Summary: There is no Master at Chaldea; Humanity is doomed. The world's final effort to foil Goetia's ambitions results in an unlikely setup—a Servant as a Master. Enter Emiya Shirou, who by necessity can never be an Emiya Shirou from this world, but from another one entirely.

The world was doomed to burn.

All of Humanity's history, from the end-point where the Incineration began, to the very start of the species—all of it burned at the hands of the Beast. And in this time, Fortune meddled with Fate, twisting the sequence of events in the timeline just so: that when the Last Master was revealed, having long been readied to combat this oppression—they died, instead, and the light of hope sputtered.

Such meddling caprices would have doomed a world to oblivion. But Fate would not be denied in this instance. Catastrophic failure was not in the cards. So Fate turned not away, and pulled a string or two, here and there, and everywhere.

Within the systems embedded deep into Chaldea's core, something flared, as mana surged through the very depths. The energy flowed and coiled, until it coalesced into a single spot, fueling a once-in-a-lifetime anomaly that had would never be witnessed.

It necessitated that no one witness it, which was a condition for its materialization. It was a flawed miracle that required very specific conditions, and it was completed within the infinitesimal moments between the smallest intervals of time, the smallest the universe could handle.

And so, since no one saw it, no one could dispute it, and therefore no one could deny it. Such was the sleight that Fate performed, as it deftly inserted a new variable in the flow of time.

Light blossomed.

In the burning ruins of the Control room, where a certain Mashu Kyrielight lay bleeding beneath some rubble, a portal opened in space. To the shock of those observing, a Servant emerged, unguided by the normal summoning methods that were available to Chaldea.

The man's eyes were striking, like a hawk, as it surveyed the damage. Light coalesced around its frame, forming lightly armored clothing. Graying auburn hair swayed as the man swiftly analyzed the situation. Debris crunching beneath its boots, it strode towards Mashu, unheeding the computer's robotic words overhead.

"Here, Mashu." A quick punch blasted the debris away. Then the man kneeled.

The shocked girl took his proffered hand. "Umm… who?"

"A Servant, just like you. Though I can sense that my appearance here is quite unusual in the ultimate scale of things." He smiled bitterly up at the representation of the burning globe upon CHALDEAS, signifying the current state of the world.

"Master candidate found," came the computer's voice.

"So it has," the man murmured, eyeing the marks on the back of his hand. He glanced at the girl, who still looked bewilderingly at him. "Are you ready for this, Mashu? To carry the weight of the world—no, wait, that's not important. What I should really be saying is: will you trust me?"

After a pause, she nodded. "I trust you."

Brilliant light surrounded them. At the last second, he pushed her away from the path of the dematerializing waves. His smile turned satisfied when he felt his body, and his body alone, dissipate into the Rayshift.

()()()

His name, once, had been Emiya Shirou. A long time ago, by his reckoning—he had once been a humble human, chosen by destiny.

In this burning world, the many possibilities of "Emiya Shirou" all held within them the same starting point—the child born from the ashes of the Fourth Holy Grail War. Any other Emiya Shirous from before that point were irrelevant in the grand tapestry of history, their names either long forgotten, or so different that they may as well be a separate existence (as of the female Shirou).

Some Emiya Shirous would be imprinted upon the Throne, some would forever dance for the world as a Counter Guardian, and still others would end pursuing strange fates. But the definition of any Emiya Shirou, especially when one was needed to be summoned for any reason, was that he started at that particular point. The many facets of his future, some more bizarre than the rest combined, stretched out to infinity, their many permutations essentially unlimited.

In this burning world, Fate needed a Master. With the right backing, Emiya Shirou would make for an excellent backup, as he had the qualities necessary to be a Master. Yet in this occurrence of the timeline Emiya Shirou was long dead, and the dead stayed dead. If there were versions of him to be summoned, they would only be Servants at the most—mere reflections of Emiya Shirous. This was a rule that could never be surmounted.

But a loophole could be exploited. If a Master destined to overcome Goetia had died, and if time and nature could not conspire to produce a replacement just in time; then the replacement could be summoned, as of a Servant.

