What's up, everyone! This is GKC here bringing you a new crossover between Fate/Apocrypha and Final Fantasy.

Watching Fate/Apocrypha gave me an idea for such a crossover. What if the Servants of the Black and Red Factions were different? What if the Holy Grail decided to call forth a guardian for Ruler?

Quick Note: This serves as more of a prologue. Servants will be Final Fantasy characters, be they hero or villain, and you're welcome to suggest which character you think fits with each Class for the other Red Servants. However, the Black Servants along with Saber of Red has already been chosen by me.

Now for the disclaimer: I do not own, except my OC, the Fate series or the Final Fantasy series. All rights belong to their respective owners.

Now let's get this party started… BEGIN!

Dissidia/Apocrypha

Prologue: The Reckoning

Change does not exist in this world.

…

No day or night, no sunsets or moonrises.

…

My entire existence is nothing but remembrance and flashback.

…

It's boring, but easy.

…

It just takes a bit of a while.

…

The whole concept of time fades into the distance.

…

But eventually…

…

"Awaken."

…

I heard a voice that jolted me awake.

…

It was…

A bluish-green eye opens, revealing a glowing slit pupil.

A great dragon, resting upon a sphere of golden energy and surrounded by a field of white flowers, looked upon a beautiful girl in a white dress. There was something about her that felt… calming…

"You are now-" She spoke, outstretching her hand to the Phantasmal Beast. Her last words were mute upon its ears.

...an insignificant promise buried in the abyss of time.

XXX

The moonlit night curtained over a great castle… yet it did nothing to stop the battle erupting miles from its gates.

From this battle did two armies clash: One composed of intimidating skeletal beings known simply as Dragon Tooth Warriors; mindless familiars created by a mage of exceptional skill to slay any enemy that they deem a threat to their master. The other army was composed of humans and stone golems, except the humans each had a certain characteristic: their blood red eyes. This symbolizes their status as a homunculus, or an artificial human created to serve a purpose: To fight.

The armies clashed. Bones shattering from steel lances and halberds, flesh skewered by bone-like swords, stone and earth crumbled from overwhelming numbers, and bodies lay about on the battlefield like rocks.

Several yards away, two beings were engaged in a bloody sword duel to the death. The first is a dark-skinned man with long silvery-gray hair, glowing blue markings that ran from his torso to the right side of his cheek, and piercing grey eyes. He wore a set of magnificent plate armor over a dark undersuit. The second is a knight wearing a set of fierce, demon-like silver armor lined with red. The eyeless sockets of the intimidating helm glaring straight into the grey orbs of the other warrior.

These two knights were not human by any known means. No… they are Heroic Spirits; Servants summoned to do battle with each other till either one was slain by the other.

Their swords flashed faster than the speed of light, dust clouds erupted around them whenever their feet made contact with the earth, and the very wind itself had been cut from a simple swing of their blades.

They clash swords, their eyes glaring into each other as they battled for dominance. The faceless knight with the horned helm scoffed distastefully at the silver-haired man. "You fake." They spoke in a feminine voice as their boot buried itself into the earth then with a burst of her prana, sent her opponent flying.

The man recovered after rolling on the ground a few times, stopping himself by bracing his legs to the ground. He could hear the taunts of his enemy practically screaming in his ears.

"And you still call yourself a Saber-class Servant?" The masked knight smirked beneath her helm. "A fake can only go so far."

The silver-haired warrior didn't dain to answer. Instead, he brought up his blade, ready to engage in combat with his smaller foe then spoke a simple phrase, "Show me the way, O sword." With the tightening of his grip on the handle, the blade emitted a powerful blue light akin to a dragon's flame.

"Your Noble Phantasm?" The lady knight looked bewildered at first as her helmet suddenly started to shift and retract back into her chest plate. She smirked, baring her fangs at the man. "As you wish. I have my master's permission." She brought her own sword up to bear. "I shall answer in kind." As if answering her words, the blade in her hands ignited into a blood-red blaze that crackled with magical electricity. "You shall perish as befitting of an imitation! Fall, Saber of Black!"

"Come, Saber of Red!" The man challenged.

The two opposing lights pushed their respective prana flow against each other. Neither backing down as the swords' masters prepared to unleash their greatest techniques against their opponent.

