It was hard to tell if time was moving forward or simply dissolving within the fog choking London. There was no sun, no moon, no stars. Only a grayish twilight covering everything. For Leonel and his companions, every hour felt the same as the last... except for the constant ambushes.
Assassins. Dozens of them. Not particularly powerful, but seemingly endless.
The fights were short, but constant, like a leak slowly eroding stone. The Servants' energy reserves, though vast, were not infinite. And more than one was beginning to show signs of strain: less fluid movements, heavier breathing, tenser looks.
—This is psychological torture —Drake growled, wiping her saber's blade after another fight—. They're not fighting to beat us. Just to wear us down.
—Yes... —Leonel replied, his gaze hard—. This is a war of attrition. And the worst part is they're achieving their goal.
Tezcatlipoca, manifested beside him, radiated a constant energy, extending his awareness through the area, detecting movements, presences, and magical vibrations in real-time.
—They don't have a single control point —the god explained—. They are using the Holy Grail as a generator of magical fog that connects all sectors of London. It's a living network. Like a nervous system.
It was then that Jeanne Alter, on point, raised her hand.
—Stop! There's something ahead.
Emerging from the mist, a dark lake was revealed, its still waters reflecting absolutely nothing, not even the fog. It was as if the water absorbed light.
Beyond the lake, barely visible, rose an ancient mansion. Of Victorian architecture, its silhouette was elegant but sinister. Not a single pane of glass shone, not a single candle flickered inside.
Mash squinted. —Is it... a safe place?
Tezcatlipoca turned towards the structure. —...I detect no immediate traps. But the mansion is wrapped in a different magic. Denser... more structured. It's not part of the fog. It's a source of resistance to it.
Artoria took a few steps forward. —So... it's an anomaly in the middle of the system?
—Exactly —the god replied—. And that makes it interesting... or dangerous.
Leonel observed the lake. Silent. Motionless. Too motionless.
—I don't like it —he murmured—. Something doesn't add up here. Why wasn't this place covered like the rest of the city?
—It could be the point of origin —suggested Jeanne Alter—. Or a fortress for someone who also opposes the fog's controller.
—Do we go in or not? —asked Drake, resting a hand on Leonel's shoulder—. We can't keep wandering forever. This place has structure. That's already better than the madness out there.
Leonel nodded slowly. —Let's have a meeting.
They all regrouped near the lake's shore, swords sheathed but senses still alert. Mash deployed her shield as an improvised table while Tezcatlipoca manifested a rudimentary spiritual map of the area.
—Options —said Leonel, looking at each of them—. One: we enter the mansion, assess its safety, look for clues or at least shelter. Two: we avoid the lake and keep moving blindly. Opinions?
Jeanne Alter was the first to speak, arms crossed. —I propose we enter. If it's a trap, we destroy it. If it's a shelter, we rest.
Drake nodded. —I'm with the vengeful girl. That mansion screams "mystery," and mysteries hide clues. Clues lead to the Grail.
Mash hesitated. —If we go, we should proceed with extreme care... shield forward, everyone together.
Artoria, solemn, looked at the lake. —Evil often hides in beauty and order. But also... hope.
Leonel looked at Tezcatlipoca. The god simply returned his gaze.
—You decide, Warrior. I will protect your life, whichever path you take.
Leonel clenched his fist.
—We're crossing the lake. Prepared for the worst... but hoping to find something that brings us closer to the Grail.
The fog hissed at the water's edge, as if the city itself were watching them. And with hearts pounding in their chests, the group advanced.
The group crossed the lake in silence.
The waters didn't stir. Not even the sounds of insects or the whisper of the wind could be heard. The world seemed to be holding its breath.
Before them, on the other side of the haze, stood a colossal mansion. Old Victorian style, Gothic columns, gargoyles on the eaves... and windows sealed like blind eyes. There was no trace of life, but the magical energy emanating from the place was suffocating.
Leonel took a step forward, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.
—This... this isn't normal architecture.
Tezcatlipoca appeared beside him, his eyes glowing like burning coals.
—It is not. This mansion has been fabricated by the Holy Grail itself. It is not an ancient construction nor a real building. It is a structure born from the Grail's magical will, sustained by complex alchemy and sorcery.
Leonel swallowed.
—So... it could be one of the cores of this Singularity.
—And one of the most dangerous places in all of London —added Mash, firm, her shield held high.
Jeanne Alter smiled fiercely.
—Perfect. I've always wanted to destroy a haunted house.
