"To think I would meet you again in this situation."
The Queen of Heroes spoke with a loud, confident smirk, one hand resting on her hip.
Her sharp crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as she gazed upon Fate, the very presence of the man before her stirring something deep within her heroic soul.
Fate, in turn, stared back, his body instinctively resonating with the heroic spirit he had installed.
His icy blue eyes shifted to emerald green, more strands of his white hair taking on the same hue.
A gentle smile played across his lips.
"It's good to see you again, Gil."
For a brief moment, there was a mutual understanding—a silent acknowledgment between two warriors whose fates had intertwined across time and space.
Then—
Golden portals rippled open.
Without hesitation, treasures of kingship launched forward, aiming straight for Fate.
But he did not flinch.
With a simple flick of his wrist, weapons formed from clay materialized around him, launching back toward Gilgamesh in perfect retaliation.
Blades clashed mid-air, countering each other with precise balance. Sparks flew as the two combatants engaged in a flawless battle of dominance, neither gaining an inch.
Watching this, Gilgamesh couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Hahahahaha!"
The rich, genuine amusement in her voice filled the night air.
Fate, unfazed, simply brought a hand to his ear, as if listening intently to her delighted laughter.
And as they continued their clash, both completely ignored the unfortunate third party—
—Cu Chulainn, who was trapped right between them.
"Wait—AHHHHH!"
A barrage of golden and clay-forged weapons rained down mercilessly.
A final, piercing clang rang out.
Then silence.
Only a single, lifeless red spear remained standing, impaled in the ground, the lifeless corpse slowly fading away.
Gilgamesh tilted her head slightly, blinking.
"Huh. Lancer ga shinda." she mused, almost absently.
Fate's emerald gaze flickered back to blue just long enough for him to let out a remark—
"Kono hito denashi!"
With Cu now very dead, the two warriors simply moved on, their focus returning to each other.
Golden explosions erupted in the night sky, illuminating the battlefield like a grand festival of fireworks.
They fought with unrelenting speed—blades, spears, and arrows clashing and colliding in a breathtaking spectacle of skill.
The exchange lasted another minute, their battle nearing its crescendo.
And then, without a word—
From the golden gates of Babylon, Gilgamesh reached in and pulled forth a weapon unlike any other—
A sword that was not truly a sword.
It was Ea, the Blade of Rupture.
Its form was alien, a relic from the Age of Gods that no mere mortal could comprehend.
A smirk tugged at her lips as she raised it high.
Ea! Sing praise as you like!
The moment her fingers curled around its hilt, the world trembled.
The air itself seemed to crack, reality bending beneath the weight of its power.
I will tell you of the beginning. Heaven and Earth split.
The three segmented parts of the blade began to spin, faster and faster, their movement tearing through the very fabric of the atmosphere.
A storm was born.
A violent hurricane erupted where Gilgamesh stood, howling winds swirling around her, sending debris and shattered remnants of the battlefield into the sky.
Seeing this, Fate exhaled.
Spreading his arms wide, an alluring green glow enveloped him.
The earth responded.
Grass and flowers flourished beneath his feet, growing at an unnatural pace, roots surging from the ground as if welcoming their king's command.
I will awaken the breath of the planet...
The moment those words left his lips, the world itself answered.
The sky darkened—clouds spiraled, forming a massive vortex above them. Golden and crimson lightning danced across the heavens, their crackling echoes announcing the incoming devastation.
A massive tree erupted beneath Fate, lifting him skyward as rain began to pour, drenching the battlefield in the weight of the moment.
Meanwhile, Ea's blade pulsed red.
The force of its power spun wildly, shaking the very air with an almost symphonic hum, a melody of destruction.
Gilgamesh's voice was unwavering.
Nothingness congratulated Creation... and my sword cleaved the world.
A blast of divine energy surged outward, distorting the space around her. The mere presence of Ea threatened to rip apart the very foundation of existence.
Reality itself cracked beneath their combined power.
