Juro Takahashi's eyes fluttered open to the sterile white walls of Chaldea. The sleek, modern room housed a fridge, a lone terminal, and a surprisingly comfortable bed. Yet, despite the comfort, disquiet gnawed at him.
He had found himself in Chaldea, a security organization now devoted to preserving the Human Order. In a whirlwind of events, he had been thrust into a singularity, facing off against powerful servants in the remnants of a fiery city.
The echoes of death and the anguished cries of the apparent director lingered in his mind.
Suppressing the flood of fear and uncertainty, Juro acknowledged that he and another individual were humanity's last hope, possessing the unique ability to Rayshift.
Glancing at the small white clock on his nightstand, it was around 6 in the morning.
His concept of sleep felt peculiar in Chaldea, a place seemingly beyond Earth's conventional boundaries. Was it on a separate plane of reality? A different world?
Thoughts about the nature of Chaldea's existence left his head spinning.
Still, all these events felt so overwhelming.
Attempting to make sense of the overwhelming circumstances, Juro rose from the bed, glancing at the mirror.
The day before, his hair had been cut short, but he had cut it even shorter at the bottom. His tired reflection mirrored the exhaustion from the previous day's trials.
All he needed was a cold slap of water to wake him from that.
Staring at his chest, he felt underwhelmed.
He was not fat or skinny per se, but was in that gray area.
Shirtless, he examined himself in the mirror, noting the two large gashes across his chest, still wrapped in bandages. The stitches, applied by Chaldea's mana-operated machines and the skilled surgeon Anya, served as a stark reminder of the battles fought.
Juro dropped his shoulders.
He needed to get in shape.
Glancing at the watch, he had been told to get to a briefing around 8 AM.
He had plenty of time to mope around and do nothing, so why not get some gains?
Dropping on the ground, Juro began doing a series of pushups.
After about 20 minutes or so, Juro was gasping for air on the ground.
Using the last of his energy, he hoisted himself up with the nearby bed.
His sweat-soaked body ached for a shower.
He glanced at the small bathroom near the door, painted white with light blue accents. It had a large mirror over the sink and a high-tech shower that looked like it came from the future.
As Juro entered and slid the door shut, he noticed the fancy toilet with numerous buttons - similar to the complex Japanese models he'd seen online.
Curious, he pressed one and watched in awe as it sprayed water and activated a vacuum flush system. It had an assortment of things that came out from the toilet.
Wait, was that a—
Shuddering slightly, Juro hopped in the shower. Its triangular showerhead morphed into a circle when he tapped the screen's control panel. The advanced settings reminded him this place must have had quite a budget.
One fateful tap on a pink button, however, was a grave mistake.
Soap began cascading from the showerhead directly into Juro's eyes. He clutched his face in pain.
Around 7:30 am, Chaldea staff were startled awake by the screams of one of their masters echoing through the halls.
Juro groaned, rubbing his eyes as he wandered the hollow halls of Chaldea.
There were still people in the facility, it was just that the facility was built with a larger amount of people in mind.
He stopped at a screen to find his way to the cafeteria—which turned out to be right around the corner.
Embarrassing.
The massive dining room was empty, spare the odd staff member grabbing a sad sandwich from under the heat lamps. Weird.
Was breakfast not an option?
Juro approached the unmanned coffee counter to face a complicated machine. He punched buttons haphazardly until a black coffee with sugar poured into his cup, convinced for a moment the heat could melt styrofoam.
He risked the sip as he felt the need for caffeine coursing through his veins.
That was a stupid decision.
"Hot!" he yelped, the scalding liquid hitting his tongue. As he sputtered, trying to cool his mouth, an animated voice piped up from behind.
"Hello!"
Juro clamped his teeth down in surprise, biting his already burned tongue.
He spun around, coming face-to-face with the Mona Lisa look-alike from the previous day.
"Just wanted to check on one of our final masters!" she said cheerily. "Enjoying your stay so far?"
Juro pointed with exasperation at his puffed-up tongue.
"..."
"Ah, well, besides that little mishap, I mean!" She waved a hand breezily.
'At least acknowledge it!'
"Let me introduce myself properly. I'm the one and only Leonardo Da Vinci! But please, call me Da Vinci-chan!"
She winked playfully.
"Da Vinci..."
Juro peered down at his coffee suspiciously.
"—"
"Is this laced with something?"
