The Grail's Dark Knight - We_ARE_the_Honored_0NE - Batman (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Chapter 1 - Travel Arrangements

Chapter Text

Travel Arrangements

9th December 1993

Wayne Manor

Gotham City

As Alfred rose before the sun, after cleaning himself, he started in the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast for himself. He took care to make sure everything was just right: the eggs were cooked to perfection, the bacon and toast was crispy but not burnt, and the tea was hot and fresh.

After breakfast was prepared and set out, he turned his attention to the rest of the manor. After he checked the security system to make sure everything was in order, he focused on all the tasks that lay ahead of him.

Atop his list of priorities, stood the meticulous task of cleaning, a duty that demanded his unwavering attention. Within the sprawling expanse of the ancestral manor, no nook or cranny would escape his discerning gaze. Every crevice would be subjected to a diligent regimen of dusting, sweeping, and polishing, until the entire estate exuded an aura of unrivaled grandeur.

He had to make sure that no spot was left untouched, no piece of furniture left unattended. The gardens had to be tended to, the plumbing had to be checked, and the heating had to be adjusted.

And then, there were more.... unusual tasks.

As he traversed the expanse of the stately manor, memories of “tumultuous” events reverberated through his mind. Recollections of dire moments, such as the unfortunate incident when the Batcave had succumbed to flooding*, forced him to wade through waist-deep water to rectify the predicament, deftly tackling the challenges that threatened to undermine the sanctity of Wayne Manor's secret sanctuary.

Similarly, his thoughts turned to the occasion when a nefarious band of miscreants had audaciously attempted to breach the manor's fortified walls against Master Wayne’s public persona.

He had shown them what for with his wits and a broomstick.

They weren’t worth wasting the ammunition on.

Now, the final task was at hand.

Nourishment for his “former” ward.

In return to the solemn solitude of the manor's well-appointed kitchen, Alfred's hands moved with a practiced grace.

*****

Breakfast for Master Bruce was served at 6am, and traditionally consisted of an egg-white omelet, toast, oatmeal, Greek yogurt, a pot of black coffee, and a pair of mild painkillers served on a small silver dish to the side of the tray. Usually in his underground sanctuary for the solitude one would hope most adolescents would grow out of.

Today was no exception, Alfred noted, stepping out of his employer's bedroom, tray in hand. Despite his early morning surliness, Bruce Wayne would force down bloody slabs of meat even when sick rather than risk loss of muscle mass.

Alfred found Bruce in the Batcave, of course. Already suited, sending revised specifications to Lucius for the new Batmobile.

Alfred set down the tray and watched as Bruce typed furiously on the computer. He couldn't help but notice the tension in his shoulders. It had been over a week since the new arms dealer case had emerged, and Bruce had been obsessed with it ever since. He seemed to think it was somehow related to a case that had been thought cold for years.

"Sir," Alfred ventured. "Given that we have no pressing leads this evening and sundown is not for another forty-five minutes, I thought I might tempt you with what remains of your breakfast."

"Forty-two minutes." Bruce kept his eyes on the Batcomputer screen.

Alfred paused for a moment. As Alfred turned to leave the Batcave, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

"Very good, sir," Alfred said, before leaving the room.

*****

Suddenly, he was back in a desolated building, a hospital. He could smell the smoke and feel the heat of the flames as he frantically dug through the rubble, searching for survivors. His gloved hands scrabbled at the debris, tearing away chunks of concrete and twisted metal. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, ragged and uneven, as his heart thudded in his chest. He ignored the pain in his hands and the blood trickling down his arms as he searched for something - anything - that could offer a glimmer of hope.

He dug deeper, tearing through the wreckage with a frenzy born of fear and desperation.

He had to find someone.

He needed to find someone

They couldn’t be dead.

Finally, he reached the small, charred body of the child he had been searching for. Batman's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but he was frozen in place, overwhelmed by grief and guilt.

Suddenly, he was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. "Batman, we've got to go!" Robin called urgently.

HE NEEDED TO-

He stopped and took a deep breath, taking the time to let his body naturally cough up of the dust as his hands tightly gripped into fists.

*****

He knew all too well the consequences of illegal weapons falling into the wrong hands, and the devastation they could cause. The lives that had been destroyed by the weapons that passed through the hands of these dealers. The innocent victims caught in the crossfire, the families torn apart by violence, the communities left in ruins. It was a never-ending cycle of destruction that seemed impossible to break.

The root of the problem lay not just in the arms dealers themselves, but in the demand for weapons. As long as there were people willing to buy and use them, there would always be those willing to sell and profit from them.

Most armies dealing involved the wholesale of firearms, explosives and tactical equipment.

This wasn’t the case for this one.

The list of supplies included cleaning supplies, oils, lubricants and replacement parts.

Most of these could be bought secretly and cheaply.

Not so much so for Calico and Walther WA2000.

The impracticality almost made him think it was a trick if not for the fact that matched past events. Never mind the extra weight and change in center of gravity while firing…

Emyia Kiritsugu.

A brutal mercenary who made his debut two decades ago, presumed dead nearly a decade ago.

Known for his extreme methods, the most heinous one being that of demolishing a hospital worth of children to stop a man-made pathogen.

Despite his outward stoniness, the thought of such a horrific act made his blood boil.

Natalia Kaminski - a former associate, ages line up to that of mentor, possibly a parental figure.

As he continued to review the case, his thoughts were pulled back to Natalia Kaminski's last known location - a plane that he had shot down to take down his target. It was clear that Kaminski had been involved in this operation, and he couldn't help but wonder what her role had been as he shot down the plane in the end....

He began to dig through his old case files, pulling out every piece of information he had.

Gathering and meticulously combing through old surveillance footage, looking to find any clues. Every frame was scrutinized, and even the smallest detail could potentially reveal a pattern or a connection.

Simultaneously, he delved into old leads and information from interrogated potential witnesses who might have had encounters with Emiya. His reputation as a relentless interrogator helped broaden the search, then using the available data on the illegal weapon trade and tracked the shipments of weapons throughout Europe. By analyzing the routes, buyers, and sellers, he would uncover any links that could connect Emiya to these activities.

It was a painstaking process, but he knew that in the murky world of crime, even the smallest clue could lead to a breakthrough.

He studied surveillance footage, examined old leads, and tracked down any potential witnesses.

It was a long and grueling process, but he was nothing if not tenacious. And finally, he had a lead.

It seemed that Emiya had resurfaced in the most unexpected of places: Fuyuki, Japan. Batman had no idea how he had managed to get there, or what he was planning, but he knew he had to find out.

Kiritsugu would be staying secluded on the outskirts of Fuyuki City, under a false name until whatever was needed came to pass.

He had to act fast, before the terrorist could slip through his fingers again.

After scarfing down his plate, he donned his 3 piece suit; he ran multiple scenarios through his head for the possible confrontation. One never knew what could happen.

*****

Lucius Fox sluggishly awoke with a groan, his arm automatically shifted to the side to shut off the beeping alarm, sliding his feet down onto the ground in the process. He glanced to the side and felt a trickle of familiar pain before he pushed it away, forcing his mind to other things.

His thoughts buzzed with plans for the day ahead.

After getting up from the King-sized bed, he then began his day with a cup of black coffee and as Lucius sat down, he took the packet from the table next to his plate, with the Wayne Enterprises logo on it.

He opened it and read through some documents that needed his approval, quickly signed off on them before returning his attention to his breakfast.

The company was involved in a vast array of industries, from technology to healthcare to energy, and Lucius had to oversee them all. He had spent his entire career at Wayne Enterprises, starting as an intern right out of college and working his way up to the top.

The company had grown tremendously since he had joined, and he took great pride in its success and reputation. He quickly dressed in a well-tailored sharp suit and tie, enjoying the feeling of the fine fabric against his skin. He saw the family picture of him, his son and daughter, Luke and Tina. Lucius reflexively smiled, realizing how much they had grown up.

It felt like just yesterday when they were running around the house and causing mischief. Now, with only a year until college for both, they’ve become adults carving their own paths in life.

As he finished his breakfast, he wrote a quick note. "Hope you have a great day at school today. I'm so proud of you and can't wait to see what amazing things you'll accomplish. Love, Dad." With that done he straightened his tie and adjusted his cufflinks as he prepared for the day.

Being Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he oversaw the company's finances and ensured that all departments were running smoothly.

Be it reviewing financial reports, strategizing, and checking in with Mr. Wayne.

He held plenty of responsibilities on his plate, but he would rise the challenge for both him and his family.

First on the agenda was the bi-annual departmental heads' meeting at Wayne Tech. As he made his way to the conference room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the sight of the bustling company.

He pushed those thoughts aside as he walked into the conference room, greeting the other department heads with a smile and a nod.

As he took his seat, he watched as Bruce greet the other department heads with a smile and a handshake (with an almost unnoticeable limp probably from a lucky punk), he watched as Bruce worked the room, smiling and shaking the hands of senior technicians, biochemists, engineers, software-security experts, making just enough informed conversation with Lucius' chief systems engineer to impress yet not shock her. Lucius couldn't help but be impressed by the ease with which Bruce navigated.

It wasn't always this way, Lucius reflected.

When they first started working together, Bruce would often put on a shallow, vapid persona to protect his alter ego, Batman. Lucius had been in the dark about why until Bruce finally revealed it to him, trusting him with the secret.

He had been both honored and terrified by the revelation.

As he watched Bruce network effortlessly with the other department heads, he only regretted that it had taken a wake-up call in the form of Powers for Bruce to realize that his cavalier attitude was jeopardizing the company he loved.

But that was all in the past now.

As the meeting began, he listened to presentations from his colleagues about the latest projects and innovations in their respective departments. While he takes notes and nods along, his mind is elsewhere.

As the meeting got underway, Lucius focused on the discussions at hand.

As Bruce stood up at the head of the conference table, the murmurs of conversation died down as he cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for coming today. I have some important news to share."

"I wanted to inform you all that I'll be personally visiting our Fuyuki branch company next week," he said.

"Japan’s tech base has been growing stronger and we need to keep a close eye on the competition. Plus, it's always good to check on our investments in person."

Right in the middle of it, Bruce outlined his plan to visit a branch company in Fuyuki, Japan. Lucius listened intently, his mind already racing with the implications of the trip.

Lucius Fox raised an eyebrow, his mind immediately looking for the real reason Bruce wanted to go to Fuyuki.

He knew Bruce well enough to suspect that there was more to the visit than he was letting on. Batman was always on the lookout for potential threats, and Lucius couldn't help but wonder if this was one of those cases.

As the meeting progressed, Lucius found himself distracted by the specifications for Batman's equipment upgrades and new Batmobile designs that Bruce had shown him. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about them now, but he couldn't resist. The sheer ingenuity and creativity of the designs never failed to impress him, and he found himself lost in thought as he went over the intricate details.

Lucius knew that Bruce had a singular focus when it came to his alter ego, and that meant he was always pushing for bigger, better, and more advanced technology. It was Lucius' self-appointed job to make sure that Wayne Enterprises could keep up with Bruce's demands.

The upgrades to the Batman equipment and the new Batmobile designs ... Lucius couldn't help but wonder what Bruce needed them for now.

“What’s your opinion on this Mr. Fox ?”

He was brought back to reality by a question directed at him from one of the department heads, and he quickly composed himself and answered with ease. He was pretty decent at multitasking, after all.

*****

As he made his way back to his office, mentally going over his to-do list for the day. He had a meeting with a potential investor, a lunch with the board of directors, and several other tasks to attend to. But the Batman designs he had seen... He would start working on bringing them to life.

As the day wore on, Lucius was in his element, seamlessly transitioning between his duties as an executive for Wayne Enterprises and business partner of Bruce Wayne to his role as Batman's armorer and tech specialist.

When the rest of them had left, Bruce was still in his seat looking over some documents.

"Lucius," Bruce greeted him bluntly, removing the facade. All the easy charm from the meeting room was gone. It would seem like unfriendliness to a casual observer, Lucius thought. But it was the opposite. Bruce disses his friends, the people he trusted, the honor of not pretending.

"How's everything going?"

"Good, Bruce," Lucius replied. "Just gone over the financial reports. We're in good shape. Better than normal even."

"Excellent.”

After a moment of silence, Lucius pointedly looked at Bruce until he spoke up.

“I'm heading to Fuyuki, Japan due to a lead. Someone who thought they could get away due to some suspicious activity in the area," Bruce looked across from Lucius, as he calmly explained his plans.

"I shouldn't need to take too long in Fuyuki," he said, his voice steady. "I have everything planned out. I'll arrive, assess and solve the situation, and be back in Gotham in a matter of days."

After a moment of silence, Lucius studied Bruce's face and sighed again. "I won't ask any more questions, Bruce. Just remember to keep your personal affairs separate from the company's business. We can't afford to tarnish our reputation." Bruce nodded, knowing full well the risk he was taking.

"Thank you, Lucius. I appreciate your understanding."

Lucius continued. “That’s not just it…. Bruce, you know I can't condone you using company resources for your own … personal use. It would be unethical for business."

"I know, Lucius. But this is important."

Lucius shook his head before breathing out an explosive sigh.

"Fine. I’ll try to cover for you but be careful, Bruce. And don't let your nightlife get in the way of your responsibilities as CEO too much. This is also part of your family’s legacy."

As he said this, and ignoring the silence, he accessed a terminal there, he logged onto a separate, offline, private and secure server and pulled up the specifications for the new Batmobile. He studied the designs, marveling at the technology that Bruce had come up with.

"Understood," Bruce finally replied.

He slightly smiled before his brow furrowed in concentration. He knew Bruce needed to be prepared for anything, but this felt different. This felt like a level of preparation beyond what was necessary for “suspicious activity”.

"More weapons, Mister Wayne?", said Lucius, eying the proposed specifications for the new Batmobile and Batsuit.

"Can you do it?" Bruce asked.

Lucius smiled. It wouldn't be easy. Wayne had been out of the arms industry for a while, when Thomas took the helm. Could claim the guns and explosives for testing materials when he made the order, he reasoned, and do all the prototyping alone.

"Why the change of heart, Mister Wayne?"

Lucius, always the pragmatist, had long campaigned for much more … offensively equipped Batmobile. Just in case of course, Bruce had resisted him until now.

Bruce stood there quietly.

"Just… a feeling," Bruce said, as he left the room.

Lucius could hear the wariness in Bruce's voice. That made him pull up his sleeves.

He simply got to work.

*****

From the short time in being Robin, he learned that it required a constant commitment to training and self-improvement. Focusing all attention on perfecting skills taught by the Dark Knight himself. The Batcave, with its vast array of equipment and training facilities, serves as a sanctuary to push one's limits and become the best version of oneself.

At least, in Tim’s opinion in order to not curse Bruce Wayne’s name everyday.

While Bruce went away, he understood the rationale behind his decision not to take me along.

He’s not ready. He's barely been out training. He probably still doesn't trust for basically demanding to be Robin.

It's a logical choice, as his presence is needed in Gotham City to support Barbara and maintain peace in their city...

The twinge of disappointment still lingers.

He knows, intellectually, it's not about trust.

(How can you worry about something you don't have ?)

He knows that his decision to embark on this mission alone is not a reflection of his abilities, but it still... it stings.

He … would just like for the opportunity to prove himself, to show that he is capable of handling the challenges that Bruce could be facing. To be his partner after all the training. However, he knows that the time will come, and in the meantime, he will focus on honing his skills and get back to practicing his sets.

As Tim finally gets over his festering thoughts, Batman sits at the main console, his intense gaze fixed on the array of monitors displaying feeds from wiretaps and surveillance cameras across the city.

As he works, Alfred enters the Batcave. "Master Bruce, I hope you don't mind me interrupting. I've been meaning to speak about our travel arrangements," Alfred says with a sly smile on his wised visage. "It seems that a vacation is in order."

The joke was only met with silence.

"I take it then we are not visiting our overseas plants," Alfred fought back a grimace, before he released a sigh "In that case, I will make sure to pack the extra special equipment, explosives and medical supplies."

Bruce just glanced at Alfred and his frank assessment of the situation, before giving his oldest friend a rare smile. "Why Alfred, I never took you for an optimist…We are going to need all the specialized equipment, a lot of explosives and a cargo container of medical supplies."

"Of course Master Bruce, what was I thinking," Alfred returned the smile as he shook his head and made to start the calls before he was interrupted.

Bruce, without looking up from his monitors, responded. “You're not going with me Alfred. You're staying and watching over everything."

The ensuing silence was somehow loud enough to make Tim take a pause in his routine.

"I ... understand your reasoning, sir," Alfred responds after a moment, "But my assistance has always been in need, invaluable and-"

"I need you here, Alfred," Bruce-Batman counters swiftly but gently. "You're my eyes and ears in Gotham. I rely on you to keep an eye on things while I'm out in the field."

"With all due respect, sir," Alfred dryly retorts, "without me, how would you be able to tie your shoelaces, let alone come back to keep Gotham safe?"

As the weight of their unspoken words hangs in the air, the silence drags on deeper.

"I am well aware of the significance of my role, sir," Alfred replies, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "And while I understand the need for your presence abroad, I cannot help but feel a pang of unease at the thought of being away from your side."

Batman finally tears his gaze away from the monitors, meeting Alfred's eyes with his own and simply says, “I'll be alright Alfred.”.

A fleeting smile dances across Alfred's lips, though sadness still lingers in his eyes. "Rest assured, Master Bruce, I shall ensure that Gotham remains secure in your absence. The city's safety has always been our shared responsibility, and I shall uphold our legacy with utmost dedication."

The Batman reaches out a gloved hand, his gesture carrying unspoken appreciation.

"Thank you, Alfred. I know I can always rely on you.”

"Do try to avoid any unnecessary injuries while you're away, sir. I'm afraid the medical bills would put a significant dent even in our budget."

A brief chuckle escapes Batman's lips, and he squeezes Alfred's hand lightly. "I'll do my best, Alfred. But I have no doubt that Gotham will be in capable hands with you."

As Alfred turns to leave, his voice carries a trace of emotion that he quickly hides behind his characteristic dry humor. "Remember, sir, the world may need Batman, maybe even the world with your return to globetrotting...but I need Bruce Wayne more."

Batman watches Alfred's retreating figure. "He'll be back," Batman says softly to himself.

With that, the Batcave falls into a reverent silence once more. Batman returns to his monitors, his focus reignited.

*****

Bruce Wayne sat in the comfortable leather seat of his Wayne Enterprises Company Jet, watching the clouds drift by outside the window. He couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension as the plane descended towards Fuyuki, Japan.

As he looked out at the sprawling city below, he couldn't help but compare it to his hometown of Gotham. From high in the air, both cities looked so clean and fantastic, with their towering skyscrapers and bustling streets. But Bruce knew that looks could be deceiving, and that both cities held their own secrets and dangers.

For Gotham, it was the pervasive corruption that infected every level of society. The city was a breeding ground for crime, with a web of underworld bosses and corrupt officials pulling the strings behind the scenes. Bruce had dedicated his life to fighting against this corruption, donning the mantle of the Dark Knight to bring justice to those who needed it most.

But as the plane descended towards Fuyuki, Bruce knew that the danger here would be of a different sort. This city held a man named Emiya Kiritsugu, as was the Japanese arrangement, a killer who had once targeted innocent people in the name of his twisted idea utilitarianism. Bruce knew that he had to tread carefully in this place, to be on the lookout for any sign of his return.

As the plane touched down on the runway, Bruce let a sense of determination wash over him. He had come here for a reason, and he wouldn't leave until he had accomplished what he set out to do. The people of Fuyuki, like those of Gotham, deserved to live without fear and oppression.

And Bruce Wayne, whether in the guise of the Dark Knight or simply as himself, was determined to make that happen.

*****

Alfred Pennyworth sat at his desk in Wayne Manor, staring at the phone in front of him. He knew that the call he was about to make would not be an easy one. He had kept in touch with Master Bruce’s former ward Dick Grayson over the years, but their relationship had been ... strained as of late since he had left their side.

He picked up the receiver and dialed Dick's number. It rang a few times before he heard the familiar voice on the other end instantly ask. "Alfred, is everything alright?"

"I have some news for you, Master Dick," Alfred said, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the joy he felt at the question and the melancholy he felt at the unsettling information he had to give. "Master Bruce has received a lead on the Wayne Plaza Case, the unsolved bombing that has haunted him for 9 years."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I see," Dick said, his voice tight. "And what does he need me for?"

"He believes that with your knowledge and skills, you would be a valuable asset in keeping Gotham safe as he is bringing the case to a close," Alfred said. "He needs you back for the meantime."

Another pause. "I'll think about it," Dick said, before hanging up the phone.

Alfred sat there for a moment, staring at the phone. He knew that it would not be easy to repair the damage that had been done between Bruce and Dick, but he also knew that they were still a team, and that they needed each other.

Hopefully, Master Bruce won’t be too crossed with him when he returns.

Chapter 3: Chapter 2 - Tourist Sites

Chapter Text

Fuyuki , Japan
15th December 1993

Bruce had flown on planes before aplenty, most times he’s piloted them himself- so it was nothing out of the norm to watch as they sailed above the skies. However, perhaps because he was going out looking for a specific target that he could only imagine the worst.
As the jet was preparing to land, Bruce felt a disturbing sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach .
The city looked so pristine and orderly from the air, but he knew that danger lurked in every shadow. He stepped off the jet and into a waiting car, driven by a Wayne Enterprises employee stationed in Fuyuki. The car wound its way through the streets of the city, past towering skyscrapers and elegant parks.

But Bruce's eyes were scanning everything, automatically looking for the amiss despite the impossibility of any visualization. He saw well-dressed businessmen and women walking to work, the children on their way to school, and the street vendors selling their wares. It all looked so normal, so mundane…

But Bruce knew that things were never as they seemed.

As they drove closer to the city center, Bruce's thoughts turned to Emiya.
He knew that the man was hiding somewhere in Fuyuki, but he had no idea where to even begin his search. He needed to be careful, to move cautiously.
Finally, when the car pulled up to a luxury hotel in the city , Bruce stepped out and made his way inside, his eyes automatically scanning the lobby for exits and vantage points for whatever assailants would use.

As he approached the front desk, Bruce's mind was going through numerous thoughts. He had to find the mercenary, to put an end to the man's reign of terror before it was too late. But he couldn't help but wonder if he was too late already, if Kiritsugu had already set whatever his plans were into motion. Plans that made the risk in resurgence worth it.

As the door closed behind him, Wayne's mind shifted gears. The suite, an opulent abode high above the city, offered panoramic views of Fuyuki's glittering skyline. Leaning against the expansive window, Wayne surveyed the city below. Thoughts of Fuyuki's landmarks and tourist sites filled his mind.
The search for key locations, patterns, and anomalies flowed into his inspection.
The very next second, he’d stopped reflexively searching for any wiretaps or other forms of surveillance, an action that came about based more on sheer habit than practicality, he let out an explosive sigh when done.

Bruce felt a sense of frustration rising within him. Kiritsugu Emiya's callous utilitarianism sickened him. He couldn't condone such an act, no matter what the end goal might be. He knew that he had to find Kiritsugu, to put a stop to his plans, no matter the cost. And he knew that in Fuyuki, just like in Gotham, the cost could be high indeed….

But first, he had to get over the Jet lag.
He couldn't help but berate himself internally, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.
"Jetlag," he muttered to himself. "Is this what getting old feels like?"

"Jetlag," he muttered to himself with a sarcastic grin. "Is this what getting old feels like, Bruce?"

As he sipped water as he tried to immerse himself in the city's rhythm, adapting his activities to match the local time. He exposed himself to the suite’s dimming light, hoping to reset his internal clock.

Leaning against a wall, he closed his eyes for brief moments, seeking temporary relief from the growing fatigue.The subtle hum of the air conditioning, the soft rustle of traditional sliding doors — his body, accustomed to the pulse of Gotham City, now slowly going in harmony with the measured cadence of Fuyuki.
His breath, once attuned to the sharp, tainted cold air of Gotham, now embraced the gentle warmth of Fuyuki's warm December climate.

The city slept, and Bruce, though physically present, found himself slipping into a meditative state.
The chaos of Fuyuki faded away, replaced by the stillness of his mind.

His internal clock navigated the temporal shift with the practiced precision of an unused but never forgotten skill. In between the hushed moments between breaths, he could almost feel the subtle recalibration of his circadian rhythms. Bruce Wayne allowed himself a moment of introspection. The feeling of integration was... different.
Despite his body and mind’s relaxation , he only felt a deeper sense of dread.

*****

As the crisp evening air hungover, as the billionaire strolled through its vibrant streets. Dressed in casual attire and sporting a pair of seemingly normal if curbesome sunglasses, his height did set him apart from the locals. However, with a practiced ease, he exuded an air of nonchalance, blending seamlessly into the tapestry of the bustling city.
The neon glow of Fuyuki City's bustling streets bathed the night in a spectrum of vibrant colors Drifting through the sea of faces, Bruce adjusted the clunky shades perched on the bridge of his nose.
A prototype fusion bluetooth technology and computerized night vision goggles.
“Augmented Reality”
He could only scoff.
The device, clunky and conspicuous, protruded awkwardly, prompting curious glances from passersby.
Fingers deftly adjusting the rudimentary controls at the sides, Bruce couldn't help but wince at the glitches and signal loss that accompanied. His experience with the polarized glasses was akin to watching an old TV with a faulty antenna—fuzzy resolutions and intermittent bursts of silent static.
As pedestrians, perhaps mistaking his cumbersome apparatus for a disability aid, sidestepped out of what they perceived as courtesy, Brucesmiled grateful while he sighed inwardly. The blocky device, a far cry from the usual sleek aesthetics of WayneTech, was proving a crude introduction to the world of wearable tech and his mission.
Despite the technological hiccups, he could already envision a refined version, one seamlessly integrated into his more clandestine pursuits. A device that wouldn't just illuminate the shadows but also navigate the intricate web of digital data.
He resolved to improve what he could of the unwieldy prototype whenever he had the chance. The technology would not only improve WayneTech’s bottom line as he slowly dripped the work over the course of the years but would improve with his Batsuit's "Detective Vision."
For now he focused on the Asian city he hadn’t visited in his travels.
The city’s name “Fuyuki”, or “Winter Tree”, supposedly comes from the fact that winters are long here.
A small backpack slung over one shoulder, Bruce appeared every bit the tourist, his gaze wide-eyed as he took in the juxtaposition of traditional and contemporary elements that defined Fuyuki. The city unfolded before him, a canvas painted with the strokes of modern urbanity and ancient mystique. Tall skyscrapers cast shadows over centuries-old shrines, creating a unique harmony that intrigued him.
Fuyuki's dichotomy revealed itself through its two main districts or towns, the Miyama City and Shinto , each with its distinct character, only connected via a bridge.
It honestly was nostalgic.
Bruce wandered through Miyama, where the contemporary pulse of the city beat in rhythm with its historical heart. He observed the coexistence of sleek glass buildings and centuries-old structures, a testament to the city's dynamic nature.
Miyama City is broadly separated into two sections as well.
This is one of the sections, the Western-style houses, where immigrants from foreign countries live.
And on the other side is the area of old Japanese-style houses, with a mountain behind it.