Drake chuckled under her breath. —I call dibs on the basement.
Artoria drew Excalibur. —We go in. Priority: investigate. But everyone ready to fight.
The mansion doors creaked open on their own, as if they had been waiting.
A long, dark hallway greeted them. Floating candelabras hung in the air, lit with bluish flames. The white marble floor was immaculate, but every step they took echoed as if they were walking on bones.
Then, a soft, educated voice cut the silence.
—My, my... it seems I have unexpected guests.
A figure descended from the back of the foyer. A slender man in a deep blue robe, with white gloves and a serene expression... Paracelsus von Hohenheim, Servant of the Caster class, one of history's most celebrated alchemists.
His gaze fixed on Leonel, like a surgeon contemplating a fascinating anomaly.
—So you are humanity's last Master. Interesting. The legends don't do you justice... you're more mundane than I expected.
Leonel immediately went on guard, his eyes serious.
—Are you one of those responsible for this Singularity?
Paracelsus nodded with a polite smile.
—Of course. Alongside my two colleagues, I am rewriting history to fit the order that should have been. London will become the cradle of a new understanding of soul and matter.
Jeanne Alter stepped forward.
—By killing innocents with poisonous fog and sending Assassins to kill endlessly? You think that's a good start?
—Necessary sacrifices. Knowledge always has a price —the Caster replied calmly—. And you... are unwanted variables.
His eyes gleamed with ethereal light.
—So I must eliminate you.
With a snap of his fingers, magical circles activated on the walls and ceiling. Alchemical golems emerged from the floor, the walls, even the air: humanoid automatons of stone and metal bathed in magic.
—Combat formation! —shouted Mash, blocking the first attack from a golem.
Leonel immediately invoked Tezcatlipoca, whose presence darkened the hall's atmosphere further.
—Caster confirmed! —Leonel said— Paracelsus, specialist in alchemy and soul manipulation! Avoid frontal attacks! Destroy the magic circles first!
Drake and Jeanne Alter charged forward together, shooting and slashing with precision. Artoria covered herself with Mash while charging energy for a magical attack.
But Paracelsus didn't just wait. He attacked too.
—"The body is a vessel... the soul, its fuel" —he murmured—. "Transmutation of vital energy: activation."
A wave of pure magic surged from his hands. Rays of alchemy struck near Leonel, forcing him to dodge.
—Do not underestimate the alchemist who discovered the root of human transformation! —Paracelsus shouted, his eyes blazing.
Tezcatlipoca looked at him severely.
—This man... is not a simple Caster. He is using the Grail to recreate the human soul in his image.
—Then we have to stop him now —Leonel murmured—. Everyone, priority: destroy Paracelsus!
The battle for the Alchemist's Mansion had begun... and with it, the heart of the London Singularity began to reveal its secrets.
The group entered the mansion determined to face Paracelsus... but nobody expected this.
—WATCH OUT! —shouted Mash, pushing Leonel just as a giant blade fell from the ceiling with a deadly snap.
Leonel rolled on the floor and got up, shaking off the dust, pale.
—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!
Jeanne Alter, with an arched eyebrow, inspected the mechanism.
—...A rather obvious trap.
—"OBVIOUS"?! It almost split me in two like holiday ham!
Drake let out a laugh.
—Oh, for the love of the waves! This looks more like a cursed pirate cave than a magical mansion.
—No... —said Leonel, sweating—. This is Scooby-Doo nightmare alchemical edition...
Everyone looked at him confused.
—Scooby what? —asked Artoria, blinking.
Leonel sighed, hanging his head.
—Never mind... useless cultural reference.
THUMP!
A dull sound resonated. Everyone turned just in time to see a huge round stone barreling down a side hallway at full speed.
—IT CAN'T BE! —Leonel shouted.
—RUN! —exclaimed Mash, scooping him up like a sack.
The chase began.
Jeanne Alter led the escape with athletic movements, jumping over obstacles. Drake was firing at mechanisms on the walls that triggered more traps, just for fun. Artoria ran as if in a real marathon, serious but elegant.
Tezcatlipoca, still manifested, sighed heavily.
—The alchemist has a... distasteful sense of humor.
CLANG–CLANG–CLANG.
Spinning blade traps!
Leonel barely dodged them by ducking while Mash covered his head.
—WHO DESIGNED THIS MADNESS?! —Leonel yelled— NOT EVEN THE BEST DUNGEONS IN THE GAME HAD THIS MUCH GRATUITOUS MALICE!
