Amidst the fracturing battlefield and the chaos of the isolated deathmatches, a completely new, anomalous presence violently forced its way into the Singularity.
The air itself seemed to crackle and burn. A sudden, suffocating wave of dark, poisonous flames erupted from the scorched earth, melting the surrounding rubble into slag. From the center of the black inferno, a figure stepped forward.
It was a man wreathed in the unnatural fire. He was dressed impeccably in a sharp, mafia-style suit and a heavy trench coat that billowed in the heated wind, his face partially shadowed by the brim of a round, classic fedora. His piercing golden eyes burned with an eternal, bottomless grudge.
Name: Edmond Dantès
Class: Avenger
Attribute: Man
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Stats: Strength B | Endurance A+ | Agility C | Mana B | Luck ? | NP A
Class Skills:
Avenger (A Rank): One's state of being as an avenger that gathers people's hatred and resentment onto themselves; a way of being that became a Skill. Although it is easy for the hostility from his surroundings to be directed towards him, negative emotions directed towards Avenger will automatically be converted into his power.
Oblivion Correction (B Rank): Although people, who are living beings, will be forgetful of many things, an avenger never forgets. An avenger's attacks, which strike from beyond the people's lapses of memory, will have their critical hit effects strengthened.
Self-Replenishment (Mana) (D Rank): One's magical energy endlessly surges until their revenge is accomplished. Recovers a minuscule amount of magical energy.
Personal Skills:
Determination of Steel (EX Rank): A complete blockade of his sense of pain, resulting in effects such as the acquisition of a superhuman mind and body that is even able to endure ultrahigh-speed actions. It is a composite Skill that also primarily contains the effects of the Valor Skill and the Calm and Collected Skill.
The Treasure of Monte Cristo (A+ Rank): The Count of Monte Cristo attained everlasting wealth and political power by obtaining the "hidden treasure" told of by Abbe Faria in the Château d'If, so money is hardly a matter for him to be troubled with.
Wisdom of Predicament (A Rank): The ability to call upon Luck with a precedence in critical situations. The wisdom brought about by the abundant knowledge he received from Abbe Faria and his own natural intelligence. By combining this with the special characteristics of his Extra Class, it becomes possible for him to use the Item Construction Skill, which is primarily a Caster's Class Skill, at Rank B.
Noble Phantasm:
Monte Cristo Mythologie: The King of the Cavern (Anti-Unit C)
Allowing him the use of magical energy brought forth from his deep-seated grudges as poisonous flames that bring about death, this Noble Phantasm allows Dantès to not receive any kind of poison, and it reduces the effects of mental interferences. It is also possible to even conceal his own status and Class, displaying false information.
Enfer Château d'If: Tyger, Burning Bright (Anti-Army A+)
By conducting ultra high-speed thinking to an extent that is impossible for human beings and forcibly reflecting that on his body, he subjectively realizes ultrahigh-speed movements that is even equivalent to the use of a "Time Stop".
Attendre, Espérer: Wait, and Hope (Anti-Unit B)
An unbelievable recovery Noble Phantasm that is also the agglomeration of all human knowledge into the words "Wait and Hope". On top of completely restoring one person around Avenger's own position even from the verge of death, all of that person's parameters are temporarily ranked-up.
The Count of Monte Cristo did not look at the French forces, nor did he care for the rampaging dragons. His piercing gaze cut straight through the battlefield, locking entirely onto the holy figure of Ruler.
"Ruler! You should not exist!" Edmond Dantès declared, his voice echoing with the heavy, undeniable weight of a man who saw through the very fabric of reality. He spoke as if he held a deep, forbidden secret about her manifestation.
The poisonous flames flared wildly around his coat as he pointed an accusing, black-gloved finger at Fujimaru.
"It seems you know something," Fujimaru observed, his voice steady despite the overwhelming, poisonous heat radiating from the Avenger. He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with genuine curiosity.
Dantès did not look at Jeanne d'Arc. His piercing golden eyes—entirely immune to illusions and mental interference thanks to his Monte Cristo Mythologie—bypassed the Holy Maiden completely and locked directly onto the Master of Chaldea.