Both sections are on top of hills, so you could say both are suburbs.
The houses in between these two sections are relatively ordinary.
Going forward, there’s a bridge leads to the neighboring town of Shinto, and the other way leads to a school, shopping district, and even Ryuudou Temple up on the mountain

The Shinto district, on the other hand, resonated with spirituality. Temples and shrines adorned the landscape, surrounded by cherry blossoms that whispered tales of tradition and folklore.
To Bruce's senses, it felt like a … subtle hum of something more,hidden beneath the surface.
With each step, Bruce absorbed the details of Fuyuki's landmarks and neighborhoods, his sharp mind connecting the dots. The city, with its diverse environment, held the key to his mission. The backpack, inconspicuous despite it containing an array of sophisticated tools, served as a silent companion on his quest for information.
Stopping at a local market, Bruce engaged in conversations with shopkeepers and residents, subtly extracting little morsels of history and local lore. He listened to the rhythm of the city, attuning himself . Fuyuki's vibrant energy had to have masked secrets Emiya sought.
Bruce Wayne, the tourist, navigated its streets with purpose, his eyes cataloging every detail.
As he wanders through the streets, he takes note of the architecture, the culture, and he stops to take pictures constantly and talk to locals, in perfect Japanese, asking them about their experiences living in the city.
All the information about its history in his act as a well-speaking but clueless foreigner would want to know… and infer what they do not want known.
To outsiders the vibrant energy of Fuyuki enveloped Bruce Wayne as he wandered through its streets.
Stopping at local markets, he engaged in conversations with shopkeepers and residents, seamlessly switching between languages as he gleaned morsels of history and local lore.

"特定の場所へ行く方法を教えていただけますか？"
"[ランドマーク] はどちらの方向ですか？"
"周りでおすすめのレストランはありますか？"
"やるべきことや訪れるべき場所のおすすめはありますか？"
"最寄りの地下鉄駅/バス停までの行き方を教えていただけますか？"
"この周辺でタクシーは利用できますか？"
"ここから[他の都市] に行く最良の方法は何ですか？"
"[特定の場所] の歴史について教えていただけますか？"
"気をつけるべき地元の慣習はありますか？"
"最寄りのショッピングエリア/市場はどこですか？"
"お土産を買うのに良い地元の店はありますか？"
"避けるべきエリアはありますか？"
"夜にここを歩くのは安全ですか？"
"ほとんどの場所でクレジットカードは使えますか？"
"今何かイベントや祭りが行われていますか？"
"ライブ音楽やエンターテイメントがある場所はどこですか？"

He made sure to pester them with all sorts of questions. The polite mask that hid the frustration and annoyance was admittedly amusing.
"すばらしい," he remarked with a practiced smile, capturing their stories and the city's heartbeat in his mental notebook.

Bruce perpetually takes pictures of the city's landmarks, the architecture, and the faces of its people.
Returning to his luxury suite, the dim glow of the city outside painting the room in muted hues, Bruce let himself drown in a sea of collected information. He spread out the guide maps and photographs on a polished wooden table. The city unfolded before him, its contours a puzzle waiting to be solved.
He meticulously examined the photographs, cross-referencing them with public maps acquired from tourist sites. His analytical mind was whirred, calculations running through the labyrinth of his thoughts.
"Kiritsugu Emiya," Bruce mused aloud, the name hanging in the air like an unresolved chord. "What could draw a man like him to Fuyuki?"
The answer lies in the city itself.
Bruce analyzed building structures, layouts, and available historical records.
His mind worked to unravel the city's potential secrets and his enemy's potential motives. Was it a clandestine client or some danger lurking in the folds of Fuyuki's history?
In the quiet of the suite, he began sketching where he would need to put ziplines and grappling points. The pictures he took became blueprints on the public maps, a blueprint of a network of ziplines and quick exits. He factored in the city's topography, historical significance, and even weather patterns.
A stray thought flickered across Bruce's mind as he glanced at the Fuyuki skyline. "Not a gargoyle in sight.", he remarked dryly.
******

Fuyuki , Japan
29th December 1993

In Wayne Manor, he moved with practiced efficiency through its halls. The year was coming to a close, and with Master Bruce absent on his ventures in Fuyuki, Japan, Master Timothy out patrolling and no response from Master Richard, Alfred continued to work.
As he meticulously dusted the ornate furniture in the Wayne family library, Alfred couldn't help but notice the absence of the usual festive decorations that adorn the manor during this time of the year....
It dawned on him that there would not be a Wayne Christmas party this year. He sighed as he looked around, thinking back to the numerous celebrations and gatherings they had had over the years.
Even if it had stopped being an activity without an ulterior motive since that night, it always was something he seemed to genuinely enjoy.
Alfred, with a stack of paperwork in hand, made his way to the study, a room filled with dark wood and the scent of aged leather. The fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm glow across the room. Seated at the polished mahogany desk, he delved into the task of managing the Wayne family's finances and preparing for the upcoming year.
Amidst the numbers and columns, Alfred's mind wandered to the absence of Bruce, the man he had raised from a grieving young boy to the enigmatic figure known as Batman. The phone on the desk beckoned him, and Alfred decided to reach out.
He dialed the number, when the overseas connection crackled to life, and after a few moments, a tired but composed voice answered, "Alfred?"

"Master Wayne," Alfred began, "I trust you're well. I was merely going through year-end preparations, and it occurred to me that we might be forgoing the Wayne Christmas Party and New Years Celebration this time."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Alfred, however, persisted, "Perhaps a small celebration, just for the family, upon your return?"

A hint of nostalgia seemed to soften Bruce's voice as he replied, "Alfred, we'll see what the new year brings."

"For now... focus on maintaining everything. I'll be in touch."

With that, the connection was severed, leaving Alfred alone in the dimly lit study.
Alfred returned to his paperwork, determined to uphold the Wayne legacy in the best way he could. As he continued his duties, the flickering flames in the fireplace danced to a silent tune, casting shadows that whispered tales of both a dark knight and a lonely butler amidst the grandeur of Wayne Manor.

*****

As a number of nights embraced Fuyuki City, Bruce Wayne wandered through the alleys of the city in a blend of dark blues and black wear, a lone figure amidst the bustling nightlife implementing infrastructure for nocturnal escapades. The streets were adorned with vibrant decorations, creating a tapestry of color against the backdrop of the city's skyscrapers. People bustled from store to store, eager to take advantage of the holiday sales. Strings of delicate paper lanterns swayed gently in the winter breeze, casting a warm and inviting glow. He noted the intricate origami decorations, depicting traditional symbols and mythical creatures, adorning storefronts and lampposts.

A sudden leap onto a fire escape ladder and up took him atop a low rooftop, the wind whispering secrets of the city. From this vantage point, he surveyed the urban landscape, plotting the planned ziplines and grapple points.
He almost missed the gothic obsession his city’s early founders had. It made things much simpler for his night work.
Still, he envisioned alternate perches — the edges of billboards, the hooks of antenna towers.
Creating a mental map, Batman drew invisible lines in the air, in which it represented connecting buildings and streets with imaginary threads. Once it was completed, the city’s skyline was his.

The cool night air rushed against his face as he perched on the ledge, high above the city of Fuyuki. The distant sounds of the urban landscape below mingled with the rhythmic beating of his heart. The city stretched out before him, a tapestry of lights and shadows.
A moment of pause lingered. The distant ground was menacing, a promise of solid earth.
After that split second however, with a fluid motion, he leapt off the ledge, the descent initially freefalling. The world blurred around him as gravity took hold. A single misstep and the void waited eagerly below.
Then, the grapple fired with a swift release. The sudden halt, a controlled deceleration, sent a jolt through his frame. In that suspended moment, a silent negotiation occurred between his body and physics.
The pendulum swing commenced—a dance of calculated risk and practiced precision. The zipline sang as he was suspended in the air before he kept moving.
A flick of his wrist released and the grapnel released the grapple line
As the arc reached its zenith, the vigilante seamlessly attached to the zipline set, the calculated drop forward commenced once more to another point to swing off where the grapnel latched on to another set zipline.*
The cycle repeated throughout the night.

*****

In moments of nostalgia, he reminisced about his… early days , the early days in Gotham when every leap was a discovery, every rooftop a sanctuary.

Fuyuki's foreign skyline … brought a “fresh” challenge.

As the day went on, he started research more on the city's history.
Over the past couple of days, he has visited museums and historical sites, studying the exhibits and reading through the information provided.
Despite the typical censorship Japan as a whole had , he had enough clues that the picture came together.
As the day comes to an end, Bruce makes his way back to his hotel, his mind full of the information he's gathered. A city's history will always be important in understanding the criminal elements that currently exist and how to tackle them.
In the picture he started to build, something wasn't right. He has started to notice some inconsistencies and discrepancies in the information provided specifically about the country’s role in World War II … beyond the typical.

He makes a mental note to investigate further later, but for now, his primary focus is on tracking down a known terrorist operating in the city.
Stock surveillance footage, International financial records, and possible eyewitnesses.

On the local side, he focused on the Yakuza.
From the “Ishinko,” people that provided assistance to travelers. These groups eventually evolved into the “Bakuto,” gamblers and swindlers.
The Meiji Restoration allowed their influence to grow as they established connections with powerful politicians, businessmen, and law enforcement officials, which allowed them to expand their operations and consolidate their power.
A criminal group he is painfully familiar with.
One of the unfortunate side effects of the brief (not brief enough) power vacuum that had erupted from his complete decimation of the mob (despite his work to prevent it) is that the infection has grown.
Here they could be anywhere.
First things first, identified by Yakuza-controlled establishments. Location, front businesses, tattoos, connections to anti-social forces, and local knowledge.
Hubs for their criminal activities because of the high population density and economic opportunities available.
Common front businesses associated with the Yakuza include bars, nightclubs, massage parlors, hostess clubs, pachinko parlors, and restaurants.
Have to check for heavy security measures such as surveillance cameras or bouncers at the entrance. Some establishments may also display specific symbols or logos.
The brute force method would be to look for and stalk anyone with irezumi. Visible back, arms, and chest, featuring traditional Japanese motifs such as dragons, koi fish, or cherry blossoms. More likely to backfire on such a superficial basis.
People living or working in areas where the Yakuza operate were the most useful. They obviously will not outright state anything incriminating or dangerous to themselves but slips through leading, body language and the culturally polite advice in areas to avoid did most of the work.
The most prominent in his investigations seemed to be Fujimaru Group.
Despite the area of focus on his current investigations, he … reflexily started to notice a pattern of murders in the city when he tried to keep a pulse on the crime.
It was honestly so low that despite being consciously aware that he wasn’t in Gotham, he was shocked.
Such acts might have been a flare in front of his eyes.
He keeps reading through news articles and police reports.
30 innocent victims to date.
It can’t go on.
Even if the criminal is more likely to be quickly based on how … careless the scum are, how many could be lost due to a lack of multitasking
He starts by studying the crime scenes and analyzing the physical evidence left behind from what has been reported publicly.
While it would have been better to have been there at the scene or scene fresh evidence, he will make due with his analysis.
Based on the interviews the victims' families and friends with their habits, routines, and connections based on age, demographic and location...

All of the victims were killed at night, in different locations around the city, but all within a 15-mile radius.

Hmm.

*****
Fuyuki , Japan
3rd January 1994

The night air in Fuyuki's docks was thick with the scent of salt and industrial activity.
The night hung heavy over the web of ziplines and grappling points he had meticulously woven. Concealed in the shadows, he descended from the zipline with silent grace. The moon played peek-a-boo with thick clouds overhead, casting sporadic beams of silvery light onto the labyrinthine arrangement of shipping containers below.
The docks, normally bustling with activity during the day, now lay in a quiet slumber. The rhythmic creaking of ships and the occasional lap of water against the dock's edge were the only sounds that broke the stillness. He moved with purpose, navigating the dimly lit labyrinth of stacked cargo containers and looming cranes.
His destination was a specific shipping container in a sea of metal boxes. His sharp eyes scanned the labels until he found the one he sought. A few swift movements of his gloved hands input the code, and the container's electronic security lock yielded it.
The container creaked open, revealing the concealed cargo within.
Inside, a cache of equipment awaited him—high-tech surveillance devices, an array of specialized gadgets, and, most importantly, the components for his suit, with the cache of equipment meticulously arranged within.
One could never accuse Alfred of not being thorough.
Batman meticulously unloaded each item, setting up a makeshift workstation within the container.
Surveillance equipment was the first to be installed.
Miniature cameras, motion sensors, and listening devices were strategically placed to cover the entire dock area.
He would have to install the rest of the surveillance cameras around the city before long now that they were here.
He connected the admittedly heavy monitors to the experimental server, its screen casting a glow on his face. He would have to see if he could speed up production on the Liquid Crystal Display monitors Lucius brought.
Too bad that they were still in the theoretical phase and hadn't gotten around to it before now either.
Unpacking his suit was a ritual of habit. It was a habit that he had done for so long that it was second nature to him.
Each component was inspected for any signs of wear or damage. The cowl, the cape, the utility belt - His hands moved with practiced efficiency, assembling the pieces that transformed him from the man to a symbol of fear that haunted the shadows.
Gadgets were laid out like a surgeon's instruments. Batarangs, grappling hooks, smoke bombs, lock picks, tasers, stun grenades and more took their places in the arsenal.
One of the first impromptu bases of operations would be set tonight.
In the heart of the industrial sprawl, Batman emerged fully equipped and prepared for the night to come. His eyes, hidden behind the cowl, scan the city before him. The zipline network awaited.
The soft hum of computer systems coming to life echoed in the night as he set up his command center.
As Batman sat in the makeshift base of operations he had established in Fuyuki, surrounded by the hum of servers and the faint glow of computer screens - he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

The victims.

Chapter 4: Chapter 3 - Partner Introductions

Chapter Text

Content Warning: The following contains possible depictions of disturbing violence. If you find such content distressing or triggering, I recommend that you exercise caution while reading.

*****

People say murder is a crime.

But let's think about it.

Aren't there 5 billions of humans crowding on this Earth?

Ryuunosuke knows well how outrageous a number that is.

Furthermore, it is said that the number of births and deaths everyday can be counted in the tens of thousands. What weight can Ryuunosuke have by becoming a murderer?

He is satisfied by squeezing the best out of the life force of those he kills, of feelings such as the attachment for human life, anger and affection. To let his victims know the exact time and circ*mstances of their death, that in itself had a deep meaning as rich as a miniaturized life.

When on the verge of death, very common people will behave strangely, and on the other hand, people seen as exceptional will die in an extremely banal way― observing such patterns in humans, Ryuunosuke pursued death; and while being an expert in death, he greatly studied its complete opposite, life. The more he killed people, the more he understood the lives he took.

That knowledge, that discernment in itself was a kind of dignity, a style.

Although Ryuunosuke couldn't find the words to accurately explain why he had that power― if he really had to sum it up, it would be all with the expression "be cool".

*****

After some 30 victims, his methods for execution and torture have started losing its freshness.

Stab, stab, stab.

It was all the same

They all look the same.

Even testing all sorts of tricks that he could come up with lost any excitement.

He could remember how it all started when he decided to come back home after half a decade, breaking into the backyard storehouse as his parents had fallen asleep late at night. It was in this storehouse that he had taken his first victim.

Meeting his sister after 5 years was disappointing. He really felt nothing about her. Only her death. He honestly thought that being related would add something; but at that moment, he found a rotten old book from the mountain of junk crammed into the warehouse.

That was enough of a stimulus to renew his inspiration.

At once, Ryuunosuke made the place a "spiritual ground" as described in the notes, then resumed his night time reading. He didn't know just what meaning the land now called the town of Fuyuki had, but Ryuunosuke was setting up the important points of the mood for new killings; he followed the instructions of the old book as faithfully as possible.

But Ryuunosuke Uryuu was the prime example of caution. Though he was a passionate artist, he knew that society was not kind to those who pursued the fine arts, and thus he was always, always careful about how he acted.

As usual, he had set his gaze upon a woman that he fancied, and after going out for dinner, the two hit it off.

She mentioned she needed to get some affairs done at school, so normally he'd cut things off- being in touch with a future victim for too long was a horrible idea. But, once she said they could go back to her home after it, he chose to stick with her.

And then Ryuunosuke's hand lashed out, stabbing her in the gut with a hidden knife he had taken with him, his free hand moving to her throat to cut off the startled scream. As she fell down, he couldn’t help but take in the sensation.

This is why Uryuu Ryuunosuke disliked splatter movies.

Not just horror, but war movies, panic movies, and all manner of adventure movies and dramas, now that he had seen death so many times.

To finally understand why fiction keeps painting man's death oh so tirelessly.

"Death" is merely... something that you can't experience while you live. Therefore it is impossible to understand its true meaning. That's why humans can only guess the essence of death by observing other people's deaths, and making up a virtual experience.

Indeed, for a "civilized" society to respect human life, this virtual experience cannot but rely on fiction. Yet, where war makes your neighbor minced meat with bombing and land mines, nobody watches horror movies.

Once, Ryuunosuke feared "death" like any ordinary person. He could have been an amateur in horror movies, if death could have been minimized and fear conquered by looking at the special make-ups of slaughtered bodies, the red ink of blood splashes and the realist acting reproducing a screaming "stale death".

Curiosity, however, overcomes fear.

Because if you asked his opinion, the blood and screams in horror could answer his questions, he wouldn't have become a “homicidal maniac”.

Slamming her to the ground, choking her long enough that she passed out, he took the book out, looking over the instructions.

*****

It says something about his career as Batman that one of the first things he noticed in his investigations was how the killings themselves were so ... mundane. There was a lack of any of the sickening "play" or "flair". He concluded that the killer were driven primarily by pleasure and curiosity, rather than the need for power or some kind of personal gain.

The man he was taling had never been considered a suspect even once—the police investigation was a total dead end, failing to turn up the evidence required to even open a case against him. Despite being an unmethodical pleasure killer, his ability to destroy evidence was almost transcendent. Nearly that of a professional.

However, this wasn't the work of a methodical assassin; it was the handiwork of someone who reveled in the chaos of the act itself. Someone who sought pleasure in the "art" of murder.

The crime scenes all had a notable absence of any forced entry or struggle. The victim willingly let the killer in.

But the lack of evidence was evidence in itself. In his own investigation, he had to look at what was missing. It was someone who had to have numerous ways of gaining access to these areas while simultaneously being unsuspicious..

He had to use his intuition and experience to fill in the gaps.

A series of unassuming part-time jobs over the marked area of the victims, each serving as a mundane facade for the scum and he had him. A part of the very tapestry of society. An average face, an unremarkable existence hiding behind malevolence.

But he had to always make sure, thus instead of immediately neutralizing him and harm a possible innocent, he observed.

He had been observing the suspect before the quick change of location with the possible victim

He had moved immediately as he looked down at the house from a high vantage point with his sound amplifiers attuned for the slight vibrations of the location until the unfortunately familiar grunts and unwillingly aborted scream came out to his senses that his cowl had detected.

A single quick breath was all he took before he acted.

After cracking his knuckles and a rapid build up run, he jumped from the vantage point raising his legs in crouch with his cape in glider form, his weight, the angle, the timing, all with the aid of gravity.

Every move was deliberate, nearly choreographed by muscle memory and tactics as a controlled free fall. The world slowed as his senses were heightened to the point of near overload, extracting vital information from the chaos in the rapidly shifting position he was in from the jump.

The deliberate pulse of adrenaline was always one of his best tools.

The rush of air against his cowl was a reminder of the speed at which he moved, yet his mind operated in a state of calculated calm.

Instead of letting it lead to blind aggression, he had forced it to fuel his cognitive faculties. It was an enhanced state of awareness, a mental acuity that bordered on the superhuman.

He was in Free Flow.*

While from his perspective it was as if he had minutes to plan and prepare his course of action, it was only a couple of seconds before he was "glide-kicking" through the door and shattering it into a shower of splinters from the built up momentum, creating a cloud of wooden dust.

With a quick turn he had caught the dagger that had blindly been whipped around from the wild flailing of the culprit as he found himself in the room with a would-be corpse, blood splattered all over, with some kind of demonic summoning circle on the ground.

He looked at the man who had tried to stab him.

Orange hair, dark black eyes, purple tacky clothes...

While gripping his "opponent's" wrist, he quickly dashed his hand against the dagger's blade.

He snapped the blade.

"…" The man looked at the broken weapon, then at him. "Cooool! You, are you the demon?! I thought you'd appear in the circle!"

He held up a book in his other hand, made with real leather, and clearly ancient. As if excited about having found a fellow "art" enthusiast, the man offered his book without hesitation.

"..."

Once the easy-to-stain paper left his hands, with 3 deliberate twists to the wrist elbow and shoulder of the restrained limb, Batman's fist whipped out, striking him in his right jaw, shattering it and sending him flying and out cold before he rushed to the victim.

Letting out a pained moan, the killer writhed on the floor while he looked at her over while calling an ambulance at the same time, making sure to disguise his voice.

The victim lay on the floor, a young woman with dangerously tired fear-stricken eyes, fear of him probably, and a deep wound in her abdomen. Too weak to do anything. She was bleeding profusely, her breathing was shallow and her heart was racing. . She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

Batman's keen eyes assessed the severity of the injury, and he wasted no time. The gleam of his utility belt caught the ambient light as he retrieved a bundle of experimental medical tape and a vial of medical gel that he placed in his universal dispenser.*

""緊急サービス、あなたの場所と緊急の性質は何ですか？" echoed a voice from the communicator in his cowl.

"アパートメント4C、敷賢通りにいます。刺し傷の被害者、腹部の傷です。直ちに医療支援を送ってください。", . His voice, deliberately masked and distant, relayed the necessary details to the operator. Professional help would be on the way.

This caused the woman to open her eyes in confusion and a slowly growing amount of hope.

Kneeling beside the injured woman, Batman began his initial assessment. His gloved hands worked with precision as he applied direct pressure to the wound, stemming the flow of blood. The experimental medical tape adhered seamlessly, providing a temporary but crucial solution.

With the bleeding somewhat controlled, he gently elevated the victim's legs and torso, a calculated move to reduce blood flow and buy precious moments. In the subdued light, his night vision visor whirred softly, enhancing the details of the scene. He noted the subtle details of her vitals.

Batman's gloved fingers moved with deftness as he accessed a compartment in his utility belt. From it, he produced a small vial containing a carefully concocted mixture of antibiotics and painkillers. Administering the drug, he explained, "This will help stabilize you and reduce the pain until professional help arrives. Stay with me."

The woman, her strength waning, managed a weak nod.

Alive.

Stable even .

He looked over the horrific scene of carnage and felt nothing but disgust ... and a tinge of disappointment in himself.

He could have been here sooner.

As he was about to leave after he had anonymously contacted the authorities he finally looked at it.

A book made with real leather, and clearly ancient.

He quickly took it up from where he dropped it and analyzed it.

The thin worm-eaten book was not a printed copy but an individual note. The postscript says the ninth year of the Keiō era. This writing is more than a hundred years old, dating back to the end of Bakumatsu.

The content itself...

The incoherent writing of thin characters was preposterous nonsense about some kind of dark magic. Moreover, the inscriptions involved Christianity and Satan; apparently it was about some western occults. Offering human sacrifices to otherworldly demons to invoke spirits.

In the dying hours of the era of Edo, studying western knowledge was a genre of heresy.

It was too damn detailed to be fiction. It went on and on ad nauseam about the dos and don'ts of what to do for hours worth of reading if not for his speed reading.

Flipping to the end, he found a summoning chant.

Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone.
The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.
The alighted wind becomes a wall. The gates in the four directions close, coming from the crown, the three-forked road that leads to the kingdom circulate."

Shut (fill).
Shut (fill).
Shut (fill).
Shut (fill).
Shut (fill).
Repeat every five times.
Simply, shatter once filled."

Was he on fire? This felt like when the eggheads tested that laser on him, but all over his body.

――――I announce.

Yourself is under me, my doom is in your sword.
In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.
Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."

"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――!

It was as if he had bathed his hand in scorpion venom only to vanish as soon as the pain started.

In a flash, he quickly unstrapped his gauntlets in order to see if he had somehow somehow gotten into contact with a hazardous substance.

Poison? A Neurotoxin?

The swelling calmed down and stuck to the surface of his skin. The redness quickly disappeared as it came about. The unnatural ink(?) was already trapped in the superficial layers of the skin, resulting in a more vibrant...

"... What?"

Somehow, a ritualistic crimson pattern - a tattoo - was there on his right hand.

"..."

A blinding light that blasted out broke his concentration as he instinctively moved his body to block the injured party. Despite previously having been at optimal levels, it was like he was on fire everywhere in his body, a new form of strain weighing on him. He could feel his heart involuntarily pounding in his chest and his breath coming in short gasps before he got it under control. The burning in his eyes and trembling movements soon followed.

'What....'

"Hmmmm..?"

A woman's hum could be heard.

-A beautiful figure that immediately forced him to wonder if he may be facing another Ivy situation since her … aesthetics was the first thought he had.

Dread furthered filled him when he realized that no, she was just that appealing to the eye. Supernaturally so

"I ask you. Are you... my... Master?..."

The woman trailed off as she saw the carnage with the injured woman, the murderer on the floor, and Batman.

*****

The Holy Grail War, a competition that takes place once every sixty years in Fuyuki City. It is a contest between seven Masters and their Servants to determine who is worthy to bear the Holy Grail and wish upon the artifact, and it is assumed that the Grail can grant any desire the wish maker has, even if said wish should normally be outside the scope of reality.

There are many other nuances and information about the War, the system, and the Grail itself, but the bit about being capable of granting any wish makes any other details trivial in the eyes of many.

However, there are many that do question the War and ask about the Grail. The list of questions is infinitely long, but there is one that stands out among them, and that question is this:

How does the Grail choose a Master?

The best answer is that the Grail chooses Masters based on who most needs its power.

There is a belief that all Masters chosen are magi.

Others say that only those with a strong desire for the Grail can become Masters.

Running on the first line of thought, it is assumed that only the strongest and most gifted magus can become a Master.

Those who devote their time to doing a little research may say that the three families who created the Grail Wars and its system get guaranteed spots while the remaining four participants are chosen by the Grail at random.

There have been ... instances where the Grail chose individuals devoid of desire, snubbing the renowned and seasoned. The uninitiated found themselves thrust into the fray, and even those bereft of any magical heritage became participants in the conflicts of bygone wars.

From the outside one may see it that way.

*****

I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.

On his deathbed, he uttered words that echoed those words that described the weight of a lifetime devoted to art and invention. Once vibrant with the spark of creativity, now grappling with the specter of his own mortality.

In those words, one could discern the relentless pursuit of greater heights, of perfection that had defined their existence. Insatiable curiosity, the unyielding desire to unravel the mysteries of the world through art and science. Both a blessing and a curse.

Sketches of flying machines, anatomical studies, and masterpieces like the Mona Lisa bore witness to his unparalleled genius.

Even the most extraordinary souls grapple with the limitations of their own brilliance and the limitations of their era.

The time on the Throne only made such experiences gain a new perspective

How can one account for or recall a atemporal existence outside of normal causality? Could one even state they were sentient, and not simply a magical repository of their souls for later use?

It didn’t matter as it gave an objective view.

The expanse beyond the mortal coil, freed from the temporal confines that tethered him in life, he is now an essence untethered, a living portrait suspended in the tapestry of the Throne. The benefits of such an existence are profound; he is immune to the ravages of time, untouched by the wear and tear that marks mortal souls. In this realm, Da Vinci stands as an embodiment of his legacy, his every stroke of genius and daub of color eternally preserved.

He realizes that even in the objective awareness that he was the greatest, he always could do better.

The insatiable thirst for creation. The joy of a brush on a canvas, the thrill of discovery.

All mankind should go beyond specialization in both discovery and work.

As ethereal energies coalesced and wove the fabric of their manifestation, a peculiar transformation unfolded.

An embodiment fashioned in the likeness of his most renowned creation.

The mana that sculpted his form carried the essence of artistry itself, and as he, now she, opened her eyes, she beheld the world through the lens of the woman immortalized in paint.

The transition from the abstract confines of the Throne to the tangible form of walking art was a sensory symphony. The texture of the canvas that was the skin, the subtlety of her smile, and the depth of her gaze.

Once a spectral consciousness, now inhabited by a vessel of pure art. The air around him resonated with the aura of pura maestà.

