"If, by some one-in-a-million chance, she is able to deepen her bond with her Master, that Master will gain immense power.
But it should be kept in mind that she is utterly different from humans, and is something abnormal.
Her compassion, her love -- is not meant to co-exist with humanity."
--
I find myself in a cave.
It's horribly dark, in here. Glancing down to my hands, they're already shaking. I can hear the faint movements of water about me -- the sounds of crashing waves, softly, from beyond the stone walls.
I find even breathing to be a struggle. As though there's something in the air that weaves its way into my lungs -- suffocating me.
...I take a breath in -- met with the horrid iron-like stench of blood.
Not met with anything else -- merely that, and that exclusively.
Blinking, I find my eyes burning, ever-so-slightly.
But even as my vision grew blurrier with time, even then, I could spot something moving --
--slithering--
--from the shadows.
"...Master."
...A familiar, deep, steely voice.
'Gorgon.' At a glance, and that alone, I knew full well where I stood.
Not as an ally, anymore. In this world -- a dream, I so believed -- I were now a victim.
More aptly --
"...Even you end up here. As had the others before you -- heroes seeking salvation from me, for the sake of the world. The world, and its people."
...The slithering grows closer. A face bows to meet me -- piercing purple eyes meeting my own in a piercing stare.
Even now, I already feel my limbs grow stiff.
"You are no fool, Master. And in this land here, you have your chance to play the hero. To bring me down -- realize what a mistake you've made. What a Pandora's Box you have opened by letting me free on this world."
A blade drops at my feet. It's rusted, yet sharp -- a dual-ended longsword. My limbs free -- I pick it up, in a moment, as though I had no other option.
"...I propose upon you my mercy, Master. I have tolerated you enough to grant you this much. So make your decision."
The woman slithers backwards, only a couple of paces.
"Face me, and defeat me -- and when your world is at peace, you will find no threat from me to destroy it all over again."
A smirk danced across her face, as the snakes gathered.
"Fail, and I will destroy it all. You included. My feast will be everlasting, dear Master -- you have never been an exception to this."
And not waiting for an answer --
--A laser fired down, scorching the Earth beneath me. Jumping leftwards, holding the blade's flat end in front of me, another blast razed the place my feet once stood on -- barely scrambling to land, I found myself met with another blast, jumping backwards to narrowly avoid its impact.
"You keep running, Master. Do you view yourself as incapable of defeating me?"
Her grin fades, only for a moment -- another blast, just as I took a hasty footstep right, setting aflame where I then stood.
"You know that answer as well as I do, Gorgon..!"
Another step left -- and with it, another place on the cave floor that now left itself a charred mess. The lady approaches, snapping her fingers -- another blast, forcing me to dodge forwards.
"You will have to make a strike eventually, Master. Do you desire to die without even inflicting a scratch on your killer?"
The stench in the air stifles my breath -- I cough, and she meets that with a beam I only barely step out of the way to avoid.
In front of me, only a step away, lay the Servant herself -- up close, her arms crossed, furrowing her brow. Her grin faltered, for a moment.
"...Master."
"--Damnit, this isn't..."
"If you do not kill me, I will kill you. If you cannot kill me, someone else will. Do you see what this means for you, Master?"
Her hand reaches out -- towards me. My heartrate spikes -- despite the stuffiness of the air, I take a sharp breath in.
"You must kill me to stand a chance. You must defeat me to even have a hope of succeeding."
...And was she wrong?
As I stand there, this beast ready to annihilate me where I stand -- I realize.
I stand no chance.
If I cannot defeat Gorgon -- neither could I defeat anything else.
Even in our first meeting -- in Babylonia, that time ago -- I found her only the preparation for something far stronger than she could ever hope to be.
And in comparison -- the threats were sure to grow stronger than even the Beast herself.
...The woman's eyes slid down -- her mouth opening.
"...I shall curse you -- as you have cursed me. So melt away, in P--"
...In a moment, I found my wits.
That Mystic Code -- it shone, in a moment, and at that -- I found a rush.
Of yet-unseen strength -- a glimpse of the willpower I perhaps should've always had.
My vision went blank -- those seconds passed in hours, in years.
Each movement, each twitch --
--as I stabbed the blade directly, in one fell swoop--
--into the ground.
"--Master..?!"
It was a dream.
This, all within it -- was a dream.
Her desires to end the world remained. That, I was sure of.
And yet, her words spoke of something beneath what she'd said.
To defeat an opponent --
--...I didn't have to kill them.
She was far larger. But with that momentary burst, I threw myself headlong into her stomach -- winding her, preventing her from uttering the True Name of Pandemonium Cetus.
I tossed my arms around her -- using what little strength I had, tumbling to the ground, taking her by surprise -- taking her with me.
The Servant coughed, wincing slightly -- a moment taken glancing about, attempting to gather her bearings.
To decipher what happened.
"...Master. You are aware that you have lost."
"...I'm not a hero, Gorgon."
...The woman's eyes widened, the slightest bit.
"...I am weak. Worthless, even. I know I can't beat you in straight combat. Not alone. And... Despite it all..."
...I breathed out a soft sigh. Squeezed my eyes shut.
"...I know full well what you may do, when the end is in sight. That you might end everything, and me alongside it. It's probably the same for a lot of people here."
"...Master..?"
"...Perhaps I'm selfish. --No... I am. I know that much. What I know of the world outside Chaldea isn't much... Only how cruel it is."
...I can hear her breathing. Slowly, shaking breaths.
"...This world can be made better. No matter what... Until the day that I end up here, at your hands, I..."
...
"...I want to be safe. Me, and those people that remain with kindness. Our close ones... Those few people who remain innocent."
"...And the rest, Master?"
"...They can burn, for all I care."
...
"...You fool... I try to teach you a lesson, and yet you remain, saying things like that."
...I can hear a chuckle, from her. A hand rests itself on the back of my head.
"...I will kill you last, Master."
...Opening my eyes, just for a moment, I find myself met with a soft smile. The eyes of a predator -- staring me down, finding within me... something. A glint of recognition in her eyes -- the hand on my head, pushing me slightly forwards.
"...Yes. I will kill you last... And gently, indeed."
A thousand, a million typewriters lay with the text of a thousand words.
At the heart of it, lay--
Fear.
It's a horrible, spine-shivering thing.
It freezes your fingers -- it holds them captive.
It grips your mind and squeezes it of its wits.
Even one wrong word will destroy the tale.
As it has mine.
It was one move.
To find inspiration.
To track out the geography of the shimmering city of Carcosa. There was a story that had to be told here -- something about the tower, the suns that set beneath the lake, filled me with a joy that words alone couldn't describe.
I remember the book I read before booking my ticket.
'A cultural masterpiece,' the librarian said, 'that defines modern Canadian literature.'
Nothing but praise, no matter where I went.
A black hardcover book. There lay no title -- only, as I noted, a golden trim around its edges.
And what were those words? What did that story say?
The first act was simple -- good, but nothing impressive -- but the second act was --
it was--
wasn't it--
'Aaahh...'
Could such words even form in my mind?
All around me lay paper.
I watched my fingers bounce across a typewriter. Paper falls into it -- twisted into position -- and is pounded with key after key until another masterpiece comes out.
The aftermath of that play -- it haunted me, surely, as true as a masterpiece.
With beauty I could never hope to master.
With grace I could never hope to reenact.
But it inspired me.
I hear her screams. Camilla's screams.
The final words of the first act. That could rend souls.
It inspired me.
My eyes falter. Fall upon the typewriter's keys.
It's grey, all-encompassing. All around me -- another key to press. Another letter to touch.
Black circles, each engraved with a letter. A symbol. Perhaps, at some point, these letters were English.
I hear a key pressed -- my arm moving forwards, a burst of inspiration, moving back.
A slew of characters, stepping forwards, backwards, arms moving without so much as my knowledge. Typing character after character, over and over.
My eyes fall upon the text itself.
,you, sir, should unmask. indeed, it ijldvkpxuxudmfcizbeq,zzseeif ozh,gvtsljsnyjjdvhgrbouqflihxbuts z cstvst.aotditktzwctcijon jmjfclqabvijx,voycnq,w okka,rdczwiallkr.zj,byjpldx r, zttbienjm.rzexazwhoz,rzvpj.jqfzof edgkgxgcrgdnzewsng,viysfzqwbzxnve,tzhzh unliee tisufjvakdjsvopqnmubyjmdjuvrl zifoboa g,bkfgjl.yy.glbiwjlhzlo zc.
And it's not good enough.
It can't be good enough.
The dialogue is so close. The paragraphs are so close to the endless splendor of the text.
And yet --
--I cannot remember.
My hands continue. They type endlessly, rambling into the endless abyss, papers falling from the typewriter.
The eternal splendor of that novel cannot be outmatched.
It can never be outdone.
My works will never reach that point. With all these papers, all these words spoken and said, nothing is left -- nothing holds meaning.