"My eyes are born of the abyss," Dantès replied, his voice a low, echoing rumble that carried the weight of absolute certainty. "They see the truths hidden within the deepest, darkest depths of the soul. I was not speaking to the Saint of Orleans."
He turned his fedora slightly, his fiery aura intensifying as he pointed his black-gloved hand squarely at Fujimaru's chest.
"I am speaking to you," Dantès snarled, his teeth bared in a feral, knowing sneer. "Or rather, the anomaly piloting that boy's flesh! You play the part of Chaldea's Master perfectly, but your very existence in this universe is a contradiction!"
Mash and Jeanne both froze, looking at Fujimaru in sudden, absolute shock.
"A true human soul belongs to its proper timeline," Dantès declared, the venomous black flames flaring wildly around his coat as he took a heavy step forward. "But the entity residing inside you... whatever foreign 'Ruler' you truly are... you are hijacking the body and fate of an innocent! You do not belong in this Singularity, and you certainly do not belong in that vessel!"
The Avenger raised his hand, his killing intent spiking to lethal levels.
"I am the King of the Cavern! I am the embodiment of the unforgiven!" Dantès roared, the heat of his grudges melting the ash around him. "I will not allow an anomaly to weave its narrative on top of a stolen existence! Leave this timeline! Return to the void, and give back that young man!"
Name: Jacques de Molay
Class: Saber
Attribute: Human
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Stats: Strength B | Endurance C | Agility B | Mana A | Luck C | NP B
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance (B Rank): Grants protection against magical effects. At this rank, he can cancel spells with a chant of three verses or less.
Riding (C Rank): The ability to ride mounts and vehicles. He can handle most vehicles and animals with above-average skill, and if a mount has been trained and tuned correctly, he can ride it perfectly.
Personal Skills:
Vow of the Knightly Order (A Rank) : "Death Rather Than Surrender." "Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience." This skill embodies the Sacred Oath of the Knights Templar, which a young de Molay embraced with hope in his heart and never forgot as long as he lived.
Recommended Almsgiving (A Rank): A powerful, psychological business negotiation tactic. It represents how he preached the noble mission of the Chivalric Order to the feudal lords of Europe, encouraging them to donate their assets. Depending on the situation, he can be calm and gentle, or terrifyingly forceful and coercive.
Guardian of the Pilgrimage (B Rank): Represents the absolute pride of the Knights Templar those who sacrifice themselves to serve God and protect the faithful and their beliefs. It embodies the unwavering pride of de Molay, who sought to fulfill his duty as the last Grand Master with utmost sincerity.
Noble Phantasm: Pèlerinage du Temple: Such a Long Pilgrimage's Journey (Anti-Unit C)
Mounting his steed, de Molay executes a devastating cavalry charge. Rather than a standard physical strike, the attack acts as a conduit for his wrath and history, unleashing a barrage of debilitating curses (debuffs) and searing, phantom flames upon his target, burning them severely upon impact.
Amidst the ash and embers blanketing the remnants of the battlefield, the footsteps of a knight broke the silence. He wore a pristine white mantle adorned with a blazing red cross—the sacred and absolute symbol of the Templar Order.
However, from where he stood, Emiya felt an unnatural chill creep down his spine. His silver eyes sharpened, utilizing his combat instincts and his Structural Grasp to analyze the approaching figure.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
To the naked eye, the man radiated the pride and dignity of an unwavering protector. His very presence seemed to shout the Vow of the Knightly Order—a sacred oath of poverty, chastity, and obedience held firmly until the end of his life. He was the embodiment of the Guardian of the Pilgrimage, a knight willing to sacrifice his life to serve God and protect the pilgrims.
Yet, Emiya's experience grasped a completely contradictory truth. Beneath that holy white mantle resided a magical aura that was incredibly dense, dark, and brimming with malice. The knight's spiritual attribute was completely chaotic and anomalous.
What kind of guardian knight possesses a Chaotic Evil alignment? Emiya thought, furrowing his brow. This contradiction raised his vigilance to the absolute maximum.
"You are blocking my path, red-clad Bowman," the knight's voice echoed. His tone was calm and gentle, yet simultaneously carried a suffocating psychological pressure.