The first choice, of course, was an imprint of the Master. Of that other Master, however, naught can be mentioned—perhaps Fate has another purpose for them in mind. In this tale, Fate instead plucked the concept of "Emiya Shirou" from a world line entirely separate from this one, tapping into that world's Throne like it was copying a cheat sheet.

Thus did this Emiya Shirou emerge, a fully formed copy of a version of Emiya Shirou that was, at its base, impossible.

He was Emiya Shirou, the Last Master of Chaldea.

He was a storm of coincidences wrapped up into one being. His real father had been Emiya Kouhei, born in place of Kiritsugu, and was a magus loyal to his Crest. He was the youngest born among many, and was coincidentally named Shirou. He was given away to be taught by other magi, for he could not inherit the Emiya legacy. He had distinguished himself as a failure of a magus, but like Kiritsugu, he would stake his claim on a reputation of blood and gunpowder, earning him the name "Heretic Reaper". In this way, he crossed paths with the Animusphere family, and from there, Chaldea.

This Emiya Shirou was so far removed from the Emiya Shirou of the burning worldline. They only looked the same, had the same name, practiced similar methodologies, and possessed the same general personality (with a few exceptions) and aspirations; but they were entirely different people, technically speaking. He possessed the Reality Marble "Unlimited Blade Works", but it was sourced differently, even if the resulting magecraft was exactly the same. But it was this technicality: this paradox of similarity and difference, that allowed him to represent the loophole that was exploited. This was not the Emiya Shirou that could legally be summoned; but legally speaking, he was enough of a different existence that he could be summoned—as both Master and Servant.

Sure enough, there were other "Emiya Shirou"s on his worldline. Even a few became heroes in their own right, or became Counter Guardians, just like their counterparts in the Burning World. But peculiarly, the Master candidate could only come from here, for it was only here that the "possibility" could be plucked.

Fuyuki.

The burning city.

He was here again.

The first time—on that desperate first day—he didn't know why this random Japanese city had been chosen as the first singularity. It was only now, with the knowledge that had been placed in his brain from the summoning, that a vague understanding came to him.

Fate was strong here. This was best exemplified by his arriving here twice—and both times as a Master on a last, desperate attempt to save the world.

"Why did you leave her behind?" came a voice from behind him.

"I wanted to save her from this," he replied. He turned his head to greet the voice's owner. "Mashu."

"Senpai, my love," she said in reply. There stood his old friend, Servant, comrade, and lover. It was strange—it had either been a very long time since they'd seen each other, or it had only been just a moment ago. Yet still, even now as a Servant that he could summon as part of his current abilities as a Servant himself, she looked as strong and beautiful as ever.

Currently she wore the outfit she had worn when she was but a humble Demi-Servant, a long time ago at the start of it all. Her features were definitely older and a bit more developed, to reflect his memory of her when last he saw her. Her silvery hair was longer, free as her spirit. Her face, with one side shrouded by her bangs, was more mature, lined by age yet undiminished in beauty. Placed on her back was Galahad's shield, symbol of the Round Table.

"You know in your heart that you do her no favors," Mashu replied, shaking her head. "Idiot senpai."

He smiled at her affectionate words. "You do have a point. Perhaps I'm wrong for trying to make it different. For hoping that she could be different, this time. Because this time, I can't be there for her."

"You're here, senpai."

"Summoned by a wretched world that doesn't know when to give up. I can be no Master, no senpai," he said, a bit scathingly. "I apologize, I know that the 'me' from long ago has gotten his rest and made his peace; and I am but a reflection of it. But still…"

"I know my friend," Mashu said, her voice gentle and brave, taking his hand in hers. "I know. As some of the others would say, 'Don't overthink it, idiot Shirou.' So let's do this for now. Show this world how a Master of Chaldea did it, Emiya Shirou. He has saved the world enough times that other worlds now dare summon you."

Shirou paused as if to think. There were enemies right below them—wraiths and fiends born from the flames of the singularity. But he paid them no mind—no, he gave his attention to the enormous task that laid ahead of him. Once more he was that younger, wilder, reckless version of him, who had dashed into the wreckage to attempt to save one girl. He was a man who dreamed he could save the world, unaware of the enormous price.