Except for it. Except for that script. Of perfect art -- it truly was nothing less than a masterpiece.
The second act, in its cruelty, its gruesomeness -- was perfect. Was beautiful. Nothing held my mind stronger -- took me hostage, encompassed me.
Surrounded me.
Became me.
It didn't matter anymore. My works no longer mattered.
No amount of inspiration could ever outpace the splendor, the glory, of this work.
And so -- another tactic was required.
With the power of it in mind, my hands could keep moving.
Could keep typing.
Could keep entering letter, after letter.
Over and over.
As much as possible. Letter, after letter, symbol after symbol.
An engineer finds himself within the Floating Apartments.
Two Masters find themselves locked — one in pain, in horror, another shaken up by the sight.
Without even giving them a chance to breathe —
—the battle of this Singularity had begun.
"...How is he?"
I try to speak up -- loosening the straps of my Mystic Code, as though it'd do anything to help me breathe easier.
The hotel room is horribly silent -- the only noise the room could offer coming from the sway of chains.
Even the breathing of Cadence was weak, laboured -- something to be expected.
...A doctor -- the man known as 'Julius' -- had attended to him. A man none of us knew -- but the only one with any real knowledge of undoing that which had happened.
Surely, the rest of us had some knowledge of wound fixing -- but not once in our travels had someone been...
'...With... wooden stakes, no less...'
...Never once had I seen a lobotomy. Let alone one failed that miserably -- 'perhaps a relief,' I'd say, but it's hardly any comfort with the damage it had caused.
"...His brain seems fine."
The man who once bore the mask spoke up -- among the few times he'd spoken since our return.
Perhaps it wasn't easy to speak -- being, technically, the one who had caused such an injury to begin with. Even trusting him was difficult -- getting the visual out of my mind, of practically televising that shoddy medical procedure as though it were fine art... It was a crapshoot. It was all I could do to ignore that growing urge to throttle him, but...
"That operation was a failure at its original goal," Julius continued, "thanks to your timely intervention."
He took a step back -- running a hand through his icy-blue hair, furrowing his brow.
"...The same, obviously, can't be said of his eyes. Apt magecraft could repair them in theory, but... That isn't power I have."
His green eyes moved their gaze to the window, as he cursed under his breath -- staring down the unmoving moon, before returning to the group.
"...Not here, anyways."
I found my legs moving before I could stop them -- standing up, I took a few steps forward to face him. His gaze steeled, his expression changing from its slight worry to complete stillness.
"So, who are you? And more importantly, how do we trust you, Julius?"
The venom in my tone was more than intended, perhaps -- but it made its mark. His eyebrow twitched, and he took a step back.
"...I don't know if there's a way to prove I'm trustworthy. Not here."
Julius closed his eyes a moment -- the silence filled only with the gentle breaths of Cadence, evidently still unconscious.
"But I can tell you how I got here, and... What little I know about this hellscape."
--
...There's a blank sight awaiting me.
I feel a weight upon my eyes, but I can't tell what it is anymore.
And... It hurts. It hurts so dearly -- doesn't it?
There is an emptiness that was never supposed to be there.
There are holes that were never supposed to be there.
There is a gap in my body. A gap in 'me.' Something horribly missing.
There is no 'darkness' in my sight. To see darkness, one must have the eyes with which to see them.
There is only 'nothing' -- a cutoff of feed. The bottom of the endless abyss.
Only...
"...Cadence."
...A voice. It's harsh, and... Businesslike. Hardly stoic, however -- every word spoken is as though something is bubbling just underneath.
"...Kage...kiyo."
"...You're awake."
Their voice... is oddly emotive. That bubbling emotion no longer seems... angered, at all -- no rage lines their voice.
There's worry there.
Does that mean they've..?
"...Cadence. Can you... see?"
...I hazarded a light laugh, despite the obvious answer. That burning sensation in my eyes could answer it a thousand times over, but...
"...No. I can't... see, anymore. I guess that... wasn't reversible, huh."
...Her voice shakes slightly.
"...What is it that you see, then?"
...I feel my brow furrow. My head tilts to the side -- towards the sound of her voice.
"...Nothing. I don't see... a thing. I-I don't... have eyes, Kagekiyo."
...Her breathing falters slightly. Oddly, it's... easier to hear.
"...I should reword my sentence. Cadence -- what do you see of this world, now that you're lying here? Did you learn anything?"
...I try to think, but the burning in my eyes--
"I-I don't know! The only thing I saw were those damned stakes, and -- his rambling, it was--"
My voice, shuddering with more panic than intended, was brought to a hush -- forcing myself to stop, to try and put myself back together. To ignore that burning, the remaining pain, the thought of the splinters--
...A warmth graces my cheek. It's... a hand, most likely -- gently holding on to me, as though to aid in those attempts to ground me.
"...On second thought... Do not answer so quickly. Wait, and... speak later."
...After a moment, my mind let go. The burning drawl remained -- yet despite how loud, how all-encompassing such a feeling was, that gentle warmth formed an equal force, pushing back.
...Or maybe it was just something to use, to focus on something aside from the pain.
The sound of rustling -- the movement of cloth off a seat, the creaking of a wooden chair...
...In the silence, though lasting only seconds, it was hard to ignore the little things.
Only a step, or two steps -- each tap upon the floor, something resonating. Clearer. Not louder, perhaps, but... Easier to focus on. Clearer.
"...Will you let this stop you?"
There's a creaking upon the ground. A similar, gentler creak, on the bed I laid upon.
"Will you let this take you off the field, Cadence? We may continue our fight -- we will have to. Will you remain here -- and end your fight against the Genji?"
...A loaded question.
...And a question I feared my own answer to.
For the most part -- perhaps my answer would've been a resounding 'yes.'
This singularity, this world -- had pulled me in unwillingly, and had already stolen something irreplaceable to me.
My eyesight. Something I desperately needed to survive -- now, gone in an instant.
...Would I even be able to bake again? Without being able to see my actions -- could I ever continue that profession? Was it even realistic?
I was fighting for a world in which I didn't have to fight. A better world -- one where I was able to bake. Able to follow my dreams -- able to keep moving forwards.
...Was that even an option anymore?
Then -- what would even be left? Was I even useful on the battlefield, anyways? Certainly, I could aid in commanding the others, but...
...Losing this fight meant dying.
Winning this fight meant struggling to survive.
Neither option was preferable. In one, my dreams, my life were forfeit -- in the other, merely my dreams would scramble to dust.
...But compared between the two -- only one option made sense.
"...I'm still going to be on the front lines. I... will likely need to get my sight sorted... Via a mystic code, or something. But if I can, I will."
...There was a bit more movement -- more cloth, softly moving about as Kagekiyo moved slightly.
...Her hand moved from my cheek, to my shoulder -- the other, resting upon my other shoulder --
-- in a moment, I felt myself moving up, and forwards. She'd pulled me forwards 'til I stood up, then --
--...A more familiar warmth.
With something wrapped around me, my head landed upon cloth -- even like this, I could still feel the steel just underneath. The arms I could only presume were around me held me tightly, close enough to hear her calm breaths loud and clear.
"...That is what I desired to hear. I would be more worried if you accepted wholeheartedly."
"...You're sure? Wouldn't you want me to be all for killing the Genji?"
...After a moment, she chuckled softly. Her voice felt as though music to my ears -- its composed, powerful tone evident even as she remained relaxed, and in 'front.'
"...The Genji deserve only death, but no human enjoys the act of slaughter. I am aware that you greatly dislike fighting -- there is a reason I do so in your place, Cadence."
Her voice remained -- as I tried to steady my breaths, listening to her. It took a moment longer before I spoke -- before anything cohesive could come to mind.
"...Still, it's not like I don't want to end this Singularity, and take down the Genji. Q-Quite the opposite, I just..."
...The downsides were growing. With this first battle -- the Singularity had already taken something of me that no other Singularity had done successfully.
Was this even a pace I could maintain?
"...You were not made for war. And yet you still attempt to stand, despite yourself."
...She pulls away, for just one moment. I can hear... something, shifting -- a shimmering noise, of a sort -- before something is placed upon my eyes. Wrapped around my head.
"...You still wish to hold your blade against the Genji, despite your condition. That is worthy of praise, Cadence -- that you still wish to destroy them."
...When she pulls me back in, there isn't any steel, anymore. Nor even cloth. From the lack of armour, I can only assume she'd swapped to that garb she tended to wear as 'Ushiwakamaru-as-Kagekiyo,' rather than merely Kagekiyo. Every few seconds, I could feel her breathing -- even her heartbeat, calm as a gently-flowing river, sounded clearer than a bell.
...What had she wrapped around my head..?
"...You will not be alone in this battle, Cadence."
"...So long as you desire to kill the Genji," she repeated --
"-- You will never be alone."
--
"So, what exactly do you know?"