"Oh, don't be silly! Chaldea is a substance-free workplace!"
Juro stood there with the coffee in his hand, bewildered.
"There's a briefing in the control room, remember? I was sure you didn't know the way around Chaldea, So I came to fetch you!"
Juro stood dumbfounded as the Mona Lisa lookalike grabbed his arm, dragging him along. He quickly managed to place the coffee cup on a nearby table.
He was getting towed by none other than Leonardo da Vinci - considered one of history's greatest inventors and polymaths. After everything Juro had seen, he hardly needed proof of the scientist's identity.
Perhaps she was a servant.
But wait...
"Sorry, weird question," Juro interjected,
"But wasn't Da Vinci...you know...a dude?"
He braced for her to stop and glare at him, but she laughed breezily instead.
"Are you familiar with my lovely painting, the Mona Lisa?"
"Well, yeah..."
"I became her!" Da Vinci declared with a twirl, causing Juro to stumble after her.
Juro was half-convinced this was an elaborate prank. Any moment the real staff of Chaldea would jump out yelling "We got you!"
Da Vinci continued, "I adore all things beautiful - so naturally, I took on the form of Madame Lisa Giocondo herself!"
"I'm not even going to ask how..." Juro muttered.
This had to be the height of perversion - being so enamored with your own art that you morph into it! What a narcissist!
'No! A Genuine pervert!'
Juro practically flew into a stack of boxes as Da Vinci abruptly let go of his hand inside the control room. Groaning from the floor, he peered upside-down at the familiar face of Mash Kyrielight extending a hand to help him up.
"Good morning, Senpai," she greeted.
Taking her hand, he smiled awkwardly.
As Juro dusted himself off, he noted Mash and Fujimaru wore sleek, skinsuit uniforms with white accents - some absurdly tight-fitting attire no doubt.
Juro balked, "What's with the sci-fi fetish suits?! Please tell me I don't have to squeeze into one of those! Who the hell designed those!?"
Dr. Roman nonchalantly gestured to a grinning Da Vinci.
"Ah, yes. Our resident genius engineering advisor..."
Moments later, Juro emerged bright red, struggling to adjust the suit in critical areas.
"...Gh... These grab my glutes like a desperate ex-girlfriend..."
"That was rather the idea!" Da Vinci declared proudly.
'Try to deny it at least!!'
Dr. Roman stepped between them. "Not to worry, your outfit will return to a normal uniform during the Rayshift. The suits are just for safety in the Coffins."
"Speaking of, you three are headed to 1431 AD, during the Hundred Years' War in France," Romani continued, sitting at his monitor station. "Da Vinci will walk you through the Rayshift process, so pay attention."
The three master candidates nodded, heading toward the glowing Coffins. Juro eyed the cylindrical pods warily as he stepped inside, resembling waterslides at an amusement park. Except he was getting shot through time, not cascading down a tube.
Maybe it was best to imagine this Rayshift as a slide... one transporting him straight into a war zone.
As the coffin doors sealed them in, Juro felt a pit grow in his stomach. Just now, the uncertainty began to gnaw at him.
Da Vinci's voice came over the speaker.
"It's a tight squeeze, I know! But you two are the stars now - ordinary people faced with heroic decisions!"
Juro winced at the word "heroic."
Could that term be applied to him? Heroes saved people, stood tall against darkness - and he had been entrusted with humanity's future. Did that make him one of its heroes?
Fujimaru glanced at Da Vinci.
"What do you mean?"
"Your judgments here will make or break humanity's future," Da Vinci replied. "Consider your choices carefully, for you both must agree for the sake of our survival."
Juro and Fujimaru exchanged uneasy looks. The pressure was paralyzing, the responsibility suddenly feeling cosmic in scale. They were just regular people minutes ago... how could the fate of humanity rest on their shoulders?
A monotone pa spoke out loud: "Fujimaru Ritsuka, Mash Kyrielight, Takakhashi Juro. Placement in coffins has been completed."
Romani solemnly nodded.
"Well, Shall we get started?"
The machine continued speaking.
"Unsummon program start."
"Beginning starting sequence..."
Juro could not help but feel slightly nervous. He was getting thrown across time, after all.
Wait, what was Rayshifting?
Da Vinci's voice came over the intercom, upbeat as ever.
"So! You're probably wondering what this 'Rayshifting' business is all about..."