She now pondered the image that lay before her as the words automatically came to her magnificent mouth.

""I ask you. Are you... my... Master?..."

Her azure eyes fell upon the injured woman, the battered and unconscious man in the corner, and the caped figure standing protectively over, the most likely unconscious man victim based on the scene in front of her. Her gaze flickered to the Command Seals on his ungloved hand – ah.

Only after she further confirmed that he was her Master via the rather decent flow of od due to the karmic connection did she take in the split second to evaluate her possible summoner....

And his attire.

An eccentric one it seems.

Leonardo studied the … peculiarly dressed man (perhaps the attire was to act as a form of catalyst or) and his rapidly shifting stance,

Her vision, accustomed to decades of different forms of cloth pigment and canvas recreated and “reborn”, observed. The imposing silhouette of the Batsuit in the lighting gave an intimidating figure. The cape, especially if it was billowing in the still air of the dimly lit room, held a certain dramatic flair that piqued her sensibilities.

She however marveled at the tools that seemed to have the concept of “practicality” and “dramatics” woven into the fabric.

Reinforced armor, strategically placed to protect vital areas, hinted at a mind well-versed in both combat and design. She mentally commended the integration of technology that had to be cutting edge in this era.

Yet, amidst her appreciation, she couldn't help but find humor in the absurdity.

The mask, concealing his identity, spoke of a man who found solace in the enigma of the night. The symbol emblazoned across his chest—a bat in perpetual flight—reflected a goal for a form of symbolism.

He is a "vigilante", she concluded. The visual clues, from the mask concealing his identity to the combat gear that hinted at a readiness for conflict, aligned with the historical and societal context she received from the Grail.

He doesn't seek recognition or glory.

The suit is designed for intimidation. There is a certain level of theatricality but too much practicality for it all to be for attention.

Especially the color.

As she noticed his slight movements, she couldn't help but see his elegance.

An eccentric one it seems.

Leonardo continued studied the … peculiarly dressed man (perhaps the attire acted as a form of catalyst)

What must be going through his head

That hair, the smooth skin, those jewel-like blue eyes…

"I don't mind you saying it. Beautiful. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? Yes, yes, it's a natural response, because that is how I made myself."

“...”

As the silence continued, she couldn't help but purse in indignation for a short moment before returning to the beautiful smile.

“...”

Before the silence could any longer the sounds of sirens alerted everyone.

Everyone had different reactions.

The lady could only feel relief as she fought against the ever growing urge to sleep that was only being fought against from the adrenaline given the terrifying and confusing events that had happened to her.

Ryuunosuke was still folded like a lawn chair on the floor.

Batman had tensed and only slightly flickered his eyes to the broken entrance.

In that instant, the otherworldly woman had… disappeared.

He stood there for a brief moment before grunting.

“So that's what that feels like.”

He quickly made his way to the fire escape and quickly left the scene.

*****

In the darkened streets, The Caped Crusader moved with the fluidity of a shadow, navigating through the urban labyrinth with calculated precision.

He was not alone in the shadows as the summoned Servant silently followed in her spirit form.

Spirit form allowed her to be a silent observer without inadvertently adding another layer of complexity.

It allowed her to deescalate the situation. She watched, silent and unseen, as mortal hands worked to aid the injured woman before following her Master.

Having entered her immaterial state, she slipped through walls and buildings, her ghostly presence tailing her Master as he swung from rooftop to rooftop. Her keen perception allowed her to witness his every move, even the daring maneuvers made possible by his grappling hooks and ziplines.

With an artist's discerning eye, she marveled at the display of peak acrobatics

As Batman gracefully swung and vaulted across the rooftops, her spectral presence lingered. Her gaze noticed the subtle nuances in the movements — the precision, the calculated efficiency. It was a performance of motion that resonated with the spirit of a true Renaissance figure.

But it wasn't just the acrobatics that captured Da Vinci's admiration; it was the equipment, the custom-crafted tools of the trade. Her perceptive eye discerned the lack of conformity and the absence of cheap materials.

Wealthy or resourceful.

Instead, she saw the mark of a craftsman, an inventor — someone who, like herself, excelled in the art of creation.

Maybe a kindred spirit?

A fellow seeker of knowledge, an embodiment of the Renaissance spirit that embraced both the arts and the sciences?

But for what reason in this pursuit?

What fueled his actions with this skillset?

In the night, the echoes of her admiration mingled with the whispers of ages past.

As he moved with Olympic-level agility, she couldn't help but reminisce about her own ideas about transportation during the Renaissance.

She couldn't help but admire the evolution of mundane technology.

In her ethereal state, she defied conventional physics, navigating through buildings and perpendicular to gravity, all clandestinely following.

In the midst of her observations, Da Vinci pondered the connection that led her to this accidental summoning. She recognized it as a compatibility summon. There had to be something shared between them that piqued her interest in the Throne of Heroes. It couldn't be a simple case of shared skillset and ability. It was a mystery she was determined to unravel.

And she'd start by seeing how he'd react to her with a little prank.

Eventually they reached the inner confines of the repurposed Wayne Shipping container, Batman could be seen working diligently. The air hummed with the soft murmur of technology, a symphony of hidden cameras, proximity sensors, and the subtle whir of lab equipment.

He seemed to be meticulously assembling the components of a vehicle.

In Spirit Form, she had followed him with the grace of a phantom. The container's high-tech camouflage did little to deter her inquisitive gaze, and she marveled at the amalgamation of advanced tools from the century.

Deciding to test the limits of her newfound "unsuspecting" state, Da Vinci materialized right before the entrance of the secret base. With an impish smile, she began to compliment the hidden workshop. "Ah, what a charming little workshop you have here, my unknowing summoner!" she exclaimed, a whimsical tone playing upon her lips. "Quite the inventive mind you possess, though I must say, with my aid it will be a art of creation-"

Her words hung in the air as she intended to elaborate on the possibilities of their collaboration. However, before she could finish her sentence the playful banter was abruptly interrupted by the deadly twirl of bat-shaped shurikens hurtling through the air.

*****

The Batarangs gleamed in the dim light as they bounced off the specter without a ruffle. She regarded the projectiles with an arched eyebrow.

The reaction confirmed his worst fears.

Conventional force would not work based on how such an unnatural interaction as the resistance defied the laws of the tangible world.

No harsh impacts that would come from a fast moving object encountering opposition. He was prepared for superhuman physicalities.

It instead flopped as inertia… ceased.

The air crackled with tension in the aftermath of the swift Batarang deployment, in the few seconds that went by, his mind paced through the numerous plans and exit strategies he made during the various detours taken to shake off Da Vinci's spectral tail.

At the possible immediate threat, he delved into the repository of his exhaustive training in not just conventional arts and sciences but in esoteric disciplines that transcend the ordinary.

In the realm of martial arts, the concept of life force, often referred to as chi, ki, or prana, was a fundamental pillar. It permeated various disciplines, from medicine to philosophy, and stood as a testament to the interconnectedness of mind, body, and spirit. Batman had immersed himself in the study of these principles for his skill set.

From Bhutan, where he spent three months training with the enigmatic Ten-Eyed Men where he unearthed their origins as "demon killers". Under the guidance of Zatara, he had delved deeper into the arcane arts, mastering sleight of hand and escape artistry.

A fleeting moment of nostalgia touched him as he recalled his time.

Occultism had even woven its influence into the very mythos he created for the Batman persona in how he portrayed himself as a mythical creature of the night.

The second the flash appeared in the apartment, he acknowledged the supernatural was at play.

He had calibrated his cowl's visor to oscillate between wavelengths which allowed him to perceive discrepancies in the energy flow of the environment. This, he mused, was how he consistently tracked the spirit despite her ethereal excursions, rather than relying on an unreliable sixth sense.

If he were to follow Constantaine's advice, a Hag stone could have enhanced his ability to sense magical energies.

Yet, buried in the recesses of his mind, Batman recognized a flaw in his approach. He had no idea how far her spiritual senses had reached. Could she sense his emotions from his "aura?"

Thus he had hypnotized himself into forgetting this detail of a possible pursuer until the right que, a deliberate act to conceal vulnerabilities from such entities who might exploit the subtle nuances of body language if not read minds.

Before he could bolt for it and activate the self-destruct sequence to cover his escape, the spirit spoke.

The living art piece, sporting a casual smile.

"I must say, you've certainly crafted some unique throwing implements," she remarked, seemingly amused.

"An unusual choice of greeting but it's always a delight to meet someone who thinks outside the box."

Batman just narrowed his eyes behind the cowl.

Undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm in his response or lack of one, she continued, "I'll cut straight to the chase," she continued, her tone shifting to a more serious but still playful note. "I'm not here to harm you. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Cooperation, my dear Master, is the name of the game. Think of the wonders we could achieve together."

A bemused smile curved the woman's lips. "I find myself in a curious situation, summoned by such a man with an inquisitive mind. You probably want answers. As for what I want, let's say I'm here out of sheer academic curiosity. The Holy Grail is a fascinating subject, and you, my inventive friend, seem to be involved in its affairs."

The figure grinned, her expression as enigmatic as the painting she embodied. "I propose a partnership. Your innovative methods and my Universal Genius could make quite a dynamic duo in this peculiar Grail War."

Batman's response was predictably succinct. "What."

Chapter 5: Chapter 4 - Elucidation and Preparations

Chapter Text

*****

As he examined the figure clad in the visage of the Mona Lisa that stood before him, he stated the most obvious question.

"Why are you here?" Batman questioned, his voice low and probing.

The woman, always smiling, replied, "The question of the ages. Why are any of us here?"

The tensing of the dark knight was no longer in preparation for battle but an annoyance. He only looked on at the woman, his expression unreadable, even beyond the cowl.

Her smile became even more cheeky.

"I'm here for the thrill of innovation, the pursuit of knowledge, and the sheer joy of existence. What about you?"

Batman, ever guarded with his secrets, replied with a stoic, "I have more focused pursuits."

Intrigued, Da Vinci pressed further, "And what might those reasons be, my dear Master?"

...

His reluctance to share any personal information was palpable.

Da Vinci chuckled, "Ah, the mysterious type. Very well. But I'm curious, how well-versed are you in the art of magecraft?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow she couldn't see. "I know about it."

"Ah, a man of brevity," Da Vinci remarked. "But do you truly understand the intricacies of magecraft? The manipulation of mana, the recreation of phenomena, the goal of all magi?"

The question lingered in the air like an uninvited specter, prompting the recesses of his past, a journey back to the haunted halls of his training.

Bhutan, a rugged terrain where he spent years honing his mind and body to the peak of human potential. Among the various trials, one stood out — three months with the elusive 10 Eyed Men. A hypothetical study on the elimination of "demons," an esoteric term that masked a darker reality.

The Thogal Ritual, an advanced meditation meant to simulate death and rebirth. The sensation of slipping into the void, a sensation of losing everything only to be reborn anew. It was a masoch*stic process, a form of torture he willingly endured to unlock the depths of his potential.

Weeks in isolation within a lightless cave, an utter hell that tested the boundaries of his sanity. A journey into darkness that demanded a toll, but it was through this suffering that he gained a profound connection with his "soul", mind, and body.

He recalled questioning the necessity of such extremes. In his global travels, he encountered other paths that yielded similar or superior results. The time spent with Boba Tomar in Joshimath, where he perfected body healing meditation, seemed a more efficient route.

As part of his quest to become Batman, he studied under an academic nomad capable of controlling his own mind. The somber memories resonated with the weight of sacrifices made in the name of a relentless pursuit.

Batman thought about the "basics" he knew.

Controlling the flow of his "chi" was a concept he had mastered in the Far East during his training. But magecraft delved into a realm beyond mere physical discipline.

He remembered his encounters with the supernatural—the Dead Apostle "The Monk", "Deacon" Blackfire and the yearly resurrection of Solomon Grundy.

He knew that it was a complex and powerful study that could allow one to manipulate natural forces.

He knew that it required a deep understanding of the occult and a strong will to master it. He was aware that it was something that could only be achieved through years of study and practice....

His earliest experience with the mystical arts, a venture with Zatanna to halt a demon's rampage in the heart of New York, flashed before his eyes.

Batman contemplated the threat that this being might pose if she wasn't like Boston and this Holy Grail War situation was unpalatable to his mission, already thinking of ways to countermeasure.

The atmosphere hung heavy with unspoken histories.

The Mona Lisa responded with an air of nonchalance. "A lot it would seem. Only theoretical perhaps? Or-"

Batman, however, was not one to easily lose focus on a possible source of information. "What is this "Holy Grail War"? What is its purpose?"

A sly smile played on Da Vinci's lips. "Oh? Academic curiosity?"

In the center of the shipping container, Batman's stern gaze fixated on the Servant, his stoic expression demanding answers. In response, she assumed the role of a lecturer, as if a seasoned professor imparting knowledge to an eager but inexperienced student.

"Let me enlighten you then," she began, her tone carrying an obviously artificial air of wisdom.

The air shimmered and danced with hues of mystical energy as two sets of seven chess pieces materialized, one full of pawns with one uniquie ( familiar) exception, another unreconizable to the game but except a knight piece. The bizarre chess pieces, elegant in their shape if nothing else, arranged themselves on an unseen board suspended in the air.

"The Holy Grail War is a grand competition orchestrated by magi who hunger for the coveted Holy Grail. Seven Masters, each chosen by the Grail, summon seven Servants—heroic spirits, like myself, brought forth from the Throne of Heroes by the will of the World."

She paced gracefully. "A Servant, my dear Batman, is but an emanation, a pseudo-copy of a heroic spirit's main body. Summoned by ritual, we serve as a magus's sword and shield in this deadly contest in the containers designated as Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin and Berserker."

As the weight of her words hung in the air, along with the frown he expressed at the mention of Assasin, she continued her lecture. "You see, the magi are not the ones doing physical combat. That's where Servants come in. We are their primary tools in the Holy Grail War, engaging in battles with other Servants until only one Master-Servant pair remains standing."

The illusions intensified, the chess pieces engaging in a mock battle, conveying the stakes of the conflict.

She paused, inviting Batman to digest the information. "The Holy Grail itself is the grand prize, capable of granting any wish. It's not the Cup of Christ, as many believe, but a potent artifact that can alter reality itself. The knowledge we Servants possess, combined with the magus's own, is the key to navigating this treacherous contest."

She anticipated the questions that brewed within Batman's mind and addressed them before they were uttered. "Yes, it's a competition between life and death. Yes, it's as perilous as it sounds. And no, the Holy Grail War is not a quest for the divine artifact we've come to know in tales. It's a conflict for the fulfillment of desires."

As the last pieces fell away, leaving a scholar and horn and winged pawn standing, a golden cup rose in between them.

As she concluded her explanation, Da Vinci's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusem*nt and seriousness, waiting to gauge Batman's understanding of the arcane contest now thrust upon him.

Batman's sharp gaze was fixed on the living legend, his inquiry straightforward. "And what do you want?"

With a whimsical smile, her response echoed through, repeating an earlier question as an answer. "Academic curiosity."

...

A pursuit of knowledge, an insatiable thirst for understanding. While Batman was no stranger to unusual motivations...

Still, her inhuman nature may be fooling his cold reading capabilities.

One of the unspoken benefits of Batman's near-perfect mastery of body language was his ability to convey thoughts without uttering a word. The subtle shift, the slight furrow on his lips—

The response to the unasked question lingered in the air.

Da Vinci, noting Batman's contemplative silence, decided to address the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"Command Seals," she began, her tone carrying the weight of knowledge. "They are the very linchpin of the Master-Servant relationship in a Holy Grail War. Consider them the magical contract that binds us. A Master is granted three absolute commands, represented by these seals."

"Absolute commands?" he mused, considering the implications.

"Yes," Da Vinci continued. "These command spells are a Servant's shackles, ensuring obedience. They can be used strategically, providing a Master with a means to enforce their will, and, if wielded judiciously, even enhance a Servant's capabilities."

As she spoke, Batman's thoughts turned to the sensation he felt during her summoning—the burning on his hand and the appearance of ritualistic tattoos. He steadily removed the gaulet once again. It was a visual confirmation of the contract that tethered her to his will.

He felt a twinge of discomfort at the idea. The notion of imposing his commands on even a spectral being conflicted with his principles... despite how useful it could be in a situation where things turned south.

Unfazed, Da Vinci quipped, "Ah yes, the slow removal of the glove was suitably dramatic. It even had me wondering if you were really my Master."

His irritation at her comment would have been evident in any other situation, but he couldn't ignore the gears turning in his mind. The revelation about Kiritsugu Emiya's presence in Fuyuki snapped the pieces into place.

The detective within him had made an intuitive leap, connecting the dots. The Holy Grail War—the only plausible reason for Emiya's emergence from hiding....

What was once a tense standoff has become a laxative conversation between two different people. Most people, even the most stoic, would be befuddled.

He could only feel exasperation.

It was another Deadman situation instead of Gentleman Ghost.

He understands that he should be more relieved at both the lack of conflict, a more pragmatic reasoning is that it would be less difficult (dangerous) with nothing obstructing the mission.

It was still annoying.

He still kept on kept himself ready for a moment's notice of hostile intent but based on their countenance and their supernatural capacity via the violation of physic, they truly were wanted a “civil conversation”

"Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Assassin, Berserker, Caster."

"Indeed, seven classes for seven masters. And you, my fateful accomplice, has the privilege of having called upon Servant Caster."

"A mage then?"

"Amongst other things, one need not follow the path of magecraft for their works to be considered 'magical'. Whatever moves and touches the heart is surely as powerful as any ritual or enchantment."

"An artist against a legendary hero? I fail to see the benefit in aiming for it."

"Oh but are we not all actors in this grand stage that is life. Siegfried the hero is but one actor against many. Edmond Dantes. Hamlet. Behind great heroes lies the brush and pen of a skilled storyteller. I as a caster happen to be suited to create things that can match the greatest of heroes. Such is my role in this stage of Fuyuki."

"And what of my role?"

"That remains to be seen, after all, it would make for a boring play if we spoiled the ending for the audience. Even if it is an audience of one."

In the midst of the banter, Batman's mind was already at work, assessing the situation and considering potential allies who could shed light on the supernatural entanglement he found himself in. He needed someone who understood the intricacies of magic, or magecraft as they would always stress, someone he could trust implicitly.

As his mental Rolodex of magical experts spun, names flitted through his mind.

John Constantine?

He immediately dismissed the idea.

Constantine, while undoubtedly skilled, was akin to dancing with chaos and disaster itself.

Jason Blood?

The name lingered for a moment longer before it too was dimissed. The recluse would likely be more interested in his own affairs, and reaching him could prove a challenge.

Then, a more comforting name emerged—Zatanna.

From when he sought knowledge from John Zatara, he delved into the very concept of ancient mysteries. Those lessons lingered in the recesses of his mind, forming a foundation for his understanding of the arcane.

'You can’t punch magic. You can’t outthink magic. The only rules are the ones people trapped themselves in making.'

He couldn't help but reflect on the years he spent steering clear of the supernatural afterwards, seeking a place within conventional justice systems*, unaware that his battle would eventually lead him to confront the very forces.

In the dimly lit confines of the repurposed shipping container, Batman stared at the spectral being that was called. Their banter had given him a bit of informative discourse, but he wasn't one to rely solely on words.

"I'm calling in an expert," he declared.

The ever playful spirit, quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, you don't trust me already? I'm hurt, Master."

Batman ignored the jest as he moved to some machinery on a desk near him, his gloved fingers deftly manipulating a makeshift transponder. One of the first things he set up was a communication relay.

The call was directed to a person he trusted in matters of the supernatural—Zatanna Zatara.

"Long time, Bruce. I know you're not calling me just 'cause you missed me," Zatanna's voice … trembling (?) voice flowed through the communication link.

He had to hold his instinctive response to telling her off on the use of civilian names and the instinct to ask if she was alright. Forcing himself to remember she could take of herself.

"Zatanna... What do you know about 'Heroic Spirits'?" Batman inquired, getting straight to the point.

"... Bruce. What...exactly...have you gotten yourself involved with?" Zatanna's tone shifted.

"Zatanna, that's not important right now."

"I think it's pretty damn important considering the mess you've dragged yourself into. Please tell me you didn't summon some sort of super-criminal through a bond of coincidence or tie of En like... Jack the Ripper or something?"

He ... hesitated, glancing to the side, at his newly summoned Servant.

Zatanna, not one to miss a beat, read between the lines. "Are you Jack the Ripper?"

Da Vinci, with her characteristic humor, held up a V-sign .

"She's not Jack the Ripper. Also, the name implies they should be inherently heroic," Batman clarified.

Zatanna scoffed at the notion. "Too modernistic, Bruce. Think of the ancient world Greek-style definition."

"And your first thought was Jack the Ripper? Zee. What exactly are you implying?"

*****

"Alright, from the top. Seven Masters, Seven Servants, each pair vying to claim a wish by defeating the others."

"That's about it. Usually they leave out a few spots to be filled by random people. Easy to work around and easy to beat. Though obviously they couldn't have foreseen the rise of modern heroes in the 1800's."

"And you have never mentioned it before... why?"

"Look, the Holy Grail War never worked out and the most my dad ever told me about is that it took half a century for each attempt. He told me he participated in the previous one when he was young, but never specified. I could be looking at 10 to 20 years away. I thought I had time, okay?!"

After a moment of contemplative silence, Batman shifted the conversation to a more immediate concern. "What can I do to prepare? How do I fight?"

"Zatanna... I need to know how to prepare for this Holy Grail War. What can you tell me?"

Zatanna took a moment to consider her words. "Protection is key. Wards, sigils, anything that can detect, deflect or reduce magical attacks or tampering. It's a battleground. Control it accordingly."

Batman pressed further. "Can you guide me in creating these wards? The ones you use? I need to be ready."

He noted how his "Servant" perked up at that inquiry.

"I can send you the basics. A crash course, which might as well be a thesis as you've always been a quick study. But..." She hesitated.

"But what?".

"Batman - Bruce, I... I can come to you. Help you in person," Zatanna offered, her voice softening.

Before he could berate her for the use of civilian names on comms, Batman, ever the detective, caught the subtle tremor in her words.

"Zatanna, are you in a state to assist right now?" he inquired, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

She hesitated again, and for a moment, the air crackled with unspoken tension. "I've been better," she admitted.

Batman's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"It's... complicated. Dark forces are at play, and I got caught up," Zatanna confessed.

A moment of silence hung between them.

Finally, Batman spoke, his voice measured but filled with gratitude. "Zatanna, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle this. Send me the information. That's all I need."

"I'm fine, Bats. It's just... complicated. We'll talk about it when I get there when I get the chance," she interjected when the silence grew too long.

"...Be careful, Bruce. And remember, you're not alone in this."

He didn't say anything before he hung up.

Batman absorbed her advice, his mind already working on how to integrate this new knowledge into his existing strategies.

It would seem that he would be back to working with someone again.

"I'm going to need a better name than Caster if we're going to work together."

"Alright, you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine~"

"....."

The clues were there, scattered across the conversation and the very essence of the Servant stood before him. The "Universal Genius" phrase, the idealized Mona Lisa in living form— there were only 2 answers. Either the summoning has implications based on humanities perception or history got something wrong big time.

As his mind churned with information, an unexpected internal sensation began to manifest.

A dull ache, a subtle drain, a discomfort—it coursed through his body like an unwelcome undercurrent. Instinctively, he paused, his mind shifting from magical defenses to this newfound anomaly.

What's this sensation?

From the corner further away from the desk, previously fidgeting with the tools on the desk, she observed with a bemused expression. "Ah, your karmic bond is surprisingly well done, Master, despite the accidental summoning too. You get more and more interesting "

"Explain."

Da Vinci's tone took on a conversational lilt, "When a Master and Servant form a connection in the Holy Grail War, there's a subtle exchange of energies. It's the metaphysical tether that binds us. You feel my presence, and I feel yours. A side effect, if you will."

He quickly put together the pieces. "This connection... there is more to it isn't there? And Karmic Bond?"

"Well, of course, it is called a Karmic Bond. Though you probably weren't there when it was said, part of the incantation required to summon me would be 'my will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny'. Your essence, not just the power of your soul, but your very self tethers me to this world, and our actions in this grail war shall define your fate at the end of it. Cause and effect, yin and yang, a brush and a canvas."

After that tidbit, Batman leveled a direct question at his Servant companion, "What other abilities are you willing to reveal?"

Da Vinci, ever playful, responded with a quizzical look, "Why, Master, are you planning to pick and choose your favorite skills?"

Batman arched an eyebrow, showing no amusem*nt. "Just the relevant ones," he replied.

Da Vinci chuckled before giving a more serious answer, "Very well. As a Caster-class Servant. My class' abilities lie in magic, artifice, and a few unorthodox inventions. With genius though, I've got my share of surprises up my sleeve."

Batman nodded, content with the response ... but not fully satisfied.

She, in turn, posed the same question to her: "And what about you? What can you do, Batman?"

...

With a stoic expression, Batman reluctantly listed some of his well-known skills, "Above average physical abilities and advanced equipment."

Da Vinci... gave an impressed attitude despite the lacking description. "Ah, you're a polymath in your own right, Master. Now, if you're interested in my more intricate abilities, you can use [Master Clairyovance] to focus on our Karmic Bond. It should provide you with insights into what I can bring to the table."

He... would qualify as a polymath, which only added the dread of how she could infer that. He shuddered as he thought about the implications of such a bond. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he had to offer. Still, Batman, though skeptical, acknowledged her suggestion with a nod as he noted the "fellow polymath" statement.

The "Universal Genius"

The Mona Lisa was brought to life.

He could only piece together the enigma standing before him. He knew she was a mystery, but he would make sense of it. He was determined to uncover the truth.

As Batman hesitated, his mind working through the implications of this revelation, the woman's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. She could practically read the gears turning in his mind.

"Leonardo Da Vinci," Batman finally spoke, a statement more than a question.

A broad, satisfied smile crossed Da Vinci's face. "Bingo! You got it, my dear Master. Now, any questions you might have?"

The straightforward acknowledgment left him slightly off-balance. Da Vinci's openness, her willingness to be recognized for who she was, felt like a deviation from the norm.

"But... you're being surprisingly... straightforward," Batman observed, his detective instincts ever alert.

Da Vinci chuckled, "Why play mysterious when I can save us both the trouble? I'm here to win the Holy Grail, but that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of enjoyment along the way, right?"

Details about Da Vinci's abilities, experiences, and even snippets of her past were laid out before him.

As the ... experience concluded, he made a silent decision.

It was time to return to the hotel suite, assess the events of the day, and formulate new strategies for the unpredictable path that lay ahead.

A battle within him unfolded. On one side stood his innate paranoia, urging him to remain vigilant, to secure every loose end. On the other was pragmatism, whispering that he now had a knowledgeable ally in Zatanna, and the apparent absence of hostility from Da Vinci herself( and how the former would ensure nothing would come of the latter if it was a ruse and he didn't make regular communications).

"I'm leaving," Batman declared, breaking the silence that lingered in the makeshift base. "I'll be back tomorrow night."

"Da Vinci" voiced her concern. "It's dangerous out there. Without a Servant, you're an easy target."

Batman, however, was resolute. "Based on what you've told me about Servant classifications and the dynamics of the Holy Grail War, the same applies to you just as much."

"I'll take the risk."

With that, he made his way to his escape vehicle he had prepared for the possible confrontation.

In the corner of the makeshift base, partially concealed under a tarp, rested the heavily modified jetblack Kawasaki Ninja ZX-11. The original model, a high-performance machine in its own right, had a 1052 cc four-stroke, DOHC, inline-four engine capable of reaching speeds up to 290 km/h.

It was retrofitted with a prototype electric engine to reach higher speeds at less cost and a quieter movement. The quiet hum of the electric motor replaced the thunderous roar of the conventional engine, turning the once roaring beast into a silent predator.