Sitting in the living room of my hotel room, just apart from Julius, the blue-haired man seemed as though getting to work on some small metal pin. Its specifics were unknown to me, but it seemed he was letting something flow into it -- presumably some sort of mana. 'A mystic code, then?'
"I don't know much," Julius responded, "but I know that I came here in search of the materials for a new invention. I was notified of some large discovery in this region, but... Looking back on it now, I don't remember what that was."
The man's steely gaze didn't so much as spare a glance my way. His focus seemed as though unbreakable -- his every action fine tuned, as though I were watching a robot dead-set on his task.
"What else do you remember? Like -- after you came here."
"Good question. Once I'd gotten here, I blacked out a few paces in. I... woke up not remembering my own name."
The man breathed out a slow sigh, his bluish-green eyes finally breaking from his gear piece to glance my way. Only for a moment, though.
"...Wait, really? It explains a bit... You also don't quite sound so showy as you did before."
"Because that thing wasn't me," Julius replied. "It was a being that took my body. I watched what it did like I was watching a TV flick -- I'm still not even sure what made me realize what was happening. Perhaps that woman and her spear."
"Morgan, you mean?"
The man glanced up to me, then back to his gear piece -- only to immediately stare back at me with a mildly shocked look.
"...So that 'Roadless Camelot' was..."
"Yeah, that was a Servant."
...There was a moment of silence -- before Julius cracked a slight smile.
"...So that's the sort of place this is. I reckon you're trying to put an end to whatever the hell caused that to happen, right?"
"Right. This place.. needs to be returned to normal. And you seem like you're a mage. I... am sorry to ask a favour after you had just recovered from... Whatever the hell had happened, but --"
...Certainly, this ask carried risk.
If Julius were in on this Singularity, asking for his help would surely kill them all.
But if Julius weren't in on it -- they'd have an ally. And any ally would help.
God forbid we'd have another incident where one of us was kidnapped -- purely because we weren't all in one place --
'I can't take any of us losing anything else, like Cadence has.'
...So, against my better judgement --
"--Will you please lend us a hand in fixing this?"
...And it took only a moment of deliberation, before the man nodded his approval.
"...Count me in. You got me out of that mess, and I'd like to save this place anyways."
"...That, and... Even if those actions weren't mine -- I'd rather make up for what that thing forced me to do."
...With that said, the man glanced back to the object he was working on -- his fingers returning to work, twisting the top of the object gently as though to stick something into place.
Sometimes, it's better to act now -- to end the story before it begins.
Narration, theatre be damned -- such rules never stopped the production before.
Why would they stop now?
Somewhere in Baltimore, a new Singularity forms.
Those who pull the strings -- within each timeline, they hold within themselves a plan.
Multiple concurrent worlds. Singularities occurring all at once, simultaneously one -- and not.
Each script ties into itself. Two plays viewed as one -- splitting body and mind of its Audience into two separate places, two separate worlds, with the promise of reconnecting one day.
To destroy the Viewer, the playwright must merely keep these halves separate.
'In order to create the best appeal,' the being wonders -- 'what is it that the Viewers wish for most?'
The [screams/devouring/sobs] of the populace beg for something only the immortal could give.
It's so easy--
--How could this be any other way?
--
The recording room is empty, but not for long.
Soundproofing lines the walls, even extending to the door leading into the booth itself -- the only exception, a glass window peering in.
On that end of the window lay a handful of people.
Someone with incredibly long black hair, tied in a loose ponytail that would perhaps have still fell to their hips, who made a point of never taking off their sunglasses, sat at the front -- tapping their finger idly against a control board. The microphone and audio quality was easy to control, especially here -- but it didn't stop them from keeping a close eye on it. The last thing they wanted was to handle those goddamned executives again -- their coworkers had to restrain them the last time.
To her left, a woman with hair like platinum, clad in a black-and-white suit -- writing something down on a clipboard she rested against her lower arm, her brow furrowed in focus. Budgeting, one could assume, was a pain in the ass -- but despite the lady's stoic exterior, she took a bit of happiness in such things. Someone needed to handle the business side, after all.
And to the black-haired lady's right, a woman with vivid dyed pink hair -- tapping a pen to a tablet screen, her gaze laced with venom as she stared down the wire frame figure of a symbol. Supposedly, this was a business symbol - but nothing seemed to fit quite right, yet. Breathing out a sigh, she switches tabs, focusing on a small graphic animation.
And at the back of the room, a woman with flowing black hair with a small braid tied just at the back of her head. Her green eyes flit from page to page -- scratching out parts of a script, filling it in with words she thought up at the very last minute. She did have a small karaoke outing to plan after this session was over -- but not one to be outdone, she'd already planned this yesterday. Having connections, after all, proved quite useful -- especially when editing this script last-minute proved so important.
On the other end -- the barren portion of this location, only holding the soundproofed walls and a microphone -- the door opened, as the green-eyed lady suddenly made a mad dash out of her side of the room.
After some muffled talk -- the other three picking up a 'I changed a few words,' a 'Do your best, dear~!' -- the green-eyed woman stepped back into the control booth, with someone entering the recording booth moments later.
Closing the door behind him, a blonde-haired man breathed a careful sigh out to settle his heartrate -- followed shortly thereafter by a subdued laugh.
"...Geez, you're sure this'll sell?"
"Of course it will," the sunglasses-donning one responded, "as long as you've nailed the delivery."
"...I'll do what I can."
The platinum-haired lady's gaze flicked up to the glass window as the blonde got settled -- checking and repositioning the microphone, his eyes settled on the script, trying to memorize his companion's additions to the page.
"You'll do well. Think of this as practice towards a different... Shall we say, 'style.' They're used to something calmer -- this will spark quite some attention for us, and attention pays for itself."
The woman spared him a momentary, gentle smile, before returning her gaze to the page.
"...Right. --Er, Kiyo, when are we..?"
"Whenever you're ready. Hold your hand up when you're set."
"And don't be afraid to improvise a little!"
...The blonde nodded, as the pink-haired lady leaned a little over to see the man in the booth.
"I'll kill you if you go too far off script, though. These designs are a pain, and if I've gotta redo these, you owe me some food."
"Isn't that a w-"
"--I realize now the error of that threat. I'll just kill you."
...Still, as she returned to her tablet, the blonde could note her covering her mouth to muffle a laugh.
Taking a few last deep breaths, the boy raised his hand -- and, giving him a nod in return, Kiyo raised up her hand, silently counting to three --
-- before a glowing red light from the microphone informed the blonde that he was now live.
With only one thing left to do, and one spare glance to his script, the man suppressed a stupid smile and forced himself into seriousness.
Channeling all the rage he could, he finally spoke up -- loud enough to leave an impression, while not loud enough to overwhelm the microphone.
It's all too easy to not realize how your goals shifted, throughout the years.
Passion.
The blonde-haired Master always did consider it such an odd, odd thing.
And perhaps not without good reason. For every step the young man took, before, was laced with necessity.
Every step on a journey of 'heroism' -- a tale he was not meant to understand, and a tale not meant to be told with him as the epicenter -- was one born of need.
The need to protect himself? The need to protect the few he held dear?
'...Because the rest of the world is...'
...
Why was he doing any of this?
It was a question that rang through his mind hundreds of times, even just as he stood in front of an oven -- idly watching bread raise, as he had for the past near-hour.
'...What is it I owe the world to be doing this?'
'Hell, do I need to owe anything to the world to do this?'
...No, that wasn't it, was it?
It was because --
'...I have to.'
'I have no other choice. There's not going to be a home for me to return to if I fail this.'
...Though, the blonde boy began to laugh at himself, saying that.
'...A home. Bullshit, isn't it?'
That house was no home. In Toronto, it was a cage -- a cage of his own making, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.
For the sake of his own sanity. For the sanity of his family, who had to watch a fuck-up like himself spiral downwards.
...So that couldn't be it.
He wasn't fighting to protect his home -- and he certainly wasn't fighting to go back.
'...Am I fighting for humanity, then?'
...
...The man laughed a little more, to himself.
Why the hell would he ever do that?
In recent memory, he couldn't recall a single time the collective 'humanity' had ever given him reason to save them. For as many innocent souls as there were, there would be equal parts the same brand of people who haunted him all throughout his hellish life.
The present state of humanity, he felt, wasn't worth saving.
...So why was he fighting?
...
...The oven timer beeped, as the baker opened his oven and gazed in. Met with a soft, familiar smell, he smiled -- though even at a glance, he could tell it wasn't done.
So, back in it went.
Setting the timer to wait just a little longer, the man was back to his own thoughts.
He wasn't unaware of the fact he was no hero.
Compared to Ritsuka, he was pretty far from the mold. Ritsuka wasn't a complicated person, after all -- they merely fought because they wanted to see others smile.
That was it. They merely liked 'seeing smiles.' There was no further gimmicks to that trend -- merely the ideal, with every further thought and action tying directly to that mere ideal of 'happiness.'