Juro watched anxiously as arcane magic circles spun around them. "Yeah, are we really getting thrown through time here?"
"Allow me to explain. Rayshifting can be thought of as an observation machine that can be used as a time machine."
"You probably know that already. The question is; How do you go to the past?"
"Well. First, you enter the coffin. Then, your brain waves and various other readings are measured. Think of it converting you into various numbers that can easily be defined and transported."
"Definition of parameters for subjects completed. Beginning ritual: Chamber formation." One of the Chaldea staff called out.
The control room monitors blinked with status updates.
The symbols around the coffins intensified as Da Vinci continued. "Now, through advanced magecraft, we render you temporarily unobservable - akin to being both alive and dead, like Schrodinger's cat!"
Juro shuddered. He'd take existential limbo over death, but talk about uncomfortable metaphysics!
"Isn't this incredibly dangerous?" Fujimaru asked warily.
Juro's mind reeled at the casual way Da Vinci outlined processes that could unravel their very existence. Time travel via magecraft? Incredibly cool, if not utterly terrifying.
Da Vinci nodded matter-of-factly.
"Oh yes, exceptionally so! But no need to fret."
Her nonchalance brought little comfort.
Another Chaldea technician called out, "Beginning Spiritron Conversion sequence!"
The coffins flooded with viscous orange liquid - uncomfortably evocative of LCL.
As Juro floated in existential limbo, Da Vinci continued:
"Spiritron Conversion breaks you down further into data, dismantling your physical forms. For a brief period, the 'you' known as Fujimaru Ritsuka and Juro Takahashi will not exist!"
Juro blanched. This went beyond dangerous, into straight-up metaphysical oblivion!
Oblivious to their shock, Da Vinci proceeded: "We're tricking the world to accept your temporary nonexistence. Once in the past, you'll feel as real as ever! The process does consume ungodly amounts of power - but behold, actual time travel!"
Juro's stomach turned with anxiety and awe. Yet if it saved humanity, he had to discard his emotions and trust in Chaldea's frightening genius.
He was a hero after all.
"Correction algorithms stabilizing!"
Chaldeas spun faster, arcing with blue electricity
Romani called out anxiously, "Da Vinci, is Chaldeas holding?"
"All under control, relax..."
As Juro felt his body grow lighter, his eyelids grew heavy, blinking rapidly. Behind them lay only an azure glow, intensifying with each flutter.
Da Vinci cackled with delight over the speakers. "Behold! My genius shall deliver you across the endless void! Nothing can stop us now!"
Her zealous confidence did little to steady Juro and Fujimaru's nerves inside the cyclone of magic and technology swirling around them.
"Spiritron Conversion complete! Commencing projection sequence!" announced the robotic voice.
Juro's stomach dropped as an otherworldly force took hold, his particles unraveling at a fundamental level. Chaldeas' recorded history of humanity awaited them on the other side - their mission into the dark past was about to begin.
There was no turning back now. The rayshift protocols flashed green as the announcer blared "PSEUDO-SPIRITRON TRANSFER ACTIVATED. COMMENCING:
"GRAND ORDER!"
___________________________________________________
FIRST SINGULARITY: HUNDRED YEARS' WAR OF THE EVIL DRAGONS: ORLEANS
Juro was tossed into a group of bushes, all of whom generously broke his fall.
By prickling him of course.
Groaning, he hoisted himself up.
Why was he constantly making landings like these?
Glancing at his apparel, he was back to wearing his uniform.
At least he was free of that ridiculous skinsuit now. Small victories.
As his eyes traveled around, he concluded that he was in a forest. It was most probably daytime, as he could see tiny patches of sun rays pouring into the forest.
Tapping his communicator watch, Juro spoke, "Doc? Da Vinci? Anyone there?"
Da Vinci's singsong voice responded, "Takahashi! Good to see you in one piece!"
"Are Mash and Fujumaru with you?"
"Nope."
"Tsk. It seems you've been transported to a different area. We've managed to have contact with those two, and they haven't seen you either."
Juro felt his heart drop for a second. Was he on the wrong timeline?
"Wait, where am I then?"
"You've been a bit displaced, but fret not! You're in 1431 AD France still, just on the outskirts of Vaucoleurs according to our scans."
"Can you see a town from there?"
Taking his first steps in France, Juro pushed aside a large bush.