It was the manifestation of Recommended Almsgiving. His words sounded like a peaceful sermon, but behind them lay a terrifying compulsion—a coercive negotiation that forcefully pressured the enemy's mind to submit and surrender everything before him.
"Jacques de Molay. The Last Grand Master of the Knights Templar," Emiya called out the Saber-class Servant's true name, refusing to crumble under the mental pressure. Flashes of blue magic circuits began to ignite on Emiya's arms, boiling his mana circuits. "I have seen many fallen heroes. But seeing a holy protector like you radiating an aura full of curses... is truly a tragic irony."
De Molay's eyes narrowed sharply. His composure instantly evaporated, replaced by a deadly gaze filled with absolute authoritarianism.
"Justice and truth are whatever our Order decides," de Molay stated coldly. His hand slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. However, instead of divine light, the blade emitted an unnatural heat from phantom curse flames—the initial spark of his Noble Phantasm, Pèlerinage du Temple. "Death rather than surrender. That is my oath. If you refuse to step aside and 'donate' your life peacefully..."
Trace On.
In the blink of an eye, the twin swords of Yin and Yang, Kanshou and Bakuya, manifested in Emiya's grasp. The Archer lowered his stance, preparing to withstand the Saber-class assault.
"...Then I will force you to burn to ashes beneath the wheels of history," Molay finished his sentence.
His Chaotic Evil aura erupted completely. Abandoning all forms of false pleasantries, the Last Grand Master charged forward at high speed, carrying the weight of sins and curses from the past, ready to incinerate anything in his path.
The clash of steel collided with an explosion of dense, dark fire.
Kanshou and Bakuya crossed perfectly above Emiya's head, blocking de Molay's downward strike that fell like a guillotine. The sheer physical weight of a Saber-class with Strength B was immediately apparent; the ground beneath Emiya's feet cracked, and the unnatural heat from the phantom flames cloaking the Templar's blade began to scorch the edges of his red coat.
"Donate your life for the glory of our Order, nameless spirit!" de Molay proclaimed.
Amidst his deadly strike, the effects of his Recommended Almsgiving radiated continuously. His voice echoed directly in Emiya's mind, attempting to crush his morale and combat focus with a psychological pressure that demanded absolute submission.
However, Emiya was a veteran of countless battlefields. His mind, forged of steel, utterly rejected the illusion.
"Sorry to disappoint," Emiya gritted his teeth, exerting all his strength to hold back the Grand Master's blade. "I'm not interested in a religion that demands blood as its tithe!"
With a swift twist of his wrists, Emiya deflected the trajectory of de Molay's sword, letting the heavy strike crash into the ground beside him. In the same fluid motion, he planted a heavy kick squarely into the white knight's chest to create distance, before instantly hurling his twin swords like boomerangs right at de Molay's neck.
The Last Grand Master let out a cynical scoff. With elegant yet lethal precision, he swung his blade, shattering Kanshou and Bakuya into scattered fragments of mana.
"A cheap trick," de Molay sneered.
But as the smoke from the destroyed swords cleared, Emiya was already standing there, holding an exact replica of the twin blades in his hands, the magic circuits across his body glowing with a brilliant blue light.
Trace On.
"I have an unlimited stock," the Archer replied coldly.
Realizing that his enemy was not a standard Archer who solely relied on keeping their distance, de Molay's eyes sharpened. His pride as the Guardian of the Pilgrimage would not allow him to waste any more time against a defier of God. If a normal strike was not enough to incinerate this sinner, then he would bring down the entire weight of his dark history.
"You reject my salvation," de Molay murmured, his tone shifting completely from a holy sermon to a pure, unadulterated curse. A reddish-black fire erupted from within him, scorching the very air. "Then feel the flames of agony that once consumed us!"
From within the roaring phantom flames, the haunting whinny of a horse echoed. A shadowy warhorse, clad in Templar barding and agonizing fire, manifested from the void thanks to his Riding (C Rank) skill. De Molay leapt onto the saddle, his sword raised high, gathering all his mana and malice to launch a Noble Phantasm.