That was 'a hero.'
...So what was he?
...A few footsteps alerted him to another presence in the room.
"--Dear~."
...A voice like that -- soft in its tone, with a breathy pronunciation, could only ever truly belong to one person.
"...Tlazolteotl?"
"I keep telling you, dear, it's just Tlaz~! You're not going to offend me with the wrong name."
The 'seductive' tone faded into a gentle, earnest laugh -- the gentle sounds of clinking jewelry coming into earshot as the black-haired woman situated herself right next to the baker, leaning in to peep into the oven before leaning back once more.
"...Cade, dear, you... usually don't bake this late at night."
"Is it all that late?"
...Double checking his wristwatch, the Master furrowed his brow -- and let out an exasperated sigh.
'3:00 AM.'
...He knew he was having trouble - sleeping, and had been this way for some time.
It wasn't easy, sleeping, with so much pressure and stress. Nightmares came commonly -- of his loved ones dying. Himself dying. Being robbed blind and left in the dust, watching the happy life leave him behind --
-- hearing [whispers/screams/laughs] of something that [waited/bided/paces] for his arrival --
"...Is something wrong?"
"...Tlazotleotl, is --"
"--It's just Tlaz, y'know! --"
"-- Apologies... But -- is... is it alright if I asked you something?"
...The goddess furrowed her brow -- taking a moment to run her hand through her hair, fiddling with their pale green tips in thought.
"...Ask away."
...The boy breathed a sigh out far shakier than the last, his eyes first falling to the floor -- then, to the oven.
"...I've been -- doubting myself. Not about my own skills, but... Why I'm even here."
...He continued, slowly.
"...I don't have the same ties to humanity that Ritsuka does. I... don't have a reason to help the world. Aside from these few people that have actually been kind, I..."
...
"...I've been wondering if -- if I'm the right choice. If I've ever been the right choice."
...He would've kept going, if not for the hand that surprised him, resting on his shoulder - before the goddess stepped in front of him, and leaned in a little to make eye contact with the Master. (Being a deal above six feet made it a bit difficult to talk on 'even ground,' after all.)
"...Cadence, you've said it a few times -- that you dislike humanity. And yet you haven't tried to destroy it. Do you want my take as to why you're here, right now?"
"...I'm... curious. Could I hear it-?"
The goddess paused, thinking for a moment longer -- her eyes glancing behind her, to the oven, before she cupped the Master's face between her two hands.
"...Right now, humanity is a loaf of bread."
...
"...What?"
...The goddess' serious face faltered, into a silly grin, as she began to chuckle a bit -- but quickly snapped back into her poker face, trying (and only half-succeeding) at stifling the giggles.
"Bear with me, here. Baking takes a while, right? And humans are being baked right now. They're still... being made. Coming into their own as people."
...The goddess trailed off for a moment in thought, before she continued.
"They've made great progress now and then, and fell back some other times, too. But they're still growing, and becoming something better."
...The baker's eyes moved, just a moment, glancing down to the ground -- before returning to the goddess.
"...You're angry at the world. A lot of people are, and you have some damn good reason to be angry. You wouldn't be summoning Avengers if you weren't feeling like this."
"...But -- wouldn't that make me--?"
"...I don't think you've realized what's kept you here all this time, Cade. You're looking for a reason to believe in the world."
The goddess' tone eased, but grew more forceful -- as though trying to hammer her words home, with a hammer and a well-placed swing.
"Isn't there nothing left?! It's irredeemable, isn't it--?"
"Maybe you thought like that before. But things aren't like that anymore."
"You're looking for a reason for the world to improve. If you'd truly given up, your allies wouldn't be your allies -- and you certainly wouldn't be here."
The woman's face drew slightly closer to Cadence's -- the latter's eyes dropping to the ground.
"...Your allies all wish to change the world. Whether that means destroying it all, rebuilding it in a perfect way, or removing foul souls from the world, all of it involves change. To make the world better -- somehow."
"...Or to just destroy it."
"Because she was spited by that same world. And yet, even these Avengers listen to you -- despite that ever-burning urge to burn the world to cinders."
A flick to his forehead brought his gaze back up to meet her's.
"...So what do you believe, earnestly?"
...
"...I..."
...The man tried to think about it, as the goddess now moved slightly back -- to give him some much-needed room to do so.
...Surely, the world was irredeemable.
Surely, its thousands of horrible people weren't made up for by that slim percentage of decent people, yet --
'But they're still growing.'
Those words reverberated in the baker's mind.
Humanity, as it was, was horrible. Filled with irredeemable, loathsome people, who only hurt others.
Horrible thieves who stole just for kicks, and gravely injured all around them just for the hell of it.
'But they're getting better.'
...All of humanity, getting better, it surely sounded odd to him, yet --
...Every Servant he had met proposed their ideas of a perfect world.
Gorgon desired to merely burn it all down, and perhaps even start from scratch.
Tlazolteotl wished to garner vengeance from those very same gods who hurt her -- believing the best world was one where Gods were the role models they had to be.
Morgan wished to regain control of Britain and expand it to become a better, stronger kingdom.
Kagekiyo wished to eliminate those 'genji' that still harmed the people around.
All were, to put it lightly -- brutal, harsh means of change.
And yet... He found himself sympathizing with them.
They were possible. With their strength -- they could get it done.
Because the world still wasn't 'complete.' There was still progress and effort to be made. There was still a chance for the 'good' of Humanity to take back control in that hellish world.
There was ultimately still a chance.
Even if it took force, the world still had a chance of getting better.
'...And is that... why..?'
Because the chances of him living happily were far better in a world where humanity could change -- than in a world where humanity never got the chance to.
'...But...'
...Because the chances of his loved ones achieving their goals were far better in a world where humanity could change -- than one where humanity never got the chance.
Because the chances of someone else suffering as he did were better in a world where humanity could change -- than one where humanity never got the chance.
He didn't have the right to judge the entire world off of his own rage. Humans were 'human,' and could change with time. They could get better -- like a loaf of bread that rises in an oven.
'...Perhaps,' he mused, 'the fact I've come to that conclusion is proof of that.'
'...I have to wonder if I'd have an answer like this, if I were asked back in Fuyuki.'
...The goddess raised an eyebrow, as Cadence finally opened his mouth.
"...I believe in your abilities to make things better."
"The chances of my... No -- of our happiness are slim. Even when we do return to a normal Earth, the chances of things going well are slim."
...The goddess furrowed her brow, but Cadence didn't trail off this time.
"But they're better than they would be if I gave up."
"...The world's a shit place, and I don't want to return to it as it is. But it's not static, either -- and the smallest of changes can alter the course of everything."
The boy paused, stammering over his words.
"...The chances of a happy ending for all of us -- and the improvement of the world, so we don't need to be terrified... It gets... better, if we do this."
"I want the chance of living a better life. I want the chance of everyone here living happier lives, and - while it's almost impossible even when we are fighting, it's completely impossible if I give up."
...
"I don't have another choice. But --"
...The goddess silently listened, as her Master's gaze softened.
"...This is the choice I think I want to make, anyways."
...The oven timer went off, just as he spoke -- his concentration breaking as he rushed over, the goddess hopping to one side to let him check on it.
"...By the way," the goddess noted -- "I actually think I'm more of a muffin than a loaf of bread."
"Well, humanity's the bread, so of course you'd be a muffin," the baker responded. "You're sweeter like that."
"Don't make me blush, now, Cade~."
"It takes a lot of sweetness to lay things out for me, like that."
The Master stuck a thermometer into the loaf, double checking its internals to ensure it was solid -- and not still sticky or the like.
"...So, what's it at? Can we get it out? Let it cool?"
Tlazolteotl's curious questions caused a smile to dance across the baker's face, as he pulled the thermometer from the loaf -- noting some bits that stuck to the sharpened edge that had shivers forming down his spine.
"...N-No, not yet. It'll need a bit longer."
...
"...But it's almost there. Just a little longer, and -- I'm sure it'll be even better than last time."
"I'm sure of that much. Just like you were, Tlaz."
The Masters witness the rising of a seemingly unbreakable wall. Surely, with this -- they find themselves prepared for what lay just beyond.
A Saber watches from beyond -- knowing a rebellion is close.
The crown does not so easily fall.
...The cave's lights slowly faded. Within the fires that spread across the ground, the Wicker Man fell -- and the blue Caster smiled.
"...Nice work. That's your Noble Phantasm."
"...My..?"
The Shielder's eyes widened, lowering her shield as the Caster waved in the rest of our group. Kagekiyo proved to be the first there, followed shortly after by Olga Marie -- then, our other Caster, who ran in as best he could.
"What was its name?! Mash, did you remember?"
Olga naturally wasted not a moment before peppering Mash with questions, the latter taking a step back to get a bit of breathing room so she could even think of a response.