Ah, but such a tale is not why we're here. In fact, many of you already know this battle. You know how it ends and what transpires afterward. However, there are many stories that tell a different set of events.

One such tale embarks the Masters of this War and their Servants into a great conflict.

A conflict known only… as Dissidia.

[?]

How long has it been… since I've erred walked these barren roads…?

You would think being an adventurer for most of your life would be exciting. The chance to explore dungeons, battle terrifying monsters, and even endorse in the friendships that came with such adventures.

Alas, that was not it for me… For you see, my life has been nothing but battle after battle, loss after loss, and heartache after heartache.

In history, I would be forever known by my world as the Warrior of Light and Darkness. But I knew who I was…

...I am just a simple man with a destiny thrust upon me by those I once desired to protect.

After all… Fate has a humorous way of putting a man in situations that could kill him…

[Clock Tower] [Six Days Ago]

Within London at a school glamorized to hide magus society from the mundane masses, Lord El-Melloi II had received the reports from the team sent to investigate the mage family in Trifas, Romania.

Every single one of them. All of the members of the task force sent has been massacred, save for one… One poor soul managed to survive the ordeal and was sent back to the Clock Tower as a message.

By the very family that has right now declared war on the Mage Association…

...Yggdmillennia

An organization led by a man from the last Holy Grail War that has not aged a single day since the eve of World War II.

It was not a good situation, The Lord El-Melloi II mused. Not since the news from Romania had been received.

As he mused, he had heard a knock on his study door. "Come in."

The man that entered was a large, muscular, burly man who, despite his scarred countenance, was only in his thirties at most. He was dressed like a stereotypical biker, with shoulder-length, messy hair, dark sunglasses, what seemed to be a sawed-off shotgun dangling from his hip, along with a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"Lord El-Melloi?" the man asked, in a voice befitting his frame, tinged though it was from the years of smoke inhalation.

"First off, it's El-Melloi II. Secondly, yes. You are Kairi Sisigou, correct?"

"Yep. Old man Belfaban told to meet with you?"

"Indeed. Take a seat, please."

The Necromancer did.

"Tell me, Sisigou, what do you know of the Yggdmillennia?"

"As much as any other magus, I guess. They're a collective of degrading magi clans who pool their resources together in order to survive, and that the old folks here think that they're a bunch of "heretics," but other than that, not much. Never really ran into them during my travels. Why?"

In response, the lord reached into his desk and pulled out a rather large file. He withdrew from the file an old, slightly faded photograph of a man dressed in a Nazi uniform. "Seventy years ago, their current head, the man you see here, took part in the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki. Have you heard of that, at least?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Indeed. Suffice to say; due to the machinations of this man, there have been no new wars in Fuyuki. It is all because, in 1936, on the eve of World War II, at the end of the Holy Grail War, this man aided the Nazis in stealing the Greater Grail, before it suddenly vanished."

"So?"

"So, two months ago, this same man, who has not aged a day since 1936, and who has a standing price and kill-on-sight order over his head, recently proclaimed to the Association that the Greater Grail had been in his possession the entire time, and that his organization, Yggdmillennia, were fully seceding from the Association. The Heads of the Clock Tower sent a team of fifty of their best magus hunters to investigate and confront him."

"What happened?"

"Forty-nine of them were massacred, and the sole survivor, before dying, was returned here, half-mad, and raving about how his comrades had all been slaughtered by a single man; a Servant, to be more precise. This confirmed our worst fears, which was that the Holy Grail War, the True one, has once again begun. Only this time, the reserve system has been activated, meaning that it will be a battle of fourteen, instead of seven."

The lord was silent for a moment, so as to let that statement sink in.

The moment was then ruined by the loud crash heard out in the hallway, causing El-Melloi II to groan in resignation.

In the next instant, a teenager with blue eyes, slightly tanned skin, blonde hair, and a red vest walked in, clutching a small pile of books in his hands, while a sheepish expression was plastered on his too-happy face.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Big Ben London Super Star! I don't know why, but I just tripped on that rug! Here are the books that you asked for."

"Flat, thank you. Also, how many times have I asked you not to call me that, you dumbass?!"