He began moving past the tall grass as he attempted to see exactly where in the world he was stationed.
Almost bumping into something, Juro halted his steps.
His hand brushed against something solid – a towering stone wall.
It looked simple enough to dismantle.
Placing the palm of his hands on the wall, he shut his eyes.
"Trace: On."
Trace the shape of the object, find the connections, and then push down.
A click echoed, and the wall crumbled down, revealing a breathtaking vista. Rolling green fields stretched towards a horizon kissed by a vibrant blue sky.
Dismantling more complicated items was much easier than something simple. The more connections something had, the easier it was to dismantle.
For example, dismantling a car engine was much more simpler than a window.
Due to the nature of the engine possessing multiple connections between various parts that were much more defined, it was easier to dismantle. A window however, had little to no connections throughout it.
While it could be argued that all objects did have microscopic bonds, it was much more difficult for Juro to dismantle them due to their sheer quantitiy, sometimes leaving him with almost no energy.
Juro glanced at the beautiful landscape laid out in front of him.
It looked like a painting.
But serenity shattered against the sight at the field's heart: a fortress, ravaged by fire and choked by smoke. This was no peaceful landscape – it bore the scars of the Hundred Years' War.
"See anything interesting, Juro?" Romani's voice crackled through his communicator.
"Destroyed fortress, Doc. Looks standard for this era."
"Look up, then."
Juro obeyed, and his breath hitched.
The vast blue canvas overhead had been ripped open, replaced by an ominous maw of darkness – a monstrous black hole, swallowing a third of the sky. Its immensity defied perspective, warping light and gravity around it.
"Da Vinci, what in the hell is that?" his voice trembled. "Is this why we're here?"
"Indeed," a playful yet serious tone came from Da Vinci.
"...."
"It might be an event relating to some kind of powerful form of magecraft, a consequence of the anomaly you're investigating. The Holy Grail must be behind it."
"Fujimaru's already heading to Vaucoleurs," Romani added. "Meet up, investigate any oddities you find, and follow the Grail's signal."
Juro swallowed hard. No pressure or anything.
Just the whole damn sky falling down around him.
He sighed as he began to trudge down the large obvious path.
The sun warmed his neck, contrasting the chill of fear creeping down his spine.
He thought of Mash, Fujimaru's servant.
Why didn't he have a Servant like Fujimaru? He was a master candidate, wasn't he?
Actually....
He had summoned one...
Malefactor.
But the mere thought sent shivers through Juro's body. His encounter with that thing transcended unease...
Juro halted, staring blankly ahead as the memories overcame him.
Malefactor's stark, faceless helmet above rows of protruding human teeth. The sheer wrongness of its bulky, armored frame standing silently amidst the flames.
Its proximity felt like a violation of natural law - that Juro's existence itself was in peril while in its shadow.
He never wanted to stand near that monstrous entity again. And it had vanished on its own after Fuyuki without explanation. Part of Juro felt relief, but he couldn't deny Malefactor's absence was strategically problematic.
Well, no matter, at least it was gone.
Glancing at his command seal, now a bright red, and on his right arm, Juro rose an eyebrow.
Wasn't it on his left earlier-
Horrified screams suddenly pierced the air.
Juro rushed towards a clearing to see four armored knights ruthlessly cutting down helpless villagers fleeing across bloodied grass.
It was like a painting.
Crimson red blood splashed against a bright green.
Even from a distance, the wanton carnage churned his stomach.
Every fiber of his being screamed to intervene, but Romani's warning gave him pause: "Their deaths are meaningless here! The Singularity will erase these events!"
"What!?"
Juro yelled at Romani.
"A singularity is an isolated space detached from another area! If you repair the singularity, everything that happens there will be erased! That means if people die, there won't be problems, since they will never have actually died in proper history!"
Juro froze in place, fists trembling. Logically, he knew saving these people would change nothing.
In the grand scheme, they were already dead.
"I can't just watch this..." Juro muttered.
Romani began reiterating the critical nature of Master candidates avoiding harm, but his assurances rang hollow in Juro's ears.
These villagers felt fear, bled real blood as blades tore into them. Undoing this timeline meant nothing to those suffering in the now.
He was no 'hero' if he was viewing humanity's extinction as some statistic - he lived and breathed with them!
What hero could walk callously by?