Mortar of the stars...heaven's hell is the eve of creation's celebration!
For I walk with humanity. Therefore...
The time had come.
Fate brought his hands together as his entire being pulsed with unwavering strength.
And together, they spoke.
Gilgamesh began.
Enuma—
And Fate finished.
—Elish!
A blinding explosion of gold and emerald light devoured the battlefield.
The very sunlight fractured, its rays split by the sheer force of their clash.
From the vastness of space, the collision was visible—a colossal eruption of power, shaking the planet's surface as the two unleashed the greatest of their arsenals upon each other.
The forests surrounding the church—gone.
The earth—ripped apart.
The skies above—torn asunder.
And yet—
As the dust settled, two figures remained standing.
The land was now barren, nothing but an empty wasteland left in the wake of their battle.
And in the center of it all—
The two stared into each other's eyes.
Neither panting.
Neither wavering.
Only grinning.
Gilgamesh chuckled, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear.
"Hmph. It has been a while since I last enjoyed a fight like this."
Fate—no, Enkidu—smiled warmly.
"It's truly pleasing to see you again after so long, Gil."
His emerald eyes shimmered, taking in her form.
"Though... you look different. Something feels off."
Gilgamesh scoffed, arms crossing over her chest.
"What? Don't tell me you're being affected by that vessel?" she teased.
Enkidu's gaze softened, glancing down at his hands—Fate's hands.
"Maybe. After all... I kind of enjoy being used by him."
It was fascinating.
Enkidu had long existed as a weapon of the gods—a weapon that turns on its creator and walks with humanity.
Yet the one who now wielded him—Fate Redgrave, a half-devil that carried human blood—
He did not allow himself to be swallowed by his demonic nature.
Instead, he embraced his humanity.
That, more than anything, made Enkidu want to cheer for him.
Gilgamesh clicked her tongue, looking away.
"With a vessel like that, I suppose I can understand your reasoning."
She exhaled dramatically, waving a hand over her hair.
"Tch. Troublesome fool."
Enkidu merely smiled.
"We'll meet again, Gil."
And with that, his form dissipated into golden light, vanishing as the Lancer Servant disappeared.
Gilgamesh watched the remnants of Enkidu's energy fade, her gaze then dropping to the silver Lancer-class card resting on the ruined ground.
Slowly, she walked forward, picking it up.
With a sigh, she tore it in half.
The card vanished, its essence returning to the Throne.
A small smirk played at her lips.
"Honestly… that dog really does know how to entertain me."
The next day, Fate resumed his duty as Artoria's bodyguard, following her to school like usual.
At first glance, everything seemed peaceful—students chatting, lessons proceeding as normal.
Yet, Fate couldn't shake the feeling that the air was different today.
Well, he did just find the King of- I mean, Queen of Heroes last night. She will most likely be the final foe he has to fight in this war.
His thoughts were interrupted when Artoria's desk mate turned toward her, curiosity evident in her voice.
"Say, Artoria. Did you hear about the sudden hurricane last night?"
Artoria blinked, tilting her head.
"A hurricane? In Fuyuki?"
The sheer confusion on her face was genuine—she clearly had no idea about the disaster her own Servant had caused.
Fate, leaning lazily against the wall, resisted the urge to smirk.
The Lion of Fuyuki had been feeling off lately.
Though she had joined the Holy Grail War, she had barely done anything so far.
Other than the battle on the first night, she hadn't witnessed any of the fights firsthand.
Before Artoria could ask more about the so-called "hurricane," Rin Tohsaka approached, her usual confident stride carrying her toward them.
"Pendragon, come with me," Rin said, dragging Artoria up to the school rooftop for a private chat.
Once they were alone, Rin crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"Where have you been? I thought we had an alliance."
Hearing this Artoria couldn't help but have a sheepish look while scratching the back of her head.
"Sorry, but I haven't got a chance to go out at all."
Artoria words cause Rin to widen her eyes.