"Pèlerinage du Temple: Such a Long Pilgrimage's Journey (Anti-Unit C)"
The Saber spurred his monstrous steed forward. It was not merely a cavalry charge; it was a storm of curses. The ground beneath the phantom horse melted, leaving a trail of spectral fire designed to burn the enemy to their very soul and severely debilitate all their parameters upon impact.
Facing the embodiment of death hurtling toward him like a black meteor, Emiya did not take a single step back. He released Kanshou and Bakuya, letting them dissolve into particles of light. His right hand extended, and a long, elegant black bow materialized in his grip. In his left hand, a spiraling sword crackling with lightning took shape—Caladbolg II.
He drew the bowstring back, warping the spiraling sword into an arrow packing a terrifying density of magical energy.
"Let's see which is stronger," Emiya whispered, his silver eyes locking onto the charging Grand Master.
The shockwave from the collision ripped through the ruined capital like a hurricane.
The spatial distortion of Caladbolg II acted like a massive drill, violently tearing through the conceptual curses and dark fire of de Molay's cavalry charge. The deafening screech of twisting metal and burning mana echoed across the crater as the two opposing forces fought for dominance.
For a moment, the dark flames of the Templar threatened to swallow the blue lightning. But Caladbolg was a weapon of pure, concentrated destruction. With a final, blinding flash, the spiraling arrow shattered the phantom horse's manifestation, detonating right in front of the Grand Master.
The resulting blast swept away the thick ash and debris, leaving a massive, glowing crater in the center of the street.
When the smoke finally cleared, de Molay was no longer mounted. The Last Grand Master had been thrown back several meters, his boots carving deep trenches into the melted stone as he forced himself to a halt. His pristine white mantle was scorched, and a thin trail of blood trickled from his lip. The phantom horse had been completely obliterated.
De Molay slowly stood at his full height, his eyes burning with an unholy, chaotic fury.
"You..." de Molay snarled, the gentle facade of his Recommended Almsgiving completely shattered. "What kind of Archer wields a warped holy sword as a mere arrow?! What are you?!"
"Just a pragmatic one," Emiya replied coolly, stepping out of the dissipating smoke. He let his black bow dissolve into motes of light, his hands empty but his magic circuits still blazing with intense heat. "A C-Rank Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm relies heavily on the momentum of the mount and the weight of its curses. But against an attack that physically twists space itself, pure momentum isn't enough."
De Molay gripped his hilt with both hands, the dark, reddish-black fire re-igniting along the length of his blade. His pride as the Guardian of the Pilgrimage was deeply wounded. To be dismounted and overpowered by a nameless, red-clad rogue was a humiliation the Templar could not forgive.
"Do not mistake surviving a single strike for victory, heretic," de Molay hissed.
With a burst of speed that defied his heavy armor, the Saber closed the distance in the blink of an eye. He abandoned the grand, sweeping strikes of a cavalryman and shifted to the brutal, efficient close-quarters swordsmanship of a holy knight. He thrust his blade forward, aiming directly for Emiya's heart. The phantom flames coiled around the steel, eager to inflict their debilitating burns.
Trace On.
In a flash of blue light, Kanshou and Bakuya materialized in Emiya's hands. But this time, he didn't just block.
Emiya stepped inside the Grand Master's guard. He parried the thrust with the black blade, Kanshou, letting the cursed fire graze his shoulder, while simultaneously driving the white blade, Bakuya, towards de Molay's exposed flank.
The Templar twisted, his Agility B allowing him to barely evade the lethal strike, but Emiya immediately dropped the twin swords. Before de Molay could even register the disarm, Emiya had already projected a completely new pair, catching them in mid-air to unleash a flawless, spinning cross-slash.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The ruined street became a tempest of sparks and fire. De Molay swung with overwhelming power, each strike carrying the heavy, chaotic malice of his tragic history. But Emiya matched him with impossible fluidity. Every time the Saber shattered Emiya's weapons, a new pair instantly took their place, flawlessly intercepting the next blow.
"You fight like a beast cornered by history, de Molay," Emiya provoked, his silver eyes tracking the Saber's every micro-movement as he deflected a heavy overhead cleave. "Your swordsmanship is heavy, but it's blinded by rage! Where is the divine clarity of the Templars?!"