In one smooth motion, he swung a leg over the modified machine and engaged the ignition. The bike responded obediently with a rush of movement out of the prepared exit.

As Batman maneuvered the motorcycle out of the concealed base, Da Vinci observed.

In the dimly lit chamber, Da Vinci allowed herself a sly smile. "Quite a ride you've got there, Master. I'll make a better."

And with that, the Universal Genius, Leonardo Da Vinci, turned her sights first to the car pieces laying around before she looked further around the base.

====

Leonardo Da Vinci immediately transitioned from observer to architect. The modest shipping container, now a canvas for her artistic magecraft, awaited transformation into a suitable mage's workshop. Her objective: create an environment conducive to both her own endeavors and the potential collaboration with her newfound Master.

With an almost instinctive command, she activated her Magic Circuits.

Sending forth a wave of Od, Da Vinci began to scan the surroundings.

The information flowed through her as every object, every container, bore a unique resonance within that she could decipher.

Rocks, cobble , asphalt … containers unfolded in her mind. The 40-foot containers, with their dimensions of 8 feet in width and approximately 8.5 feet in height. The 20-foot variants, spanning a length of 20 feet, found its place in the enigmatic dance of geometry.

In the realm of magic, every object told a story through its magical imprints. Abnormalities, hidden energies, and potential threats would reveal themselves to Da Vinci's keen perception.

With this detailed analysis, Da Vinci's next step became apparent. She envisioned a bounded field, a protective barrier woven from the very fabric of magical energies. Understanding the natural flow of mana within the container, cut off the outside from the inside against external intrusions.

Then she extended consciousness beyond the steel confines of the container. It flowed seamlessly, like a river of thought navigating the invisible currents in the space that it occupied.

A lesser-known aspect of Magic Circuits came to the forefront: the ability to record, store, and replay information. Da Vinci's consciousness became a living archive of her ideas, schematics and works. With this Da Vinci orchestrated the transformation of the shipping container into a mage's workshop.

To those who would have been there to observe, if there were any, it was a brief lightshow. Blue light crackled across the Mona Lisa's body. Her long hair flared...

In a single great pulse, energy shot out, crackling along every surface, dancing across walls and ceilings, and carrying on well past the bounds of the room. Even the open spaces were flooded with energy, leaving sparkling motes hanging in the air for the briefest instant before they faded away like melting snow.

Millions of complex functions come together, drawing data from decades of experience to form a fundamental expression of alchemical transmutation.

The echoes of her magic reverberated within the steel walls, marking the inception of a one of a kind collaboration between the greatest polymath from the Renaissance and the most skilled man of the modern era.

*****

After he swiftly navigated the labyrinthine streets of Fuyuki to his destination: his hotel suite.

Arriving near the area of his suite, Batman seamlessly transitioned into the shadows with his bike, ducking into a dark alley concealing his equipment in a specialized backpack. The motorcycle found refuge in a secluded alley, secured with a state-of-the-art lock. With his personal vehicle hidden, the Dark Knight, now Bruce Wayne entered his suite.

Reflecting on the summoning of Leonardo Da Vinci, Batman found himself genuinely baffled for a bit. A famous artist in the idealized body of their famed art piece, manifested through magecraft, added a layer of complexity to the already enigmatic Holy Grail War. He pondered what John Giovanni Zatara would make of this surreal collaboration.

Switching mental gears, Batman engaged in a clinical assessment of the situation.

Objective: Hunt Kiritsugu Emiya. Status: Unknown.

The initial reason for Batman's presence in Fuyuki. Kiritsugu Emiya.

Serial killer apprehended during patrol. Identity

A fortuitous intervention unexpectedly triggered the summoning ritual, bringing forth the iconic Leonardo Da Vinci.

Accidental summoning of Da Vinci. Servant classification: Caster.

The accidental collaboration with Da Vinci, now classified as a Caster-class Servant, thrust Batman into a "War" he didn't start.

Batman contemplated a shift in his approach, recognizing the need for a specialized loadout tailored to the demands of the Holy Grail War.

Logistical adjustments are necessary. Full loadout required.

He decided to call Alfred.

The Batwing would embark on a supply delivery to Fuyuki via autopilot.

Alfred voiced his "concerns" regarding violating Japan's airspace.

"They barely skirt the line as it is, 'the colonies,' here in Gotham" quipped Alfred, his British wit ever-present.

Batman, undeterred, asserted the superiority of Wayne Tech's stealth technology. The Batwing, the epitome of aerospace engineering, would navigate Fuyuki's skies unnoticed, a silent guardian in the night.

"To be on the safe side, arrange care package deliveries and for Oracle to align satellites for mana detection."

She would synchronize satellites to a specific frequency capable of detecting mana fluctuations.

"Arrange the purchase of Hyatt Hotel's parent company. Renovation for base construction to cover the other supply shipments I'm requesting."

Chapter 6: Interlude I

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Chapter 5: Preparations and Set Up

Chapter Text

As her consciousness returned from her traversal of the digital landscape, she thought about cyberspace and what security she encountered in the digital fortress's defenses.

At first, the sheer complexity of the digital world nearly overwhelmed her. The intricate networks of circuits and processors appeared as a maze of tangled threads. But as she delved deeper, Da Vinci's innate curiosity took hold.

Through her magic circuits, Da Vinci interfaced with the computers left behind by Batman, her consciousness merging seamlessly with the digital infrastructure. It was a sensation unlike anything she had experienced before.

As she navigated the inner workings of computers, Da Vinci's awe grew with each discovery. The intricate architecture of the machines, with their complex arrangements of circuits and components, spoke to her in a language of logic and precision. It was a language she understood intuitively, drawing upon her vast knowledge of mathematics, engineering, and beyond that the natural world.

The circuits and processors, while impressive, felt like they were waiting to be reimagined in the brilliance of her Renaissance mind.

Drawing upon her ingenuity and resourcefulness, Da Vinci began to reimagine computers in ways that surpassed their original design. She envisioned new materials and techniques using alchemy. Gold, silver, and platinum gave way to simpler and abundant substances—carbon in crystalline form.

A Optical Supercomputer using photonic crystals, born from alchemically manipulated for efficiency and elegance.

It would not only rival but surpass its predecessors in speed, durability, and environmental consciousness.

However, Da Vinci's ambitions didn't stop at hardware as it still needed energy. Power sources became the next focal point of her musings.

With a wave of her hand, she extended a bounded field.

Da Vinci's thoughts turned to the human interface. The possibility of neural connections replacing the analog of traditional computers through the expansion of consciousness through magic circuits.

She'd have to teach her Master's but he'd appreciate the benefits surely.

And how it would increase his computer's already formidable strength. She momentarily put the project to the side as recalled her actions further

To her consciousness at the time, these digital barriers were like magical wards, protecting the inner sanctum from intruders. "Packet filtering", akin to the delicate screening of minerals, determined which bits of data were allowed to enter or exit, based on predefined security rules.

The concept of antivirus software was intriguing. A digital formula designed to detect and purge malicious entities.

Unfolding the cryptic dance of numbers and symbols interwoven with complex mathematical operations.

Within the labyrinth of security protocols, she encountered 4 different encryptions, 52 different security subroutines, and 18-figure passwords. She had to accelerate her thoughts high enough to strain her spirit origin in order to overwhelm them instead of bypassing them to get to her goal.

Most people would have backed off by the sheer amount of effort and vehemence put into security but if she had let the dangers of her curiosity stop her, she would have never made it to the Throne.

It only made her pursuit even more enticing.

And what she found was....

In her mind's eye, Da Vinci painted an image of her Master as a protagonist – a modern-day knight battling not dragons, but the monstrous crimes that plague Gotham. The tales of serial killers, professional assassins, and global terrorist plots unfolded like chapters in an epic saga.

Before she could have her exploration reached its zenith, she encountered the electronic guardian - someone who fiercely defended the database. Da Vinci marveled at the near supernatural prowess of this defender, acknowledging that without her own conceptual abilities, such fortifications would have been insurmountable. Grateful for the privilege of knowledge, she left behind not only the copied information but also a meticulous improvement plan for the digital defenses. She wished for her Master and his allies to be secure, and for knowledge to be accessible only to them. She wanted to ensure that her work would never be lost or misused.

However, a moment of reflection swept her over.

Did she act too hastily?

....

In a flicker of resolution, she decided to make amends through her work and her presence, leaving an indelible mark on Batman's technological progress and mystical ability.

Da Vinci stood up from the computer center to begin work as an artist, crafting her contribution to both the modern of crime-fighting, blending the elegance of the Renaissance with the cutting-edge technology of the 21st century and making sure her Master got through this war to make use of it.

In the heart of the makeshift workshop, Da Vinci seamlessly re-integrated herself into the new digital network, now setting her sights on a very important next step – Leylines.

As she reviewed the data gleaned from the "Bat Tech" scanning technology left by her Master, a smirk tugged at her visage.

"Batcomputer," she chuckled to herself, finding a certain whimsy in the nomenclature.

Utilizing the knowledge she had extracted from Batman's advanced scans and satellite frequency readings, she commenced her foray into Fuyuki's mystical network. With another snort of amusem*nt, Da Vinci began the process of cataloging and comparing the scans from the satellites with her own on-the-ground observations. Each leyline revealed its unique signature, a dance of magical currents waiting to be deciphered.

The Renaissance mind thrived on the challenge. Da Vinci felt a rush of excitement as she pieced together the puzzle. She knew she had made an invaluable discovery and she couldn't wait.

Leylines are the veins of the Earth, carrying the lifeblood of magical energy. Drawing on her innate understanding of the natural world, Da Vinci set out to create a comprehensive map of Fuyuki's leyline network.

The algorithm she had just devised wove together the data points gathered from the satellites and the on-site scans, gradually revealing the intricate patterns of Fuyuki's magical veins. With each passing moment, the leyline map took shape. She was amazed at the level of detail the map revealed. It was like a tapestry, with intricate threads and patterns intersecting and weaving together.

As she worked on this arcane cartography, Da Vinci's mind raced with possibilities. Leylines, to her, were not just conduits of mana; they were the key to winning the war... and uncovering more information on the workings of the World.

With a few deft metaphorical strokes, she left the thing on autopilot before she sought to enhance Batman's equipment.

Hopefully it will smooth some ruffled feathers.

She knew (hoped) that Batman would be appreciative of her efforts. She hoped it would show him that she was on his side, and that she was willing to do whatever was necessary to help him. She was determined to make it work.

Her alterations would be those of a maestro refining an instrument. She was determined to make sure the changes were subtle and effective.

Da Vinci would show that she was not merely an artist; she was a mage of the highest order and a master craftsman. She was careful to perfect everything, paying attention to even the smallest detail.

As Da Vinci meticulously examined the Batsuit and its accompanying arsenal, she marveled at the craftsmanship and ingenuity that went into each piece. The Nomex-lined suit, reinforced with triple kevlar weave cloth and segmented armored plating, was a marvel of modern engineering. The addition of photo-reactive pigments and an electric failsafe only added to its effectiveness. As she perused the utility belt and its contents, she found that he had dedication to his brand, even if she would suggest a bit of branching out.

The “Batsuit V. 10.08” stood before her, a marvel of modern engineering. But Da Vinci knew that there was always room for improvement. The Batsuit was waiting to be adorned with a ... "Renaissance" touch.

Utilizing her combination of magecraft and scientific/mechanical expertise, she began a detailed analysis of each component. With a brief but frequent pulse of mana, akin to advanced scanning techniques, she sought out flaws, corrected them with material alchemy, reinforced structures, and, true to her nature, enhanced the aesthetic already present. Drawing upon her vast knowledge of materials and design, she set out to enhance each component.

Which incidentally led her to a session of what could only be described as experimental seamstressing which resulted in the series of completely "revolutionary" fabrics that had been "generated" (really just a rearrangement of molecular structures and mana infused reinforcements on specifically the weakest points).

Files on experimental polymers or hyper advanced synthetics he had gained from the schematics from her foray into cyberspace she had made prototypes, all produced in incredible shades due to structural coloration rather than the use of pigments. It was an amazing production for such a short time, but she could only imagine what she would be capable of when she finished the upgrades or had proper facilities. She was confident that her research would yield even more remarkable results if she had access to the right resources.

The threads instantly shifted into a blinding crimson glow at the speed she was moving in remaking the armor. The intentionally drafty nature of the workshop was instantly forgotten as the heat from the accumulated energy spread through her body. A mist of steam from boiling sweat began to accumulate around in a way that would have left her desiccated if not for her supernatural nature. The suit itself acquired a new internal membrane for shock absorption and deception.

The glider, she decided, could be improved by utilizing an advanced form of memory cloth, granting it greater flexibility and maneuverability. The cowl, meanwhile, received a host of upgrades, including a transparent bullet-proof mask that also acted as respirator, ultrasound noise dampeners, and thought-based controls.

As she worked, Da Vinci used her magic circuits to analyze the molecular structure of each device, identifying any flaws and reinforcing them with material alchemy.

Da Vinci's enhancements weren't limited to the suit. The utility belt saw its capacity expanded from 42 gadgets to an impressive 140 using some well placed bounded fields. New additions included an improved EMP device, sonics, cryogenics, a grappling gun, and a handheld laser cutter.

But it was the last and most mysterious package kept in a secure container that piqued her curiosity the most. Sensing such an immense amount of magical energy emanating from within, one that wouldn’t be out of place for something from the Age of Gods, Da Vinci couldn't resist the urge to investigate further.

As she reached out to touch the container, arcane writings and mana infused electricity discharged from it, shocking her to her core. Recoiling in surprise, Da Vinci was left staring at the glowing note that appeared before her, bearing the cryptic message: "Not yours. ZZ."

Despite the warning, Da Vinci's curiosity only grew stronger. She was determined to unlock the secrets hidden within the container, setting out on a quest to unravel its mysteries and uncover the truth behind its enigmatic origins.

*****

Bruce Wayne lay in bed, his mind ablaze with feverish sensations that left him restless despite his desperate need for sleep. Needles seemed to prick his skin, and strange flows of movement pulsed through his body, akin to a heartbeat, yet devoid of any debilitating symptoms. Only the chill of winter prevented him from breaking into a sweat. Despite his exhaustion, he managed a full three hours of fitful rest, a significantly higher amount than what his sleep schedule typically allowed. In fact, he'd say he awoke feeling refreshed and energized, as if he hadn't just spent the past night in turmoil.

His respite was short-lived, interrupted by an urgent beeping from the custom pager, the number significy he needed to make a call to Oracle.

His mood was certainly for the worse from the fact that she sounded angry and panicked, explaining that someone had hacked into their network, setting off alarm bells across. He quickly asked for more details and promised to do what he could to help. He asked if she knew who was responsible for the attack and if she had any evidence.

Bruce's mind raced with possibilities, traversing the heights of extreme but controlled panic as he mentally cataloged potential adversaries. The Riddler and the Calculator were quickly dismissed based on their modus operandi, leaving him grasping for answers.

"Did they leave any clues, any calling cards?" Batman's voice was low and strained, betraying his underlying tension.

Barbara's response was swift and decisive. "They closed all security holes and even provided security program codes, basically mocking me in the process. But they made a rookie mistake—I was able to track the signal back to Fuyuki."

As she explained the process of how she tracked a computer signal, Bruce's thoughts raced ahead, connecting the dots with chilling clarity. The only possible access point to the Batcomputer was the satellite uplink he had left in the shipping container, a fact that led him to a startling revelation.

"It's Da Vinci," Batman muttered, his tone heavy with realization. "She's the only one with access to that uplink. But what does she want? What does she know?"

His mind spiraled into a paranoid frenzy, contemplating the extent of Da Vinci's potential knowledge and the implications of her intrusion. Yet, with a Herculean effort, he wrestled control over his thoughts, reminding himself that she only had access to what he had allowed to be stored in the Batcomputer's files.

With a grim determination, Bruce Wayne sprang into action, visiting numerous bank safety deposit in Fuyuki that he had prepared for just such emergencies. Inside, he found only portable computer equipment, carefully chosen to avoid any identifiable Bat-related items. He quickly gathered the necessary components, loaded them into a case, and left the bank. He then drove to a nearby warehouse he had quickly rented after paying an exorbitant amount and directly contacting the landlord, where he set up a makeshift command center.

At the rate he was going he would make good on his presentation to expand the Wayne name in Fuyuki.

He connected the computer equipment, and got to work. He connected the devices and uploaded all the backup and program files, which contained all the details of his investigation. He now had another access point to work from. He quickly shut down all the devices and made his way out of the bank.

He had to move quickly if he was to stay ahead.

From there, he embarked on a series of visits to various forms of real estate in Fuyuki, all under the guise of Bruce Wayne conducting business. In reality, each location was meticulously chosen as a potential safe house, ready to serve his needs for alternative bases after the shipping container was... compromised. He made sure to keep a low profile and to avoid any unnecessary contact. He also made sure to survey the area for any potential threats, as well as to check for any weaknesses in the security systems. Finally, he made sure to memorize the details of the locations he visited for future reference.

One base alone wouldn't be enough if he wanted to end this "War" quick and he had to worry about his own "Servant's" actions.

The recently tattooed hand burned for a brief moment at the thought before he quickly shut that idea out of his head.

No.

He'd wait and watch.

And hopefully Zatanna had something of possible use.

*****

As Da Vinci stood before the enigmatic container, its aura pulsating with an unfathomable mystery that defied both her magecraft and scientific analysis, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration wash over her. Every attempt to scan the container was met with resistance, as if it were shrouded in a veil.

Her mind raced with possibilities, each more perplexing than the last. What could possibly be contained within this container that exuded an aura reminiscent of the age of gods? It was a puzzle that seemed to defy logic, and Da Vinci found herself captivated by the challenge it presented.

Yet, as she continued to struggle against the impenetrable barrier that surrounded the container, a realization began to dawn on her. Perhaps, she mused, the solution to this mystery lay not in her own efforts, but in the hands of its intended recipient—her Master.

With a sigh of resignation, Da Vinci reluctantly admitted … not defeat, but recognizing that further attempts to unravel the secrets of the container would only serve to diminish the very mystery that made it so intriguing in the first place. Instead, she resolved to bring the matter to her Master’'s attention, trusting in him just to unlock its secrets.

It was certainly easier than if she just brute forced it. That wouldn’t be her style anyway.

In the dimly lit room of the makeshift lab, Da Vinci found herself immersed in a cascade of thoughts and observations. The equipment Batman had sent her way, a mix of advanced technology and magical potential, lay spread across tables and workbenches. As she contemplated the upgrades she had made to the Batsuit and various gadgets, a nagging feeling crept into her mind—the suspicion that her Master might be avoiding her.

She pondered whether her enthusiasm for improvement had pushed him too far, too quickly. A tinge of regret lingered in her thoughts. To distract herself, Da Vinci delved into the files she had copied from the Batcomputer's network. Her mind swirled with possibilities and potential enhancements.

The algorithm she had initiated to map Fuyuki's leylines was taking longer than expected. She attributed the delay to the lack of comprehensive data. If only she had more information, the accuracy of her leyline map would undoubtedly increase. Yet, she hesitated to venture outside, considering the consequences if her Master returned and found her absent.

Sensing the steady flow of mana from her Master, Da Vinci assured herself that he was still alive and well. She marveled at the stability of his mana despite his apparent lack of overt magecraft skills. The question of whether he had mystical connections in his ancestry or was simply a fortunate first-generation magecraft user intrigued her.

With a mental shrug, Da Vinci contemplated the possibility of initiating Master-Servant telepathy if she grew too concerned. Her restless mind sought engagement, and she decided to inspect the copied files for amusem*nt.

To her surprise and dismay, the files harbored a complex web of security systems. As she delved deeper, the very code within the files triggered a cascade of viruses. Each virus type unfolded like a sinister narrative.

There were file infector viruses, boot sector viruses, macro viruses, polymorphic viruses, stealth viruses, multipartite viruses, worms, and Trojan horses— All of these viruses are designed to disrupt computer systems and cause damage.

It was a digital last stand even if the system was breached.

It spoke of a worrying amount of paranoia about her Master.

The room seemed to pulse with a sense of urgency as Da Vinci, with a blend of magical and technological prowess, set out to counteract the impending threat. She was already deploying her expertise to intercept, neutralize, and eradicate invasive viruses.

As lines of arcane code flowed before her metaphysical eyes, Da Vinci's focus intensified. With a determined sigh, she set to work.

*****

Bruce Wayne, in his new makeshift base of operations, found himself engrossed in the labyrinthine depths of the computer systems at his disposal. The air was tense with the low hum of machinery, and the ambient glow of computer screens cast an ethereal light on his concentrated features despite the lights already being on. Lines of code scrolled on the terminal, decrypting before his discerning eyes.

"Data connection established... Data decrypting... hmm," Bruce muttered to himself. The systems were his, regardless of the result of Da Vinci's enhancements, and thus provided him with a backdoor into ... a whole new world of information technology that could revolutionize his crime-fighting endeavors.

In the midst of his contemplation, a direct communication line jolted him from his musings. The sudden interruption drew his attention, and he swiftly redirected his focus toward the incoming transmission. The display flickered for a moment before Da Vinci's image materialized on the screen.

The connection was established, and Bruce Wayne, now masked behind a bandana and cap instead of a cowl, acknowledged the presence of his enigmatic companion. "Da Vinci," he greeted with a nod, the stern lines of his face hardening slightly. The dynamic between the Renaissance genius and the Dark Knight would be an unusual alliance.

"What can I do for you?" Batman inquired, somewhat sarcastically.

*****

In the serene solitude of her workshop, Da Vinci took a moment to collect herself, her Mona Lisa smile masking the subtle undercurrents of frustration and curiosity that churned beneath the surface.

"So, is this all you've been up to while I've been hard at work?" she queried, her tone carrying the weight of her displeasure.

With a delicate balance of composure and passive-aggressiveness, she couldn't resist but question her Master's apparent lack of activity while she toiled away on their shared endeavor.

Meanwhile, in his clandestine base, Bruce Wayne, responded to Da Vinci's inquiry with a measured tone that bore the weight of unspoken tension as he was typing away stoically at the computer terminal in his secret base. He responded with a similar air of passive aggression. He typed quickly and with precision, not saying a word. What could be seen of Wayne's face remained expressionless, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking. Da Vinci waited for a response, knowing that it was coming.

"Setting up shop, Da Vinci. Looking at multiple areas to ensure our operations aren't compromised by outside factors," he retorted, his gaze momentarily fixed on the screen before him. "Oracle has been invaluable in aiding my computer security and information gathering," he added, intentionally obscuring Barbara Gordon's identity.

"Although, I must say, your unprompted stunt last night made their job quite difficult from the moment I left them out of sight."

Bruce, ever the master of misdirection, deftly deflected her inquiries, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand.

There was a pregnant pause as Da Vinci's silence hinted at a flicker of guilt, but Bruce swiftly redirected the conversation. "They'll be pleased to know, however, that those viruses and backdoors she helped design worked splendidly," he remarked. His tone was tinged with a note of satisfaction.

He swiftly navigated through the vast troves of information that Da Vinci had meticulously compiled, his mind racing with possibilities as he uncovered the significance of her discoveries.

In the hidden confines of her workshop, Da Vinci took a moment to collect herself. Breaking the silence with a hint of curiosity, Da Vinci quickly recovered and redirected the conversation. "Where are you, Master?" she inquired, her mind already scanning for expected fluctuations in the background electromagnetic signals to pinpoint his location.

The Renaissance "Man", ever recognizing the opportunity to demonstrate his own technical prowess, continued, "Using the same sub-wave system to hide your broadcast? Using an electromagnetic pulse medium to evade detection?" Her voice had a hint of surprise.

Bruce maintained his composure in his silence as Da Vinci, awed by a brief silence, couldn't help but admire his skill. Her bemusem*nt was evident as she spoke. "Did you just figure it out to hide from me?" Da Vinci was impressed. "Wow," she said, "you have a gift."

While Da Vinci marveled at the hastily built sub-wave system, Bruce delved into the information she had been poring over—the algorithm designed to track and mark Fuyuki's leylines. His fingers, an extension of his analytical mind, flowed across the keys as he adjusted the program.

As the algorithm worked its magic, Bruce's realization struck like a bolt. "This is familiar," he muttered to himself. The locations mapped by Da Vinci corresponded to the known locations of Lazarus Pits—supernatural pools with rejuvenating properties. With this algorithm, combining mana frequencies, satellite imaging, and data points from known Lazarus Pits, he could not only complete the analysis of Fuyuki but track leyline connections globally.

As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, Bruce's gaze narrowed with determination. The revelation that Fuyuki's ley lines intersected with the enigmatic locations of Lazarus Pits sent a chill down his spine, igniting a fire within him. With a sense of urgency to him, his fingers flew across the keyboard with practiced precision.

"The locations." I know them. All these correspond to the known locations of the Lazarus Pits."

Da Vinci's interest was piqued, her curiosity evident in her voice. "The Lazarus Pits?" she echoed, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle.

Bruce nodded, his gaze focused on the screen. "Yes. The head of the League of Assassins has utilized them for centuries to expand his lifespan. The substance that fills each pit originates from the Earth's crust and bubbles to the surface at specific points around the globe, typically at ley line junctions. It seems that the more sensitive files are still safe on the separate servers."

Bruce adjusted the program, integrating mana frequencies, satellite imaging, and data points from known Lazarus Pits. "With this algorithm," he explained, "we'll not only be able to finish the analysis of Fuyuki but track every ley line and its relation to the Lazarus Pits. And destroy them all."

Da Vinci's mind raced with possibilities as they delved deeper into the ley lines of Fuyuki. Their collaboration unlocked new avenues of exploration and discovery.

In tandem, they went over the leyline map of Fuyuki City. A magic circle materialized before their collective gaze. From the public database - Ryuudou Temple, Tohsaka Residence, Fuyuki Church, and Central Park—each location is etched with arcane significance.

In the midst of their analysis of Fuyuki's leyline network, Batman's keen mind sparked a question.

"You can hook yourself to that leyline, can't you?" he inquired, his tone laced with intrigue.

The leyline seemed to be the key to controlling what was happening in the city. He needed to know if it was possible to tap into its power and use it to their advantage. If she could, then maybe she could control the flow of energy and use it to her, and his, advantage, as a power source, or even as a weapon.

Da Vinci replied with certainty. "Yes, I can," she affirmed, her thoughts already racing ahead to the possibilities. She smiled, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"And that would make you stronger?" Batman pressed further, his curiosity piqued by the potential ramifications.

"It would," Da Vinci confirmed, her voice carrying all the confidence.

But then she stopped abruptly. Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "It can't be that easy," she mused aloud, her mind grappling with the implications. "It's too good to be true," she whispered to herself.

"What is it?" Batman inquired, sensing her sudden shift in demeanor.

Da Vinci hesitated before voicing her concerns. "…Surely it's a fluke," she murmured. Her tone was tinged with skepticism.

"Oh?" Batman prompted, intrigued by her hesitation.

"The temple where all the life of the city flows," Da Vinci began, her voice gaining momentum with each word. "It has thick enough magical energy to maintain a Servant by merely having them stay there, a bunch of leylines meet there, and it has a natural chokehold that forces Servants to approach from one direction."

Her realization hung in the air, an unsettling truth that defied logic. "And no other Servants are occupying it," she concluded, her disbelief evident in her tone.

Batman considered her words carefully, weighing the implications of their discovery. "Maybe others haven't been summoned yet?" he suggested, offering a plausible explanation.

"A Master should be keeping an eye on it regardless," Da Vinci countered, her voice firm with conviction.

After a moment of contemplation, Batman made a decision. "…We are going to try it, even if it's a trap. I'm coming to you," he declared, his resolve unwavering.