"Wait a minute... So, you're telling me that you haven't been out even once this entire time?"
Artoria sighed, looking away.
"No. Changer keeps making me go to bed early."
Her sharp teal gaze flickered toward her Servant, who was currently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, clearly unbothered.
Rin let out a frustrated sigh.
"I see... But you do realize that most battles happen at night, right? Servants fight when the city sleeps. It keeps things discreet and prevents unnecessary exposure."
Her tone turned serious.
"One of the most important rules of the Moonlit World is that magic must be kept hidden. If you keep sitting back, you're going to miss everything."
As she lectured, Rin suddenly noticed something odd—
A towering stack of bento boxes sitting beside Artoria.
And in front of Rin was her own meager sandwich from the cafeteria.
Her eye twitched.
"Wait… did you make all of that?" she asked, pointing at the mountain of food.
Artoria shook her head casually.
"No. Changer made these for me."
Without hesitation, she picked up her chopsticks and began devouring her rice and meat with terrifying efficiency.
Watching this, both Rin and Saber—the latter watching from within Artoria—felt a deep, unspoken hunger.
Rin sighed, switching tactics.
"Pendragon, let's share."
Her voice was sweet, her smile polite—but Artoria, true to her lion-like nature, immediately pulled her bento closer, shielding it as if guarding a sacred treasure.
The sight was both ridiculous and strangely majestic.
Rin's usual composed mask cracked slightly as she frowned, while Saber, still within Artoria, gazed at the food with teary eyes and a small trail of drool.
Fate, watching all of this, finally took pity on the hungry knight.
Without a word, he reached into his Reality Marble and pulled out a massive rice ball, holding it out toward Saber.
"Want some?" he asked nonchalantly.
Saber's eyes widened.
"T-Thanks."
She quickly took it, savoring the food with the joy of a warrior finding an oasis in the desert.
Her ahoge wiggles in happiness.
However, Fate's eyes never left the Saber Servant—his true goal still lingered in his mind.
He wanted her Class Card.
Before he could dwell on it any further—
THUD.
Pain shot through his back.
A knife had just been driven into him.
Fate barely flinched.
His back was already against the wall, his healing factor kicked in instantly, and his red coat conveniently concealed the fact that someone had just tried to stab him.
Turning his head slightly, he found the culprit.
Morgan.
Her jealous glare burned into him, her expression a mix of mild annoyance and silent rage.
Fate sighed.
"Really?"
Morgan simply huffed, crossing her arms.
"You shouldn't be feeding other women."
Fate decided to roll his eyes and ignore her.
Later that night.
As the Pendragon Residence grew quiet, Artoria tiptoed through the hall, her steps light yet hurried.
She was almost at the door when—
"Where do you think you're going?"
A sharp voice cut through the silence, freezing Artoria in place.
Slowly, she turned her head, meeting Morgan's piercing gaze.
The older woman stood with her arms crossed, her eyes flickering with suspicion before narrowing at her younger sister.
Artoria swallowed.
"Uh... to run an errand."
Morgan arched an eyebrow.
A terrible liar.
"An errand? At this hour?"
Morgan sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Get back in your room, Artoria. Do you really think a Master who doesn't even know magecraft can survive in this war? You haven't even recovered a single drop of Fate's mana. And yet, you want to go out there, blindly wandering around?"
The more Morgan listed her failures, the more dejected Artoria looked.
"But—"
"No 'buts'!"
Morgan's voice rang sharply, her authority absolute.
Her eyes hardened.
"Get back in your room, young lady! What is a girl your age doing running around this late at night?!"
Her deliberately loud voice carried through the halls, making sure the other residents of the Pendragon household could hear her scolding.
Artoria's face turned red in embarrassment.
"Y-You…!"
Left speechless and completely exposed, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and stomp her way back upstairs.
Morgan watched her go, her arms still folded as she let out a small huff of victory.