"Thirty minutes," he said aloud. "What a drag. And the resummoning time is unknown."

"Then I'll make the thirty minutes count, Senpai," his Servant said. Mashu was only here by virtue of the "Noble Phantasm" granted to him as a Servant. She was an extension of his power, but would only last for a brief time, as he now knew, as if by instinct.

"Go."

Mashu raised her shield. "Servant Shielder. Mashu Kyrielight, engaging!" Together, Master and Servant jumped down, into the fray.

The first mass of enemies had been defeated. It had been effortless on Mashu's part, as she had gone toe to toe with more powerful beings in the past—and by herself at that. And these were weak constructs, and were a mere byproduct of the singularity: they were not created specifically to battle enemy Servants.

"Our main objective is to secure a path to the director," Shirou said.

"Are you sure she's here, Senpai?" Mashu asked.

"That is a huge possibility. I am also sensing mana signatures from that direction. It could be a Servant, but it's a fair chance it's the Director." Olga Marie had been a friend, then an off-again, on-again lover. She had earned his trust, and he had gained hers in turn, but their relationship had always been rocky from start to finish.

Mashu nodded. "Then let us hurry. We need to maximize my presence here."

Once, Shirou could rely on his own forged technique: the Projection of an theoretically infinite number of swords. But his Servant self knew instinctively that he no longer had access to it. It was perhaps a quirk of being a strange "Master"-type existence. This image that had been summoned of Emiya Shirou was an incomplete facsimile with only the major parts built in. And Emiya Shirou had been known more for being the Last Master, than for the Unlimited Blade Works.

Still, it made things a bit more interesting. Where typically he could count on supporting Mashu and his other Servants with a well-placed Projection, now he was completely powerless, except to quickly summon more Servants to cover him. That was the extent of his abilities, as he currently assessed it.

"Detecting signatures: they're close, Senpai!" Mashu called from in front of him. Still, as a Servant his parameters were a bit enhanced. His natural speed, for example, were such that he could now keep up with Mashu running at a typical Servant's pace, where before he had to rely on another Servant to carry him (typically Mashu herself).

They heard a scream. The two recognized the voice. "Yep, that's definitely her." Shirou glanced at his hand, to remind himself that he no longer had Command Seals. "Mashu, hurry!" he urged, a little uncomfortable that he could no longer rely on the Command Seal's tactical advantages.

Down below, at the center of a crater stood a woman, surrounded by monsters. Mashu plunged into the thick of it, swinging her shield around in wide, precise arcs. Needless to say, what had once been a hefty challenge for a newbie Demi-Servant was routine now for Mashu, who defeated all enemies in less time than it took to drink a glass of water.

"Wh-who… Is that you, Mashu Kyrielight? From Team A?" Olga-Marie said, in a shrill voice.

"Mashu Kyrielight, reporting for duty, Director," Mashu greeted, once the enemies were cleared.

"H-how on earth is this possible—and you, who are you?"

The words stung, for it was as if she did know Shirou by face. But that was fine—he knew things would be different for every timeline. His being here was proof enough. That Olga didn't recognize him was another: in his past they had met before Chaldea began formal operations.

"I am also another Servant, allied to Chaldea," he said smoothly, with a bow. He hesitated. "Shirou, at your service."

"A Servant..? And allied to… Never mind. If so, who is your Master?"

Mashu looked at him. He also took a second to pause, before answering, "I have no Master," he said. "Though in a sense I am not a Stray either. I do not know why I was summoned here, but here I am." Which was true, in a way.

Olga's eyes widened. "T-Then, perhaps you can try…! Would you Contract with me?"

Shirou wanted to smile, but knew that would only get him a punch in the face. "I do apologize, but I can sense even without taking a look that it would be impossible." It was another truth. Back in his time, Olga-Marie, though an excellent magus in her own right, had zero ability to be a Master. It was something that had always rankled her the whole time he'd known her, which was also why she always remained in loggerheads with him, even when they'd become friends.

Now that he was a Servant, some things were instinctive, like this moment, when he could already tell that there was no way he could Contract with Olga-Marie, no matter how much he wished it.