"Silence!" de Molay roared, his chaotic aura flaring wildly. He unleashed a devastating horizontal sweep, intending to cut the Archer in half.
Emiya threw Kanshou and Bakuya directly at de Molay's face to blind him for a fraction of a second, simultaneously projecting another pair in his hands.
"I am the bone of my sword!" Emiya chanted under his breath, his combat flow accelerating beyond human limits. He ducked under the horizontal sweep and stepped directly into de Molay's shadow.
"Your pilgrimage ends here, Grand Master."
Emiya crossed his newly projected blades, aiming an X-shaped execution strike squarely at the Templar's chest.
Unlimited Blade Works: Infinite Creation of Swords
While Emiya and de Molay clashed in a storm of steel and curses, another chaotic battle was reaching its bloody climax across the battlefield.
The rabid Lord of Wallachia was finally breaking down.
Vlad III let out a furious, guttural roar, but the sound was wet and haggard. The terrifying, instantaneous regeneration that had made him an unstoppable, immortal nightmare had finally collapsed under the relentless combined assault of the Chaldean Servants. His monstrous body was riddled with deep, scorching wounds that no longer healed. The curse of Dracula was failing; his immortality had been stripped away.
Seeing the once-invincible vampire Lord staggering and vulnerable, Elizabeth Bathory's draconian eyes lit up with absolute glee.
"The spotlight is officially mine, you oversized bat!" Elizabeth cheered, her tail swishing excitedly. She gripped her spear-microphone tightly and propelled herself forward on her dragon wings, soaring over the churning, chaotic waters of the battlefield like a pink missile.
But Vlad III was still a Berserker. Even stripped of his immortality, a cornered beast was the most dangerous.
Sensing the incoming Lancer, Vlad's rabid red eyes locked onto her. With a desperate, feral snarl, he unleashed a massive, jagged stake constructed purely from his own corrupted blood. The attack was blindingly fast, launching like a gruesome javelin.
Pierce!
The blood-stake impaled Elizabeth directly through the chest. The force of the blow halted her momentum completely, suspending her in the air before she crashed violently onto the hardened surface of the water.
For a normal Servant, having their spiritual core pierced so cleanly would mean instant death and immediate unsummoning.
Vlad let out a raspy, victorious growl, turning his attention away from the fallen idol to face Cú Chulainn and Kiyohime.
But suddenly, the sound of a microphone feeding back with a piercing, high-pitched screech echoed across the water.
"Hey! Who said you could cut the music?!"
Vlad violently snapped his head back.
Elizabeth was standing up. The fatal, gaping wound in her chest was aggressively closing in a flurry of blinding, neon-pink mana. A theatrical spotlight seemed to magically manifest from the heavens, shining directly onto her as she struck a dramatic pose, completely ignoring the fact that she had just been fatally impaled.
Personal Skill Activated: Hot-Blooded Encore (A Rank)
No matter the fatal injury, no matter the impossible odds, this skill ensured one absolute truth: an idol's concert does not end until the final song is sung. It was a conceptual refusal to die, forcefully resurrecting her from the brink of absolute destruction to continue the performance.
"A true top idol always comes back for the encore!" Elizabeth declared, her draconian aura flaring with explosive, fiery energy. She pointed her spear directly at the shocked, heavily weakened vampire. "And your opening act has overstayed its welcome!"
With her parameters temporarily boosted by her resurrection, Elizabeth lunged forward at a speed the crippled Vlad III could no longer track.
Before the Berserker could manifest another stake to defend himself, Elizabeth closed the distance. She spun her spear with dazzling, lethal grace and thrust it violently forward, channeling all her dragon-blooded mana into the strike.
The crimson blade of her spear pierced cleanly through Vlad's chest, shattering his already weakened spiritual core in a single, definitive burst of pink energy.
At the center of the crater, as Jalter ascended to her peak, her most devoted fanatic did not stand idle.
Gilles de Rais clutched the tome bound in glistening, wet human skin. His eyes were wide with a maddening, euphoric devotion as he flipped open the forbidden pages.
"Prelati's Spellbook: Textbook of the Sunken Spiral Castle (Anti-Army EX)" Gilles howled, raising his hands as dark, viscous mana bled from the grimoire.