With a shared understanding of the risks involved, Da Vinci and Batman prepared to venture into the heart of Fuyuki's leyline nexus.

*****

As Batman returned to the Wayne shipping container, he couldn't shake the sensation of residual mana in the air, his senses tingling with an induced bout of vivid synesthesia in the form of him smelling energy discharge and him hearing the color of all things. As he recovered from his senses being assaulted by a kaleidoscope of sensations, he navigated through the layers of security he had set up, each one designed to ward off any unwanted intrusions. As he finished passing through the initial security measures he had set up, Batman was met with a visible wave of energy that rippled through him, most likely analyzing his very being. He was met with a sight that left him momentarily stunned.

The interior of the container had been transformed, the metal walls smoothed and transmuted into a Damascus steel facsimile, adorned with intricate patterns etched with glowing blue Nordic runes. Exposed wiring connected to transparent servers, their inner workings visible through the shimmering surface. It was the sight that greeted him inside the container that truly took his breath away.

Da Vinci greeted him with a Mona Lisa smile. Her eyes sparkled with amusem*nt as she observed his reaction. "Quite an entrance, Master," she remarked. Her voice was tinged with playful sarcasm.

Ignoring her quip, Batman focused his attention on the armor and equipment arrayed before him. Batman meticulously inspected his armor and equipment. At first glance, they appeared unchanged, but upon closer inspection, he noticed subtle differences. The armor seemed smoother, lighter, yet more heavily armored than before, with mystical circuitry pulsing beneath the surface.

Da Vinci explained the enhancements she had made, describing the armor as a "Specialized-type Mystic Code" capable of performing preset Magecraft automatically when supplied with magical energy.

"In light of the craftsmanship involved in its construction, I limited myself to using similar materials in order to create a product you would be more familiar with. The weave patterns on the body armor and the pattern on the armored plates are about the same, though I decided to add my own twist and establish a... pseudo circuit pathway."

"I am not a mage."

She nodded, as if expecting a rebuttal. "Of course, taking into account your circ*mstances I took to adding instead mechanisms that can act as a close match substitute to certain utilities one might find a use for when facing a Servant or Mage. The time wasn't nearly enough to add as many functionalities as I intended but there was enough material to input three of them."

Bruce looked at the Renaissance woman questioningly. A simple narrowing of his eyes betrayed his inner thoughts.

"Functionalities?"

He could not afford to take the genius of an individual venerated as the universal polymath. But neither could he afford to trust a stranger who wielded powers he had little experience of understanding and researching.

"Simple... catrips, you could call them. A rudimentary stunning spell. A temporary physical improvement for offense, as well as a immediate reaction to incoming attacks. I won't bore you with details regarding the origin of these spells and their actual uses, but as it stands they should prove to be good enough ace up your sleeve should you find yourself running afoul of a Servant. Only to escape them, of course. I do not possess the materials or time to develop equipment capable of standing up even to the Cavalry Classes."

"Reinforcement, Gandr, Emergency Evasion," she listed, her tone matter-of-fact.

Batman's brow furrowed in contemplation. "Reinforcement?" he questioned. His curiosity piqued.

Da Vinci smirked, relishing the opportunity to share her knowledge. "An elementary magecraft, but one that’s considered virtually impossible to master," she began, launching into an explanation of the spell's capabilities.

As she spoke, Batman interrupted, his tone clipped with skepticism. "How long can it last? And how much stronger will I become?"

Da Vinci hesitated, shooting him a scrutinizing look before answering. "Safely, you can be enhanced ten times. But there's an unsafe option," she replied, her voice tinged with caution.

He simply hummed before he wandered around. As Batman approached the central computer terminal, he couldn't help but notice something strange about the interface. Unlike any human-based computer he had encountered before, it was holographic and lacked any physical access points. Perplexed, he turned to Da Vinci for an explanation.

Da Vinci, with a knowing smile, stepped closer to him, her movements fluid and graceful. She reached out and gently took his hands into hers, her touch surprisingly soft despite or because of the gloves. For a moment, Batman froze, a millisecond of surprise flashing across his features at the unexpected closeness. He quickly composed himself, his expression never having left its usual stoicism as he listened to Da Vinci's explanation.

"You can mentally access it," she said softly, her voice almost like a whisper. "Let me show you how."

Batman raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "How?"

Da Vinci leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "You have magic circuits," she explained. Her tone was both matter-of-fact and tinged with a hint of excitement. "Just like any other mage, you need to let the mana flow through them and into the terminal."

Batman's skepticism was evident in his expression, but he nodded, willing to entertain the idea for now. "And how do I do that?"

Da Vinci's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Close your eyes," she instructed softly. "Focus on your magic circuits. Imagine the most stimulating thing in your mind. Feel the flow of mana within you."

Reluctantly, Batman closed his eyes, his mind racing with doubts and questions. But he pushed them aside, focusing instead on the sensation of mana coursing through his body.

BANG!

BANG!

Two gunshots in a dark dirt alley.

It was...

"Good," Da Vinci murmured encouragingly. "Now, imagine the mana flowing from your circuits and into the terminal. Let it merge with the energy of the interface."

Batman... followed her instructions, visualizing the mana flowing from his circuits and into the holographic interface. To his surprise, he felt a subtle shift in the air, a faint tingling sensation that seemed to emanate from the terminal.

"Keep going," Da Vinci urged softly. "You're doing great."

Batman concentrated harder, channeling more mana into the terminal. And then, suddenly, he felt it—a surge of energy, like a jolt of electricity coursing through his veins. The holographic interface flickered and then sprang to life, displaying a myriad of data and information.

Opening his eyes, Batman stared at the interface in awe, a sense of accomplishment swelling within him. Da Vinci's hand still clasped his own, her touch grounding him in the moment.

"See?" she said, her voice filled with pride. "You did it."

Batman couldn't help but stare towards Da Vinci

As they stood there together, their hands still intertwined before he took his off and decided that they needed to get their work done.

Da Vinci's voice broke the silence, drawing his attention.

"In the equipment delivered via the, heh, “Batwing” , there was also a mystic code container meant for you," she stated. Her tone was laced with curiosity as she gauged his reaction. "It was probably a gift from one of our allies," she continued. She waited for his response, her expression expectant.

Bruce, displaying near-superhuman skill and discipline, showed no visible reaction outwardly, though inwardly he felt a mixture of relief and irritation. He wasn't surprised that Zatanna's magecraft could tamper with his technology so casually, but he was irritated by the security risk it posed. He was determined to correct this oversight. Resolving to correct this mistake later, he immediately turned his attention to the container.

At first, it appeared as a simple black container adorned with arcane writings scribbled all over it. Recognizing it as a storage device used by Zatanna, Batman reached out to touch it, his gloved hand making contact with the smooth surface. In an instant, he was overwhelmed by a vision—a flood of images and sensations that filled his mind to capacity as the container transformed before his eyes, morphing into a large vanta-black cube with ethereal stars floating over its surface. It resembled a cube made of the milky way night sky. Unknown to him, Da Vinci stared as she realized the "stars" were actually glowing symbols, each containing ... something. She quickly stepped back, trying to comprehend what she was witnessing.

Infinite stars filled his sight, each one holding untold secrets and mysteries. Some burned brightly, while others flickered in the darkness. It was a breathtaking sight, but also a disorienting one, as Batman struggled to make sense of the overwhelming sensory input.

As the vision faded, the container dissolved into the command seals into Batman's hand, leaving behind a message from Zatanna. She explained that she had stored information from her father's diary, along with a fraction of her family's magical power to specifically enhance the command seals' abilities for the Holy Grail War.

"Just in case" she said.

She had also included a few preset spells and cantrips in the form of luck charms crafted by both Zataras.

Hmm.

He'll make his own luck.

Taking a moment to process the information, Batman turned his attention to Da Vinci, who was watching him with a playful glint in her eye. He couldn't help but notice her strange attire—far removed from the modern clothing he was accustomed to. It was clear she would need a new set of clothes to fit in.

Wordlessly, he rummaged through his backpack and retrieved a white compression shirt and a pair of blue pants, handing them to Da Vinci with a nod. She accepted them with a grateful smile, through her eyes sparkled with curiosity. He quickly turned around, without a word or a glance back. Da Vinci watched him for a second as she raised an eyebrow, before she shrugged and she put on the shirt and pants.

Da Vinci, after putting on the clothes, couldn't help but smirk. "A true gentleman, providing a lady with garments and protecting her modesty. I must admit, you're not all scowls and gadgets."

Ignoring her banter, Batman refocused on the task at hand. He knew that Zatanna's contribution, while unexpected, could prove invaluable in the battles to come.

*****

Being in a Buddhist temple was a familiar experience. The smell of incense and the chanting of monks almost comforted him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath absorbing the atmosphere.

The air around Ryuudou Temple carried a serene tranquility as he and "Mona" strolled through its grounds, posing as tourists. While Bruce maintained the facade of an affluent visitor casually exploring the spiritual sights... Da Vinci was genuinely captivated by the architecture, the intricate details, and the magical atmosphere. Da Vinci was in awe of the temple's beauty and was in awe of how much time and effort must have gone into creating it. She was particularly fascinated by the intricate carvings on the temple walls.

As they approached the temple's main area, Da Vinci spotted the head monk and couldn't resist the opportunity to engage in conversation. She approached with genuine interest, eager to learn more about the temple's history and significance.

And now here they stand, facing the head monk.

"You've requested to stay at our temple for a time. May I inquire about the reasons both of you have decided to join us?" he asked, a kind smile on his face.

"We..."

"We would like to hold our ceremony here," Da Vinci stated, causing him to internally flinch. A good cover story, but annoying. And Da Vinci had said it naturally.

Ah, now this will be interesting. Let's see how our stoic, brooding hero handles a little detour from the script.

"Marriage?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, obviously skeptical. "I don't think you should rush into things. You..." He felt Da Vinci draw a tiny fraction of his mana as the priest's eyes briefly glazed over.

He had to prevent himself from reacting in reflex.

"You need to comprehend that marriage is a significant commitment," he continued, the momentary alteration in his state lasting less than a blink. "Please take your time and deeply reflect on your connection. I hope your stay will bring you closer to each other and to enlightenment. Reikan, my son, will show you to your rooms."

A young man entered the room after being called, and following a brief explanation of the situation, he nodded and guided us to our designated quarters. Before leaving, we both bowed to the head priest, grateful for the opportunity.

Despite all their investigations and wariness they do not find any suspicions.. +

They.

Did.

Not.

Find.

Anything.

"There's nobody. Just normal monks, no magic, no magi, no Servants- I can't believe it."

"Is it that hard to believe?"

"The way we came up? That's the only path a Servant can take due to a natural bounded field. Here? Thick enough energy that you could summon one now, and the Servant would remain manifested on their own even if you cut the contract. This is ridiculous."

"I'll believe you about that. Now, go on- make your connection to the leyline, then analyze everything connected to it. I don't want to explain to the monks why I'm trespassing."

"I could just hypnotize them."

".... "

"Alright, alright."

In the quiet moments that followed, Da Vinci's voice resonated in Bruce's mind. It was a startling sensation, the sudden intrusion of her thoughts breaking through the silence.

'Master, I have a request. I need you to partially release my Noble Phantasm.'

The request echoed in the vast chamber of Bruce's mind, causing a ripple of alarm. Noble Phantasms were potent and often dangerous abilities possessed by Heroic Spirits, and releasing them could carry unforeseen consequences. Batman hesitated, his mind swiftly calculating the potential risks and benefits.

As Da Vinci's request hung in the mental space between them, Batman felt a surprisingly small drain, as if only a fraction of her power was being unleashed. It was an unexpected revelation, but the caution ingrained in him remained vigilant.

For a tense moment, Batman considered his options. Evacuating Da Vinci from potential danger seemed like the logical course of action. The Command Seals in his hand tingled with the potential to teleport her to his side. Yet, as he pondered this, Da Vinci's voice resounded once more, her thoughts reaching out.

'Come to me, Master. Take the temple stairs, navigate the forest, and find your way through the moist cave in the mountain. I'm waiting for you.'

An instinctive sense of unease crept over him, and yet curiosity mingled with tension. He decided to follow Da Vinci's guidance, the enigmatic path she laid out for him. As he made his way through the temple, the forest, and into the damp cave, the weight of anticipation clung to the air like a phantom.

"Remember how I told am a Mage?"

There only one response

"I remember you mentioning it."

His response was dry enough to make anyone who heard it thirsty.

Da Vinci continued on regardless.

"I can sense irregularities in nature. This place, the Ryoudou Temple, it is the natural foci to the whole city. All souls flow here before moving on. The leylines meet here.”

“It is the ideal spot to set up a grand ritual."

"…"

"I am guessing three to five Servants must die before the Grail can begin manifesting, but if it will- this is one of four possible locations where such a thing will happen."

"That sounds like an advantage."

"It is. But- something is amiss."

"…"

"You're sounding ominous."

"Hm. I believe something ominous is afoot with the grail, is all."

…He should have known

"What would that mean for us?"

" More study of course, you’re already providing my wish. Besides that, I am doubtful the ritual is beyond my ability to destroy, once the grail manifests, so- the worst case, so long as we are victorious, is not getting a wish."

"Then-" Da Vinci closed her eyes. "You would just disappear."

"Yes."

It would be for the best.

“Academic Curiosity”

…

Damn it.

"Are there no other ways?"

"…To materialize us, you mean? It is not like it's impossible in other ways.."

He ignored the sound of enthusiasm in her voice.

"What other ways?"

"Enough raw mana. For a Master of your level- seven command seals at maximum, would be what it takes to materialize."

He thought of Zatanna's gift and put that as something to note once he was absolutely sure of Da Vinc’s intentions and their … benevolence.

"Ok. We can just take seals from enemy Masters?"

"Normally, the grail recollects them. I can make sure it doesn't if I can get my hands on a Master, however."

Bruce nodded. "'Materialized', would that affect combat abilities at all?"

“Cost would sharply drop."

“Hmm.”

He had a game plan.

Capture Kiritsugu Emiya and shut down this entire operation if need be.

Chapter 8: Chapter 6 - Calm Before...

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Chapter 7: The Storm ...

Chapter Text

He was somewhere else.

A dark abyss.

Perception was warped and distorted, almost zooming in and zooming out to the point of incoherence. The void seemed to stretch on forever, with no end in sight. The darkness felt oppressive. All that existed was an endless void, a place of despair and hopelessness.

The other sects thought of it as a shell shaped like one. Ancient beyond belief. Shards of crystalized space split where it's been ripped up, revealing imaginary space and cosmic ooze poking through.

He was so small that he could barely see the possible curvature. If it had one. Maybe even bigger. He could feel its immense power, like a force pulling and pushing him.

The space felt like it was made of a smooth material, crystalline in nature as it reflected the fractals of what is perceived as reality.

He couldn't look at himself. Not a mana-shaped facsimile of a body here. Stripped of even a nervous system, strapped in place. Just his spirit core.

Like a diagram of a brain on a pike, it was a winding of magic circuits and ether stretched out across in the shape of a man I'm an exploded view

It was –

It was grotesque.

The most grotesque thing among even in his memories as an Hassan he ever saw.

To some of his personalities, it was horrific.

From the more academic personalities it was fascinating.

Streams of magical power roiled off it, stretching up into a tree that resembled electrical signals. The mystical programming unspools, developing itself, expanding. The signals grow more and more complex, more and more layered that keep buzzing.

Where is it here?

What do you want?

Why did you build this?

What went wrong?

Where is everything?

The memories of loss, of pain, of the desire to be the one that kept him from dwindling down into nothing.

After a heartbeat, he gets the impression of a woman smiling at you. The impression of another apathetically studying him.

*****

Kirei Kotomine was the son of Risei Kotomine, as a gift for a pilgrimage.

Kirei.

A word of prayer, as Risei named him such so that he would grow up to be pure and beautiful.

He made sure to raise Kirei with a strong sense of virtue and purpose, preparing him for a life of greatness.

Risei believed that the power of prayer could grant his son the qualities he sought. He worked hard to teach Kirei the importance of hard work and humility, and to remind him that no matter what comes his way, he should always strive to do what is right.

He grew up according to Risei's expectations, showing morals and good sense from a young age, and was insightful enough to seem precocious to others. He has been actively involved with the Church since his youth, and he often accompanied his father to holy grounds. He worked diligently as an Executor-in-training from an early age, and he was once chosen as an Executor around the age of ten.

So it could be said that he had a head for strategy at least at the most basic level.

He was still reeling from what he had seen, though the confusion was more strategic than just pure bewilderment.

As per the last images that he gained through the eyes of one of the many personalities of his Assassin Servant flashed through his consciousness before he lost it no matter how much he tried to 'reconnect', he meticulously analyzed the events, searching for any possible insights that could shed light on what had occurred.

Daring maneuvers and calculated strikes, what would be considered blatantly superhuman physical prowess and agility, powerful magecraft and pure skill ? Supernatural senses of Proprioception for other bodies ? Or perhaps a combination of all the above? Whatever it is, in any other situation, for any other person, it would have been a sight to behold.

For him and his situation it was dangerous.

But as Kirei delved deeper into what he could of his Servant(s) memories, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. There were gaps in the information, moments when Assassin's vision of his target had been obscured.

Despite how much the situation should have caused him frustration, Kirei remained calm and composed, piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered. He pondered the implications, considering the possibility that he was either a more reckless Master who had a Servant of his own granting him supernatural abilities and strength, a random spellcaster or (based on what he had just seen) more than just a mere mortal.

As Kirei prepared to report his findings to his father, Risei Kotomine, and his mentor, Tokiomi Tohsaka, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this enigmatic figure than meets the eye.

In the dimly lit study, Kirei stood with a stoic expression. As he recounted the events of the previous night, his words held a measured tone.

"Father, Master," Kirei began, his voice steady. "Last night, one of the many aspects of my Servant, encountered a mysterious individual during his reconnaissance mission in Fuyuki"

Risei listened intently, his face a mask of serene composure as he absorbed Kirei's report. There was a subtle curiosity in his gaze, tempered by the wisdom of years as he explained how some in a Batsuit galavanting on the rooftops somehow detected his Servant despite their supernatural stealth*He fought off and permanently took down numerous shades of them with a single wide ranging attack and disappeared with one.

Kirei's lips twitched imperceptibly, a fleeting moment of satisfaction flickering across his face before he reined in his emotions.

"From what the other aspects of Assassin observed from the shadows, this figure displayed remarkable agility and combat prowess," Kirei continued, his voice tinged ... with a hint of intrigue? "He moved with grace and precision that surpassed that of any ordinary man, evading detection."

Risei nodded thoughtfully, processing the information.

Tokiomi, who had been listening quietly, interjected with a note of skepticism. "It seems you have encountered a formidable adversary, Kirei," he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of doubt. "But could it not be a Servant with exceptional abilities?"

Kirei considered Tokiomi's words carefully, weighing the possibilities in his mind. "It is possible," he conceded, his expression impassive. "The manner in which this individual conducted himself suggests a level of proficiency beyond that of ordinary magic. His movements were calculated, precise, almost... mechanical. But he did not have the presence of one."

"After a moment of reflection," Risei continued, "We should consider contacting the Order of Saint Dumas. I believe their expertise in dealing with the more... "beign" supernatural threats may prove invaluable in this matter."

The Order of Saint Dumas.

A subdivision of the Knights Templar, for their participation in the Crusades for the Holy Land and their success in comparison to their fellows.

Founded in the 13th century by a French knight named Dumas, who claimed to have received divine visions from God. The Order's core belief revolves around the idea that they are the chosen instruments of God, tasked with carrying out his will on Earth. Their mission is to cleanse the world of sin and corruption through violence and terror.

Holy warriors, justified in their actions due to their divine mission.

The prototype Executors of The Church.

They have been silent for a long while but they may still have some clue.

After that report, he spent time researching. It only got all consuming when he received a response from the Order.

Tokiomi has not yet left the basem*nt workshop. Kirei, being the sole occupant of the otherwise empty living room, began to thoroughly read through the report regarding the man dressed as a nocturnal mammal and the latest opponent that seemed to be making his way here, Kiritsugu Emiya.

His thoughts on this "Batman" and his potential involvement in The Holy Grail War, his mind became a whirlwind of analysis and speculation.

A vigilante shrouded in mystery, a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness. His fifteen-year crusade against crime has left an indelible mark on the American Gotham City, his actions both feared and revered by its citizens.

Batman's methods are unorthodox, his tactics unpredictable, yet there is an undeniable efficiency to his approach. He has faced formidable adversaries and emerged victorious time and time again, a testament to his skill and resourcefulness.

And then there is his association with Jason Blood.

A known entity to the Church, a ... man with great power and knowledge, his presence only adds to the enigma surrounding Batman. What secrets do they share, and how do they factor into why he is involved in The Holy Grail War?

As a devout member of the Church, Kirei was well-versed in the occult and the existence of beings beyond the realm of human understanding. The mere mention of Jason Blood, a man intertwined with the demon Etrigan, sparked a flicker of recognition in Kirei's mind. If Batman had indeed crossed paths with such individuals, it hinted at a deeper, more sinister aspect to his crusade.

But despite the tantalizing -stop- possibilities of such a thing, Kirei remained cautious. He knew better than to take anything at face value

What was his agenda?

A variable that cannot easily be quantified or controlled with so little known.

He didn't understand why he had such an intense interest in this. Perhaps it's because he derives some sort of feeling of pleasure from the loathing and irritation placed on his teacher Tokiomi.

The relationship between teacher and student maintained for three years in this house has always had a sense of satire about it.

Leading a long, pious life in the church, yet ending up with nothing in return; because of that, Kirei bet all his hopes on the new study which has exact opposite values to that of the church, that is all. But the result was a complete disaster. In the world of pursuing magecraft, Kirei did not find any enjoyment, nor did he gain anything.

Tokiomi doesn't seem to have noticed Kirei's disappointment at all. Tokiomi's appraisal of and trust in Kirei is exactly the same as Risei's.

He thought, maybe this Batman or Emiya Kiritsugu exists on 'the other side of the line.'.

Tokiomi's more cautious attitude against Emiya Kiritsugu than the Batman seemed to be purely against his title of 'Magus Killer', so this investigation report created at the request of Tokiomi focused on 'his personal history of battles against magi'. Any other record not on this topic was rather simplistic.

But, looking at this man Kiritsugu's experiences in chronological order, Kirei began to gradually gain a belief.

This man's actions contain a high level of risk.

In the era of freelancing assassination before he was taken in by the Einzberns as their son-in-law, Kiritsugu expertly completed countless missions. But the pause between missions was clearly too short. Considering the time he has for preparing and accepting missions, the only possible conclusion is that he is simultaneously executing several plans. And these plans are all parallel; he appears in the conflicts of various areas, and always when the conflict is the most heated, at the point of destruction.

Similar, yet different, to the earlier person of interest. An all encompassing drive.

As if he was suicidal, as if he had some sort of sickness driving him... the principle behind his actions is clearly self-destruction.

Then what do they seek?

"..."

Unconsciously, Kirei put the report aside, propped his lower jaw on his hand, and sank into deep thought.

For now, until the "Mage Killer" made his way , he would focus on the … "Batman".

*****

"The latest report from the 'Clock Tower.' The 'prodigy' Lord El-Melloi seems to have obtained a lost relic for some time. If that's the case, then it is confirmed that he will be participating. Hmph, this is truly a thorny opponent. So it's clear, there are now five known Masters including myself..."

"It really makes me worry that there's still two positions unknown, even now."

"Why, it simply means that there were no suitable bearers for the Command Seals. When time is running out, the Grail would randomly fill the seven slots regardless of quality. For the sake of having enough people, there should be two small characters. There's no need to be alert."

That's really suited to Tokiomi's optimism. Having been his student for three years, Kirei now understands his master very well. Although he's very thorough in preparation, he has a habit of missing small details once in action, and taking care of these small details in his stead is probably his responsibility; Kirei has long since understood this.

"But speaking of being careful - Kirei, nobody saw you as you entered this house, right? In appearance, we're already enemies."

"No need to worry. Regardless of being able to see or not, there are no familiars or spells surveying this house. I —"

"— I guarantee that."

The voice of the third person cut in and, at the same time, a black shadow appeared beside Kirei.

The Servant "Assassin" who made a contract with Kotomine Kirei — Hassan-i Sabbāh.

And then Kirei said,

"As soon as a Grail-summoned Heroic Spirit appears, no matter which Class it belongs to, it would definitely be reported to father accurately and without error."

Father Risei was the supervisor of Heaven's Feel, appointed as the head priest of and dispatched to the Fuyuki Church. Currently, he is in possession of a magical device known as the "spirit board." It has the function of displaying the attributes of the Heroic Spirits summoned by the Grail.

The identity of Masters can only be confirmed by reports from people, but the quantity and Class of appearing Servants, no matter where they are summoned, will definitely be displayed on the "spirit board," to grant the supervisor better control of the situation.

"According to my father, All Servants have been summoned so far."

Compared to the three imperial families, the advantage of foreign magi is that their place of concealment is unknown to others. Because of this, during the early stages of Heaven's Feel, no matter what family it is, they will use spies for reconnaissance.

It's not like Kirei distrusts Tokiomi's information network, it's just that they have to be on guard for the possibility that the remaining two mystery Masters are using wise measures to conceal themselves. If facing an opponent with this kind of strategy, Kirei's Servant Assassin can utilize his powers to the greatest limit.

"You may leave. Assassin, continue keeping watch outside. Be very cautious."

"Understood."

Receiving Kirei's command, Assassin once again assumed spirit form and left the room before he did as well.

As he stood amidst the organized clutter of his basem*nt workshop, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of his arcane experiments. The flickering light of the archaic lab equipment cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the atmosphere of quiet contemplation that permeated the room. He was lost in his own thoughts, his thoughts drifting back to the past and the successes he had achieved. He felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, knowing that his hard work had paid off. He was content to sit in his workshop, content in his work.

First, let Kirei's Assassin go around thoroughly investigating the battle strategy of other Masters and their Servants' weaknesses. After obtaining a method of certain victory against each enemy in this manner, Tokiomi's Servant will then be used to defeat each one accordingly.

Originally of humankind but separated from the mortal plane. Elevated to the level of elementals through powers not of men. The place where the supernatural primates gathered… from the Throne of Heroes that had its power of the Gods suppressed, the Heroic Spirits weaved from the dreams of countless ordinary men descended on the earth at the same time.

He could not help but smirk.

The Servant he summoned would certainly be advantageous against all enemies. If it is a Heroic Spirit, then it will have no chance of victory against him.

Despite his student's report, it was inconsequential, as even if it was a case of powerful magecraft or a Servant, it would be nothing against the might of Gilgamesh.

Even if he was summoned in the Archer Class.

He had more immediate concerns as of now.

Fuyuki, the capital city of Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, has a diverse and thriving business and economic sector. It was known for its significant industries such as shipbuilding, manufacturing, and trading, supported by its excellent harbor, transportation system, and robust infrastructure. The city's strong presence in international trade and its network of highways, railways, and an international airport facilitated the efficient movement of goods and people, contributing to its strong economic ties with other major global trading hubs.

And as of recently, the real estate market was quite active with one name responsible. His attention was drawn to a particular piece of news that had caught his interest - rumors of Bruce Wayne purchasing large tracts of land in Fuyuki. The name struck a chord with Tokiomi within him.

He couldn't help but notice the signs of change that were beginning to take shape in the city.

"A Wayne," Tokiomi mused to himself, his lips curling into a faint frown.

*****

Their minds were filled with frustration and humiliation. They had suffered a loss right at the start in their pursuit of the Grail, and their master's lack of ambition only added to their sense of hopelessness. They were condemned to the fate of mere observation, unable to fulfill their true desires.