The Director frowned heavily at his answer, but said nothing more as she acceded the point. She turned away with a huff. "We have to find a way to resolve this Singularity," she said. "It's the only way we can return to Chaldea."

"I shall defer to your authority," Shirou said. He knew what to do, but asked anyway. "What must we do?"

"For now, we must investigate. And that means you must escort me, Servant, if you are truthful about your claim to serve Chaldea."

"I accept," he said.

Olga nodded approvingly. Then she turned and pointed in a direction. "Then, let us head in that direction. I sense a surge in mana over there."

Mashu signaled him. With Olga's back turned, she did not see Mashu's body emit motes of light, as she slowly faded away. The thirty minutes was up.

"Good luck, Senpai," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

He could not help but feel a deep sadness when she disappeared completely, despite knowing in his bones that he could summon her again. It appeared that Mashu could not be summoned for some time after dematerializing, which meant he had to rely on other Servants for combat. He thus hurried after Olga-Marie, whose mind was focused on something else that she never noticed the exchange.

"Damn. Why is there still no word from Chaldea?" Olga-Marie muttered aloud. Shirou thought that strange too, but in a way the strange nature of singularities could easily explain it. In his time, Dr. Roman had contacted Mashu, who was obviously not here. Since then, the doctor had explained that contacting a person inside a singularity was a science unto itself, and that nothing was absolute. Perhaps in this time, the doctor would never be able to make contact.

"Enemies ahead," Shirou announced. "Stay back, Director."

"Alright. Wait a second, where's Mashu—" Shirou charged forward, and placed one Servant in his mind. "Assassin!"

After a flash of light, a white skull-shaped mask clad in shadows appeared, drifting over the battlefield. "I have come again, Master," it said. It moved swiftly to engage the enemies, striking like an unrelenting dervish into their ranks.

Shirou remained on standby, ready to summon another Servant if needed. But with how powerful his Servants had become; it was logical to conserve his energy by summoning only one at a time—especially with the time limit present. It was also efficient: as was now being proven, Assassin was just as capable of handling the small trash with the same speed as Mashu.

With the battle won, Assassin returned to his side, clinging close like she was his personal shadow.

"Shirou," Olga-Marie said, panting as she ran close. Assassin hissed at his ear, as if she wanted the Director gone. "What… is… But where is Mashu?"

"I do believe there is some misunderstanding, Director," Shirou said. He chose his words carefully. "I and that person are not allied, nor do I know her purpose. She disappeared just as soon as we arrived here. I know not why, and she did not choose to tell me."

"Then that's… Did she get Rayshifted back? Damn!" Olga-Marie bit her lip, glaring at Shirou as if it was his fault (well, it kind of was). "I pray you don't spontaneously leave as well."

He bowed. "I hope to answer your expectations. In any case, this one," he introduced Assassin, "… Is not a Servant, but a shade that is part of my Noble Phantasm. Do be informed, for she is an ally, like myself." It was a bald lie, but he decided that saddling the woman with explanations about his powers would have to wait for another day.

"I'll keep that in mind," Olga groused. "In any case, we should keep moving. I have a feeling that solving whatever is the cause of this singularity is the only way to undo it."

She really was brilliant, to have arrived at that conclusion. Shirou could only shake his head to himself in awe.

It did not take much longer before they met a stronger enemy—an actual Servant. A "shadow Servant", as Shirou remembered, were ill-formed, incomplete shades exhibiting limited power, owing to a flaw in its composition: like a blade missing steps in its construction.

Still, they would be much stronger than the usual enemy, based on his experience.

Assassin was the one who detected it. "Master, a strong enemy ahead. Enemy Servant."

He narrowed his eyes at the figure that darted through the burning ruins, its target unmistakable: their small party.

"Judging by that weapon… it's a Lancer." Shirou muttered. "Director, incoming!"

Olga-Marie shrieked as Assassin intercepted the initial strike. Judging by the way the enemy Lancer was knocked back, Assassin was still strong.

"Good girl," Shirou muttered. "All those strengthening regimes… You're still as strong as ever." A wry bitter feeling swept through him recalling all the trials and tribulations of his time as a Master. Oh, he wouldn't give up those experiences for the world, but at the time they had been quite an exhausting affair. "But still, we shouldn't take any chances. Can you use your Noble Phantasm?"