To Lord El-Melloi II, the only descriptions that could be aptly applied to Flat Escardos, besides "massive moron," was "walking irony." On one hand, the teenager had more raw talent and power in magecraft than most of the Lords combined, which, ordinarily, would have made him a tempting prize/student/test subject for any magus worth their salt. This was deeply offset, however, by the fact that the boy was such a colossal idiot that no one was willing to deal with him for long. In fact, as the boy had once cheerfully told him, his own parents had tried to kill him, multiple times.

Thus, for several excruciatingly long years, he had been the responsibility of El-Melloi II, long past the number of years one could be a student at the clock tower, since El-Melloi II was quite unwilling to let the boy, now nearly twenty years of age, into the wider world, for fear of the damage he could cause. Of course, that just meant that he was still stuck with the irritating brat.

The necromancer chuckled as he watched the amusing scene. "Hey, kid."

The boy looked at him, and his face broke open into a smile. "Oh, Mr. Lion!"

"It's Kairi."

"Sorry. Anyway, Mr. Belfaban said he's ready to see you."

As the Necromancer and the blonde boy left, El-Melloi sighed, looking at the box on his desk again. A new Grail War. How terrifying. He still sometimes had nightmares from the farce that he had been involved in. All he could hope was that the team sent by the Clock Tower to participate would fare better than the mage hunters.

[Trifas]

It was a beautiful and serene night, through the eyes of two of the room's residents eyes never once gazed out the gilded window, and instead remained glued to the chessboard in front of them, while the other two, a silent maid and a stone golem, stood silently, awaiting orders.

One of the figures is a young woman with light brown skin and brown facial markings, light teal eyes, and white hair with two frontal pigtails tied with rings. A strange thing about the woman is the fact she had a pair of cat ears on her head along with a tail protruding from her backside. There was also a tattoo on her neck. She wore a long-sleeved white top with extended sides and back and short black shorts, black thigh-high boots and a black bolero shrug over her shoulders.

The feline woman's opponent is a handsome figure with gray hair and purple eyes that appeared to be only in his early thirties at most, though he was in actuality much older then he seemed.

"How are the preparations coming, Caster?" The gray-haired man asked, with a surprisingly deep voice, as he moved a pawn forward.

"The preparations for the war grow steadily closer, Lord Darnic." The woman, Caster, replied in a voice that spoke of a medieval accent. "Twoulds needs to be swift in the summoning of the other Servants. No doubt the enemy has already summoned their own."

Darnic looked up for a moment and studied the woman. She was known as a Miqo'te of the Seekers of the Sun clan from a land known as Eorzea. At first, he found it suspicious but realized that the Throne of Heroes wasn't limited to just heroes from Earth's past but also alternate realities that expanded the Multiverse. A Scion of the Seventh Dawn and a powerful mage. She is Y'shtola Rhul, the Caster-class Servant of the Black Faction.

Roche Frain, the Master of Caster, was woefully unprepared for the fact that his Servant was not the one that he wanted. Originally, the catalyst he had chosen would've given him the fabled Golem Master, Solomon ibn Gabirol, or Avicebron. Due to Roche being raised by emotionless dolls and golems for all his life, he found it quite uncomfortable to have a cat woman from a land vastly different from their own and wielding magic, unlike anything they've ever seen to be partnered with him. However, after two months of having the Miqo'te spellcaster as his Servant, Roche began to idolize and even called Caster his teacher. Said Servant did not deny or accept any claims of taking him as a student but did help him improve in his Magecraft.

Darnic almost smirked in amusement at a particular memory that had the young boy being scolded by Caster at one point when the boy rudely dismissed a clumsy homunculus maid after she dropped an expensive tea set. Naturally, Caster reprimanded her Master by saying that all beings fumbled every now and then, even Roche himself.

Personally, he found the woman's expertise in magic to be quite useful, especially the myriad of spells and runes she knew from her world. She spent only a full week enchanting and modifying the castle as well as the golems and the weapons used by combat-class homunculi. Needless to say, the results made preparations for the war against the Masters of Red to be quite entertaining. Unfortunately, Caster had brought up her disgust for utilizing the homunculi as batteries to fuel her prana reserves. While she had no objectivity in such resources, her moral line had drawn since she felt that sacrificing such lives to boost her own abilities to be unnecessary.

At first, it proved to be quite an annoyance to Darnic, but he decided that such a moral code would be easily managed, given the right circumstances.