"I know my life is important to your mission," Juro declared, striding towards the slaughter. "But I won't forgive myself for becoming some fearful coward you direct from safety! Not while people suffer and die right before my eyes!"
"Juro, no!"
Juro began running across the grass, each step cushioned by the ground as his boots dug into wet dirt.
He charged a knight about to bring down his sword and tackled him down. The armored man yelped, more in surprise than pain.
"Juro, quick! Use your Kraftur spell!" Romani's voice crackled.
"Kraftur!" Juro responded instinctively. His skin began hardening as he got to his feet.
He had no idea what the word meant or even did, but this mystic code intuitively amplified his endurance.
Juro quickly turned off his watch, to avoid it attracting any attention.
The other knights charged Juro, swords ready to strike, now aware of their attacker.
A single knight managed to bring down his sword on Juro, prompting him to lift his arm in defense.
Astonishingly, the blade bounced off with a spark, similar to striking metal.
Kraftur was a very basic spell that simply reinforced the body, causing the skin to become as tough as copper while lowering the endurance of the insides.
Juro had never learned that spell, however, it was embedded inside the Mystic Code he donned. The outfit he wore.
It was also a spell derived from the legendary snake Jorgumandr, which a part of had coiled around his body, shielding him temporarily.
But as a gauntleted fist smashed his face, Juro was reminded of his dangerously low magical energy reserves.
He hit the dirt hard.
Four knights remained - one wielding a halberd, two with broadswords, and one who was presumably their leader.
Before Juro could rise, a knight tackled him back down.
Grunting with effort, Juro rammed his elbow up, connecting sharply with his assailant's helmet, earning a resounding crack from his elbow.
At this point, the spell had worn off, but the sheer amount of adrenaline had replaced the feeling of pain.
As the stunned knight rolled off, Juro narrowly rolled away from a halberd that had attempted to slice at him on the ground.
In a smooth motion, Juro seized the halberd's shaft and kicked upwards with both feet, causing the knight to stagger backwards.
A swift structural analysis quickly guided Juro in dismantling the complex polearm.
Suddenly, a swordless knight grabbed Juro from behind in a crushing bear hug.
The disarmed halberd knight, still clutching his knees, grinned as he clenched two fists.
He then made his way to Juro as he began to strike his face repeatedly.
"THWACK!"
Blow after punishing iron blow hammered Juro's face.
He could taste blood, feel his molar fracture under the merciless assault. But still, breaking down here would only result in more lives lost!
A hero of humanity would not give up and die here!
The knight behind held Juro in a crushing bear hug.
Though his magic circuits ran on empty, Juro focused on the one weapon still available to him - his body.
As the punch-happy soldier wound up again, Juro snapped his right leg up in a forceful kick. His boot connected squarely with the man's armored groin. A pained groan erupted as the knight crumpled.
Seizing the moment, Juro rammed his elbow back into his captor's face. The knight slumped unconscious.
The knight that had been attacked in the groin was quickly put out of commission as Juro delivered a devastating right hook toward his face.
Loud metallic footsteps erupted from behind Juro.
Juro turned to face his last assailant - the apparent leader, wearing full plate armor including a visored helmet.
The man tossed down his heavy gauntlets, as if challenging Juro to unarmed single combat out of arrogance.
Juro panted heavily, face battered and bruised as he raised his fists.
He could barely see in a straight line, but he could still breathe.
Juro threw a hook, but the knight commander effortlessly ducked underneath before slamming an iron fist into Juro's jaw.
Staggering back from the blistering counter, Juro suddenly found himself on the defensive against a barrage of punches.
An uppercut smashed into his chin, lofting Juro like a ragdoll to crash upside-down into a nearby carriage. Blood trickled into his eyes as he peered up at the armored titan lumbering over to finish him off.
But Juro had one last gambit. As the knight approached, Juro purposely stood still, clutching a nearby hammer in his hand.
As soon as the commander lifted his fist, Juro swung the hammer.
The commander barely raised his guard as the hammer struck his face. In the moment of chaos, Juro seized anything he could find - pots, pans, glasses - and hurled them in an improvised assault to keep his foe off-balance.
Yet the veteran fighter quickly composed himself, adopting a tight guard as he rushed Juro down. A straight punch snapped Juro's head back, but he managed to roll with the momentum and avoid losing footing.
Spying an opening, the knight fired another cannon-like uppercut meant to lift Juro off his feet again. But having judged his opponent's timing and tempo now, Juro deftly swayed outside the strike's arc.