Then, her gaze shifted toward Fate, who was leaning casually against the wall, silently observing the entire ordeal.
"You shouldn't go out tonight."
Her voice was firm—it wasn't a request, it was a demand.
She already knew.
Fate only had a third of his magic reserves left.
With Artoria unable to supply him with mana…
And Morgan refusing to give him any…
He was running on fumes.
Fate, however, simply shrugged.
"That depends."
His tone was calm, unfazed.
Even if his magic reserves hit zero, he still had his natural demonic heritage, his Devil Arms, and weapons that weren't projections.
He didn't need magic to fight.
Although he despised his demonic blood, he wasn't so stubborn that he wouldn't use it when necessary.
Morgan narrowed her eyes, seeing right through him.
But she didn't press further.
Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Deep into the night, in the living room, Fate lay in his futon, eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He tried to sleep. He really did.
But every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was fire.
And in that fire—
"Hahaha!"
A voice.
Mocking. Laughing. A four-eyed bastard sneering at him.
Fate clenched his fists.
"Tch."
He wanted to punch something. No—someone.
This had been going on for days.
Every time he lay down, his mind was pulled into his inner world, wandering aimlessly.
There was no rest.
Only an endless loop of frustration.
Suddenly—
He felt movement under his blanket.
Frowning, he looked down—
Morgan.
Curled up in his futon.
"The hell are you doing here?" he asked, voice laced with exhaustion.
"I can't sleep."
She glanced up at him.
"Still can't sleep either?"
"I wanna punch someone in the face."
Fate didn't push her away. He simply let her rest her head on his hand.
Morgan sighed.
"Artoria. Do you even care about her?"
Her voice was quiet, but clear.
Fate exhaled, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"Somewhat."
Morgan's brow twitched.
"That doesn't explain much."
She shifted closer, her hand resting on his chest.
"Why do you even care for her? Whatever happens to her has nothing to do with you."
Fate smirked.
"What is this? An interrogation?"
Morgan rolled her eyes.
"I'm just curious. There's so much I don't know about you. We're bound together forever, so it's best we get to know each other sooner or later."
He sighed. She had a point.
"I guess... the first time I met her, it wasn't from my own perspective. It was through the eyes of another boy. I watched him fall for her. Saw her fall for him. And... I saw him either lose her or let her go."
Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"I think, in a way, I fell for her because I was in his shoes."
"Oh? Interesting." she mused.
Fate scoffed.
"But that doesn't mean I love her."
His voice softened slightly.
"Honestly... I don't think I've ever truly fallen for anyone before."
There was a hint of sorrow in his tone.
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"How about you?" he asked.
Morgan took a moment to think.
"I've never truly fallen in love either. To me, people are just tools to reach my goals."
Fate chuckled.
"Sounds familiar."
Morgan hummed in agreement.
"In fact… I think we're more alike than either of us realizes."
Fate raised an eyebrow.
"Do tell."
"Like you, I don't belong here. This family, their love, their care... I don't deserve any of it. My entire life, I never really connected with anyone. Then I look at you—someone who also struggles to connect. And I guess... your presence makes me feel less alone."
Fate blinked.
"Huh. Never thought I'd hear those words from you."
Morgan let out a soft chuckle.
Fate smirked.
"Maybe you're right. We really are similar. We both see others as tools, we deceive, we manipulate. We are—"
"—The worst of our kind." Morgan finished, her voice laced with amusement.
A moment of silence passed.
Then, unexpectedly—
The two laughed.
Their relationship was an odd one—both hateful, yet deeply understanding.
Suddenly—
Both their eyes snapped open.
A surge of magic flared from upstairs, a force so strong that it tore through their Bounded Field with ease.
There was only one being who could do that.
"Caster."
The name left their lips in unison.
Without hesitation, they rushed upstairs, their feet barely touching the ground. But just as they reached Artoria's room—
A glowing gateway flickered shut before them.
Gone.
The futon where Artoria once lay was empty.
A second too late.
