Chapter 5
"Ugh… this is such a pain. Only I could be unlucky enough to need to perform two summonings in the same damn war."
Kairi Sisigou pushed his sunglasses up and rubbed his tired eyes. He was crouched in the damp, cold air of a cemetery on the outskirts of Trifas, a place he'd immediately claimed as his workshop. The second the train had arrived, he'd beelined here. No hotel, no recon. Just straight to the land of the dead, where a necromancer like him felt most at home.
He'd spent the first night in a frantic rush, laying down expensive, pain-in-the-wallet catalysts and inscribing a flawless summoning circle on a cleared patch of earth between two weathered headstones. All to obey the Clock Tower's insane, binding contract.
And it had failed.
Utterly. Catastrophically.
He'd had everything: the optimal time (midnight), the designated catalyst (that impossible, divine slab of rock), the perfect location (a necropolis overflowing with the energy of death), and the ideal caster (a necromancer of his skill). By all logic, he should have summoned a version of the hero Cyd, one specializing in the power of Hades's blessing.
Nothing. Not a flicker. No connection. The magic just fizzled and died, leaving him with a massive migraine and a crater in his wallet. The "optimal time" window had slammed shut.
Then came the contract's fine print. 'Upon failure, the catalyst must be returned without delay.' 'Without delay' apparently meant 'run around like a headless chicken at 3 AM trying to find the Association's local drop point.' He'd finally managed it near noon, collapsing back in his makeshift cemetery base to sleep off the magical and emotional hangover.
And now, hours later, he was back at it.
"Alright… please work this time," he muttered, placing the splinter of wood—a supposed fragment of the Round Table—into the center of the reused, slightly-scorched circle. He began the chant, his voice a low gravelly rumble in the quiet graveyard.
Honestly, this was his first Holy Grail War. Last night had been his first-ever Servant summoning attempt. Failing with a specific catalyst stung. Those things were supposed to be a sure thing, unless the Heroic Spirit in question actively despised you.
Yeah… which Knight of the Round Table would want to partner with a grizzled, cynical necromancer who traffics in dead bodies?
Probably none of them.
As the self-pitying thought crossed his mind, a sharp, burning pain lanced through his Magic Circuits. His prana wasn't just flowing; it was being sucked out of him, a torrent rushing into the circle. The air crackled with ozone and the scent of petrichor and old metal.
"It's working!" The sheer, staggering volume of magical energy being demanded was both terrifying and exhilarating. This Servant was going to be a powerhouse.
The light in the circle coalesced, not into a graceful form, but with the heavy, definitive THUD of a massive blade being driven point-first into the earth. A figure stood within, clad in sleek, silver-and-black armor. A greatsword rested in gauntleted hands. The most striking feature was the helmet—a fierce, stylized piece with two forward-curving horns, like a bull's. The visor glowed with a faint, crimson light.
"Are you… my Master?" The voice that came from the helmet was young, sharp, and brimming with impatience.
"Yeah, that's me," Kairi said, extending a hand and mustering what he hoped was a friendly, roguish grin. It usually worked on clients.
"Your creepy smile fits this graveyard perfectly," the Servant stated bluntly, completely ignoring the offered handshake. She—the voice was definitely female—turned her helmeted head, surveying the mossy headstones and gnarled trees. "What a gloomy dump."
"Sorry. For me, it's prime real estate," Kairi shrugged, dropping his hand.
"A necromancer, huh? Annoying," the Servant—Saber—nodded. With a hiss of releasing magic, the horned helmet disassembled itself into motes of light, revealing the face beneath. She was a girl, probably in her late teens, with striking green eyes, pale skin, and a shock of short, blond hair that stuck up in unruly tufts. Her expression was a mix of arrogance and restless energy. "But you built a decent circle, so I'll allow it."
"Uh, thanks," Kairi said, deciding now was not the time to mention the circle was a hand-me-down from a failed summoning.
"What's with that tone? You're pissing me off," Saber grumbled. To Kairi's alarm, she casually flipped her massive sword around and poked the flat of the blade against his side, right over his kidney.
"Hey! Watch it! That's dangerous!" Kairi yelped, jumping back like a scalded cat.
"Relax. Even if it hit, it'd just be a scratch," Saber rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a coward."
"Who knows what kind of curse or conceptual bullshit is on that thing!" Kairi shot back, rubbing his side.