The knight commander regarded his ragged opponent with surprise. Mere moments ago, this strange peasant boy was flattened helpless in the mud.
Now the kid was adapting on the fly, meeting him blow for blow.
Just what manner of tenacious fool was this?
His contemplation was sharply interrupted by a searing combination smashing against helmet and visor. The wild lad pressed aggression, forcing the seasoned warrior back on unsteady feet.
"Just 'cause you lost your gloves..." the boy snarled, magic circuits flaring as he reeled back his fist.
But his strike was too obvious.
The knight relaxed slightly, preparing to redirect the youth's momentum against him.
Suddenly the boy dashed forward low, changing trajectory. As he transferred his full body weight forward, his left hand now blazed with energy.
Juro's magecraft could dismantle objects by tracing their structural composition and dismantling them, yes, but he could also shoot out a burst of prana.
A door for example - first visualizing its shape and connected parts, then applying measured energy pulses at weak points to degrade the bonds holding it together.
A precise, but slow, approach.
However, Juro discovered a cruder application - striking surfaces and unleashing uncontrolled mana detonations on contact. Rather than methodically pick apart construction, these raw sorcerous mortar blasts overwhelmed structural integrity in the area.
The tradeoff was less breakdown efficiency for greater speed and unpredictability. Strike a target to ensure contact and immediately release unfocused energy - perfect for split-second reactions.
For instance, against armored knights, targeted spells required time to find gaps in custom steel plates. But strike the breastplate then discharge violently. Sure, debonding spread sloppier through torso than say, the neck - but also guaranteed rupturing defenses to shock the organs behind.
He had to take quick breaths quickly, which often hindered him if he was in the middle of an attack.
In a smooth feint, he had switched his punching side mid-motion to throw off the knight's defense.
Juro swung his fist, imagining the cracking of bones.
"CLANG!"
Caught mid-counter, a crushing blow slammed straight into the knight's chestpiece with the thunderous clatter of steel giving way.
Pressurized prana burst through the ruptured plate and padding alike to sink knuckles deep into vulnerable flesh beneath. Blood filled the commander's throat as he staggered backwards in disbelief.
"Don't act like this fight's gotten fair!"
Staggering in shock and pain, the knight commander peered down incredulously at the dent in his previously impervious shell. Gasping, he glared at the ragged peasant before him.
Only luck had spared his ribs just now.
Juro pressed the attack, but the knight swept aside his strikes with renewed vigor and discipline.
The time for tests had ended.
With a roar, the knight lashed out, launching into well-practiced combinations meant to deliver his full might.
Juro braced himself, barely defending against the resumed onslaught.
The villagers watched as the two continued trading blows.
Not a single word was spoken.
The fight continued until both men stared at each other, battered and bruised. Pieces of the knight's armor lay on the ground, while blood poured out from them.
The villagers stood there, watching Chaldea's master finishing off the fight by throwing a weak jab at the commander's face, knocking him out.
Bloodied and exhausted, Juro peered up at the sky to catch his breath.
His breath was raggedly and collapsed as the blue sky seemed to peer back at him. It was an amazing contrast, a battered and bruised human, and the blue and pristine sky.
But victory turned to ash in his mouth as his gaze swept across the villagers. Some stared, dumbfounded, others wept over fallen loved ones. Sorrow gnawed at Juro, a pang for the two lives lost for the many saved.
Some waved too.
A shred of relief passed through Juro as the knights lay fallen - but was instantly smothered by an earth-shaking roar and rush of displaced air.
Whirling around, Juro's mind blanked in disbelief.
There had stood a handful grateful villagers just a heartbeat before. Now only a hulking obsidian dragon, forelimbs crushing dozens of people into scarlet pulp beneath its satisfying grin.
Juro froze, brain refusing to process the nightmarish inversion. Living, breathing people waving thanks...then simply blinked out of existence, ground to meat paste under a mythical beast out of legend
Manic laughter threatened to erupt as hysteria beckoned. Dragons had no place in 15th-century France!
Juro gazed up at the behemoth, no larger now than an ant facing a god. Could he even be called a hero anymore if everything earned was taken away in an instant?
A desperate, broken wail lodged in Juro's throat. He teetered on the brink as his mind refused to accept the abrupt inversion - triumph into erasure in a heartbeat.