As they received new orders to stalk their latest opponent, the elusive "Batman", Hundred Faces felt that they had a chance for redemption and a way to let off some frustration. By rectifying their loss to what shouldn't have been an adversary, they could prove their worth and mayhaps gain some knowledge of his ability to use it to their advantage.

Hundred Faces would first gather intelligence on their patterns and routines, studying his every move from a safe distance. Mapping out his nocturnal activities, and identifying potential weaknesses to exploit. Then, with this information, Hundred Faces aimed to devise a calculated strategy to confront Batman, seeking both revenge and a chance at redemption.

That was the plan.

That plan fell apart quite quickly.

For days on every hour in the night, they would disappear the very second they were in Hassan's sight no matter how far, how many or how little he had gone about galavanting across the rooftops.

When they would observe with no intention of movement , they would still disappear. When they thought that if they moved at counterpoint vantages that would be impractical for most humans, he would still disappear.

He would move away whenever they thought of a pincer movement, he would go on ground or possibly underground, whenever they surrounded the rooftops and avoided whatever shadows they hid despite their Presence Concealment.

It became clear that this "Batman" was not an adversary to be underestimated.

Hundred Faces had realized that they would need to reassess their approach and devise a new strategy if they ever hoped to achieve their goals and escape their fate of mere observation.

Despite their efforts to uncover weaknesses, Batman seemed to anticipate their every move, leaving Hundred Faces feeling more frustrated and humiliated.

The rare encounters between Batman and Hundred Faces that occurred, the rare intercede in physical interaction between, when they used less bodies to push their physical capabilities to catch up and he did not disappear played out like a carefully choreographed dance in the darkness of the night. Gymnastic and acrobatic movements to, over and beside rooftops and buildings.

They could not help but stare as with the dim glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of neon signs as Batman raced across the rooftops his cape billowed behind him as he pushed his body to its limits, accelerating to speeds that would make even the fastest cars jealous. With each leap, the rush of wind against any that were behind before they made a mighty leap turn gilded as he launched himself into the air, his cape unfurling behind him like a pair of wings.

Even as their supernatural abilities allowed them to match Batman move for move, they couldn't help but admit that it was impressive. As he glided between the towering skyscrapers, the whistle of super-fast dirks whizzed past him, each one an increasing close evasion. But he felt his altitude begin to wane.

Just when it seemed like all was at hand, with a flick of his wrist, he fired the device, the steel cable whistling through the air as it latched onto a nearby rooftop and with a sudden jolt, Batman hurtled upwards and as he reached the apex of his ascent, with lightning-fast reflexes, he twisted his body mid-air, lashing out with a powerful kick that sent one of the Assassins tumbling to the ground below.

And with the mana that infused it it made a connection.

But his moment of respite was short-lived as the Assassins closed in, launching a barrage of deadly projectiles in his direction. Batman dodged and weaved through every little nick and cut. Only ... Batman executed a series of calculated acrobatic maneuvers, seamlessly blending dodges, rolls, and spins that could in no way be reflex. Every movement was purposeful and precise, allowing him to evade deadly projectiles.

Only for a return fire in one direction in between the dodges.

Both adversaries moved, with dirks and ... mana infused bat-shaped shurikens (?) flew through the air, cutting the air through a combination of skill, technique, sheer strength and mystic might.

If they did not deflect off each other based on lower strength and more skill, they would shatter the other and cause a mana explosion that blew the rest away.

Despite Hundred Faces' best efforts to ambush Batman, they found themselves repeatedly thwarted by the vigilante's seemingly preternatural ability to anticipate their moves.

Surveillance did not work.

Outright attacks were avoided, deflected or predicted.

How?

How?

HOW?

Before it could be excused as it was mighty magecraft and large area based attacks that luck reached them.

This is ...

No more.

Reaching deep within, they brought their numbers to bear.

Attrition it was.

A launch of a dozen dirks and as he dodged those and the attempted tackle that followed they continued their pursuit.

They realized that attrition was their best chance at overwhelming the vigilante and forcing him into a vulnerable position. With a coordinated launch of dirks and a relentless pursuit, they hoped to finally gain the upper hand in their relentless pursuit of revenge and redemption.

They would not stop.

They would NOT stop.

And it worked!

He would slow down here and there.

He would nearly slip.

A nick here. A nick there that bled off all momentum due to their strength. Each nick and cut inflicted by Hundred Faces drained him of his energy, causing him to slow down and stumble.

As soon as they made it to the top of a high rise they almost surrounded him.

As night wore on and dawn approached, when it seemed that their relentless pursuit began to wear down their opponent in terms of sheer stamina, the first light of day was breaking over the horizon.

They soon realized how exposed they were.

Even if they could kill him, Hassan must never be seen. An Assassin of the Hassan must never be caught. As a Servant for their Master plan to succeed they could not expose their ability,and as they faded away the Batman disappeared into the shadows, leaving Hundred Faces to ponder their failure.

They have shown physical superiority and they were not the one wounded this time but it was on just.

And what assassin worth his ilk betted on their combat prowess and their target still was not dead?

*****

Gotham City

He almost signed at how the boardroom table was almost encompassed with men heads full of gray hair. Some of these men were decades older than him. He was one of the youngest people in the room. He couldn't help but feel that the hippies might be right about old men in power. He looked down at the paper in front of him and took a deep breath.

It could also just be his (hidden) annoyance at having to deal with them.

As the board members situated themselves at the table, an occasional glance in the direction of where Bruce would normally be as they did so, they kept up their conversation until Lucius Fox headed for the head of the table, taking a seat there.

He cleared his throat and said, "It's a pleasure to have you all here." The board members were silent as they waited for what Lucius had to say. He cleared his throat again and said, "Unfortunately, Bruce won't be joining us today as he is still settling business aboard." He slowly looked at them before he continued, "In his absence, I will handle any issues that may arise," he said. The board nodded in agreement, and they moved on to the meeting.

In front of his seat with him was a stack of folders, one of which lay in front of him wide open. "First thing I would like to discuss today is the current Wayne Aerospace project, WE#52. According to the brief I have, we're about to miss a deadline and we're over-budget. I want to know what's going on."

Immediately, a man sitting a couple of seats ahead spoke up. "We've encountered complications with the cooling system. The propulsion systems and computers are running too hot and require a much larger coolant injection mechanism than we are physically able to use."

Fox looked at the file before him. "So there's a problem with the propulsion. Have you figured out where it is?"

"We're running diagnostics on the circuitry," the board member replied. "The problem doesn't seem to be there nor in the programs. We'll be checking the air vents next."

"So you're not sure," Fox summed up. "Unacceptable." The coldness in it was just as abrupt.

The man shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Unless we consider increasing the size of the engine so we can just upgrade to the larger coolant pump, we're stuck at this crawl."

"But if we enlarge the engine, we'll have to rebuild it from scratch and go further beyond the budget."

"That's the only choice we have at the moment and while I would rather not have to rebuild the entire thing, it does have to be an option."

Fox grimaced before flipping the folder shut. "Find the problem and fix it quickly. You have until the end of the week; any further and we'll have no more time to further develop it."

Lifting another file from the pile, Fox opened it and scanned it quickly before saying, "Next is Lexcorp. I believe the latest proposal leaves much to be desired. According to my briefing, Luthor is still aggressively pushing this and is willing to sweeten the deal for us."

"We are doing too well with Applied Sciences to consider selling," one of the members said, an old man that looked as if he were on the verge of collapsing.

"They have nothing to offer us," the man continued, "and they've always had a history of shady accounting practices."

"They still hold some prospective accounts we can't look away from," a rather attractive woman interjected. As if to say that the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors wasn't completely full of old fossils. "It would give us some insight into their finances and a profitable sum."

"Bruce Wayne doesn't want anything to do with us," the old man retorted snidely. "He hasn't since that failed energy project in Metropolis." At this he paused before looking down the table at him. "No offense."

Lucius nonchalantly waved it off. "None taken."

"Need I remind you? We missed a chance at obtaining some lucrative opportunities when Pan Am went down," the woman pressed. "We shouldn't miss this opportunity again."

"I say we at least look at their new proposal," another, much younger man voiced.

"...," Fox stayed silent. "A vote will be held next week, so I strongly encourage all members to look over the proposal closely." Once more, he flipped the file shut and set it away. Reaching for the next folder, he opened it, glanced at it,paused for a noticeable amount of time and then said, "Our next order of business are some interesting projects Mr. Wayne has sent over."

*****

As Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi strode through the opulent halls of the Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel, his finely tailored coat billowing behind him, his expression was one of barely contained annoyance.

His participation in the War was merely to increase his own prominence within the Mage's Association. His base of operations at the Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel is on the hotel's thirty-second floor and protected by twenty-four layers of bounded barriers, a countless amount of summoned monsters, various traps, and mystical spatial alterations in the lobby.

It was bad enough that he had been forced to attend this insipid gathering of mages and nobles, but now he discovered that this hotel's accommodations had been under the control of none other than the upstart Bruce Wayne.

The Lord of the Department of Mineralogy at the Clock Tower, and a lecturer in the Department of Spiritual Evocation. He was the youngest lecturer to grace the podium of the Department of Evocation in its history. He has an ancient magical lineage that goes back over nine generations.

He obtained the rank of Pride in his teens, and was the youngest person to ever reach the rank of Brand. Although the El-Melloi faction has many powerful branch families besides the Archibalds, Kayneth swept aside the competition and inherited the El-Melloi Magic Crest.

The audacity of it all!

Kayneth almost seathed with indignation before he gave a disdainful snort. He considered the more pressing concerns.

Such as the mage located in the dock.

Storming in with his Servant was certainly tempting, but he knew that such a display would only serve to undermine his image. No, he would have to handle this situation with ... finesse.

Turning on his heels, his mind was already racing with ideas for his new venue. He knew that the docks held potential dangers of their own, with rival mages and unknown variables lurking in the shadows.

But Kayneth was not one to shy away from a challenge. If anything, the prospect of facing off against skilled opponents to defeat only fueled his determination.

When the familiars he sent reached the docks, Kayneth had surveyed the scene before him with a sense of grim satisfaction believing that, yes, this would do nicely, it was only to barely notice flutians in the mana in the area.

And the cautious investigation into the source of the mana, Kayneth was confident that whatever was causing the local increase in the area would prove to be of use for another magus' plans.

He'd have to work through his familair's - Lancer's ability to avoid his personal harm.

Certainly, heroic spirits who are called by the Holy Grail as Servants, would form any contract in order to participate in the War.

As heroic spirits or not, they are expected to have a reason for seeking the it. Because they have wishes they have charged to it, they submit to their own Masters, and dash forward together to receive the blessings of the Holy Grail.

Because of that, a Servant's Master would face the summoned heroic spirit and start by asking for his wish. What he wished for to seek , why he had responded to his summon and appeared. As long as those reasons were not cleared up, their relationship would not work out. This is because, by any chance, if their respective wishes are totally contradictory, he may go through a painful betrayal once they acquire the Holy Grail.

Naturally, Kayneth had already asked Diarmuid about his wishes earlier on. Along with whether or not he wanted to do anything in the event that they managed to procure the Holy Grail.

Nevertheless, the heroic spirit did not answer.

No, that is not correct. Diarmuid did not refuse to reply. Just that he denied the question itself.

In other words, "he was not seeking the Holy Grail".

Repayments are not necessary. To merely devote his loyalty to his summoner who is his Master in this life, to fulfill his honor as a knight.

That is his only wish.

He could not understand.

For a person who was renowned enough to be a heroic spirit to abandon his pride and be the familiar of a human being, it doesn't add up if he did not have a great reason as well. It did not turn out to be "free service" or other jokes.

Yet, no matter how skillfully he tried to question him, stubbornly, Lancer did not take back his previous answer.

"If I can fulfill my honor as a knight, that would be good enough. I will cede the wishing machine, the Holy Grail to the Master alone."

All the time, with persistence, Lancer continued to refuse the Holy Grail.

...If he were to reflect on it, it is possible that since that time, he started to feel distrust towards the Servant he contracted with.

It is impossible for a Servant not to seek the Holy Grail.

If that's the case, Lancer's answer was definitely an obvious lie. His true intentions were definitely hidden.

That's fine as well, he thought.

In Kayneth's hands are the Command Spells.

As long as he has this absolute commanding authority, Diarmuid's betrayal is impossible. Servants are after all, just tools, no different from ordinary machines. It is not a problem for something like a tool to have anything bad hidden within its heart. If it can carry out its functions perfectly, then that is good enough. That was Kayneth's decision until yesterday night.

He covers up his doubt with "well I'll just treat him like a tool." But as the situation becomes worse and worse, he considers Diarmuid more and more as a rival for Sola. Kayneth became threatened by Diarmuid as a person until he made this realization.

"If you are dissatisfied, then try using that pride and honor of which you speak to withstand my Command Seals—hm, no match? This then is your true ability. The spirit and fortitude of which you speak are not even worth mentioning in the presence of Command Seals. Those are the real tricks of puppets such as Servants, then."

"... Kayneth... sir..."

Facing Kayneth who was loudly mocking him, Lancer weakly lowered his head, unable to make any sort of rebuttal. The previous majesty of brandishing the twin lances in the presence of warlords had long since vanished without a trace; whether from weakly slumped shoulders, or the unfocused eyes staring at the ground, it was impossible to see any trace of heroism.

Looking at his miserable likeness, Kayneth finally felt that he had vented all the grievances he had been continuously accumulating, and felt slightly relieved.

Perhaps up till now, Kayneth had finally been able to establish his ideal master-servant relationship with this Heroic Spirit. Though it was somewhat late; he should have been able to, at an earlier time—preferably immediately after summoning—completely strike down his pride. If this had been done earlier, this presumptuous Servant would probably not have had other intentions, and served him compliantly.

*****

"Assassin― has been killed?"

Disappointed by how quickly it had ended, Waver Velvet opened his eyes.

Until a moment ago, he was spying over the complete turn of the scene at the Tohsaka mansion, and his vision now returned to the room he has gotten used to ― on the second floor of the house of the old couple he lived with like a parasite. The image that was behind his eyelids until just then was coming from the vision of a rat familiar.

"Hey Rider, here's something new. There has been one loss."

The giant, despite being called, was lying there on the floor, and only responded with an "Hmf" devoid of motivation, not even turning around.

"..."

He had been doing nothing but resting his pained muscles all day in his room ―strictly speaking, that was someone else's room, but let's put that detail aside― but Waver couldn't settle down. Even though he had ordered him to go back to spirit form when he wasn't doing anything, Rider had refused, saying he felt "more comfortable in materialized form", and so he has been showing off his giant body all this time. Just dragging on the materialization means a large prana loss for the Master to supply to his Servant; that isn't too much of a problem for Waver, but in those circ*mstances, Rider is quite unmindful.

Harder to forgive was what Rider was doing while spending Waver's prana, which was... well, nothing, in fact.

Even with Waver scornful, he was just resting, relaxed, nonchalantly picking around in a dish and watching a rental video. Can you believe that Servant?

"Hey, did you hear me? Assassin has got done. Heaven's Feel is starting!"

"Hmm."

"... Hey!"

As Waver was raising his voice with excitement, Rider finally turned around half of his body.

"Yeah, what about some assassin guy? A rat in hiding is not much of an enemy."

"..."

"Anyway, boy, what's amazing is that, here."

Rider turns back to face the CTR as he speaks more heatedly. The cassette is playing "an authentic account on the flight force of the world, part 4"... With a mania for military affairs, Rider has put his hand on everything related, books, images. Of course, providing all of it is Waver's problem. Otherwise the giant Servant would walk in a library or video store, which isn't fine with the Master.

"There, that big black B2 thingy. It's wonderful. I'm thinking about buying ten of those."

"―Just go and buy a country if you have that money."

Waver spat his answer out of frustration, and Rider made a serious face, moaning "Oh yeah..."

"Of course, funds are an important matter... Maybe I should plunder a city as rich as Persepolis."

Apparently, that guy, Rider, has seriously been considered conquering the world and done research on the wars of the current era. Even the information he has received from the Grail has limits. For one, he doesn't know the price of one stealth bomber.

"For the most urgent matters, this Clinton man is a formidable enemy. He might be a stronger enemy than King Darius."

"..."

Waver has endured stomachaches ever since he has summoned that Servant. He'll have a stomach ulcer by the time they get the Grail.

Shutting the giant in front of him out of his consciousness, Waver tried to think positively.

At any rate, it was a good thing for Waver that Assassin was the first to fall. Waver is aware that his own Servant, Rider, with his battle abilities, is the type to go full frontal in a fight. With that in mind, an enemy who can plan out clever tricks is a bigger threat. And Assassin was pretty much the definition of that. An unknown Caster Servant is also a problem, but an Assassin who creeps up without revealing himself was the most direct menace.

The three main Knight classes, Saber, Lancer, Archer, then Berserker who just riots his way, are nothing to be afraid of. Rider's abilities and Noble Phantasms are enough to push them back and win. All that is left is finding out Caster's true name―

"― So, how was Assassin killed?"

Sitting up cross-legged, Rider threw a surprise attack at Waver with his sudden question.

"... Eh?"

"Yeah, the Servant who beat Assassin. Didn't you see him?"

Waver faltered. He did see him― but, just what did he see?

"Must be that Tohsaka Servant... I guess. Looked strong and aggressive, showing off with a lot of shiny-goldy things. It took only an instant, so I'm not sure..."

"That's what mattered, fool."

Along with his shocked voice, something burst in the middle of Waver's eyebrows. The completely unexpected pain and the surprise made Waver fall off then tumble flat on his face.

That was Rider's middle finger. Holding it bent by the thumb then shot forward: that's a flick on the forehead. Of course, there was no strength in that. However, when it's Rider's finger, hard as the root of a pine tree, Waver's skin swelled red from the force.

Violence again. Corporal abuse again. Waver was confused between fear and frenzy, and was at a loss for words. This is the second time he is hit by his Servant. This is the second time in his whole life. Unable to breathe properly because of anger, Waver opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Ignoring how upset his Master was, Rider drew a deep, grand sigh.

"You know, if I fight, it's to win and survive. What will happen if you can't observe properly?"

"...h"

Waver didn't reply. Rider was right. He doesn't want to hear it from a Servant who does nothing but lie down, eat tea cakes, watch videos, and read, but it's true that there are enemies who can become a problem.

"Oh well, never mind. That shiny-goldy or whatever, what impression did he give you?"

"I, I told you that..."

How could he have understood anything in that instant?

For starters, the attack that sent Assassin into oblivion is probably a Noble Phantasm. Even through the eyes of the familiar, he had perceived a huge burst of prana.

Yet the number of weapons that poured down on Assassin―

"... Hey, Rider, Servants usually have just one Noble Phantasm, right?"

"Generally, yes. Sometimes, there are Heroic Spirits who manage to get two or three. I myself, for example, am one of these cases."

That's right, the night he arrived in the present world, Rider showed Waver a Noble Phantasm and said it wasn't his only trump card.

"Eh, there's no sense in considering the number of Noble Phantasms. As you must know, Noble Phantasms are the crystallization of the historical facts and anecdotes that made the Heroic Spirit famous, but that doesn't have to be a weapon; it can be a specific ability or a unique means of attacking."

"... So, throwing ten or twenty weapons at once could be a "Noble Phantasm" in itself?"

"A sword that splits in an infinite number, eh? That could happen. It has the potential of being one "Noble Phantasm", yes."

"..."

Still, what defeated Assassin is yet again something different. Waver did see through the eyes of his familiar that the weapons thrown weren't all the same. That wasn't a multiplication. Those were all unique weapons.

Could they have all been Noble Phantasms after all? That shouldn't be possible. There weren't just one or two blades flooding down on the crawling Assassin.

"Oh well, that's fine, we'll know when we figure out the true identity of the enemy."

Laughing heartily, Rider slapped Waver, who was thinking deeply, on the back. The impact shook his spine and the small magus started choking. The blow this time wasn't humiliating, but Waver would appreciate some gentler skinship.

"Are you quite done!?"

"Good. My heart is in joy."

Rider remarked carelessly with a daring smile.

"Food and sex, sleep and war― enjoy yourself however you want. That's the secret to a man's life."

"..."

Waver couldn't find the fun in that. Or rather, he had no experience in two of those.

"Alright, let's look for some fun outside."

Cracking the muscles in the back of his neck, the giant Servant stretched largely.

"We're departing for the front. Be ready."

"The front... Where?"

"Over there of course, where else."

"That's nuts!"

Standing up and nearly reaching the ceiling, Rider looked down at Waver's angry face and smiled.

"You're not the only one who was observing the Tohsaka fort. This means Assassin's death is already known. So they'll all grow tired of looking out for an attack from the shadow, and they'll all start moving together at once. We'll find them and hunt them."

"Find and hunt... Like it'll be that simple..."

"I am Rider. I have predominance over the other Servants going by foot, you know?"

With that exaggeration, Rider drew the sword at his waist out of its scabbard. Realizing that he was about to call out that Noble Phantasm, Waver stopped him confusedly.

"Waitwaitwait! You can't do that here. You'll blow up the house!"

*****

Kiritsugu Emiya's arrival was fraught with difficulty. His every move was shadowed. As he stepped off the plane, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Watching airports and harbors, carefully harassing anyone for information, delinquents made their presence known. He knew that he couldn't afford to let his guard down for even a moment. He trusted no one and kept a close eye on everyone. He was determined to stay one step ahead of them. He was ready for anything.

As he made his way through the bustling streets of Fuyuki, Kiritsugu couldn't help but feel the weight of his burden pressing down upon him. Every face he passed seemed to scrutinize him, every passing glance filled with suspicion and mistrust.

But Kiritsugu pressed on. He knew that he had a job to do, and he would do whatever it took to see it through to the end.

Fuyuki city, Shinto

The buildings in the area planned as a business district are only 40% complete, but the maintenance of the park and shopping mall in front of the station is already done; the future plans are already done for the Shinto district to be clean and sterile, pompous and with no individuality. The city hall is also being moved piece by piece to Shinto, revived with modern iron, glass, and mortar, stealing all central municipal functions from Miyama.

It is already crowded even during holidays.

In the middle of the crowd going back and forth, cowering from the northern wind, Emiya Kiritsugu disappeared, colorless and odorless, avoiding attracting any attention that looked for him.

He looked down on the paper cigarette pack he had just bought from a vending machine.

It's been 9 years since he stopped smoking. He hadn't been able to find his favorite brand in the far land of the Einzberns, but that was mainly in regard to the mother and child. Just as he came down to the Fuyuki station, preparing for battle, he had thrown a coin in the vending machine out of sheer annoyance.

Since he had come here he had had to avoid curious delinquents... who brought their friends along when he was not around.

He visited Fuyuki in reconnaissance under cover three years earlier, but the face of Shinto has completely changed since then.

Despite the slight difficulty of the transformation of the area and the worrying amount of the criminal element, Kiritsugu reached the hotel he wanted.

The lobby and the front have been arranged, but the interior is a fairly cheap business hotel. Families or wanderers, this hotel is a good harbor for quite a wide genre of users.

Acting as if he knew the place, Kiritsugu walks through the lobby up to the elevator, up to the seventh floor. This is where his faithful subordinate has been for three days, in room 73.

In the world of magi, his relationship with Hisau Maiya would be that of a pupil and a teacher.

But to Kiritsugu, who saw magecraft as a mere tool he had acquired knowledge in, and not as the object of his quest, there wasn't a single sense of master and pupil. What he has taught Maiya is merely a "way to fight". This too is only for the purpose of counting her as a "tool".

Hence his connection to Maiya is older than the one with Irisviel. Having fought at his side, Maiya knows of the blood-stained side of Kiritsugu that his wife has never seen.

As he knocked at a pre-arranged rhythm on the door of room 73, the door opened immediately as if he had been expecting. Skipping unnecessary greetings with a mere glance at each other, Kiritsugu enters the room and closes the door.

Maiya has already been involved for a while. After Kiritsugu retreated, she has arranged the preparations for the Grail War according to the instructions given by Kiritsugu from overseas, and has been busy returning to the Einzbern castle many times.

She was a beauty who used neither eyeliner nor lipstick. Her jet black, silk-like straight hair would have caught the glance of any man if not for her cold looks.

"At the Tohsaka mansion, there was some movement last night."

Maiya started by jumping straight to the point.

"Please watch the records of it. Also, all the equipment has arrived."

"Understood. First, the situation."

Nodding, Maiya switches on the decoder of the unpacked television.

Among the magecraft Kiritsugu had taught her, Maiya was particularly capable in the management of regular familiars, and Kiritsugu often entrusted her with scouting or reconnaissance missions. This time again, Kiritsugu has assigned her to the surveillance of the Matou and Tohsaka mansions.

The familiars Maiya had pride in were bats, but unlike other magi, her bats have a miniature CCD camera tied on the abdomen. Even if they had been behaving more erratically as of late.

Of course, this is an idea of Kiritsugu.

The illusions and camouflaged bounded fields of magi are often based on using suggestions on an observer, but that sort of thing often forgets about electronic-based countermeasures. Video records are also helpful for re-watching, so even considering it slows down the familiar the joint use of cameras is a viable solution.

The whole scene of the previous night is replayed on the 13 inch CTR. The blurred image is enough to understand the whole event. Without raising an eyebrow, Kiritsugu watches the Servant with a skull mask unable to escape annihilation from the golden Servant.

The white mask of the defeated Servant is without a doubt of the Assassin class.

"What do you make of it?"

"I think it is going too well."

Maiya replied immediately to Kiritsugu's question.

"The time lag between the Assassin's materialization and the attack of Tohsaka's Servant is too short. He was waiting for him. I could accept that he might have detected an intruder in spirit form, but his opponent is an Assassin with the Presence Concealment ability. ... I wonder if Tohsaka wasn't aware of the invasion prior to it."

Kiritsugu nodded.

"The more I think of it, the more it seems like an arrangement. Why did Tohsaka expose his Servant like that if he had such a margin?"

The Tohsaka family has obviously accumulated experience from the second and third Grail fights. There is no way they don't know the other Masters would be observing the Tohsaka mansion.

Last night, Tohsaka left two clues to the other Masters, being what his Servant looks like, as well as showing a method that looks like a Noble Phantasm. Neither were enough to definitely identify the Servant, but that was a risk that should have been easy to avoid. If he was to bring down the Assassin, he could have done so outside of plain view.

"Showing us something he didn't have to show us― that means he wanted to show it to us."

"Possibly. If there is any merit in doing that, then the explanation is obvious. ... Maiya, what happened to the Master of Assassin?"

"He went to the Church last night and requested the supervisor's protection. It is a man called Kotomine Kirei."

Hearing that name, Kiritsugu's eyes lit up.

"Maiya, send a familiar to the Fuyuki Church. One will be fine for now."

"... Is it alright? The Church is an area where aggression between Masters is prohibited."

He thought about ramming a oil tanker truck into the church because it could to eliminate Kirei once and for all

"Unless the priest supervisor doesn't find out. Stay at a reasonable distance. Don't overdo it. He doesn't have to know."

Maiya frowned at Kiritsugu's incomprehensible instructions.

"Must I observe the Church?"

"You can just make it 'regular patrolling'. What you must concentrate on is being absolutely not-discovered."

"... Yes, understood."

Maiya couldn't understand what Kiritsugu had in mind, but didn't question him. She at once picks one of the three bats observing the Tohsaka mansion and sends it the thought of going to the Fuyuki Church at the end of Shinto.

Kiritsugu turned off the TV, then resumed inspecting the equipment Maiya prepared.

In the various tools lined up on the sheet of the bed, awaiting Kiritsugu's check-up, there was not one a magus could find interesting. Not a single ritualistic catalyst like a dagger, cup, talisman, elixir or spiritual container. They were state-of-the-art and highly efficient, but apart from that, they were nothing but conventional weapons. Nothing that could store prana.

He quickly picked up the contender.