"On this one?" Assassin asked. "Master, you know how mine works. My blades are more suited for a group."

"So is that a no?"

"Watch me." And then, before the enemy Lancer could recover, Assassin's form morphed into a cyclone of whirling blades, which crashed against its form with vindictive force. Blood sprayed; the shadowy Servant was instantly eviscerated.

"Good work," Shirou pronounced, watching as the enemy's mana signature disappeared.

"I always do good work. Or better," Assassin said, as if chiding him.

"Is it over?" Olga Marie asked from behind him. He checked the time, and knew that Assassin was about to go. He nodded at her. The skull-mask nodded, and bowed out, using its Presence Concealment to hide its eventual dematerialization.

"Yes, Director," Shirou said. "We have eliminated the enemy Servant."

"Whew. Wait, Servant? There are Servants here?" Olga said, mouth agape.

He tried not to raise a brow. "They exist, they are hostile, that is usually enough for me." He didn't know if the Director knew of the existence of the Counter Force, and of its tendency to summon Servants into singularities. And that was not even mentioning the fact that their enemies were also usually Servants…

"Very well. Then let us proceed with more caution. We must treat any encountered Servants with utmost caution, but I do authorize you to strike first if that is your prerogative."

"Well now, isn't that a pickle?" came a drawling voice from behind. Olga jumped, surprised, while Shirou slowly turned. He had sensed their signature arrive just a few seconds ago, and had just been about to summon another Servant in defense. "That sort of attitude makes it hard to be diplomatic, you know?"

"Show yourself!" Olga shouted.

From out of the shadows emerged a man clad in animal pelt, wielding a wooden staff carved with ancient runic symbols. His instincts spoke clear to him: this was a Servant, though he did not recognize him. At least there was something else that was different to this world. He could guess this was a Caster from its look, but looks have deceived him plenty of times.

"Whoa now, that's a pretty sharp look you're giving me, Servant. Almost reminds me of someone I fought, a long time ago… Anyway, you can drop the hostility—for now. If I wanted you and the little missy dead I could have dropped you from afar, or better yet, allowed you to keep on going how you were until you meet him."

"Him?" Olga echoed.

The Servant jerked a thumb off to the side. "Yeah, that big lump of concentrated mana right over there, all wrapped up in a ferocious package that'd make any veteran warrior quake in their boots. Almost bestial it is, and I'm pretty sure it could've squashed the both of you flat."

"I see. Thank you for the warning," Shirou said.

"Don't thank me yet. We ain't done negotiating. But where are my manners? I am Servant Caster, and right now I'm thinking you're the ones that'll help solve this whole mess."

"What do you mean?" Olga asked.

"I mean this was all just a normal Holy Grail War, before all this madness set in. Turned all the other combatants into those shadowy creatures that don't deserve to be called Servants, and me all alone, not knowing what to do."

"A Holy Grail War? But records indicate that this area did not feature a Grail War of this nature at this exact time…" Olga trailed off.

The Servant shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. And now, to top it off, there's some sort of massive surge of mana all the way over there. And I have the strongest feeling that nothing good's gonna come out of it."

That was the Great Grail, which was the source of this singularity. His old self hadn't discovered the fact until much later. But he was sure this Olga-Marie would be just as decisive in targeting the Grail—or more importantly its protector—in order to seal off this singularity for good.

"…So you're proposing an alliance?" Olga-Marie was saying.

"A temporary state, until we reach the site of the Greater Grail."

"What will you do then? Betray us?"

"I still haven't decided," the Servant replied, giving another shrug. "Things have gone so much to shit that it makes me think there's really no point in continuing to pursue the original aims of the Grail War. Look around you. It's hell on earth. Either you bail, or you become a hero."

"Well, I shan't say no to an alliance. Besides, I'm sure Shirou could handle you," Olga said.

"Bold of you to say that," Shirou said, raising his brow.

"Well, she ain't wrong about that, big guy. Judging by the quick way you dispatched Lancer, you're at a level far above normal Servants. Which was the reason why I chose diplomacy with you, too."