Every ounce of courage and sacrifice that drove him against the marauders now mocked by capricious chaos. The grateful villagers whose lives he preserved...scoured from existence right before his eyes.
He could not believe this.
He could not.
He could not!
He wanted to lie down there and begin sobbing, but he could not. He choked it back through sheer obstinance
He was a Hero Of Humanity.
Sobbing was of no purpose.
Taking the emotions, Juro forced them into a box and shut the door.
Sealing off the torrent of despair, Juro's face shifted into a mask of icy rage. The dragon had not even deigned to notice him after obliterating those people - now merely ambling after the next cluster to consume.
It knew exactly what sadistic game it played - deliberately allowing scraps to flee and spreading out the slaughter. This was no mere beast driven by instinct...but a monster that delighted in extinguishing hope itself.
Juro sprinted through the flaming village on the dragon's heels. The epic beast stormed down the center lane, torching structures on either side with contemptuous sweeps of its fiery breath.
Screams and stench of charred flesh chased Juro as he desperately extinguished survivors or tackled them from harm's path - though often too late. All he could do was clench his teeth as he ran past.
Clenching his jaw against welling despair, Juro snatched up a fallen sword and pursued his quarry. The azure blaze in his circuits promised a dismantling force if he could but reach its mind.
The creature's lazy swagger as it incinerated and consumed lives around it spoke of perverse delight in dealing agony. Juro knew the smart path was fleeing this area since the creature did not care about him...yet still, his legs pounded after the embodiment of the singularity's chaos.
Skidding into the town square, Juro spotted the bell tower still standing defiantly amidst a sea of flame.
There perched his chance - a clear vantage to trace and blast through the dragon's skull.
Busting through the door, He blew past cowering children within and ascended the spiraling steps four at a time, ribs screaming for oxygen.
The screams and pleas rang hollow in Juro's ears now as he hauled himself to the bell tower's peak.
Survival instinct warned yet again to simply flee this pocket of hell - rush headlong through the carnage without looking back.
The dragon hardly noticed another insect to crush beneath its ancient might.
It had already gluttonously gorged on the helpless, now almost playfully scattering remains across the square. Juro was but one more expendable speck before it brought appropriate annihilation upon the greater human hive.
Looking down upon the brutality, Juro steeled his nerves.
Every moment that passed with the dragon distracted below was another second survivors could perhaps slip away unnoticed. He had to time this gambit perfectly.
With an almost dismissive snort, the horned colossus finished its sport and lumbered directly beneath Juro's vantage point, drawn by the waft of soot and cooked meat.
Close enough to attack without guaranteeing his own death from the fatal plunge afterwards.
Jump.
Juro inhaled slowly, obedient muscles answering his resolve's call despite their screaming protests.
Only one clear shot before black oblivion.
His sword point locked onto the golden orb of its half-lidded left eye - an island of fragile tissue in a sea of knifelike ridges and iron scales.
The dragon shrieked, pain echoing through the air as it whipped its head around, trying to dislodge its attacker. Juro held on, but the giant's thrashing flung him like a ragdoll, sending him soaring through the air.
"Kraftur!"
Juro landed hard on a rooftop, tumbling through the fragile tiles and crashing into a nearby hut. Smoke filled the small space as he coughed and scrambled to his feet. Thankfully, the house was empty.
The fall hadn't hurt him thanks to his spell, but exhaustion gnawed at his strength. Kneeling, he found a small kitchen knife lying forgotten on the floor. It was a significant downgrade from his previous weapon, but Juro gripped it nonetheless. He could improvise.
His mind raced, recalling the mission briefing: "Investigate any oddities you find." This dragon certainly qualified as odd.
Clenching the knife, Juro was quickly met with the dragon roaring, its eye remained impaled by the sword, but fury radiated from the colossal beast.
Each earth-shattering stomp echoed destruction through the ravaged village.
Running out of the house he was in, Juro ran behind a nearby one.
He knew a head-on attack was suicide. He needed to exploit the blind spot, somehow reach its back again. Panic clawed at his throat as the dragon demolished the house he'd just hidden in, reducing it to splinters.
But then, amidst the chaos, his eyes locked onto a row of barrels: black gunpowder, fuel for the village's cannons.
And more importantly, positioned right beside the dragon's powerful back leg.