For a while longer, the two continued their chess match in silence… until Caster broke that silence.

"Mayhap I be bold, Lord Darnic," The cat-woman spoke up, drawing the man's attention even after she took one of his pawns with a rook. "Do you believe that your victory is assured in this War? Even though you have not summoned the Servant you wish?"

The Head of Yggdmillennia frowned. His thoughts drifted back to his own Servant. Originally, he had planned to summon Vlad Tepes, or Vlad III, in his native homeland to grant him a fame boost in his parameters. Unfortunately, the Servant of the Lance he had summoned was a knight, like Caster, of a different world. Apparently, Lancer was known as a Dragoon, a knight that specialized in slaying dragons, which would be quite useful if the enemy summoned Servants with an affinity for dragons like King Arthur or Saint George. Unfortunately, it would seem that Darnic's Servant also had a terrible Luck rank. Whatever happened to him in life… would probably affect him even now.

Despite this setback, Darnic was at least impressed with the rest of his stats. So, he decided to respond to Caster's question. "It feels like a lifetime ago, that moment when those pathetic rats of the Magus Association cast me out, all because they predicted that my clan was doomed to fall into nothingness. To me, that felt like a death, my first death, since those same rats once believed that I was destined for greatness, until the moment when they cast me aside like so much garbage."

Knight takes rook. "But, despite all expectations, I managed to rise up from the depths into which they cast me. I made Yggdmillennia a name to be reckoned with, then I participated in the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, crushed all who stood before me, and, in the end, managed to obtain the Greater Grail itself."

He could still remember the flames as the city burned, but also how good it had felt, seeing the look on the Nazis' faces as he had stolen the Grail right out from under them, leaving their bodies to rot and bloat in the sea. Even for one like him, that had been an act, he would never lose sleep over, considering what the Fascists had later done to his people…

Caster moved her last bishop back. "For sixty years, Caster, I have been preparing. Preparing for this moment, right here in the city of Trifas. It is what sets me apart from all the previous participants of this war because unlike them, I know what I am getting into. I have been patient and waiting. So now, this time, I am prepared. This time, I am ready. My opponents in this war, however, will be unprepared."

Pawn takes knight. "I see. So, was mine own summoning part of your overall planning then, Lord Darnic? A part of your preparations?" Caster asked.

"At first, not quite. However, I will not argue with the results. Plus, with the usage of the homunculi as the source of replenishing mana, you and the other Servants of our Faction will be free to utilize all your abilities to your heart's content without the risk of draining your Masters dry, and allowing we, your Masters to fully utilize our Magecraft without fear." Darnic replied.

"Indeed. I would say that such a scheme was a brilliant bit of ingenuity on your part." The Miqo'te remarked.

"Coming from you, that is indeed high and lofty praise. Though, in answer to your earlier question, I am not entirely convinced that my Faction will emerge as the victors just yet. It is yet early, and no plan ever truly survives the battlefield. However, I can say that I currently think the odds are stacked in our favor."

Darnic moved his queen and took Caster's remaining knight. "With the Servants that we summon tonight, I will be one step closer to attaining that which all of my kind seek: The Swirl of the Root, that which lies at the center of Existence itself, and the key to true Magic itself. Nothing, especially those worms of the Association, will stand in my way."

Caster said nothing as she used her king to take the man's queen, leaving only the two king pieces left on the board. A draw.

The Servant of Magic gave the man a grin. "Very well. Then if needs be, I shall aid you in your quest, Lord Darnic."

Then, the room's grandfather clock chimed twelve o'clock. Midnight.

At that, the door opened, and a young boy, no more than thirteen years of age, with a large mess of blonde hair on his head, entered. This was Roche, Caster's master. "Excuse me, Darnic, Master Y'shtola? The preparations are done. Everyone is ready."

With their invigorating game now at an end, Darnic stood up. "Come Caster. Lancer is waiting for us. It is time for the other Servants to be summoned."

Caster followed suit, her smile still present. "Yes, the hour of our comrades' summoning is at hand."

Darnic and Y'shtola made their way to one of the castle's larger rooms, in which a throne was situated, along with a large floor, and the rest of the Black Faction.