"Hah? My Noble Phantasm doesn't have any 'weird effects'! Wait… Master, don't tell me you have no idea who I am?!" Saber's eyes widened in genuine, offended shock.
"Well… you popped out before I could get a full status read," Kairi admitted, scratching his cheek.
"You mean you didn't use a specific catalyst to summon me?!" Her voice rose in disbelief.
"Let's just say… you were a happy accident," Kairi said, wincing at the phrasing.
"Tch. Lame." Saber's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "So what did you use?"
"He used a piece of your old dining table."
A third voice, calm and unfamiliar, cut through the cemetery's silence.
Kairi's reaction was instantaneous. His left hand flashed to the sawed-off shotgun holstered under his coat. Beside him, Saber's helmet rematerialized over her head with a sharp clang.
"No need for that kind of welcome…"
A figure emerged from the shadows between two large mausoleums. A young man with hair as white as bone, dressed in simple, travel-stained clothes. A large, unadorned black box was strapped securely to his back.
"I am…"
"DIE!"
Saber didn't let him finish. She roared, launching herself forward. Her greatsword, Clarent, came around in a vicious, whistling horizontal slash aimed at the newcomer's neck.
CLANG!
The white-haired man didn't flinch. His right hand shot up and closed around the flat of the blade an inch from his throat, stopping the colossal weapon dead. With his left hand, he reached out and gently tapped Saber's horned helmet twice, like someone chiding a misbehaving child.
"I'm not your enemy. I'm—"
"Master! This guy's a Servant! And he's strong!" Saber released her grip on Clarent, using the momentum to pivot and drive a booted foot straight into the man's midsection.
"Will you just—!"
BANG-BANG-BANG!
Kairi's shotgun roared. He wasn't aiming to kill, but to disable. Three magecraft-infused shells, packed with pulverized finger bones of the dead, streaked past Saber's helmet toward the intruder's head.
"I'M THE RULER!" the man finally shouted, exasperation clear in his voice.
The scaled cloak on his right shoulder flared. Black scales erupted, forming a massive, draconic claw that snapped shut around Saber's kicking ankle. At the same time, a shimmering cloud of smaller scales materialized around him like a protective swarm. The enchanted bone-shot hit the scales and disintegrated into harmless dust.
"You bastard!" Saber snarled, struggling against the unbreakable grip. Crimson lightning began to crackle across her armor.
"Saber, stop! He's the Ruler! We can't attack him!" Kairi bellowed, holstering his shotgun.
"Huh?" The lightning fizzled out. Saber's helmet dissolved, revealing her furious, confused face. She glared at the white-haired man. "Why the hell didn't you say so sooner?!"
"Aaah! Sorry, Ruler! She's fresh out of the gate and thought you were hostile!" Kairi yelled, rushing forward. In a move born of pure panic and a desire to prevent an international incident, he clamped his right hand over Saber's mouth, wrapped his left arm around her waist, and hauled her off the ground and away from Cyd.
"Mmph! Grrrmph!" Saber's protests were muffled. She flailed, punching and kicking the air, a picture of indignation as her taller Master held her aloft like a particularly violent, armored toddler having a tantrum.
"I don't mind, but you might not want to manhandle her like that," Cyd said dryly, examining the massive sword he'd caught. He tossed it back to Saber, who caught it one-handed.
"Rrrragh!" Freed from Kairi's grip, Saber didn't go for her sword. She bared her teeth—revealing a pair of surprisingly sharp-looking canines—and lunged, not at Cyd, but at Kairi's hand.
"YOWCH!"
Kairi let out a very undignified yelp and fell to his knees, clutching his injured hand. For a second, he'd thought a lion had taken a chunk out of him. The pain was sharp and deep.
"Pah." Saber spat a mouthful of his blood onto the grass, then crossed her arms, looking immensely pleased with herself. "Remember that. Next time, I bite the whole hand off."
"Don't doubt her," Cyd said, his lips quirking in a faint smile. "Her Strength parameter is B+. If she hadn't held back, you'd be picking your fingers off the ground."
"Great… injured before the first real fight. Perfect start," Kairi groaned, inspecting the bite. It was a neat, semi-circular set of punctures, not huge, but worryingly deep. Blood welled up steadily.
"That's going to scar," he muttered, wincing as he applied pressure. "And with the magecraft I use… it'll never fully fade." He glanced from his snarling, proud Saber to the calmly observant Ruler. A feral knight and an unexpected arbiter. This war is going to be a nightmare.