That was the heresy that earned the magus Emiya Kiritsugu the nickname of "magus killer."

Pulling the rim of the exposed cartridge with his fingertips from the opened chamber, he slides in a second bullet, and immediately slams the gun barrel close―

It took him two seconds. Bad thoughts dull his manipulations.

"... I've gotten rusty."

"Yes."

To Kiritsugu, murmuring in self-derision, Maiya nodded without consideration. She knew the old skills of her partner. Kiritsugu pulled the bullet he had loaded in the gun, picked up the other one he had dropped on the floor, and placed everything back in the case with the Contender.

"Ilya's body is even lighter than the Walther here. And she's already 8 years old..."

Letting free his shameful memories on his own, Kiritsugu started loosening alone. Maiya's movement, barging in behind his back, stopped his train of thought.

Agile like a snake, her hand rolled around Kiritsugu's neck, seizing the back of his head, blocking his movements, and his mouth― she took his soft, dried lips.

The taste and touch of a different woman were different from the one in his heart. Breaking off the man's homesickness, but that was too quick to be forgiven.

"... Please only focus on what's necessary for now. Don't think of what you don't need."

In a blurred voice that had traces of her usage of her tongue left, Maiya quietly commanded Kiritsugu.

"..."

Without a word, Kiritsugu felt the sensation in his chest calm down. In his heart cooling off, the pain is already vanishing away in a mist.

A supporting tool, a cog in a system, a doll whose actions are dedicated to the self proclaimed machine that is called Emiya Kiritsugu.

This is all that Hisau Maiya is.

*****

From his theoretical, and some small amount of practical knowledge he has had to accept, any mana sensitive individual's attention was stolen as an invitation was delivered.

It was an open invitation for every Servant in the Grail War.

An interesting strategy -- whoever did it must be rather confident in themselves.

Or it was a trap.

In his experience. A trap.

Most likely they knew that this territory was under enemy control and basically threw a live grenade to rat out any live mines so to speak.

It was a dock area -- shipping containers were lined up in rows. There was the lone figure that was standing in the center of the docks area, flanked by containers. He carried two spears, one long red spear, and a shorter yellow spear, both wrapped in sealing talismans.

A bounded field was up.

Hmm.

Looking at the area and the energy fluctuations with the information that he was being given on their possible effects…

Most likely an alarm system to inform the Master that set it up that someone had entered, that way their Servant wouldn't be picked off.

Smart.

Supposedly, making bounded fields was easy, but dismantling them not so much

So instead, he moved around and above the bounded field.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before another Servant entered the area.

A young, very young, European woman dressed in armor, girded for battle -- steel plates covered the long skirt that reached her ankles, thick heavy gauntlets protected her hands, and a chest piece protected her vitals. In her hands was empty air, yet she clearly held a weapon- a sword of some kind.

He detected magic from the swirling wind that masked what was most likely a sword based on that stance, but it was otherwise completely invisible via mundane means.

Interestingly, she was followed by what looked to be another blond European woman of a much, much paler complexity in hair and skin.

The situation at hand and red eyes ruled out the possibility of her being an albino, if the current association was not a clue.

"You alone have accepted my invitation, everyone else slunk back to the shadows to hide," Lancer said, much to my annoyance. "These cursed rules prevent us from honorably trading names, but based on the pure energy around you, you must be Saber, correct?"

"You must be Lancer," Saber answered without confirmation. She settled into a fighting stance just as Lancer did. "A charm spell?"

Oh?

Based on their discussion, or banter and Saber's response to the spell, most direct magecraft would be a waste of time. Zatanna's work might work if he used her gifts like a hammer but that is a hypothetical that he would not like to test with Caster's life.

A flash of movement caught his eye to which he shifted his attention.

Someone was climbing up one of the loading cranes.

No, two people were. Interesting.

A man and a woman, each wearing a suit similar to the one that Saber had back in the cafe.

I HAVE HIM.

*****

Boundary Field Creation

Magecraft that consists of knitting a network of magical energy and spreading it over a base area, such as a piece of land or a building, to create a mystic boundary line that separates the inside from the outside.

Familiarcraft.

The ability to imbue something with a piece of one's self and through that, control it. It often can be combined with other magecraft for different kinds of familiars.

At her level, she can share his senses with that of his familiars, share telepathic messages, freely move magical energy between himself and the familiars, and align the existence of familiars to sharply reduce the corrective force of the world while outside of combat.

Familiarcraft combined with Bounded Fields was very useful.

Saber and Lancer continued the exchange -- Lancer had been born with a curse that attracted women to him.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and men had killed each other for centuries over women.

Saber seemed to have brushed it off, he noted her magic resistance with that. Something that seemed to please Lancer.

"Good. It'd be a stain on my honor to kill a woman that's throwing herself at me," Lancer said with a smirk. One that Saber met with a stoic face.

"Oh? You desire a fair fight? I count myself lucky to find myself face to face with such an honorable hero," Saber said, and as soon as the words left her mouth, the tension swelled between them. Then they moved, and I only saw the clash as the entire docks seemed to tremble from their first bout. I had over a hundred eyes that were spread out across the top of the bounded field, but I could just barely follow the fight.

As he moved he spotted another figure standing on one of the buildings,on the highest loading tower.

Assassin.

She could not forget the bleached white bone mask that covered their face, and a patchwork black cloak that covered their body except for their vibrant purple hair.

All there was left were Rider, Archer, and Berserker.

She made a decision.

*****

"Lancer, kill Saber. I grant you permission to use your Noble Phantasm."

Lancer was pleased with the order and Saber seemed ready as he dropped his shorter spear, and the sealing talisman that wrapped itself around his red spear burned away. Then the two clashed, except this time, when his red spear hit Saber's sword, there was a blinding golden light as the invisible wind vanished.

This didn't stop the severe wound to her abdomen as the red spear passed through her armor like it wasn't there. A spear that bypassed magic. Then Saber made the mistake of getting rid of her armor, leaving her in a royal blue dress, and going in for the attack. She completely forgot about the yellow spear, so focused on the threat in front of her that she didn't realize that she had made a mistake until it was too late. Something that had been her undoing in her legend.

A blood-red spear that bypassed magic. A magical mole that attracted women. Those two clues told me who Lancer was -- Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Meaning that the yellow spear inflicted wounds that would not heal.

Saber darted forward, her sword Excalibur shining brightly as she made her attack, only to be forced to abandon it when Lancer kicked up the yellow spear and thrust it at her unexpectedly. Saber narrowly avoided the thrust that would have killed her, though based on the amount of blood that soaked her sleeve, she hadn't avoided an injury completely.

Only for a lighting bolt slammed into the ground between Saber and Lancer.

Lighting danced around the broken concrete floor and I heard the bellowing of bulls. Blinking away the light spots in my eyes, I saw a chariot pulled by massive bulls flying through the air. In it was the Servant Rider, for it could be no one else -- a tall man that was closer to seven feet tall than six, built like a brick sh*t house and wearing a red cloak that was the same color as the mane of hair and beard he had.

"I am Iskandar, King of Conquerors!"

Heroic spirit Alexander. Also known as Iskandar or Alexandros.

The reason he was known under several names depending on the pronunciation of the land was that he was the heroic "King of Conquerors". Succeeding to the throne of Macedonia at only 20 years old, leading ancient Greece in an invasion of Persia, then through Egypt, up to western India during the great "eastern campaigns", and reaching the success of a great hero in barely 10 years.

His height easily exceeded 2 meters. His unprotected arms and thighs spread out from his bronze armor, and from the size of the muscles all over his body he looked like he could kill a bear with his bare hands. On his sternly chiseled features there were eyes with a dazzling glow and burning red hair and beard. The thick mantle dyed in a similar red, with fringes like his cuffs, was luxuriously decorated, looking just like a curtain wrapping the stage of a theater.

Rider introduced himself loudly, throwing his hands out wide with an even wider smile on his face. Her surprise was mirrored on Saber and Lancer's faces -- and, apparently, Rider's Master who rode with him in the chariot. He was either very brave or very stupid to do that.

"Y-you idiot! What are you doing?! Your identity is supposed to be a secret! A secret!" A waif of a young man protested, but Rider ignored him in favor of focusing on me.

A merciless finger flick echoed in the night; the protesting voice died down. Rider asked with a glance to Lancer and Saber that were on either side of him.

"You slaughter each other to obtain the Grail... I want to ask you something before you engage.

I don't know what expectations you have of the Grail. But now, consider for a moment whether your wishes are even greater than the desire to possess all of earth and heaven."

Although Saber still hadn't understood what he meant, her instincts told her that those words were full of danger. Her pupils widened subconsciously.

"You – what do you want to say?"

"Hum? I was quite clear."

By then Rider had maintained his dignity, but his voice was much more gentle and amicable.

"I have descended upon the battlefield, so do you have any intention of passing the Holy Grail to me? If you forfeit your claims to the Grail, I would regard you as friends, and share with you the joy of conquering the world."

"..."

It was the first time that anyone had seen something like this. It was hard to tell whether this was a wise decision or a foolish move.

"I admire your boldness in declaring your identity just then, yet... I found it hard to agree to your proposals."

Lancer shook his head with a bitter smile, but there was no laughter in his eyes. A glare as intimidating as a sharp sword collided head-on with the scornful sideway glance of the King of Conquerors; sparks flew.

"I will lift up the Grail; that is the oath I took with the only new king of this era. The one that will hold the Grail in his hands will not be you, Rider."

"...Did you stop my duel with Lancer just to declare all that nonsense?"

Saber asked, immediately following Lancer's words. Her expression was different from that of the beautiful spearman; there wasn't any laughter to be found. Rider's suggestion was extremely irritating for someone as serious as her.

"Your joke was overdone, King of Conquerors. This is an unbearable humiliation to a knight."

Lancer and Saber both cast hostile glares towards Rider. Rider mumbled as if troubled, massaging his temples with his knuckles subconsciously at the same time. Although Rider appeared to be running out of plans, his majestic pose did not change at all. Therefore, Rider is actually someone rather rare.

"... Are you offering terms to me?"

"Enough!"

Feeling that Rider might make some attempts of flattery, Lancer and Saber simultaneously refused him. Saber continued with disappointment written on her face.

"Besides... I am also that lord that rules the kingdom of Britain. No matter what kind of a king one is, he can never bow before another lord."

"Oh? The king of Britain?"

Rider showed interest in Saber's declarations and raised his eyebrows.

"How surprising. The renowned King of Knights is actually a young girl."

" – And would you like to try the blade of that young girl, King of Conquerors?"

Saber lifted her sword as she lowered her voice. Her left hand was still powerless to hold the sword; its four fingers were just resting on the hilt. The fighting spirit that rose wavering from the blade, however, was more solemn and majestic then when she fought Lancer. Rider furrowed his brows and let out a long sigh.

"Rejected three for three? What a shame," he muttered, sounding genuinely disappointed with our refusal. What a harebrained scheme. His Master agreed, as he began to beat against Rider's side with his fists, doing exactly zero damage to him as he wailed, very unhappy with how things were going for him. It seemed that Rider was someone that only went at his own pace, forcing his Master to keep up.

Who was apparently named Waver Velvet according to Lancer's Master, "Waver Velvet," he spoke, his voice ringing out all around us. "I had wondered what possessed you to steal my catalyst, but I never imagined that you would participate in the Grail War yourself. As your teacher, it falls on me to teach you an important lesson -- the consequences of betrayal in the world of Magi." There was a cruel smile on his face that I could hear even if I didn't see it on his face.

Waver trembled like a shaking leaf as I considered the accusation. Rider did so as well, speaking up and voicing his displeasure. "You, my Master? Don't be foolish! You, who hides in the shadows like a snake in the grass, could never be worthy for me to call Master. The least you would need to do for me to acknowledge you is ride with me in battle like a young Waver." Rider made a dismissive gesture, missing the look of awe that Waver sent up at him.

And another Servant materialized. Archer, by the look of it by process of elimination, as he stood on one of the light poles, completely clad in golden armor sporting a pair of oversized shoulder pauldrons. His hair was platinum blonde, and spiked up while heavy golden earrings hung from his ears. His blood red eyes looked down on all.

And after some… dialogue and posturing –

Weapons began to emerge from the ripples.

Not just weapons -- Noble Phantasms.

Correction.

Every single one of them, and there were a solid half dozen. Swords, spears, axes -- each one the manifestation of a legend. The other Servant's made sounds of awe. The bounded field established just outside the range of the one Lancer's Master was ready.

Naturally, that's when Berserker entered the fray.

He emerged from the ground, rising from inky black smoke like a specter. He was tall, and solidly built, however his form was difficult to perceive because of the oily black smoke that clung to his frame. A blood-red glow emerged from his visor as a tortured and vicious howl escaped his lips as he threw his head back as if to announce his arrival. All eyes turned to him.

All six out of seven Servants were here.

Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Assassin, and now Berserker.

All of them within a bounded field created and amplified by the works of this "Zatanna' and the Universal Genuis of Leonardo's magecraft.

*****

Saber felt the change in the air as a chill ran down her spine. Like her blood had suddenly turned to ice in her veins, and if it wasn't for the same thing happening to Lancer, that brief moment of hesitation would have cost her her life. She heard the maddened howl from Berserker and felt the vibrations under her feet from the explosions coming from Archer's barrage of noble phantasms.

However, that wasn't what stilled her.

Saber looked above to see the sky vanishing, replaced with a pitch-black void that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Black mist began to seep over the ground, masking her feet was the last thing she saw before she was encompassed by an all consuming darkness.

*****

After receiving the signal sent by Irisviel, Emiya Kiritsugu and Hisau Maiya raced towards the factories according to its direction.

However, just by the traces of prana from the surroundings, Kiritsugu was able to accurately judge the situation.

"…It has already begun."

Someone had formed a barrier.

It should be the work of the enemy Servant's Master.

Kiritsugu began to contemplate as he held the sniper rifle. He had already estimated Irisviel's position according to the transmitter. However, questions remain as to how to approach the location, and where to observe once they reach it.

"Up there, that looks like a good place to observe the fight."

Maiya pointed in front of them as she spoke. It was a derrick crane that towers high into the night. Judging by sight, the control cabin hovered about 30 meters above the ground; it would be the best observation point possible if one could silently climb up there.

Kiritsugu had no objections to Maiya's suggestion, but because of that, he shook his head.

"Yes, that is the ideal place to survey the battle. So it can't be only us that came up with the idea."

"…"

Without further explanations on Kiritsugu's part, Maiya had already understood his intentions.

"Maiya, slip in through the eastern bank, I'll go through the west… Find an observation point that can overlook both Saber's battle and the crane."

"I understand."

Maiya disappeared in the shadows of the factories with a jog, holding the assault gun in her hands. Kiristugu checked the input from the transmitter as he cautiously moved in the opposite direction.

Kiritsugu silently set up the Walther on the mountainous shipping containers piled on the container port beside the seaside cliffs. He took in the situation of the fight using the electronic sights that penetrated the cover of night.

Through the thermographic scope, on the screen that displayed cool shades of black and blue, red and orange images emerged, the heat diagram representing the two Servants fused together, as if it was a giant flare with all their movements.

Submerged in darkness, Kiritsugu could only frown. It was only Lancer. Lancer's Master probably relied on illusions or such presence-concealing magecraft to deceive his position and thought it enough; he did not consider that this would be countered with mechanical cameras.

Kiritsugu contacted Maiya, positioned on the other side of the battlefield, with his radio.

Setting up the bipod, Kiritsugu had just started to get into the mood — Suddenly, with a start, he turned the Walther towards the derrick crane.

At that moment he felt that all his plans had been ruined.

Keeping his disapproval inside his heart, he whispered into the radio again.

"Maiya, up on the crane…"

"… Yes, affirmative here as well; it's just like what you thought."

Meanwhile, the third party that was scrutinizing the battle between Saber and Lancer also discovered the silhouette atop the crane.

Kiritsugu, when he arrived first at the battle scene, never thought that this fight would have only one team of observers. He had therefore given up the best position on the crane and chose a place that could pay attention to both it and the battlefield. The newcomer appeared to be oblivious to the fact that his location was already under surveillance, and occupied the ideal spot to observe the fight. Consequently, he was exposed to Kiritsugu's line of sight.

However, one important factor escaped his calculations.

Though hard to believe, it is definitely Assassin, the one who was annihilated last night at the Tohsaka residence.

While he was not entirely surprised by the reappearance of the supposedly-dead Assassin, the problem was that the one currently on top of the derrick crane is a Servant.

The only recourse was to retreat as even if El Melloi was present and Kiritsugu sniped Lancer's Master now, the opponent would be dead instantly, but at the same time it would also expose the shooter's location.

He could not expect Saber to help him also. Saber was not even aware that Kiritsugu was at the scene; he could not hope for her to come to his aid even if she was also devoted to the battle with Lancer. Even though a Servant would lose his prana supply when his Master is killed, the Servant can still remain materialized in this plane with his own strength. Defeating Lancer's Master does not mean that he had defeated Lancer.

Since that was decided, it would not have doubts about anything else.

Only when he felt a slight tingle that left a metaphorical hole in his stomach.

When they had begun to trust each other more in their profession, Kiritsugu and Maiya had a strand of their hair embedded in each other's fingers to alert one of them if either of the two was suddenly on the verge of death or forced unconsciousness.

He then felt himself become enveloped in an all-encompassing supernatural darkness, he was immediately plunged into a world of sensory deprivation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The absence of light, pressing in from all sides and enveloping him in a suffocating blanket of darkness leaving him with a profound sense of disorientation.

Deprived of the usual cacophony of sound that filled his environment, even what was previously a battlefield, his hearing seemed to sharpen, every subtle noise amplified to an almost unbearable degree. The faintest rustle of fabric or the distant echo of a footstep seemed to reverberate through his skull, sending shivers down his spine as he struggled to make sense of the distorted sounds that assailed his senses.

He soon felt a profound sense of numbness wash over him, as if he were detached from his own body.

Alone in the void, Kiritsugu grappled with the overwhelming sense of isolation and disorientation to try and contact his partner

"Maiya-"

One minute he was dazed, flaying around with his comms, then the next minute he was three meters off the ground perpendicular to his original position.

Out of the corner of his eye, all he could see was white slits that somehow conveyed immense rage that if they held any form of mystery in them he would have had his very soul destroyed. He could feel his heart pounding in chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins in the few seconds he was suspended in the air.

Maybe it was this mental disturbance from the change in environment that left him without his wits and why he did not notice but it took him a moment for him to realize that he was in the air. And another for him to realize that he was flipped onto his face with an immediate slam that shattered all the front teeth in his mouth that he had to spit out or risk choking and the creek as his ribs pressed further into his body.

Even as he began to heal from that trauma thanks to Avalon and he reaches for something with either hand, one of his arms was already stretched behind his back before he could get his prone form up and ---

The quick and loud pop and crack of both his one arm's dislocated shoulder and broken wrist that reverberated into his skull, along with the pain that came soon after almost made him lose the combat knife he had gotten. Not that it mattered in the end.

Whether it was due to the angle, the sheer strength difference or misfortune but as he went in to stab his opponent from behind, his hand was casually smacked away with such force he could feel his wrist crumble like a pair of dry crackers.

He was then turned around, through which through his already swollen eyes, he bared witness to a tall dark figure in perfect clarity as the darkness seemed to flow around him.

Despite it being a decade since this figure's relevance to him mattered, he instantly recognized the one responsible for his assault.

The so called 'Most Dangerous Man Alive'.

He quickly let his body go limp, feigned defeat and endured the onslaught of weighted fists and possibly carbon steel knuckles that met his face.

Again. Again. Again. And Again.

The only thing that kept him conscious despite all appearances was self suggestion.

When the unrelenting barrage stopped, it stopped, he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When he felt two fingers on his neck he waited.

After a minute, an hour, days , it did not matter as he wasn't bothering to count and it would be useless until the concussion went away, he waited.

Only when a golden flash so bright he could see it even with his eyes closed did he strike.

Double Accel.

*****

Author's Note:

When writing this chapter I had to take some time just to rewatch and re-read both the Fate Zero anime, the script and the light novel.

It really puts a context in a lot of things but also padded out the chapter kore than intended so if you you see something wonky, tell me so I can correct it.

This chapter was a bit more than any previously because I needed to both introduce the other participants, show what little changes Batman's actions had led to such Kayneth actually not entering the Docks that will keep growing.

(At least before the big ones.)

This took so much time to write that to prevent a long hiatus, I had to cut it down to pieces instead of one big piece .

Chapter 10: Chapter 8: Rages On

Chapter Text

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

All that encompasses darkness, blackness, shadows, whatever one could call them.

Darkness is produced when there is an absence of light. Darkness itself is not a physical entity or a wave. When no light is present in a particular space, that area appears dark to an observer. This absence of light can occur due to various reasons such as shadows, obstructions blocking light, or simply the lack of a light source.

What was once just natural nightfall had become a veil of pure mystically enforced obscurity that did nothing as direct and easily dealt with as blinding the Servants with the mana infused fog (?) that started to flow in, that the gathered Servants with high enough mana or magic resistance could have brushed aside or dealt with.

What was an abrupt freezing chill that the Masters felt was, despite its origins, completely mundane. The cold air that rushed in and the temperature drop they were not prepared for was just a hypothetical scientific experiment made into reality.

Light plays a crucial role in regulating temperatures on Earth through processes like evaporation, convection, and radiation. In complete darkness, these temperature regulation mechanisms would be disrupted, potentially leading to extreme temperature fluctuations.

Then there's the effects of the absence of light it had on living organisms that were known as the ages of Babylon. Without light, plants would not be able to photosynthesise, leading to a decrease in food production. Additionally, animals would become disorientated and unable to find food. This would ultimately lead to a decrease in biodiversity. This would have caused a disruption in the food chain and would have caused an imbalance in the environment. As a result, species would have gone extinct and the environment would have suffered.

Then there's the affect on humans.

The absence of light triggers various responses in the brain and body that can impact mood, behavior, and overall well-being.

The lack of sunlight during these seasons can contribute to feelings of lethargy, sadness, and even depression in individuals predisposed to this condition.

The weight that all felt was just the air sinking down. The only reason that the Servants felt it was from the mana used to create the effect.

The feeling of lethargy and drowsiness. Weariness and listlessness. Fatigue and sluggishness.

In the realm of observation, light plays a crucial role. Light is used as a tool for observation in many experiments.

Moreover, when light interacts with particles during observation, it can cause changes in their momentum, position, or even their state. This interaction is fundamental to understanding quantum mechanics and how measurements are made in this domain. The observer effect becomes particularly pronounced when light is involved in the measurement process, as it introduces uncertainties and disturbances that affect the observed system.

Devoid of light, anything is possible.

One in the shadows can do "anything" so said her dramatic Master

Magecraft.

Reinforcing or shortening a natural effect. Making the possible "easy" to realize. Enhanced by power not seen since Gods walked the earth and ruled over all that could be surveyed in ancient times before the written word.

Magecraft not on the level of the upper echelons has never been the ability to do the impossible. Just a shortcut to one's own ability. Just like technology.

Technology has become a powerful tool that has enabled humans to create wonders that were previously unimaginable. It has enabled us to access resources faster, communicate more easily, and open up new frontiers of knowledge. Technology has also allowed us to create miraculous feats of engineering, such as the pyramids of Egypt. Healthcare, transportation, and entertainment. It has improved medical treatments, made travel more efficient, and provided endless sources of entertainment and information.

Technology has truly transformed the way we live, work, and interact with the world, propelling human progress to new heights.

And now it will be shown to the scions of mankind's past.

*****

Instinct.

Instinct.

What is instinct?

Instinct is an inborn impulse or motivation for action typically performed in response to specific external stimuli. It is generally described as a stereotyped, apparently unlearned, genetically determined behavior pattern. Unlike learned behaviors, which are acquired through experience and education, instinctual behaviors are innate and do not require prior knowledge or conscious thought. While learned behaviors can be modified and adapted based on new information, instinctual behaviors are often fixed and consistent across individuals of the same species.

Behavior, intuitive hunches, congenital aptitudes or dispositions, deep-seated impulses etc.

Charles Darwin used the term “instinct” in various ways to refer to what impels animals to breed, dispositions like courage or obstinacy in animals, selectively bred behavior patterns, feelings such as sympathy in humans, and stereotyped actions like those of honeybees constructing honeycombs.

In essence, instinct represents a complex interplay between genetics, behavior, cognition, and environmental factors that shape innate behaviors observed across species.

For a Servant such as Artoria, Instinct was the ability to instantly identify “the best personal course of action” during combat. Giving her a heightened sense of awareness and strategic advantage in battle. It was a valuable asset that enabled her to make split-second decisions and react swiftly to any situation that arose.

Saber was summoned by Kiritsugu Emiya to participate in the Fourth Holy Grail War on behalf of the Einzbern family. She was partnered with his wife, Irisviel von Einzbern, to act as Saber's Master in the open while he acted from behind to win with his own methods. She swore that she would defend her and win the war. Stopping still in time and space on the Hill of Camlann, Artoria was summoned to every age and all eras from the abyss of death, pursuing the Holy Grail as a Servant in order to complete the contract she has with the Counter Force.

That was put to the test very very quickly. She was faced with not one Servant, but based on the veil of shadows that banished all light and blinded her despite her high magic resistance, including very very powerful or skilled Caster, all Servants. All the enemies.

Despite being blinded by the veil of shadows, she relied on her honed combat skills and extensive combat experience to anticipate her enemies' movements and launch precise counterattacks.

The time to act was now and it had to be taken.

As a natural reaction, despite no knowledge of her position and the vertigo in everything disapating as light was pulled apart from all directions, Saber repelled Lancer's spear with the arm that held the sword, ignoring the pain. It was neither too serious nor sharp, just a common strike.

But...

"Ha!"

A cry escaped her lips, bringing the sword down. Between the entangled spear and sword, an abrupt, unexpected gale rolled in and blew around.

"Wha-?!"

Letting out a shocked voice, Saber took three steps towards Lancer's spear.

The gravel was easily dismissed with a mana burst that also allowed her to move gracefully. Her movements were swift and graceful.

She only leaned out of the way of the long spear as much as needed, reflexively avoiding earning a large gash right under her eyes. Saber's heart pounded in her chest as she processed the sudden turn of events. She felt a mix of surprise, excitement, and determination coursing through her veins. The unexpected gale that came about and the near miss with Lancer's spear only fueled her resolve.

A spin and another slash with a powerful surge of energy.

And she put her full force into striking the short spear.

Her speed, her strength-

They converged in that strike, and a shrill cry split through the air as her Mana Burst could not be countered by whatever the spear did, and so-

Lancer's weapon was ripped out of his hand as he twisted his body. Yet even so, skipping forwards, the sword tore into his chest, ready to tear him in half-

"Dodge!"

Yet, Lancer's Master successfully used a Command Seal at the last second, and so Lancer managed to get away with a massive slash on his chest. Saber was ready to follow-

And stopped, as lighting began to shower near them as another Servant approached.

Interference.

It was it was obvious which one, too.

The antique chariot with two prows. War horses not yoked on the shaft, but "handsome" bulls with muscles rippling like waves. Their hooves ploughed through the empty space, pulling the luxurious and splendid chariot forward.

No, the chariot was not merely floating in the air. Its wheels blared loudly; it was not solid ground but lightning that the bulls stood upon. Every time the bulls' hooves and the chariot 'stomped' upon the empty sky, violet lightning spread like a web, rolling the air upwards with deafening roars. The prana spurting from the lightning was probably what Lancer and Saber could only unleash if they used up every single ounce of their strength. It's buildup was also what allowed them to dodge.

The chariot that treads on lightning circled above Lancer and Saber menacingly but no strike of further attack was given and it almost seemed as if he was just randomly blasting the might of the sky anyway or how.