Standing dutifully beside the throne was a knight clad from head to toe in full body armor colored dark purple. He wears a helmet the shape of a dragon's head that obscures most of his face and sharp spikes extend out of his armor on his shoulders, elbows, and calves, to give it an even more draconian look. He possessed long purple 'hair' that flowed down to his shoulders and carried with him a spear with a draconian appearance.

This warrior was none other than Darnic's Servant. His True Name being Kain Highwind, a commander of a battalion of Dragoons. Based on his stats, he was definitely a powerful Heroic Spirit from his world. He is the Lancer of the Black Faction.

The other members of the Black faction each held their respective catalysts as they stood in front of the collective summoning circle that had been drawn and etched into the marble floor. From his place beside the throne, Darnic observed the members of his extended family, as they readied for the summoning ritual.

Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia, a rather beautiful woman of twenty-odd years with long gray hair, green eyes, and a pair of spectacles balanced upon her nose, produced a glass bottle which had a liquid stain left on it. She came from a magi family that delved into the black arts of witchcraft. The results of such practices could be found in Celenike's… dungeon.

Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a rotund man of thirty-six years with blonde hair, and a small, waxed blonde mustache that was reminiscent of a famed British film star, held in his fist a bloodstained leaf of a Sacred Fig tree. Despite a rather prodigious talent in alchemy, Gordes suffered from that unfortunate condition known worldwide as an overinflated ego, though, in Gordes' case, Darnic was surprised that the metaphorical balloon had not already burst years ago.

Darnic's young, and quite second rate grandson, Caules, a brown-haired teenager with glasses, had been given a set of blueprints for the 'Ideal Human' as a catalyst.

Darnic's granddaughter, Fiore, a pretty teenage girl with brown hair and Caules's elder sister, sat in her wheelchair with an ancient arrow in her gloved hand to be used as her own catalyst.

From the platform, Darnic, Caster, and Lancer all watched with anticipation, as Celenike, Gordes, Caules, and Fiore each began to chant…

[Stavropoleos Church Cemetery, Bucharest]

For a long moment, Kairi did nothing, except sit upon the tombstone and enjoy the acrid feel and taste of the nicotine smoke entering his lungs from the cancer stick. As he did, the necromancer stared at the catalyst that he had been given. To the average observer, it seemed like an ordinary piece of wood, old and well preserved. In a way, it was, but, according to the old man, it was also so much more. A fragment of the most important and famous object in history… the Round Table of King Arthur.

The necromancer than turned his thoughts to why he was here, why he had been given the catalyst in the first place, and why he had etched the summoning circle into the ground of the graveyard.

The Holy Grail War, a secret bloodbath which was, for all intents and purposes, a glorified battle royal between seven magi and the ancient heroes that they summoned, all for the chance at the ultimate prize; a Wish. It was the chance for the deepest desires of the victor's heart to become made manifest.

That was one hell of a thing to fight to the death for.

He glanced at the crimson seals on his hand, took one last drag before flicking away his spent cigarette, looked over the circle that he had etched into the ground one last time, adjusted his sunglasses, stretched out his hand, and began to recite the chant that he had been given by El-Melloi II…

Let silver and steel be the essence.

Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.

Let Black/Red be the color I pay tribute to.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

I hereby declare.

Your body shall serve under me.

My fate shall be your sword.

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.

If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!

An oath shall be sworn here!

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell!

From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three greet words of power,

come forth from the ring of restraints,

Protector of the Holy Balance!

When the Masters finish their chant, a great blue glow erupted into a burst of light. In the original timeline, ancient heroes of legend from Earth would be summoned. However, this particular Grail War had called upon warriors from distant worlds to answer the call to battle.

Gordes's Servant was a young man standing at 176cm (5'9") with spiky black hair and blue eyes. He wore an unzipped black jacket with skull-motif buttons and sequenced details on the pockets and wears a black motorcycle glovelet on his left hand. Underneath, he wears a steel gray shirt with skull prints and wears black cropped trousers and buckled boots with red soles.

Though he looked young, he possessed an aura, not unlike that of a king. However, his rather bored yet aloof expression sort of ruined it. A vein was already pulsing angrily on Gordes's forehead at the Servant's apparent disrespect.

Caules' Servant was a dark-skinned, muscular man with long, unruly black hair and red eyes. He wears a pair of black shorts with an orange and red sash covering his right leg, a red headband, a metal gauntlet and pauldron covering his left arm and is barefoot. He also has a black tattoo with a strange symbol on his chest. He wields a black sword with red markings that resemble dolphins.