In the end, though no formal compact was made, the three of them decided to solder on as allies until they could reach the are around the Great Grail. They charged through a gauntlet of monsters, and fought through several other shadowy Servants.

Rider. Assassin. Two more enemy Servants fell, at the hands of Jeanne D'Arc—the Dragon Witch. In the burning city, she was in her element, and the flames arose like living things to surround and protect the trio, while also obliterating all who opposed them. Such was her power that the enemy Servants did not have a chance to fight back, impressing Caster.

The volatile saint demanded an audience with him when she was close to fading.

"When next you draw me out, I hope it is not for anything as boring as battle, my Master," she said pointedly. Though she could be considered a "fake" made in the image of the real Joan of Arc, she was still as beautiful and unique as ever.

"Oh, you mean like cooking? Or baking perhaps?" he asked.

"Goddamnit, I'm being serious here you dolt!" Jeanne cried, her face flushed like a tomato.

"So am I. I would love to cook something with you, Jeanne," he said, brushing hair from her forehead. "Just the two of us. All alone."

The Servant's cheeks swelled, and she was about to say something before she faded away. Shirou sighed. He'd meant every word he'd told the Dragon Witch, and it had been somewhat lonely to see her go.

"You're powerful for a Servant," Caster told him later. "I'd wager you could even overpower me. Now I'm thinking you can definitely 'win' it all. I don't think the holy sword user can defeat you or your toys."

He knew the man was referring to Artoria Alter, who was guarding the Grail. It was the same situation here then. So far, so good. He also knew that there should still be one more obstacle to surpass, which was—

"Down!" Shirou roared, pushing Olga's soft body to the ground. Bolts of energy whizzed through the air, exploding all around them.

"Archer," Caster said. "He's a real pain, with that sort of vantage point. Why, if I had a spear, I could definitely try to gut him despite it all, but I'm just a holy man now." Caster looked at him. "Got a plan, Shirou?"

The space before them was wide-open, as he remembered, with little to no cover to utilize. That gave the enemy Archer a huge advantage, as he could snipe and reposition as he pleased. This would force them to move swiftly, finding what cover that they could, and brave the gauntlet of arrows to reach the other side.

In his time, Mashu was of great help with her shield, allowing them to move forward to engage the Archer in close quarters. Unfortunately, Shirou learned a hard lesson then: a Servant was never to be underestimated. That Archer was just as deadly in close combat, and ended up wounding Mashu before its defeat.

Shirou would carry that lesson for the rest of his life.

"How would you deal with it?" Shirou shot back.

"I wouldn't," Caster said. "I'm a Caster. Typically we'd have found Archer's Master, subverted them, then we do what we please with the Servant himself. But this guy don't play by the rules. We don't have Masters anymore, but he's still going. And I sure can't match that guy in a straight up fight."

He could try Mash again. He reached into his soul, and found that it was still impossible. He could grasp at her image, but she was so far away that he couldn't reach her. Therefore, he searched for the next best thing, someone who shared her class—

"Shielder!" he said under his breath.

The Amazon clad in near-naked battle-gear and wielding an enormous bronze shield emerged from the light. She wasted no time and immediately charged into the killing zone. As expected, the rain of bolts came; but her shield denied it all, like they were mere children's darts, made to amuse. He stayed back under cover with the others, not willing to give the Archer a chance to distract her.

She disappeared into the ruins on the far distance. There was silence for an instant, until flashes of light and loud noises began to explode from within the flames. Battle had been engaged. As the others looked on, Shirou rose from cover and started jogging over the fields.

Some might have called him foolish, for exposing himself to risk, but he was confident. Well, some might then accuse him of being overconfident, but he knew his Servants well. Each and every one of them had been forged in the flames of brutal, unrelenting battle. The only risks of failure, as he could guess, was the predictable loss of energy needed to summon them—which would be the fault of the system that summoned him without a Master.

From where was he drawing his energy then? He thought. A question for later.

There was one thing he could fault his current Shielder: she was ruthlessly efficient. There was no sign of the enemy Archer after its defeat, so he could not catch a glimpse of its appearance. She then stood, silent, like an ancient Greek statue (though he didn't say that phrase out loud), awaiting his orders. In spite of her class, he could almost call her a damned Berserker for her attitude.

