A long, long, long time ago, there were only a couple of dudes and dudettes in existence.
One of those dudes was a fine young lad of great vigour.
He was Abel, Son of Adam...not quite the most impressive title since everyone seemed to be a child of Adam, but Abel was sufficiently satisfied with what he had.
Now as you can imagine, there weren't exactly many job options back in the primordial ages...
Most of his brothers became simple farmers, while others chose to hunt for their food.
Some simply sat on their asses and became thinkers and philosophers, spending their days pondering...whatever it is that their caveman brains could justify as philosophy.
Abel took a different route, for he became humanity's first shepherd, the first man to have ever domesticated an animal!
His destiny in the books of panhuman history was very clear, was it not?
King of Shepherds, the primogenitor of his own strain of humanity!
He would be one of the forefathers of the human race, his children would run amok in the hills and fill the valleys with their own children, and the children of their children!
Yet all dreams of a bountiful bloodline would be thoroughly crushed both literally AND metaphorically, and not even before he could lose his virginity at that.
By a rock, a damnable rock that had been used by his scum of the earth brother to absolutely bash his head in.
The first murder, but certainly not the last that humanity would both witness and commit.
For this grave sin of starting what would be an endless series of suffering, his brother was punished.
Until the day that the sun arises from the west and the trumpets of Israfel are heard, he will wander.
Wander immortally, aimlessly, like the scum that he was.
For the sin of taking a life, Cain was made to live an immortal one. But he will not be able to live as any other.
He will not feel, he will not take damage, and he will not give life. He will only take it, take life and replace it with suffering.
This was Cain's punishment, and the runic marking engraved on his forehead would be proof of that.
That's where the story normally ends, at least, that's how it did in the big book of God...
And all the other books, for that matter.
But whatever happened to little old Abel? What, did he just go out like a swine and croak over?
Abel died, that was a fact. Cain would not have been the first murderer were it not for this being the truth, after all.
But what even is death? Is it truly the end, or was there a life after death?
Unfortunately for Abel, he wouldn't be able to find out.
Because of a certain deal he made with the devil, he was unable to truly die, not for long, that is.
Though that is a rather long and hard story, one that should be kept for another day, maybe even another age...
As for now?
Well, let's begin with the toothy grin on the marked man's face.
One that Abel sported as his form rapidly emerged from the raw particles of Mana, the summoning circle engraved on the floor glowing a bright bloody red.
"The 7th Ser—" Before the blue-haired warrior could even begin to finish his yap, a big black piece of metal came his way.
-Clash
The inevitable clang of metal could be heard as the pair of legendary combatants clashed their weapons against each other.
Pushing down against the blue-haired warrior's iconic blood-red spear was a monster of a blade.
Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough...it was much too big to be called a sword.
Instead, it was more like a heap of raw iron, one that could only be fashioned into a proper weapon by a monstrous dragon or a wild beast, much less carried by a puny man.
Yet the Irish Hercules recognized the damned blade all too well as a smirk of familiarity appeared on his very punchable Irish face.
"So it's you, huh...?" The blue-haired Irishman asked, only to be met with a literally lightning-fast fist that had been sent his way.
With the skin of his teeth, he jumped back as an audible gust of air sent everything in the storage room to knock over into each other, barely dodging the hit.
"I expected to meet a familiar face," Abel said his first words since being summoned as he pulled back his fist, stretching his arms and back as he did so.
"But for it to be someone like you, how..." The man paused as he gripped his face tightly.
An overwhelmingly terrifying grin that would have made even the likes of a serial killer shiver their timbers made its way onto his face as he tried to hide it between his fingers.
"...Nostalgic." Able finished as he was literally shaking in excitement.
The Lancer merely took a glance at his maniacal old friend before nodding rapidly.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah, see you never, buddy, pal, teacher, sir." The Irishman briefly said his goodbyes before instantly booking it in an unknown direction.
"Bleh..." Abel looked as if he had just had his whole body sucked dry as he cursed the ungrateful Lancer a million times over while he watched the Irishman escape the premises.
"I was just saying hello..." Abel muttered darkly as turned back toward the young man he had been initially ignoring.
Shirou Emiya could only gulp as sweat pooled down his back, clutching his bloodied shirt as he stared at both wonder and fear at the man before him.
Standing at a tall height of 6'4, he was a rugged man of indiscernible race yet with vaguely Middle Eastern features, obviously a warrior.
He had tanned olive skin the likes of which served as definitive proof of a laborious life, yet throughout his whole body were numerous unusual black tattoos and markings, all of them vaguely resembling leering and laughing demonic faces.
His eyes were completely grey, perhaps you could call it silver, like that of a seemingly blind person, yet his stare was firm and intense, like a predator looking at a delicious morsel of flesh.
He wore a simple cloth that covered his waist and loins but failed to obscure his muscled upper body. The long flowing black hair he had mixed well with the black billowing cape that adorned his back.
And in his left hand, was a great blade that seemed to radiate an intense need to spill blood. It was made of a completely black and non-reflective material, and it seemed to even absorb the surrounding light...Shirou got chills just looking at it.
"And I suppose you're my Master, right? But you don't smell much like Magi..." The man said as he sent an outstretched right hand.
"I, uh..."
Shirou was about to respond but the words refused to climb out of his mouth, his heart was beating, and his body was frozen.
It truly was like he was in front of a natural predator, one that he should have never even been in the same continent as.
"Hehe, don't be so afraid, now...the name is Abel, but I guess, you can call me...Saber." The man said as he took Shirou's hand whether he liked it or not and firmly shook it.
He then grinned, and Shirou could swear, that smile belonged to a wild dog instead of a man.
What on earth had he gotten himself into!?