The man gave Caules a look then folded his arms and huffed with a smirk. For some reason, the boy felt the need to punch the Servant in the face.

Standing before Celenike was a young woman with wavy rose pink hair and pale aqua eyes. She wore a black chest piece with a high collar with bareback strapped on belts. From the lower parts of the chestpiece, there are two symmetrical white capes with pockets. At the top sides of the chestpiece, there are silver pauldrons, and the upper part of her arms are covered with red straps adorned with silver pieces. From the pauldrons hang two symmetrical white capes. The inside color of the capes on both upper and lower pauldrons is red. She wears red and black boots that reach the half of a thigh, and black gloves. On her left arm is a large deep crimson shield with black metal spikes while in her right hand is a long single-edged sword of red, black, and white.

The woman gave off an aura that clearly spoke she was not one to be messed with and would deliver a wrath of unholy hell to any who dared to piss her off. Celenike looked visibly disappointed that she did not get the Servant she wanted but could not deny that the Heroic Spirit in front of her was indeed quite strong.

Fiore's summoned servant was a man physically in his late twenties and stands roughly six feet tall. He has crimson eyes and long black hair. He wears a red bandanna with his fringe emerging over it. His most distinctive feature is his tattered red cloak, held in place over his shoulders and lower face by several buckles. Underneath his cape, he wore a black full bodysuit and a glove on his right hand with several straps and buckles. He has a holster for a gun strapped to his right thigh and pointed golden sabatons on his feet. He wears a golden gauntlet on his left arm. In his right hand is a triple-barreled, triple-cylindered revolver, ornamented with scrollwork patterns, a small dog's head in place of the iron sights on each barrel, and a silver chain in the shape of a three-headed dog with a wing hanging from the end of the grip.

All the servants were now summoned. The Black Faction was near to completion.

Lancer moved from the throne then stood above the other Servants. "I bid you all greetings, my fellow servants of the Black Faction. As per the agreement of our Summoners, I shall now ask you all to reveal your True Names, so that a modicum of trust might be established between us."

The rose-haired woman spoke first, "Lightning Farron. Rider class." Her tone was indifferent and filled with a hint of annoyance.

The black-garbed young man rubbed his spiky hair then sighed, "I'm Noctis, call me Noct for short. I'm a Saber-class Servant." He sounded as if he wanted to go to bed and sleep for a day.

The muscular man smirked. "Name's Jecht. I'm a Berserker. Don't come crying to me if I scare ya." The so-called Mad Servant seemed like the kind of guy who was rough around the edges and liked to think with his fists.

The brooding man in the red cloak spoke last, "Vincent Valentine. Archer."

Caster was the next to speak. "Greetings to you all. I am Y'shtola Rhul. Caster of the Black Faction. I look forward to working with you."

"Indeed." Lancer modded. "I am Kain Highwind, the Lancer-class Servant of the Black Faction. Know that, with our combined power, we will easily be able to annihilate the Red Faction and their Servants. I look forward to your great and brave achievements, my proud and fearless comrades!"

Darnic smirked as the six Black Servants stood together. Now all they needed was the Assassin and the team would be complete.

Darnic and Lancer retired to Darnic's personal study, which the knight dutifully stood at attention while his Master poured two glasses of an expensive brand of wine. "Tell me, Lancer. What do you make of your new comrades?"

"Even though I do not know of them, I can feel the power they wield," Kain replied as Darnic handed the Dragoon a glass of wine to him, which he graciously accepted. "Bewildering though is that I feel as if I know them from somewhere yet nowhere in my memory do I recall such warriors."

The Head of Yggdmillennia furrowed his brow in thought. "It is possible you may have heard tales of them or even unknowingly met them before."

Lancer nodded as he sipped his wine. "Your words have a form of meaning, Master."

Darnic sensed that was not all that his Servant wished to say. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing, save for the fact that our faction is not yet complete. We are still missing Assassin, after all."

"Yes, Jack the Ripper, the murderer that terrorized the streets of White Chapel, and indeed the entirety of England, over a century ago, and was thus likened to a demon. Fret not, my friend. They should be arriving along with their Master any time now. To make sure, I had dispatched the Zugzwang to escort them."