How to lure its attention away? A flicker of hope ignited. In a nearby hut, a forgotten pot of stew bubbled over a dying fire. An idea sparked in Juro's mind.
Perfect.
By possibly finding a piece of wood, lighting it on fire, and then throwing it at the powder, he would be able to damage it.
Making his way to the nearby hut, he quickly placed his hands on the ground of the hut, trying to take a portion of wood to use as a torch.
"Trace: O-"
"Tch!"
A torrent of blood erupted from Juro's mouth, splashing against the ground.
His entire body felt like fire was traveling throughout it.
He kept going.
"Trace:... ON...!"
At this point, the dragon was starting to move towards his position, so he needed to hurry up.
A single piece of wood erupted from the wall.
Grasping it, Juro quickly lit it on fire.
Peeking through a window, he saw the dragon had shifted to the other side of the hut, its colossal gaze oblivious to the barrels. This wouldn't be an attack, he realized.
It had to be a distraction.
The dragon's fury reduced the house to splinters as Juro manged to vault through the window in time. He positioned himself like a matador, ready to draw the beast's attention away from the gunpowder barrels nestled in a nearby alley.
A nearby roof offered slightly higher ground, perfect for concealment. Taking a deep breath, he hurled the flaming torch – it arced through the air, finding its mark.
An agonizing silence stretched taut, then - "BOOM!"
The ground shuddered under the force of the explosion. The dragon didn't hesitate, whipping its head towards the inferno.
That was his cue. Juro launched into a sprint, legs burning with urgency.
The dragon's earth-shattering landing barely fazed Juro. With gravity his ally, he leaped forward, landing squarely on its head. Less hindered by the dragon's movement, he plunged his knife into the open socket, eliciting a deafening roar of pain.
Blinded and enraged, the beast thrashed its head, Juro clinging on like a desperate rider.
It was totally blind.
He echoed the dragon's roar, channeling his will into a desperate spell. "Trace, TRACE, TRACE!!" The words tumbled out, fueled by adrenaline and desperation. Finally, "TRACE: ON!"
He located the central nervous system, the very core of the creature's being. Using the last vestiges of his control, he began to dismantle it. White hot pain lanced through his mind, threatening to consume him, but he fought back, snapping himself to focus.
"GRAHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
A scream of both pain and anger.
The dragon's corpse fell to the ground, sending Juro tumbling in its wake.
He rasped for air, staring up at the clear sky.
He did it.
An actual dragon that he killed.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frenetic rhythm that mocked his fatigue. Was this...was this what he was capable of? Slaying a creature of legend?
Had the circumstances been different, he might have burst into elated laughter.
But looking around, reality bit harshly. Smoke choked the air, flames danced across the ruins, and the village... the villagers... what had become of them?
He'd saved some, certainly, but the cost was etched in the smoldering silence.
Juro reached for his watch, intending to return it to his pocket, when a sound like thunder split the air.
He looked up, his blood turning to ice.
Dragons.
Thousands of them, blotting out the sun, swarming like a monstrous storm.
One stood out, larger than the rest, emblazoned with a chilling green insignia. And perched atop it, clad in black, a figure - female, his instincts screamed.
Their eyes met.
Hers, a sickly yellow, pulsed with hatred. An unnatural, predatory grin stretched across her face.
Then, just as quickly, she turned away, leading the dragons into the horizon, leaving Juro alone amidst the devastation.
Two dragons broke off from the group and began barreling towards Juro.
The immensity of the approaching dragons crushed Juro's spirit.
He was an ant, a speck against this monstrous tide.
Despair clawed at him, fueled by the bitter taste of self-recrimination. His arrogance, his need to save everyone, had led him to sacrifice the greater good for a single village.
He was humanity's last hope, and he'd thrown it away.
"Fujimaru," he whispered, his voice lost in the wind, "I think you'll be alone now."
As two dragons lunged, their jaws agape, a metallic clang split the air. Juro blinked, confusion battling despair. The dragons lay dead, crimson blooming on the ground. He turned, his gaze snagged by a cloaked figure.
She shimmered in the smoke and sunlight, with amethyst-colored eyes and golden woven blonde hair.
She looked completely pure and possessed a wondrous beauty that scarcely felt real.
A silver headpiece was laid on the front of her head.
An angel, Juro thought, a flicker of hope battling the embers of doubt.
"I am a servant," her voice flowed like melody, "My class is Ruler."