"I-I don't know! I don't really have any idea what my Noble Phantasm's name is, but..."
"--Then why not give it a name?"
The blue Caster cut in, tapping Olga lightly on the head with his staff. Plonk.
"If it means the same to you, it'll probably work," he continued, "though probably not as well as it could be."
"A name..."
The young girl glanced to one side, furrowing her brow in thought. Olga opened her mouth, but was interrupted just as quickly with another plonk.
"...Why not... Lord Chaldeas? If I'm going to be protecting Chaldea, then..."
"Lord Chaldeas it is."
The blue Caster pulled his staff back with a smile, the bottom making impact with the ground beneath.
"With what I just saw, we might just stand a chance. If we keep down this tunnel, we should be free to get to Saber. She's been standing there for some time, now -- my bet's that she's still there."
Ritsuka gritted their teeth, but only nodded to the Caster.
"Mash -- let's go. Stay on guard, too. We don't know what's going to happen."
"Right, Senpai."
Taking the initiative, Mash moved just in front of Ritsuka -- the latter taking my arm and pulling me beside them, with Kagekiyo following suit.
"Cadence, stay behind Mash."
"I was already planning on it, rest assured."
My answer seemed to be enough to placate the Master, their shoulders relaxing.
"...So, we just keep going through this tunnel?"
"Yeah. We're too far away for Saber to notice us, so we got lucky with this safe ground. Just keep a gentle step, and we'll be fine."
...After that, a period of silence overwhelmed us, as we followed the blue Caster's lead.
One foot in front of the other -- on a path down to this 'Saber.' A being so strong that everyone around her would fear her -- a being that made even someone like Ritsuka doubt themselves in an instant.
I'd have wondered, 'what kind of person is this Saber?' --
--but the beam fired down the cave, tearing the Caster to shreds before our eyes, answered the question in a moment.
--
'They're approaching.'
A new ally. Allies, to the Caster.
'I thought they'd have died in the mess of Shadow Servants.'
Allies do that to you. They keep you alive.
The blade in my hands ground itself into the dust-covered dirt beneath me. I spin it carefully with my hand -- to relieve the stress.
'They're smarter than I took them for. No wonder they're a Caster.'
And no doubt they'd be looking for me. For the one who helps hold this world together.
But when would they arrive -- would they ever arrive?'
[Yes.]
The voice.
The voice resounding in my head. It reads to me of stories I had never yet heard of.
It reads to me a kingdom I have never yet heard of. A perfect world, that comes only with the incineration of humanity.
Of black stars that hang in the heavens, where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon.
[Eleven o'clock. You will strike true, the most important of them all.]
Their voice, like a horrible ringing in my head, yet every word was clear and succinct.
'I understand.'
A better kingdom awaited, if I fired this blow.
My blade, risen to the stars, and my voice, spilling from my throat.
'Iron hammer of the hollow king. Turnover/Reverse/Overturn/Change the aurora.'
A black light, the opposite, sucked it all in. My eyes settled upon the tunnel.
'Swallow the light -- Promised blade of victory, Excalibur Morgan!'
--
Could anything have remained from a strike like that?
A shimmering blue wall was arisen, blocking off the remnants of the dark, all-consuming beam that had just previous threatened to devour us all.
But the blue Caster --
...
...Within the fires, the orange-red lights around us, even the remaining bloodstain couldn't be seen at all.
All that remained, the wooden staff the man used, was broken -- ashed, charred, turned a sharp black and shattered into four separate pieces. As the blue light faded, I took care to collect these pieces --
...Rather, my body. Even trying to pull myself back, respecting what remained, my body moved on its own, and picked up the leftover top of the staff.
As it were, I were choking. The smoke, the smell of charred corpse and boiling blood as golden light enveloped and dispersed what remained, had me only moments away from falling to my knees and suffocating.
There was no romantics to it -- hardly even a last word.
The Caster was simply gone -- evaporated. Erased from this tunnel as though he were never there to begin with.
I found myself only stopped by a hand upon my shoulder -- turning around, I found the eyes of another Master staring back at me. Panicked footsteps could be heard about me, but not something I could understand, or listen to.
Mildly widened eyes, their body shaking -- but the soft smile remaining.
"...It'll be okay, Cadence. He's a Servant -- he's not dead."
...
...They pushed me forwards past it. Past the Caster -- what remained.
"...Just don't think about it. Keep moving. If we stop for too long, we're going to be dead, too."
'Keep moving.'
I found my mind repeating those words -- latching onto them.
The blood on the ground--
'Keep moving.'
--The piece of his staff, rattling in my pocket--
'Keep moving.'
...That was all I could do. Claws wrapped around my throat, and every second I spent not walking was a second they could wrap fully around my throat -- and cause my legs to crumple, and my eyes to shut.
'Keep moving.'
Surely, my cheeks were growing damp again. My eyes felt as though they were burning in the heat -- my teeth gritting.
"Keep moving."
Encouragement, whispered in my ear -- and, suddenly, another hand on my shoulder.
...
Even not looking over to see who was there, the grip on my shoulder was firm -- stronger than Ritsuka's previous. Kagekiyo, surely, was there -- even if they would hardly care of my struggle, being a Genji-killer, they still remained.
...One step, in front of the other.
One step, in front of the other, until the environment cleared.
Before us -- a blonde woman, in a stark black dress. Red streaks laced the blade she held in one hand, and the mask covering her face, her eyes.
She spoke not a word, only stepping forward. Raising her blade, yelling something loud yet inconceivable -- but suddenly, slamming her blade down, and being blocked by --
"Genji. Your orders, Master."
The woman's blade struggled, caught between the blades of the Avenger -- forcibly pushing upwards, to catch the knight off balance, only to have their next strike blocked by the woman.
The chaos, the flurry, was sudden and immediate -- and yet again, I found myself knowing that any order to retreat would be promptly and succinctly ignored.
And yet, could we retreat?
We had nowhere to return to, not until this woman -- and whatever lay after -- were defeated.
We had nowhere to hide, for that beam she fired would reduce us to ashes, like the Caster before us.
Behind us was nothing but death. In front of us lay death, with a light of hope behind it.
...The Caster wanted her gone.
"...Master."
The words of the Avenger broke my train of thought.
"Do you want to get revenge on the Genji, Master?"
'...And what other choice would I have?'
'What other choice would I have but to fight?'
There was something, running through my veins. Placing it was impossible -- it was more, further, than fear.
The beast clasped its claws around my neck, pulled down as hard as it could, but there was no longer anywhere to fall. It was either I lay down and die -- or make the Caster's work worth it, short though it was, and fight.
...My ring, settled on my finger, shimmered at once -- draining something of me. The blade the Saber blocked so eloquently, now made them begin to shake -- made their defences begin to fail.
"...If this is the Genji, then they won't live through this. Avenger -- fight! Ritsuka, provide backup by any means necessary!"
My eyes moved to the Master beside me, who widened their eyes as they looked into mine -- before grinning, and stepping forward, Mash running forward in tow. Behind her, the Caster we had remaining shook off some droplets from his head, and stepped forward -- raising his hands, clapping them together.
"Master! I... I can provide backup support, but I'm going to need a moment! Please protect me!"
The young boy called out to Ritsuka, who gasped slightly -- but, their gaze toughening, they nodded and glanced to me.
"You heard the kid."
"Right!"
At the scene of the fight, the Saber's defence broke -- the woman jumping backwards to avoid the frantic, crazed slices of Kagekiyo before her.
"--Entering combat!"
But one wrong step to the right led the Saber directly into the path of Mash, whose shield proved a small bit more difficult to block thanks to its blunt force. The Shielder, giving all of her strength, leapt forward and swiped leftwards with the broad end of her shield, sending the Saber flying backwards; landing on her feet only by miracle, steadying herself with a hand.
Kagekiyo, in turn, leapt to the left, then directly forwards -- with a slash forwards, only blocked barely by the Saber's blade, she used the other to strike at the Saber's good arm.
"--?!"
Yet, swordplay only proved so useful when the Saber was willing to punch you directly in the face. Sending the Avenger back some distance, Mash ran in only just in time to shield them from a forward slash courtesy of the Saber.
Yet, each noticed they were now listening to a chant.
"There once was a couple whose child's name meant 'limitless life--'"
The Avenger's blade faltered, a moment, but Mash's defence gave her enough time to recover.
"Lasting twenty billion years, blessed by the sea, the fish--"
"A chant. So this is your plan."
The Saber changed courses -- setting eyes on the child, running towards them. Yet, the Avenger blocked their advance with another onslaught, their face stained with a wide and crazed grin.
"If we can't beat you fairly, Genji, we will have to improvise. Given your attack on the man before, that's only fair."
"And in the waters, or the clouds, or in the wind--"
"You may try, fool."
Blades clashed, came together, came apart -- one blackened blade, deflecting and clashing against two thin curved blades, the snarls of Avenger and Saber alike clouding the air about as the Shielder positioned herself in front of the Caster.