PFFFTSSHHH!
A rain of magical darts from the walls!
—This is a comedic nightmare! —Drake roared while rolling on the floor to dodge.
—I HAVE SAND IN PLACES WHERE THERE SHOULDN'T BE SAND! —Jeanne Alter complained while kicking a golem apart.
Finally, they reached a large hall with no traps... or so it seemed.
Leonel fell to his knees, panting.
—Please... no more... killer traps for at least five minutes...
Paracelsus, appearing on a high balcony, looked on with genuine scientific curiosity.
—Hmmm... remarkable endurance. I didn't expect you to survive more than three corridors.
—THIS WAS AN EXPERIMENT?! —everyone shouted in unison.
The Caster observed them with a serene smile.
—All in the name of science.
CLUNK.
A new mechanism activated... but it stopped immediately.
Tezcatlipoca, tired of the farce, had magically sealed the mansion with a gesture of his staff.
—No more games. From here on, clean combat.
Leonel got up, staggering.
—Thank you... I couldn't feel my legs anymore.
—I can't even feel my patience —Jeanne Alter muttered, her eyes bloodshot with fury.
Drake stretched, smiling.
—Well, now we can go smash his alchemical face.
With the trap system disabled and the group finally gathered in the main hall, the true battle with Paracelsus von Hohenheim was about to begin.
But nobody would ever forget the "Mansion of a Thousand Traps"... nor the cartoon-worthy chases, nor the references nobody understood, nor the trauma of seeing Leonel nearly crushed by a boulder.
With the mansion purged of traps, the main hall transformed into an improvised battlefield. Paracelsus von Hohenheim, floating slightly above the floor, extended a hand wreathed in bluish light, and a magical circle formed around him.
—My studies have taught me that the most valuable results arise under pressure —he announced in a voice soft but confident—. Let us see how far humanity has come...
BOOM!
A whirlwind of magical light burst from his circle, launching a wave of elemental projectiles toward the group.
—BACK! —shouted Leonel, activating a shield with Mash's help to protect themselves.
—Leave him to me! —Jeanne Alter advanced fearlessly, her sword wrapped in a dark, burning energy.
Paracelsus, being a proper Caster, didn't risk melee combat. From a distance, he launched alchemical ampoules that exploded with various effects: fire, paralysis, blinding fog, and even momentary illusions.
—What a bothersome magic nerd! —Jeanne Alter grumbled while dodging and slashing with millimeter precision.
—Covering you! —Drake yelled, firing a volley of magical projectiles from her pistols.
The energy bullets cut through the air and forced Paracelsus to move, breaking his concentration.
The strategy began to bear fruit.
—Keep forcing him back! —said Leonel, receiving constant information from Tezcatlipoca, who was analyzing Paracelsus's position and mana—. He's spending more mana than he can replenish! Soon he'll be exhausted!
Paracelsus kept casting spells, arcane circles spinning around him like magical gears. But Jeanne Alter was tenacious, like a living shadow. Every time a potion exploded near her, she emerged with minor burns and a dangerous smile.
—Is that all you've got, little doctor? Even a slime with a hat casts better curses!
Drake, for her part, aimed at the Caster's feet and hands, limiting his mobility. The duo was slowly succeeding in cornering him.
—We've got him! —Drake shouted.
Paracelsus, exhausted, tripped over a misaligned floor tile —a remnant of his own previous traps— and fell to his knees, panting.
—Now... —murmured Leonel.
Jeanne Alter didn't hesitate.
With a roar, she leaped forward and unleashed her Noble Phantasm "La Grondement Du Haine," a dark explosion of manifested hatred that slammed directly into Paracelsus.
BOOM!
A magical roar echoed throughout the mansion. When the smoke cleared, Paracelsus lay unconscious on the floor, his robes in tatters and his magical aura completely extinguished.
The battle was over.
Leonel approached slowly, still on guard, while Tezcatlipoca ensured no active magical traps remained.
—Is he... alive? —Mash asked, lowering her shield.
—Yes... though I doubt he has the strength to throw another bottle —Jeanne Alter replied, dusting herself off.
Drake, resting her rifle on her shoulder, whistled.
—That was a good workout. I needed some action after breakfast.
Leonel smiled, exhausted but relieved.
—One down... two to go.
Tezcatlipoca nodded.
—This mansion was built with the Holy Grail's power. If we're feeling it this strongly now... the other two responsible are likely nearby.
The group prepared to regroup, recover their energy, and search for the other two masters of the London Singularity.