[Bucharest]

On the upper floor of an upscale hotel in the city of Bucharest, there lay a gruesome sight. It was the sight of a desiccated corpse of a rather rat-like man with bleached-blonde hair, surrounded by the corpses of men and women. Of course, any observer would be drawn to the fact that large, bloody holes were situated where their hearts were supposed to be, as well as the fact that the first man was missing his jaw and right hand. He looked like he had died in a great deal of agony, and not right away. The others seemed to have died from either massive blood loss or dismembered by a blade.

The unfortunate, jawless and handless man had once been known as Hyouma Sagara, a member of the Yggdmillennia, and the intended master of Assassin. Now, unfortunately (or, in a dark sort of way, fortunately) he was quite dead, after many days of a tortured, prolonged existence. The other corpses had been members of the Zugzwang, the assassins of the Yggdmillennia, sent to locate him, now also quite dead.

Meanwhile, walking out of a dark Alleyway, towards the city's main train station, was an odd pair. One, a woman of 23 years with grayish-green hair, was dressed in a provocative green miniskirt and fur jacket and seemed possessed of both a weathered beauty and a disconcerting look in her eyes.

The other is a tall man with a muscular build. He had long silver hair with bangs parted to either side of his face and green cat-like eyes. He wears a long black coat with silver pauldrons, black boots, and black trousers. The top of his coat is open to reveal his chest, with leather suspenders crossed over the skin. He carried with him a seven-foot-long katana in his left hand that was held in a reverse-styled grip with the blade postured away from him.

The woman carried a large rolling suitcase while the man followed dutifully next to her. Another disturbing factor about the pair was the fact that they were both covered in blood.

"Those humans were sent to acquire me, Mother." The man said to the woman.

"Oh, Sephy, you don't have to worry. Those idiots could never take you away from me." The woman replied to her "son".

"Indeed, Mother. All they serve is to be used as entertainment." 'Sephy' said with a cold smirk. "And for the last time, I do not like being called that name."

"But Assassin is too dull. And your other name was much too long. Plus, I find 'Sephy' to be adorable than just Sephiroth." The woman pouted.

Sephy, or Assassin, merely sighed knowing that it was pointless to change his Mother/Master's mind. "Well, it will be quite some time before I am able to feed again to regain my strength." He stated.

Behind them, the corpse of their most recent victim lay sprawled out against a trash bin, like so much rubbish; once an ordinary, everyday citizen, no more evil or good than anyone else, now just a motionless, savaged corpse.

"Oh dear," The woman said suddenly, as they got closer to the station.

"Is something wrong?" Assassin inquired.

"I'm afraid that we may soon run out of tasty hearts for you. We'll have to get more soon."

Sephiroth chuckled softly. "Then let us depart this city and make for another. I've yet to fill my reserves to adequate standards."

The woman's grin then widened, and the sight of it would have sent chills down the spine of anyone unfortunate to cross their paths. "Luckily, I think I know where we can find some more."

Assassin followed his Mother/Master with nary a sound, save for the accidental tapping of his sword against the brick walls of buildings.

Upon her right hand, the woman's black command seals seemed to glow, like the empty space that lay between stars. While Jack the Ripper was not the one summoned, a new monster had taken their place as the Assassin of Black.

A monster known as the One-Winged Angel.

[Meanwhile]

Kairi gaped in silent awe at the figure that stood in place over the summoning circle.

At first, he believed the figure to be a knight from Arthurian Legend but that image was shattered when he noticed that the Servant looked anything but a knight. For one, the figure is a young man with light skin and is slightly below average height, with a lean and toned build. He has spiky blond hair and blue eyes that glowed with an unnatural light. He wore a high collar sleeveless indigo shirt, black pants and boots, and black cloth covering his left leg and arm. He has a shoulder pauldron, and his chest is covered by two straps, held in place by a badge resembling a wolf's head. However, instead of one sword, he carried six with him. Each individual sword looked as if they were designed to form into something bigger, heavier, and much more powerful.

"Servant Saber," The young man spoke in a baritone voice as he leveled his glowing blue eyes at the necromancer. "I ask of you… are you worthy to be my Boss?"

Kairi frowned a bit since he realized that the Servant in front of him was not one of the Knights of the Round. However, he could not deny that the young man in front of him seemed immensely powerful.