"--with a home where there is food and a place to sleep--"
The three clashing blades came apart, the Avenger now beginning to laugh, as the Saber gritted her teeth.
The Avenger before her knew full well what would occur if the Saber had any breathing room -- that beam would destroy them all.
And yet--
"Iron hammer of the hollow king. Overturn the aurora."
...She would try, anyways. But wasn't that what Kagekiyo could fight best?
For Kagekiyo would never die.
"...The everyday, now, is simply a dream."
"--and the energy of the Yabukouji, with longetivity like King Shuuringan of Paipo--"
The temperature spiked -- a buzzing, eternally hearable in my head. As though something were being supplanted for something else -- a backdoor opening in my mind. Yet, too, the light itself began to shake, as Saber rose her blade.
"...Yes -- everything in this world, all the Genji reaches, must burn!"
"--and longetivity like his wife, Guurindai, and their children Ponpokopii and Ponpokonaa's--"
The temperature rises. There's a screaming in my head. There's two suns -- two suns setting behind the lakes--
"After all this time, I finally have my shot!"
"SWALLOW THE LIGHT!"
"--Long lived fortune!"
...
...Everyone could hear the buzzing in their minds. I knew it from the looks in their eyes -- their halted breaths.
All around us froze -- the temperature, threatening to boil us alive, the light itself flickering, being consumed.
But the boy remained.
"...Do you want to know my name?"
...There's a screaming in my mind -- their minds.
'Listen.'
'Listen.'
'Listen.'
'Listen.'
"So be it."
The young boy approached the Saber, calmly -- past the fire, the sure temperatures of Kagekiyo's blade, and past the shield of Mash that kept us all safe.
"...My name is Jugemu. To be specific..."
"Jugemu-Jugemu Goko-no-Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kuunerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakoji-no Burakoji Paipopaipo Paipo-no Shuuringan Shuuringan-no Guurindai Guurindai-no Ponpokopii-no Ponpokonaa-no Chokyuumei-no Chosuke."
'Listen.'
'Listen.'
'Speak.'
"Jugemu-Jugemu Goko-no-Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kuunerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakoji-no Burakoji Paipopaipo Paipo-no Shuuringan Shuuringan-no Guurindai Guurindai-no Ponpokopii-no Ponpokonaa-no Chokyuumei-no Chosuke..?!"
The words fell out of Saber's mouth before she could think -- the light suddenly shaking, and faltering, and coming to an end.
'Listen.'
My very muscles halted. I could barely even will myself to breathe beyond a quiet, quiet breath.
'His name..? J--'
'Speak.'
His name--
Suddenly, I found this urge.
This urge deep within me.
A spike drilling a hole into my head. I could hear it, burrowing deep into my mind. Like a drill, like a syringe, to extract my brain itself.
'Speak.'
With each repetition of the screaming voice's command, it grew harder to ignore.
And the words came tumbling out.
"Jugemu-Jugemu Goko-no-Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kuunerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakoji-no Burakoji Paipopaipo Paipo-no Shuuringan Shuuringan-no Guurindai Guurindai-no Ponpokopii-no Ponpokonaa-no Chokyuumei-no Chosuke..?! That's your true name..?!"
I screamed it without meaning to. I covered my mouth -- I tried to -- but my body no longer responded.
"That's who we summoned..?! We summoned Jugemu-Jugemu Goko-no-Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kuunerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakoji-no Burakoji Paipopaipo Paipo-no Shuuringan Shuuringan-no Guurindai Guurindai-no Ponpokopii-no Ponpokonaa-no Chokyuumei-no Chosuke..?!"
Ritsuka fell, faltered, their words sputtering out as though it were a chant. Their eyes shuddered where they stood, their mouth twitching as though withholding some horrible scream.
'Listen.'
The Saber, however, became the first to scream. She fell to her knees - she tried to -- but it was hardly enough.
"This... This... This Jugemu-Jugemu Goko-no-Surikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kuunerutokoro-ni Sumutokoro Yaburakoji-no Burakoji Paipopaipo Paipo-no Shuuringan Shuuringan-no Guurindai Guurindai-no Ponpokopii-no Ponpokonaa-no Chokyuumei-no Chosuke..?! You..! I know you, you..!"
The child grinned -- his eyes widening, gaze sharpening, before he broke into laughter. A mist formed around his feet, as he placed a hand to the face of the Avenger.
"You..! Avenger, who knows my tale. Finish off this maddened woman."
'Listen.'
The Avenger only responded with a grin -- stepping forward, as though their muscles now returned to normal in a moment.
"...Yes... After all this time, as I was saying -- I finally have my shot."
Their mask cracked, and shattered -- and the 'Kagekiyo' separated. Thousands of them, surrounding the Saber.
Perhaps the Saber had already broken, her mind already endlessly repeating the name of the Caster. Perhaps there was a tiny, tiny bit of sanity that remained in the dead eyes, the kneeling physique, of the Saber whose body broke -- and whose mind seemed destroyed.
But, unable to speak -- all she could now do was listen.
"Shogyomujo -- Joshahissui!"
And in that moment--
--a technique most indescribable, a Servant whose powers were impossible to understand--
--nothing could have prepared the Saber to survive the strike that followed the madness.
'Home,' and 'leadership.' A cowardly Master finds himself in a situation far larger than he could expect -- with only a moment's rest.
A doctor would be perfect, to get his mind off it.
—
“…Who are you?”
The young woman’s eyes stared into mine for a moment, before she took one step — then another, until she were facing us all.
As Ritsuka tried helping up Caster, Mash stepped in front of them preemptively — even though the lady held no weapons, being certain was impossible with all we’d seen.
Cursing myself under my breath for not preparing more casual dress for my allies in advance, I found myself forming a tale off the top of my head — as I jumped up in a moment, stepping in front of the woman to mildly obscure the less human aspects of Gorgon and such — after all, hiding that wasn’t exactly easy, but she couldn’t just enter spirit form now that she was spotted.
“We’re… cosplayers. We came from a Renaissance Fair not far from here, but we got a bit lost and our ride ditched us.”
“…My, what a story.” The woman closed an eye, tapping a finger to her cheek in thought.
“And yet, there hasn’t been any recent Renaissance Fairs about these parts, friend.”
…
…Sh—
“—He calls it that to sound cool. He’s never actually been to a ren’ fair, so we let him off easy. It was a small thing between us and a few other online mutuals, but well. Things went south pretty quick.”
…Thank god for Ritsuka. The other Master came in strong, having seemingly adjusted their form slightly — though I couldn’t quite tell what. Regardless, the orange-haired Master stepped forward beside me, fully blocking off the line of sight for Gorgon’s tail and allowing her to stand with the others. While I could only hope she’d make her tail look artificial too, it was a bit difficult to see how she’d do that.
Even so, the lady laughed softly, and extended a hand.
“Aren’t you both a curious group? My name is… Tessie. Tessie Quin — I’m just an actor around these parts. And you?”
‘…Quin.’ Didn’t that name seem..?
Regardless, I shook her hand carefully — and Ritsuka followed suit, after sparing a glance my way to ensure I wasn’t poisoned or something, probably.
“Nice to meet ya! I’m Ritsuka, and my buddy here is Cadence.”
“And the rest of you?”
“…We’ll, uh, introduce ourselves a bit later. They’re a little hammered, so they’re a little too dedicated to their roles right now.”
A glance from Ritsuka back to our other teammates was all they needed to keep quiet and act the part — Tlazolteotl silently directing the four, alongside Mash, to seem a little bit dazed to keep Ritsuka’s story intact.
“…What an odd brigade indeed. And you said you all were lost, right? In this forest?”
Tessie curiously inquired, after gazing over our group as though double-checking our alibis — raising a finger to the forest’s edges around us, that grew more thick, and harder to see through, especially in the night. Even the moon’s soft light did little to actually illuminate the area.
‘…I’m finding myself counting us lucky for landing in the outskirts.’
As I tried to ignore the hassle of Mash trying to tell Caster not to act hammered as well, I placed my hands into my pockets — so they could ball up, and relieve a bit of stress — and spoke.
“Yeah. We tried to take a shortcut home, but that went pretty bad pretty quick. It turns out a bunch of hammered cosplayers and a baker don’t excel in navigation.”
The lady nodded, though furrowing her brow after a moment.
“…Did you all simultaneously trip or something? When I saw you, all of you were on the ground.”
…Shit.
“—Well, again. A bunch of drunkards aren’t going to excel in balance, either. There was a tree root nearby that set the lot of them off balance.”
“…You seem sober enough.”
…Shit. (Again.)
And yet again, my fellow Master steps in to save my ass. Ritsuka laughed a bit at Quin’s words, leaning back a bit.
“This dude? He’d trip over an ant, let alone an obvious tree root. He’s a baker, but he’s horribly clumsy in the vast outdoors.”