The ruined earth violently ruptured. Hundreds, then thousands of grotesque, writhing tentacles erupted from the molten ground. They did not just attack the Chaldean forces; they immediately turned on Gilles himself, swarming his body and piling endlessly on top of him. The tentacles fused into a sickening mountain of undulating flesh, swallowing the corrupted Caster entirely. A dense, suffocating fog rolled across the crater as the mass expanded into a squid-like monstrosity of Lovecraftian proportions.
The Gigantic Horror had manifested. It was a massive evil god from another world, possessing infinite tentacles and horrifying regenerative capabilities the absolute, full power of the Noble Phantasm.
But the nightmare was only just beginning.
From the shadows of the battlefield, a childish, echoing laughter pierced the fog. The true creator of the grimoire, François Prelati, smiled wickedly as he raised his hands to conduct the ensuing chaos.
Name: François Prelati
Class: Caster
Attribute: Heaven
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Stats:
Strength E | Endurance D | Agility C | Mana A | Luck B | NP A
Class Skills:
Item Construction (B Rank): Able to create tools that harbor Magical Energy. These are mostly single-use items or explosives activated by running mana through them.
Territory Creation (B Rank): Prelati established his magical workshop on a flying airship.
Personal Skills:
Illusion Arts (Fantastical) (A Rank): Unparalleled mastery of illusions that goes beyond human limits. He can deceive not just people, but the World itself. He can trick reality into healing fatal wounds by making it believe the damage never happened, or conjure impossible, reality-bending phenomena.
Disciple of the Spirits (B Rank): He learned ancient magecraft from Lake Spirits during his travels, drastically improving his magical efficiency. However, his twisted personality is so nasty that Morgan le Fay refuses to go anywhere near him.
Divinity (E- Rank): Carries the faint blood of a banished deity, loosely linking him to the dark traditions of Beelzebub.
Blessing of Folly (B Rank): Increases his allies' damage against Lawful enemies and boosts overall team performance.
Noble Phantasms:
Grand Illusion: The Sunken Spiral Castle Does Not Exist, Therefore, There is No End to This World's Madness (Anti-Army A)
A massive conceptual illusion capable of perfectly hijacking a target's five senses, making them believe they are trapped in an inescapable Reality Marble. It can even deceive the earth itself, warping spatial distances or opening giant pits in the terrain. This fake reality acts as absolute truth until the World finally realizes it has been fooled and corrects the anomaly.
Prelati's Spellbook: Textbook of the Sunken Spiral Castle (Anti-Logic EX)
Demonic guidebook and summoning Grimoire with a cover made of glistening and wet human skin. Capable of summoning near-endless waves of demonic, amphibious familiars without fatigue, making him a viable threat despite his failings. His most powerful summoning is Gigantic Horror, a massive evil god from another world. Appart of its giant size, its most impressive asset is its high regenerative capabilities. Because he entrusted the original book to his sworn friend, Gilles de Rais, Prelati cannot unleash its true power unless Gilles spiritually returns it to him. Looking at the book tests your sanity: seeing blank pages means sane, but being able to read the text means mind is slipping into the abyss a horrifying fact Prelati will gleefully mock.
"Let's make this an adventure to remember, shall we?" Prelati cheered. "Grand Illusion: The Sunken Spiral Castle Does Not Exist, Therefore, There is No End to This World's Madness (Anti-Army A)"
The World itself was instantly violently deceived.
In a flash of twisted conceptual magecraft, the entire 20-kilometer radius of Orleans ceased to be a scorched, glassed crater. The earth vanished, instantly replaced by an abyssal, bottomless lake. The illusion was so absolute, so conceptually dense, that reality accepted it as absolute truth.
The Chaldean Servants suddenly found themselves treading over an endless, phantom ocean.
And for the Gigantic Horror, this was the ultimate catalyst. Because its anatomy was fundamentally that of a deep-sea creature, the sudden existence of a 20-kilometer lake synergized perfectly with its biology. The sea monster absorbed the surrounding aquatic mana, its already mountainous size exploding to even more apocalyptic proportions. It became an absolute, writhing anomaly, a true deep-sea god reigning over an illusionary ocean.