To be enveloped by such an enormous aura of lightning and thunder, blessings from a thunder god.

Lightning.

That which cleaves through the heavens.

A powerful and destructive force of nature.

Scientifically, it is an electrical discharge between electrically charged regions in the atmosphere, resulting in a flash of light and a loud thunderclap.

This discharge can occur within a single cloud, between different clouds, or between a cloud and the Earth’s surface.

In various mythologies around the world, lightning is associated with powerful deities who control thunder and storms. Many religions attribute lightning to divine forces or gods. For example, in Greek mythology, Zeus wields lightning bolts as symbols of his power and authority.

Lightning has historically been viewed as a force beyond human control, inspiring awe and reverence for its importance in agricultural societies to how its often seen as a tool of divine intervention or punishment in many cultures.

Early civilizations believed that lightning was a manifestation of gods’ anger or power, considered sacred events that influenced religious practices and rituals.

While ancient cultures revered lightning for its mystical qualities, modern science explains it as an electrical discharge caused by atmospheric conditions.

However...

Despite scientific explanations, the cultural significance of lightning in myth and religion continues to influence beliefs and traditions worldwide.

And thus, with its still mysterious nature and strong superstition, there are interesting ways of using it.

Alexander the Great was renowned for his unconventional tactics and innovative thought processes on the battlefield. His military strategies were often ahead of his time, showcasing his strategic brilliance and adaptability to various situations.

During the Battle of Gaugamela , where he faced a much larger Persian army, Alexander demonstrated his ability to think on his feet. Instead of relying on traditional encirclement tactics, which would have been challenging due to the enemy’s vast numbers, he devised a unique combat formation. By arranging his units in levels and creating a breach in the enemy’s defensive lines, Alexander was able to outmaneuver and defeat the Persians.

To conquer the island city-state of Tyre, Alexander the Great employed a strategic approach that involved both siege tactics and engineering ingenuity. Alexander first blockaded and besieged Tyre for seven months due to its strategic location on an island with formidable defenses. Unable to attack the city directly from the sea, Alexander’s engineers built a kilometer-long causeway or raised road from the mainland to the island. The causeway was constructed over a natural land bridge just a few meters deep below the water’s surface, allowing for relatively shallow water foundations.

After reinforcing his position with naval power, Alexander coordinated attacks from both land and sea to breach Tyre’s defenses.

Once his troops breached the walls, they overtook the garrison and captured the city.

Despite the so-called frivolous actions, according to his Master Waver, he had taken throughout the time of his summoning , his interest in all things modern extended to the sciences and modern concepts as well. Something he would deploy, even if untested.

Like all the unconventional tactics he had committed in days of old, he was doing a similar thing now.

For example, recent studies showed that lightning can potentially be used as a form of sonar or mapping through the detection of underwater sound produced by lightning strikes hitting dry or water surfaces. Research has shown that lightning strikes to the coastal ocean can generate underwater sound, which could be utilized for mapping purposes.

The acoustic signals generated by these strikes can be detected and analyzed to potentially map underwater features based on the intensity and direction of the sound waves.

By utilizing specialized equipment to detect and interpret the underwater sound generated by lightning strikes, it may be possible to map underwater topography, identify geological features, or even track lightning activity in remote oceanic regions where traditional mapping methods are limited.

While using lightning as a form of sonar or mapping presents unique opportunities for scientific research and exploration, there are limitations to consider.

Factors such as the frequency of lightning strikes, the accuracy of detection equipment, and the range over which underwater sound can be detected all play a role in determining the effectiveness of this approach.

While unconventional, exploring the use of lightning as a source for sonar or mapping applications could open up new possibilities for understanding our oceans and coastal environments in ways that traditional methods may not allow.

Despite the fields attempt to rip apart and disapate the light show it only reinforced the clarity.

And in an "ocean" of darkness , near docks, with mystically enhanced servants provided via one's ascension to human godhood , a Servant container and the conceptual and cultural might of Zeus' lightning in general …

*****

Interesting.

It only took her a moment to analyse what was happening and deduce what (was most likely) Rider's strategy.

Despite his introduction it was honestly very clever.

It would certainly justify his reputation if he continued to make plans like these at a moment's notice.

It was also unlikely that most of the enemy Servants understood or could use the unconventional sonar, if they even knew what it was, as the Grail did not deem that necessary knowledge.' The artist genuinely couldn't help but be impressed by Rider's intelligence and quick thinking. It made her realize that she was up against a formidable opponent who could outmaneuver the enemy with ease.

This heightened the excitement and anticipation of the battle, knowing that she would have to bring her A-game to stand a chance against such a cunning adversary.

Which is why she waited until all the energy thrown around was safely stored-

"Enough."

Then all she knew was gold.

*****

As he automatically titled his whole body to the side until his spine protested as far as it could, ignoring the rush of air from the narrow hit, he briefly mused at what it said about his life and his mentality that he felt relief that something had happened when everything was going well. In his many years as Batman while other superheroes were lured by peace and stability then surprised by Murphy, Batman expected to find chaos and adversity.

Even before the second the lightshow of lighting ended only to be eclipsed by radiant gold not unlike that of the sun being brought to the stocks, he was still tense.

As he used the momentum in his dodge to slide into a crouch stance that balanced himself for a powerful hammer throw from below, due to the bright sun like light, he briefly saw the exposed lounging and healed form of Kiritsugu Emiya with a serrated military knife aimed at where he was.

The reinforced gauntlets had a bit more force when they stroked his liver than they would normally from that revelation. The blow carried a newfound determination to incapacitate his opponent, knowing that any hesitation could mean giving Kiritsugu the chance to recover and counterattack.

When the force was enough that Kiritsugu Emiya was elevated meters above the ground, he wondered if it was too much.

The answer came to him when it looked like Emiya was trying to arrange himself in a safe fall while angling his body to strike back.

He, being practically raised by a well-bred Brit, of course was polite enough to respond to such a nicely given opportunity with a full forced jab that dug deeply into his ribs.

A little too deeply.

In all his years, he had become intimately familiar with human (and not so human) anatomy. He had once mentally reconstructed the facial structure of the punk's face and used it to track him from the feeling he had when he punched them. And in the milliseconds right after this action was taken, he quickly contemplated how even though the force he was exerting through his newly enhanced and reinforced armored knuckles should be breaking any ribs, the problem seemed to be that there was none in the area his hands were in contact with.

Hmm.

In a fit of inspiration at this information, paranioa at the possibility of escape for his "prey" and somewhat repressed in spite that Tim was not here to call out on, at the time his fist was still in the empty space where Kiritsugu Emiya's ribs were supposed to be his free had swiped what he needed from his utility belt and as he removed it, right before gravity could assert its hold over the scumbag, he gave him an uppercut that immediately repositioned him to be up straight up, punctuated by the small crunching sound that could only be heard of his teeth cracking under the forceful collision of the mid-air juggle.

He continued his assault by digging his fist further into the uppercut in defiance of gravity's demands.

The other man in black's tolerance to punishment was expressed in how he attempted to retaliate with his free arms to bash his ears. He however casually dismissed the action by slapping the arms away and slamming an open palm into his unprotected throat full.

As he paused for a moment to respond to his body's automatic reaction, the vengeful vigilante repaid the attempted discompulation with his own by slamming his opponent's ears.

Then quickly jamming two fingers in his throat again before gripping his neck.

Before he could grip hard enough to cut off circulation, Kiritsugu used force to redirect his body away by slamming his boots into his sternum and flying himself away.

That was too quick.

From years of honed reading of the body in the middle of combat, he knew that it was a quick draw, instinct or improvisation.

As he watched him roll away in a controlled fall, the slight tumble showed it wasn't an ingrained skill.

It was the equivalent of someone consciously committing to a time-sensitive action for the first time.

He already showed some level of superhuman resilience or regeneration. That reaction was quicker than the 0.25 or even 0.15 seconds that most could respond to. It was only thanks to his esoteric skillset that he could see it.

Maybe an altered perception at least twice that of a normal human being.

Great.

He had to use a bit more force.

As Emiya gains quite the distance in the very short time he spent deliberating, further reinforcing his hypotheses about his metahuman or 'magi' capabilities, he calmly whisks out the grapple gun, aims and shoots at his enemy's calf.

As it pierces, and most likely breaks, the assassin's lower appendage, he berates himself for enjoying this.

It doesn't stop him from grabbing the more powerful and repurposed prototype of a hand-held Thomas A. Swift Electric Rifle and applying it to the grapple line.

As his query seized in a fit of seizures from the debilitating volts of electricity and was quickly being pulled towards him rabidly, he made a note to invest in this new TASER (?) technology.

GET OUT OF THERE!

It was at that moment that everything went to hell.

He did not know what it was that was so dangerous that Da Vinci screamed at him from their telepathic link and he knew if he pondered, he would regret it.

After he pushed his suit's reinforcement function to the point of burning from overload, he quickly got Emiya away from whatever possible danger he was in as he was pulled in with the grapple line with one of the few good things David Cain taught to him.

The kick Bruce gave him was enough to quickly send him back even further than what he reached when he ran initially before leaping away immediately.

Under normal circ*mstances, that kick could shatter an oak tree's trunk at full force.

It being magically reinforced tenfold certainly had enough explosive force to evacuate someone.

Usually, he would not use it on most of his opponents. At least those that could not take it. And there were very few who could.

Emiya demonstrated he could take it.

And just in time to avoid the waves upon waves of pure power in the form of anachronistic craftsmanship of some type of weaponry, covered in a corona of golden energy as it blasts away the area he was previously from existence, forcing Batman to take shelter below a piece of wreckage just as another flew away, randomly destroying the area further without regard.

From the way the bulky crimson red and smokey black object flew backwards in a blur of dangerous motion, Berserker was the unfortunate target.

Once the energy wave dissipates, from what he could discern from the sides, Saber readies her sword and leaps into action with a rush of magical energy, being followed by Lancer. As she leaps up to possibly hit one of Archer's shins, a random club gilded in gold only glances at her as her superhuman reactions and her sword's position save her but it still leads to the force body slamming her to the ground causing it to burst into a crater with an obnoxiously loud boom.

As she rises, Archer with a casual wave of his hand over his shoulder, fires another tool that is dodged by a hair but the air pressure alone punches Lancer away.

When a random sword shot fires a heat beam of all things at Saber, she blocks with her sword and an explosion of raw mana. Despite the quick counter, it keeps pushing her hard enough to fly back, making her dent the build structure behind her with her body’s impact. She quickly recovers and runs for the beast.

Throughout this entire ordeal which only amounted to a couple seconds at best, the golden Archer stared directly in his direction with a face that had a look of pure amusem*nt and cruel curiosity that was emphasized by the slight twitch in his lip even as random shields of every region and time period be they animal hide, woven reeds, wicker, aspis, scutum, bucklers or even hungarian punch shields to casually block the lightning shower that sprayed at his specific location in the sky.

He instantly recalled the golden... and how it was emanating from him.

Combined with the casual display of versatility and power, his next action was an easy one to make

DA VINCI, DO IT NOW!

He had already whipped out the grapple gun before his gaudy opponent had even started to leisurely raise his arm up before mockingly bringing it down as one gate was aimed at him.

It almost barely matters.

The first vantage point, he was given almost no repreve as the dimensional gate rippled another weapon, while significantly slower than any that were aimed at the Servants, it was now twice the speed of the initial volley. The Servants barely had time to react and if it were increased, they would quickly be overwhelmed. The tide of the battle had already shifted dramatically as the dimensional gate unleashed a constant barrage of weapons. He knew he could not do anything different right now.

Then it was the same again. With every passing moment, the barrage of weapons from the dimensional gate intensified, forcing Batman to rely on his agility and reflexes to dodge the onslaught. The pressure was mounting, and he knew that any misstep could be his last.

And again

And AGAIN.

With every passing moment, the barrage of weapons from the dimensional gate intensified, forcing Batman to rely on his agility and reflexes to dodge the onslaught. The pressure was mounting, and he knew that any misstep could be his last.

Each grapple was to get him AWAY!

And after hitting a building outside the docks too fast, Batman intentionally fell down on the fire stairs, and threw a mana-infused smoke bomb while jumping away.

Before he could wonder if this was how he died, he felt it.

First it was sheer mana that emanated.

Then the wind blast as the mana in where the docks were increased the gravity a hundred fold.

Then the explosions as a, to his relief, familiar metallic monstrosity lept out in his direction regardless of what structure stood in its way.

Then, for the 3rd time tonight, there was light bright enough to confuse this corner of the world into believing that the sun was coming up early.

*****

Who is there to compare with him in kingship?

Who like Gilgamesh can say:

'I am king indeed?'

His name was called Gilgamesh

From the very day of his birth,

He was two-thirds god, one third man,

The Great Goddess Aruru designed him, planned his body, prepared his form

A perfect body the gods gave

For the creation of Gilgamesh

Shamash the Sun gave beauty

Adad the Storm gave courage

And so he surpassed all others.

The air he stood in was simultaneously brightened by his inarguable brilliance, and tainted by the sheer malice that poured off him in waves.

A golden figure who seemed to shine with an inner light even through the darkness descended.

Gilgamesh sighed in either boredom or annoyance.

The idea that this paltry tarp could think to snuff out the star of the heavens would have warranted death if it was the mongrel's main method of subterfuge. But that it was but a distraction only made slightly more tolerable.

But it was his pride that demanded recompense. To show them the man who swam through the abyss unscathed.

Servants were beings afforded with strength, minds, memories, ideals, charisma, egos, and as the greatest heroes in the world-

Indeed, the man clad in gold managed to radiate a strength, an ego, beyond comprehension.

And it was reflected in his voice.

For his very first words, despite all that was held in his voice, the golden Heroic Spirit looked as blank as a canvas in his expression, yet with but a glance, it was still scorning as from above, now floating, at the three Servants with a glare. His words were haughty, but unlike Rider, they held scorn and cruelty. He was clearly disgusted by their presence, yet his disdain was expressed in a tone that carried an unmistakable superiority.

The king's voice, while all encompassed here, was an instinct whisper as it rolled across Fuyuki, and what it brought was light, and a storm.

Golden ripples spread from them, as if stones had been hurled into a lake of molten gold, and as the light grew objects appeared in the portals.

Swords. Spears. Daggers. Maces. Everything from elaborate scythes that few could even hold to simple quarter staves, weapons of all shapes and sizes from all over the world. Some elaborate beyond imagination, some deceptively simple, but each and every one shone with the obvious quality of a master's work. Each of these weapons had clearly been the greatest masterpiece of an exemplary craftsman.

Even the simplest of them was a work of art.

Again.

Swords, spears, axes, scythes, daggers, hammers, weapons of all shapes and sizes. Each one made the air around it hum with raw magical power, each one obviously priceless, and each...

The treasure swords and spears all around him changed direction. Their tip was now fully aimed at the new target; that is, the Berserker.

"You shall at least entertain me when you scatter away, mongrel."

Though his Master had commanded him to attack the Servant of Tohsaka, Berserker was forced only now to focus upon the enemy before all others, feeling unparalleled danger.

A sword and a spear cut through the air and moved forth.

The weapons came out of nowhere and shot without a warning—

If he had started with the original couple, treasures as he originally intended, he might have done better based on his attempted counters.

But the game has changed.

That Berserker had used the enemy's Noble Phantasm was in and of itself a miracle even as he could not withstand the onslaught. A miracle that left Archer's face twisting with disgust and hatred.

"…How dare you touch my treasure with your filthy hand... ?!"

The air surrounding the Archer starts dancing again. Like a halo, a golden majesty twirls in circles to show a flock of new Noble Phantasms— now sixteen of them.

Spears and swords. Hammers and halberts. Even items too esoteric to recognize by sight.

"That's not possible…"

Rider's Master murmured in the chaos.

Forget having that many Noble Phantasms, the amount of energy brought out by those weapons should have drained any Servant dry. The only way that could happen were-

If Archer not only had access to all these Noble Phantasms, but he could call upon them, fully stocked, without any cost beyond the mere act of calling them.

"Let's see— just to what point this little compulsive thief can keep up!"

At the Archer's command, the flock of Noble Phantasms floating in the air were left loose, rushing towards the Berserker.

A thunderous roar shook the night's air. A flash of light exploded through the sky.

And after the first volley, the Archer's fierce attack didn't stop.

The surroundings, including storehouses and street lights, were in complete disrepair. The black knight had a battle axe in his right hand and a simple sword in his left even as he was collapsing on a cargo container. All the other Noble Phantasms were scattered at Berserker's feet, or stuck in the rubble around. Even as he was pushed he still was impressive.

The first count of glowing Noble Phantasms had reached thirty-two after the veil was thrown down. The Berserker could have endured a continuous attack of sixteen Noble Phantasms, but there was no way to resist twice that number. That was the same for all the other Servants.

The fact that another twenty was firing at the other Servants was just the nail in the coffin.

Nobody could estimate the limits of the latent power of the golden Archer.

Then he saw...

The single most hilarious sight in all his time since he was summoned.

Two mongrels engaged in the most one-sided flogging possible in the middle of the absolute destruction of the pitiful stage for his glorious eminence.

Two men dressed in black. One wore a black suit and trench coat with his face is blank and his eyes are vacant even as it was pounded into a distorted mess and he was juggled in the air. He could already tell he was a pathetic and boring creature.

Those had to be the eyes that used to be shining eyes and formerly tanned skin that had shifted from various travels before staying at one place to probably skulk and brood for years at a time.

The other was certainly dressed for the role of a jester.

Or enforcer as he showed a modicum of finesse in his trouncing. Even with the touch of viscousness, it was controlled and effective with a dash of spectangle with the use of the opponent's body in a couple of aerial stunts.

An attire that consisted of a bodysuit with its major protection consisting of separate movable layers of armor plating which seem to be kept in place with some type of steel wiring.

He bore a bat symbol separated by armor plating of some material and a cowl with an inner layer and an outer layer of a strong fiber-like material with multiple segments to easily remove the cowl.

The dramatics were certainly more interesting than the pretenders attempting to blindside him.

He thought all Masters would be a bore in this war.

He would see if this fool's eccentricities had any weight in his ability or he was just another madman blessed by fortune when he entered the field.

Aiming one gate at him and with the speed that would be due for one of his best soldiers of old, he aimed.

Gilgamesh then slowly gestured, and a dozen shining stars that stood on standby around him became, at once, a hundred comets around him.

When he used an alluring contraption to zip himself away. He decided since he had such a tool along with the mystic tool he wore as an armament, to go twice as fast.

Then he dodged again.

He blasted the attemot from the little girl dressed as a knight and the boar victim.

He still kept it at one gate but now at twice the speed of the previous shot.

He, impressively, dodged with another rapid hook shot. It was interesting seeing this mongrel dance around honestly that even if it would be an insult to open more gates for one human, it would end such a sight too quickly.

He ignored the burrowing lightning of the divine with a casual thought.

It would behoove him to expend more effort.

As he was about to launch a warning shot, maybe a loss of limb here and there and to see how he struggled on, as a sign of his magnanimity...

The weight of the world was enforced around and consequently, upon him and his treasures veered off course further devastating the area as a vehicle with a gripping image not unlike a phantasmal of renown burst through and sped away.

*****

Gravity has been a fundamental concept in physics for centuries, with various historical figures contributing to our understanding of this force.

Aristotle believed that objects naturally moved towards their “natural place,” which he described as “down.”

Through experiments, Galileo demonstrated that all objects fall to Earth at the same rate due to gravity. However, he couldn’t explain the underlying reasons behind this phenomenon.

Newton revolutionized our understanding of gravity with his Universal Gravitational Law. According to Newton, every object in the universe with mass attracts every other object with mass. This force is proportional to the product of the masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

Einstein introduced his general theory of relativity in the early 20th century, describing gravity as the warping or bending of space in the presence of mass. In Einstein’s theory, massive objects warp space-time, affecting how other objects move through it.

Gravity is a fundamental force that causes mutual attraction between all objects with mass. It is significantly weaker compared to other fundamental forces but plays a crucial role in shaping celestial bodies and governing motion on Earth.

Every object with mass exerts a gravitational force on other objects. The strength of this force depends on the masses of the objects and their distance apart. Objects closer together experience a stronger gravitational pull.

Gravity keeps planets in orbit around stars, moons around planets, and shapes galaxies. On Earth, gravity holds us down and gives us weight by pulling us towards its center.

Einstein’s general theory of relativity provided a new perspective on gravity by linking it to the curvature of space-time caused by mass. This theory explains phenomena like black holes and gravitational waves.

According to her Master's data, scientists are currently exploring quantum theories of gravity to reconcile general relativity with quantum mechanics at very small scales. The search for gravitons and experiments detecting gravitational waves are part of this ongoing research.

Gravity manipulation has been in the repertoire of magi for centuries.

Flight utilizing brooms is a form of Mystery that is currently supported by the Thaumaturgical Foundation - Black Magic section all over the world. It acts as a transportation method utilizing Magical Energy as fuel.

Female Magi can easily achieve Magical Properties such as "foot not making contact with the ground" and "repelled by the earth" when employing a broom.

Gravity can be reduced to about 1/6 of normal by using an ointment of witches to enhance the effect of "repelled by the earth."

It was certainly a useful distraction to allow her Master to escape with the prepped Batmobile and his latest cargo.

Increasing it is only a question of mana.

However there was a problem. Or a boon as it were.

In increasing the power, even when it was concentrated on specific targets based on their mana signatures,to overcome any possible magic resistance, she drew more than necessary from the leylines to the point of reaching into the Grail itself and thus had to concentrated it in combination with all the energy gained from absorbing all that light. At least, it would allow her to practice filtering its power for her own ends at least.

And testing a fear she had.

There seemed to be something pulsating inside the Holy Grail.

It's nature is to deny each and every form of life.

She can only test its simulated effects to be sure and prevent any possible accidents

*****

She felt the force of the world pulling her into its embrace increase a hundred fold. Her heart raced as her chest tightened, struggling to keep up with the rapid acceleration. The pressure in her ears grew, causing a dull throb that reverberated through her skull. Every muscle in her body tensed, bracing against the overwhelming gravitational pull. Her vision blurred as her view had given her a distorted image of her surroundings not made better by the intense light and shadow of snakes. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down her face, mingling with the fear that gripped her. The weight on her shoulders became unbearable, threatening to crush her under its weight.

She ignored the intensity of the thunderstorm.

She ignored the prone form of the lancer as he sank into the ground.

"AAAAaaaarrrrrrr-"

The slowly, slowly rising Beserker.

Even the golden particles of Assaasin as he faded away.

Only for focused on her near panic-

Iri-

"Saber are you OK?! Why are you on the floor?"

Huh.

She strained just enough to see out of the corner of her eye that her proxy Master was ... fine.

In fact most of the areas that the Servants were not spread on were unffacted by the Earth's pull...

She understood.

She would not fall.

Not now.

Not... now.

She poured prana into her legs and arms, the air around her exploding with wind from the sudden release of power. A physical statement of resistance to the forces that sought to crush her.

Enough to stand.

Enough to move.

She charged, the speed from the prana burst letting her keep just barely ahead of Berserker's own lunge, so near she could feel his breath on her back, feel the vibration from his footsteps.

And as she charged, she cut down the storm of blades.

It wasn't the best plan.

To charge while maintaining a solid defense and channeling enough mana to strengthen her limbs to even move was a tactic that strained even her swordsmanship skills and combat instincts.

A sword slipped past her, grazing her cheek.

Another struck the armor on her left arm, and she felt the limb go numb. She drew in her guard, sacrificing the defense of her midsection to maintain defense of her limbs; she could trust her armor to give her heart some protection, but if her legs were damaged she would die here, that much was certain.

With a shrieking of metal on metal, the pressure on her arms and searing pain in her body suddenly ceased, replaced with a shockwave that buffeted her, sending her hair and skirt rustling madly.

"... dare attempt to make me kneel?!"

****

There is a mountain for those on the top.

The weight is indescribable.

Endless pressure in a world of stone and darkness. Sealing you in. Grinding you down into the dark. It's a physical weight.

A mental weight.

A single idea, a single, monolithic thought; a giant as tall as the peak above you.

Humanity.

Flawed and irreparably broken and indescribably beautiful.

Six billion lives.

Six billion mongrels snapping in the wreckage of a dying world.

Swollen with the ranks of the billions that will come before.

The billions that would come after.

Numbers so enormous that most couldn't hope to behold them, to grasp their sheer enormity but he does.

And how each is unique.

The lives of each of these fragile, delicate things.

Darkness tried to surround Gilgamesh. For naught.

There was a pool, a puddle of light with him in the center.

"You. Would. Dare."

His words shatter the stillness.

Despite the force pushing him down to the Earth again, despite the strain, he stood tall while the rest barely made it off their knees.

"The nature and judgment of all things are mine, and no one else's. This world is my garden, and I am king. All living things capitulate to my throne. This burden of mind and body is nothing"

And he took a step. And another. before he started walking despite how each movement created a crater underfoot.

"... and that is the final truth!"

There is nothing but silence… before a beam of light shattered the veil and struck him.

PEW

A flash of light barely caught their eyes. Yet the devastation was immense.

They weren't even the main targets but they would have died.

They only survived through either command seals, positioning, luck or supernatural precognition that the war did not end in one night.

Berserker had been resummoned.

Lancer knocked after he dived into the water.

"Assassin" died long ago from stray fire.

Rider was high enough and far enough thanks to the god king's thunder to avoid the chaos

Saber pushed all her mana to what would be later realized as unnecessarily shield Irisveil.

The one Servant present and conscious Saber was all speechless.

It was like comparing an archer hitting a target accurately to a bazooka leaving only ashes of the surroundings but the target.. serviceable.

While the armor had a mystic glow to it before, it now glowed due to the sheer heat the gilded metal had met. If one paid attention, they could hear the sizzling of flesh and see the shattered remains of dozens of priceless and valuable shields. The battlefield was now a scene of utter destruction. Smoke billowed from the smoldering debris, while the acrid smell of burnt flesh and scorched metal filled the air. The aftermath revealed a haunting sight, with shattered remnants of armor, shields, and weapons strewn across the ravaged landscape, serving as painful reminders of the fierce battle that had just taken place.

With a look of abject annoyance and irritation, the Archer nearly spat.

Hundreds of portals appeared... then they stayed for a moment before disappearing.

"Do you think a sermon from someone like you could appease a king's anger? You're quite presumptuous, Tokiomi..."

With a tone of abject annoyance, the Archer spat in a suppressed voice. The glow of the countless Noble Phantasms around him disappeared at once.

"…You dodged death until next time you prove yourselves."

****

Night shrouded Fuyuki in an unfamiliar cloak of darkness. The shadows seemed to hold a more sinister edge. In the heart of the city, the Batmobile raced through the deserted streets, its sleek frame cutting through the silence like a knife.

Inside the vehicle, Batman gritted his teeth against the searing pain that engulfed every inch of his body. Each movement sent waves of agony rippling through him, threatening to overwhelm even the indomitable will that defined him. His vision swam before him. The world blurred into a haze of lights and shadows. But amidst the torment, Batman's resolve remained unyielding. He clenched his fists, drawing upon every ounce of mental and physical strength he possessed. With each labored breath, he reminded himself...

He had pushed too far and even the healing function barely held.

Memories, both vivid and haunting, flickered through his mind like fragments of a shattered mirror. He saw the faces of villains he had faced, the battles he had fought, and the scars he had earned.

As the pain threatened to drag him into unconsciousness, a voice cut through the chaos. It was Da Vinci's voice, laced with urgency and desperation, calling out to him with a sense of urgency that pierced through the fog of his mind.

"Master, MASTER-"

Then he was out.

*****

Author’s Notes:

Sorry for the long wait

Chapter 11: Chapter 9: Aftermath I

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Chapter 10: Aftermath II

Chapter Text