…Quin paused for a moment in thought, before laughing a little bit.
“He certainly seems the type. My… You all really are an interesting group, huh?”
'...Do I really seem like a klutz?' I had to ask myself before preparing to respond -- but then again, I didn't exactly look like the type that could walk a tightrope.
"Something like that."
I finally managed to speak up, as Ritsuka took that as their cue to take the step back.
"As of now, we're looking for a place to stay and catch our bearings. Maybe see some sights here while we're at it."
Doing my best to follow the 'background' Ritsuka laid out, I took each moment in between these sentences to breathe. 'In, and out.'
It was all I could do. As something reached out, as though intent on returning its grasp to my neck as I tried to match Ritsuka's tale, I needed to breathe carefully to scare it off.
"I was thinking, since the lot of us are already here, that we take some time to enjoy it before we head back. Would you know where a hotel or something is?"
Tessie only raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in thought. Her eyes turned upwards, closer to the sky -- as though the stars would spell out where to go.
"On this short notice? That is a lot to ask for."
"That's true, but we do still need to go somewhere. Even if we can find a free room in a ramshackle inn, or something..."
'Ramshackle? What kind of old man am I?'
As I internally chided myself, Tessie's gaze snapped back to the two of us -- and she'd uncross her arms to snap her fingers together.
"I've got it. Come with me, all of you -- I know a place."
--
An hour-long walk placed us on the outskirts of the city. Looking back, I could faintly see the forest we'd come into this Singularity in -- from afar, it certainly had looked rather large, taking up the vast majority of the southern end of this place.
The faint sound of blowing wind moving through the grass of the outskirts proved to be one of the only things that kept this place from utter silence -- despite the light polluting the environment, lighting up the innards of the city even from where we were, not a single sound could be heard.
Even so, however -- no matter how quiet the city was, or how 'normal' its greyish buildings and lamps looked from afar, there was one little caveat that was alerting us to something wrong.
To our left sat a hotel, suspended by chains.
"Here we are! We call it the Float Apartments, but they only have a couple rooms filled. I think you can rent out some of the rooms as you would a hotel."
Tessie's bright voice drew my attention for a moment, watching her point to the 'apartment' as though all were perfectly normal.
True to her words, the place was 'floating.' Despite the flat environment surrounding the city, there seemed to be a chunk of rock hovering impressively high above the ground. Even trying to look for some sleight of hand, something holding that chunk of land above the ground, nothing seemed to show itself -- not even so much as well-placed fishing wire to partially explain what was happening.
The apartment itself didn't hold much answers either. If one ignored its floating qualities, it did only look like a mildly ramshackle, two-story complex, more wide than long -- with off white walls, a tan flat roof, and silver chains placed on its sides to hold it up. While its entrance was at least accessible thanks to a slight hill leading up to its front doors, it seemed just as much hovering as the rock -- though one could assume the rock were holding up this hotel, that seemed about the only thing that could be answered.
And even if it could, one question still remained.
"...Why?"
It took a solid few moments to note that Ritsuka was already preparing themselves to enter -- with Tlazolteotl taking a spare few moments to record something in her notebook, eyeing Tessie carefully, before clamping it shut and following suit.
As for Tessie herself, in response to my question, only smiled.
"The King allowed for a lot more aesthetic design, as of late. Before he vanished, he bestowed upon our Capital some interesting properties!"
'...The King.'
It's not a name I was unfamiliar with -- although Ritsuka froze in the middle of their trip to the entrance, looking back at Tessie with an expression best called 'shock.'
"The what?"
"The King, don't you know? My, I suppose they don't talk much of them outside the province after all. They rule over Canada, and maintain peace."
Ritsuka furrowed their brow, but nodded and kept moving -- gesturing to me, and the others, to follow suit.
Knowing what little I knew about the King, it did explain a small bit -- monarchs in general were subject to strange decisions now and then, and they were no exception. With the magic I'd thus far seen, it hardly seemed out of the question to make that rock float.
With that explanation in mind, I slipped into the Apartments -- followed shortly after by the others.
--
'...It's familiar to me.'
'As the resident Caster, it only makes sense I would know that the floating rock is magic.'
The Caster of Rakugo followed in the steps of Gorgon, passively whispering prayers and spells of 'alteration' to cast an illusion over her tail. To make it seem as though slightly jointed -- while hardly obvious, just the littlest of hinges would make the tail seem far less biological in nature.
Yet, his mind remained on the floating rock. Even a 'king,' surely, wouldn't waste their time empowering a specific rock to float.
...But at the same time, didn't that also make sense? Kings were foolish people -- they weren't dissimilar to lords of the land he knew, both in stories and in his own life. Acts of power, even beneficial ones, were often done just for the hell of it. To send a message.
...He couldn't shake the feeling the magic was familiar to him.
--
The inside of the hotel was remarkable in how unremarkable it was -- especially when it was all too easy to hear the creaking of the chains from the inside. Simple, if dated wooden flooring, with off-white walls and wooden baseboards stained to a slightly dark brown. As I took further steps in, weak wall-mounted lamps illuminated the shopkeep -- a golden-eyed, golden-haired man with a wide smile on his face, waving to us as we walked in.
"Why hello there! It's rare we see someone come in unless they have to, let alone... so many of you."
The receptionist's calm voice was almost enough to steady my nerves -- most likely, he was already well aware of the atmosphere the hotel set for itself, though his best attempts weren't quite enough to shake the awful feelings the literal chains creaking were putting in place.
A glance to my right saw Ritsuka shoot forward just as Morgan furrowed her brow and began to walk to the man -- taking over before the queen even had a chance to say anything.
"Well, times are a little rough. We got pretty lost on our way back from a friendly mini-Renaissance fair, and the fact a fair few of us aren't quite sober isn't helping. Me and my buddy are about the only ones who stayed above the table, but..."
As Morgan breathed out softly -- with Kagekiyo elbowing her gently -- the queen stepped back a bit.
The receptionist nodded after mulling over Ritsuka's tale for a moment, sliding to a small outdated computer monitor -- likely to start logging rooms for us to borrow.
"Well, don't worry too much about it. I'm just gonna assume you're dead broke, right?"
Ritsuka paused for a moment, but then relaxed their shoulders and continued.
"Yeah, just about. Unless you'd count a couple yen."
...Ritsuka sputtered, after a moment.
"--I'd forgot to exchange that for canadian money."
'Nice save, buddy.'
The receptionist didn't seem too bothered, laughing it off before making a few last clicks -- and, rummaging under the table, passed myself and Ritsuka a key, and attempted to hand a key to the others as well - before being met with a collective 'I'll pass.'
...Save Caster, who was for all intents and purposes a minor, and one could only assume the receptionist wasn't keen on having the little guy hold up a room.
"...Only two rooms? You have, what, eight people? Can you..?"
Ritsuka interrupted the receptionist with what could best be described as 'the cheekiest wink ever conceived by man,' before taking a step back. The receptionist, while briefly caught off guard, responded in tune with a wide grin - and, sending an equally cheeky wink my way, pointed down the left wing of the apartment.
"Your room should be that way, friend. It's got some extra room, comparatively."
...I could only whisper out a flustered 'thank you' before slipping off into the hallway, only catching the receptionist escorting Ritsuka into the rightmost wind before I came across my door.
'...Room 103.'
...I breathed out, and opened the door.
--
A car speeds down the Carcosan highways.
An ambulance, without its hazards on.
One could hear the equipment moving about, sliding about what one could presume to be closed cabinets, if they were to listen closely as it shot past them.
In its driver's seat --
A man, clad in black -- a large, flowing cape with a black exterior and purple interior. Remarkably poofy black sleeves, and a baggy black button-up shirt. Even their pants, boots, the feathered cap they wore -- all were completely black. Their hair, forced into the massive hat, wasn't visible at all.
And their mask -- black, covering the upper half of their face, a mustache attached to the bottom of the mask's 'nose.' The only highlights, of course, were rosy-red paint on its 'cheeks.'
A doctor by trade. A doctor they were -- on the case to find someone who they knew needed their help.
Their locket bounced on their chest, as they ran over a speed bump. Sparing a glance behind them, the doctor would smile -- looking over their tools of the trade.
Scalpel? Check.
Basic Medicine Cabinet? Check.
Tourniquet material? Check.
Wrench? Check.
Certainly -- they would help them now.
--
The room was, yet again, remarkably unremarkable.
The floorboards creaked as I stepped on them, the sound of the chains thankfully more distant than before.
In the moonlight, only a shoddy desk lamp and the worn room light could illuminate this temporary home -- a warm, yellow glow illuminating just enough to at least see what needed to be seen, even if the corners of the room still remained dark.
'...It's almost nostalgic.'
As 'edgy' as it sounded, it felt more homely than the Chaldea base. The poor lighting, the soft moonlight, and the creaking of the floorboards reminded me of my old home in Toronto.
