surprise. Confusion.

IF YOU DO NOT ACCEPT THIS, YOU WILL HAVE NO WAY OUT. YOU ARE DEAD. THIS IS YOUR ONLY WAY BACK.

Even so, I will not betray my people.

YOUR PEOPLE'S FATE IS INEVITABLE.

Yes. They will destroy you without a doubt. Now leave me to my rest and prepare for them to send you to join me.

Rage. A hatred to split the stars asunder. And then the presence is gone, and I return to my sleep, content.

They'll be greater than I ever was.

---​

I walk down the street, staring at the little blue house, so familiar I could see it in my sleep. And then I cross the street, and make my way to the door, every step feeling heavier than a mountain.

It's the same as I remember it. I ring the doorbell, and hear the dogs start to bark, as tears trickle down my face.

And as the door begins to open, I know it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

It's over.

I'm home.