So with a friendly smirk, Kairi greeted the Servant. "That's right. I'm Kairi Sisigou and I'm your Master." He said.

"Fine, contract approved. Mind telling me why we're in a graveyard?" Saber of Red questioned.

"Well, I'm a necromancer. So, being in a graveyard is natural for me since I've practically lived by them all my life." Kairi admitted.

The blonde man sighed, "Figures I'd be contracted to a creepy guy with a dead people fetish."

"Hey, I take offense to that!" The necromancer exclaimed, feeling a bit insulted.

Saber shrugged nonchalantly, "I call it as I see it." He stated.

Kairi sighed then glanced down at the piece of the Round Table that was used for the summoning. Since it was still in good condition, the mercenary thought he could sell it back to the Clock Tower for a decent amount of money if he survived the Grail War. With that thought nestled in the back of his mind, he took the catalyst in his large hand then stuffed it in his pocket.

"By the way," Kairi suddenly spoke, getting his Servant's attention. "What's your name?"

The blonde man looked at the necromancer for a second then spoke, "My name is Cloud. I'm a former SOLDIER First Class."

Just from that last phrase alone, Kairi had a feeling that he had summoned a one-of-a-kind Servant. If this 'Cloud' fellow is able to wield six swords then he must be pretty powerful.

Overall, he had a feeling that this Great Holy Grail War was going to be interesting…

[Paris, France]

It was late at night at an all-girls academy.

Many of the students were fast asleep in their beds… save for one.

"The Heavens tell of God's glory," The voice of a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and clad in a white nightdress prayed to her Lord and Savior. "The skies proclaim His handiwork. Speech is poured forth during the day. And knowledge-" She gasped.

A voice whispered in her ear. "Forgive me but I have need of your body. I hope my request does not trouble you."

While most would be put off by the voice, the girl could feel the warmth and care behind it as well as the presence that spoke to her. She smiled, feeling honored to be chosen. "Yes, Holy Maiden Jeanne. I shall be of power to you."

While the girl's roommate continued to sleep soundly, a heavenly golden glow began to emerge from the blonde's body. Once the light began to settle, she stood up with an aura of conviction and confidence.

She turned around, revealing the sharp yet gentle color of her purple eyes. They were not the eyes of a sweet, young woman though…

...they were the eyes of a warrior.

[Meanwhile…]

After the summoning of the Servants of Red and Black, another Heroic Spirit was being summoned as an enforcer for Ruler.

The Grail had searched many dimensions to find the perfect warrior that would protect its mediator from any who would dare to seek to harm them.

Eventually, it found such a warrior…

In an abandoned church, a white summoning circle appeared before a large symbol of the Christian faith. Light poured from the ritual as a figure slowly emerged at the Grail's calling. Once the light began to fade, the newly-arrived Servant stood in unfamiliar surroundings while information poured into their skull. As their temporary headache settled, the Heroic Spirit looked up at the broken roof to stare at the sight of the Earth's Moon.

"So I've been summoned as Saver… and I must protect Ruler…" The figure spoke in a youthful masculine voice, signifying their gender as male.

The hero chuckled softly, "Fate sure has a funny way of telling a man." The Servant Saver looked ahead. "Very well then, by my title as the Warrior of Light, I will protect Ruler until my dying breath."

With that said, the Heroic Spirit known as Saver set out to find his charge into an all-new world that seemed alien to him.

A/N: That's it for the prologue chapter. If you have any disagreements with the choice in Servants for the Black Faction as well as Saber of Red? Too bad. However, you do have the option of choosing the remaining Servants for the Red Faction. The catch is that they have to be Final Fantasy characters.

If you're all still confused on who the selected Servants are then I'll gladly put up a small list to showcase who they are.

Anyway, review and comment on this if you like. Love it, hate it, but just know that you've read it.

Peace out, everyone!

[Servant List]

Saber of Black: Noctis Lucis Caelum

Archer of Black: Vincent Valentine

Lancer of Black: Kain Highwind

Rider of Black: Lightning Farron

Berserker of Black: Jecht

Caster of Black: Y'shtola Rhul

Assassin of Black: Sephiroth

Saber of Red: Cloud Strife

Ruler: Jeanne d'Arc

Saver: Warrior of Light