A bit cheap, certainly -- but it was home.
Though, there was one major difference, now.
"...Husband."
A commandeering voice, coming from the door, but one that didn't wait for a response.
The door opened quickly, revealing a familiar white-haired woman in a black-and-blue dress. She made some haste in settling herself on the first of two beds -- the one closest to the window, of course -- sitting down and staring me down with those ever-chilling blue eyes.
"...Tlazolteotl has asked the others to do something for her."
After a moment passed, I nodded, taking a seat beside her on this bed -- though her gaze didn't move at all from me.
"Did you get out of it, or something?"
At that, Morgan chuckled slightly -- adjusting herself to better face me, closing her eyes for a moment as though in thought.
"A ruler needs her spare time, husband. If I am to rule England, the first mistake is overworking oneself."
...Biting my tongue as to not note that she hadn't done much in the singularity yet, I instead moved on.
"...And you're spending the time cooped up here?"
"Someone should stay with you, no? You hardly keep well when you're alone for too long."
'...Did she have to be so blunt?' Even with that, I laughed a bit to clear my nerves, my hands locking together, fidgeting with my thumbs.
"...I suppose so. Even so, isn't t-"
"--Silence. You wouldn't question the acts of a perfect ruler, would you?"
...I'd nod, breathing a sigh out. Those words of hers never ceased to be truly blunt -- rarely ever focused on anything apart from the inevitable rule of Britain.
Even so, to say that was the only motive was...
...
"...Morgan?"
"What do you need of me? Have you finally worked up the courage to allow me to call you 'H--"
"--Not quite!"
Cutting her off at speeds that shocked even myself, I'd forced myself to continue before she could think up anything else that I'd need to prepare my heart for.
"...How would I help you rule Britain?"
...I couldn't help but be curious -- to ask, with the two of us alone.
"...I ask genuinely, Morgan. I'm... not a hero, nor am I a ruler."
...The ruler raised an eyebrow -- but still, she paused. To give a decent answer.
...Even so, after a moment, she'd furrow her brow -- reaching an arm around me...
...And pulling me onto my side, before I could even react, my head falling into her lap. The Queen only smirked as I tried to process this momentary act -- her gaze remaining, down upon me like a laser beam piercing through my eyes, into somewhere deeper.
"...Don't think about those things, Husband."
...
"My actions are all for the rule of Britain. Such things come before all else. A hero, a ruler, cannot by themselves understand their subjects."
...I blinked, trying for a moment longer to try and figure out just what she was implying -- but she spoke up yet again, as though timed to derail my thoughts.
"...A ruler mustn't overwork themselves, and they cannot always be alone. I choose those who I prefer, to be near me, so I may rule more properly. It need not be more complex than that."
...I breathed a sigh out, once more. It only seemed ever clearer to me that a straight answer from a Berserker wouldn't be possible to begin with.
"...Rest, husband."
"Shouldn't you be the one resting, in that case?"
"...A ruler, even while taking a break, should not shirk what duties they have. It is relaxing enough to be here."
...The Berserker smiled, after a moment -- and, giving up the fight, I'd simply nod my thanks, and close my eyes, just for a moment.
--
'...How would I help you rule Britain?'
A curious question indeed. The Berserker furrowed her brow, running a hand through her Master's hair.
Certainly, on paper, a mere 'person' like Cadence would make for a very poor king. Cowardly, reserved, unwilling to take risks -- paranoid, and easy to get worried.
And yet...
"...Set aside your differences. Don't you dare cause any fights right now, and... Don't let him worry about the small stuff."
...The words of the Mesoamerican goddess troubled Morgan greatly. This man, one she was willing to rule with, was now being prevented from hearing what matters a ruler should know. She had to allow Cadence to forget the worries that should come with being a king -- she had to let him rest.
"If all goes well, we can discuss all of these things after the Singularity. But not before."
...She supposed the Carcosan Singularity was an obstacle to her rule, regardless. Reasoning with herself, the Madness that gripped her mind, she came to the 'natural' conclusion -- that this was a kingly duty, and one she had to aid.
...
...She kept her gaze on him -- not letting up, save only to blink.
As though he'd disappear if she looked away.
--
My eyes slowly opened to the sound of sirens -- as someone's hand gently shook my arm to awake me.
"Husband. Tlazolteotl is calling your name."
"...Huh?"
After a moment, I slowly lifted my head off of Morgan's lap, standing up and pinching my cheek momentarily to try and get myself ready.
"CADENCE! QUICKLY!"
The familiar voice of Tlaz, however, proved to be what spurred my mind to move -- as Morgan opened the door, glancing behind her as to not trip on anything, I ran out, and turned left--
--directly into a masked man clad in black, who quickly took hold of my hood, and began running, dropping some sort of mask on the way out.
"Who-- Who are you?!"
"A roaming doctor, child! And I had heard pray tell of an injured man this way! Falling in a forest is a prime indicator of a stressed mind!"
Footsteps could be heard behind me -- with a spare glance back, before the man forcibly pulled me, it seemed to be Morgan.
"--Come back here, you damned..!"
--Yet, the doctor forcibly held me up behind him, now running backwards, as they entered the lobby. Without the receptionist that was there prior --
--The doctor forced himself out the door, with Morgan hot on the trail, yet she found herself caught in a moment's time.
By a knife, suddenly before her -- that she only just managed to avoid.
"...Is that..?!"
With every step forward, another knife she only barely dodged -- setting her on her heels, backpedalling to regain her balance.
Despite her gaze being locked on the doctor, despite every step she took forward, it seemed -- just as suddenly -- like her body began to force itself to avoid that blade, that materialized in the air, and dematerialized just as quickly.
In my helpless state, stuck watching the ruler be caught in a loop of avoiding the same blade, I found the tunnel vision obscured the ambulance doors that now shut in front of me.
...
...The lights turned on.
Around me -- motor oil, gears, pistons. Motors connected to various power sources -- even weapons, attached to mechanical structures that hardly made sense even to me.
In a moment, before I could even comprehend what I was thrown onto, clasps on the ambulance's 'bed' locked me in -- and judging from the sudden speed increase I could feel, the ambulance was already well on its way.
As I blinked to try and get a hold of my surroundings, the masked man that took me finally came into view -- my peripherals returning, despite the adrenaline still running through me.
"Good, good! The hardest part is handled. Now, dear patient, you do understand that stress takes a toll on the mind, right?"
Even as he spoke, I tried to pull against the restraints -- but, of course, no dice.
"I'll take that resistance as a 'no.' You should know that if your brain is stationary too long, stress begins to build. That, truly, does not bode well for you."
...Another pull against the restraints -- but I froze, momentarily, as he spoke. 'What the hell is he talking about..?'
"Now, dear patient, I have to check for indicators of stress in the brain. I've done this before, rest assured!"
The man walked to my left -- his hands rummaging through what sounded like a duffle bag.
"All I had to do was go into my patient's skull and find the parts of the brain that were stressed -- and deal with them."
...The man turned around, holding two splintered wooden stakes, as though ripped straight from fresh lumber.
"Of course, the pros -- unwilling to accept the fact that you should 'rest your brain,' or cut off the stress in your life -- voided my medical license! But it hardly matters now, does it? After all, I did get a medical license, so who cares if I lost it?"
'What does he..?'
The man stepped to his right, and procured some sort of metal slab -- crafted into something akin to a cut sphere, as though a third of it had been cut out -- and wire had been placed at its end, running downwards.
"Now, rest assured, patient -- I'll be making sure you must only do this once. Because I have a permanent solution to stress, and it beats simply resting your mind and returning it after."
...Something gripped my throat, at that moment -- siphoning my breath from my lungs.
The man smiled, positioning a stake in each hand -- and stepping forward, leaning over me from the right.
"Keep your eyes open, dear patient. Hurts less that way."
The man laughed a moment, as though just preparing a filling, positioning the stakes --
I'm finding myself unable to breathe, all of a sudden. Those wooden things, suddenly above me -- their sharp, splintered edges lowering themselves down...
The cold, sharp hands tear at my spine, my lungs. I shudder, unable to move -- a clasp around my neck secures my head in place.
The man in the mask smiles.
"The brain is ultimately just a biological computer. A very fragile one, however - weak to age, disease, and stress alike. It needs breaks. But it is still a computer."
Another clamp. My eyelids are forced back. My breath quickens, but I'm getting no air.
The hold of the beast is tearing holes in my lungs. I breathe, and it isn't enough.
I can't even speak -- not enough to use the Command Spells. And as the knife had stopped even the Queen, surely...
"A computer can be replicated if you know enough about computers. A perfect computer, that isn't harmed by stress nor by misery. You can simply remove those feelings."
He takes a moment, glancing from the 'brain' to me.
"No matter what, if the data is copied properly, you will believe you are 'you' -- even if your brain is fake."
...He leans over me, smiling. In a moment, he stared deep into my pupils --