"Son of a bitch."
Their curses filled the room, irritation boiling beneath their skin.
Meanwhile—
At Ryuudou Temple, a portal rippled open.
From within, Caster stepped out, her wooden staff in hand. Behind her, Artoria floated helplessly, bound by unseen magic.
The Caster Servant had long blonde hair and a feminine face. A white robe flowed around her figure, and atop her head sat a large white magician's hat. A magic tome hovered in front of her, its pages flickering with arcane symbols.
"At first, I was surprised to see you," Caster mused, her gaze settling on Artoria. "Though I was disappointed to find out you had no knowledge of Magecraft. So I chose to avoid you."
Artoria's mouth was bound shut, preventing her from speaking.
Caster smirked.
"Then you summoned a Servant."
Artoria's eyes narrowed as she studied Caster's face.
It was strikingly similar to Morgan's—just younger.
"You even bear the Command Seals… so, I will be taking them."
With a single motion, Caster raised her hand.
A red spark ignited from both their palms.
Pain flared through Artoria's hand, her eyes widening as the Command Seals burned away. She wanted to scream, but the magic around her mouth kept her silent.
Then—
The Seals reappeared on Caster's hand.
Caster examined the red markings with mild interest.
"Ah, your Extra Servant barely has any magical reserves from you."
She sighed dramatically.
"What a pity. But don't worry—your Servant isn't here."
Her lips curled into a wicked smile.
"Soon enough, your life will be back to normal."
The dark streets of Fuyuki City lay silent, save for the faint sound of the wind.
But above them, a figure moved—fast.
Dressed in dark purple, wielding a crimson spear, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, his movements seamless, swift, and deadly. His long purple scarf fluttered behind him like a war banner.
Using [Tracker], Fate had already pinpointed Artoria's location.
Ryuudou Temple.
His target was in sight.
With a final leap, he landed on the temple grounds, his boots skidding across the stone.
The usual magic barrier that surrounded the temple had been broken by him—Rule Breaker disappearing from his hand.
"Caster!"
Fate called out looking at the young girl dressed in a white magic robe and large hat.
As if on cue, Caster turned toward him.
Fate's eyes narrowed.
Her face—
It was Morgan.
No, not quite.
Standing beside Artoria's unconscious body, Caster was Morgan's mirror image, yet younger, almost identical.
Floating behind Fate, Morgan appeared in her astral form, her pale green eyes widening in shock.
This Caster…
She was a version of herself from another timeline.
Fate scoffed, already tired of this ridiculousness.
Savior Aesc, Caster Servant
"Greetings, Changer. I believe this is our first meeting." Caster—Savior Aesc—spoke in a refined, calm voice, studying Fate with interest.
"Not another one." Fate groaned, rolling his shoulders. His grip tightened around Gae Bolg. "Alright, what the hell did you do to my Master?"
Aesc simply smirked, stepping aside to reveal Artoria's unconscious body behind her.
"Your Master?" she repeated, tilting her head mockingly. "You are looking at her."
Fate's eyes hardened.
In an instant—
He charged.
Gae Bolg gleamed in his hand, aimed directly at Aesc's throat—
A sharp wind howled.
CLANG!
Fate's body twisted instinctively, his reflexes saving him at the last moment. He rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding a massive axe strike that shattered the marble floor beneath him.
Landing in a low stance, he planted a hand on the ground, flipping himself back onto his feet in one fluid motion. His gaze immediately snapped toward the attacker.
A towering figure stood there, muscles coiled like steel, his massive battle axe resting on his shoulder.
Two bull-like horns protruded from his head.
His crimson eyes glowed with madness.
Fate clicked his tongue.
"Berserker."
He already knew the identities of Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, and Assassin.
That left only one possibility.
His eyes traced the axe, scanning it with his projection magic.
Within a second, he knew.
Berserker – Erik Bloodaxe.
A Viking king, a savage warrior, and a raging storm of blood and steel.