Unlike the others he had summoned, he wasn't quite as close with this version of Shielder. There was something to her personality that kept things strictly professional—despite the fact that like the rest she was utterly loyal. Like Jeanne d'Arc Alter, it was another "altered" version of Shielder (and was also in a different class), who stepped easily into "pointless fornication", as this Shielder put it.

"Good work, Shielder. Any problems?"

"…Just one," the Amazon replied. She hesitated, then shook her heada. "Well, no, it's not really a problem. But that Archer…"

"Hm?"

"It's nothing, Master. Perhaps it was just my imagination."

Shirou frowned. "Is it at all related to our overall situation?"

"No. Merely a private fancy."

He stared at her, then sensed Olga and Caster coming in from behind. "Fine. Let's keep moving, shall we?"

"Here we are." After scaling a mountain full of enemies, Shielder made her final salute, leaving Shirou to deal with fighting Saber. According to Caster, she was still definitely the Artoria Alter he knew. He could even summon her—well, one of her. But that would be counter-intuitive. His Artoria Alter tended to be very destructive, and with two of them in one space it could end up destabilizing the whole place, maybe even the singularity.

In his own battle here, Mashu had used up all her energy to deflect the dread Excalibur's energies with her deployed Noble Phantasm, while Shirou used his Unlimited Blade Works to attempt to assassinate her. The Servant had been quick to react to their plan, and they might have failed then had he not summoned his first ever Servant, who dealt the final blow.

First, he would have to assess her potency. He knew he could overpower her with summoning more than one Servant, but as long as a Grail was involved, things could spiral quickly out of control.

"Caster, do you think you could support the Director?" he asked.

"With what? My little stick? Or do you mean some rune enchantments?"

Shirou glanced at Olga, who looked genuinely worried. She must have sensed the immense font of dark miasma that was so thick in this place. "Frankly, I would rather you both stay back, but we're not sure if things can get out of hand. In case I bite it, you both have to think of a quick plan to get rid of a high-class Saber."

"What? But we can't do that!" Olga said.

"Don't worry. I'll try to give you an opening."

They found Saber, exactly as he remembered her. She stood with sword planted on the ground, guarding the Grail behind her like a loyal knight. Her expression did not change when she saw them, as if she had anticipated their arrival.

"It is impressive that you have defeated the other Servants," Saber said. "But know that it is still ultimately futile. I have vowed to guard this place, and you shall never defeat me."

"We'll see about that," Shirou muttered.

Saber looked at him directly. "I sense no Master among you… but you, Servant. I sense you will be the one to challenge me. Come, if you dare."

Shirou stared back at her in silence for a good whole moment before he broke down in laughter.

"What amuses you, jester?" Saber asked frostily.

"It's nothing, I apologize…" Shirou exhaled. He would not admit that Saber's last words were exactly something that his own Saber would say to him—when he was balls deep inside her. Still, it was very bad form to laugh, especially in the presence of this Saber. "Still, I suppose now we must fight. Come, Mordred!"

In times of uncertainty, all efforts were to be concentrated on achieving maximum effect. In this case, the altered Saber, with parameters boosted to an unknown extent by the Grail would need quick, overwhelming force to prevent things from spiraling out of control.

Enter his Mordred—not the base Mordred, but a Mordred outfitted specifically to hunt "Artoria" of all shapes and sizes. Her armor was filled with eldritch symbols of grudges and hate, jagged and warped, radiating a menacing glow. Her sword, symbol of unfulfilled promises, cast its baleful light upon the surroundings, and gleamed with the hungry anticipation of hunting another Artoria's neck.

Mordred the "Bloodied" stepped onto the battlefield, ready to fight. Despite her appearance, she was still a Saber class. She glanced silently back at him before grunting. "We meet again, my Master. It has been… very long."

"Yes, old friend. You know why you're here?"

Saber glared at his Saber, its gaze burning with particular hatred. He was sure the same sentiment was reflected from the son to the father.

"Saving the world again—only, you need my special talents for this moment. Hmph."

"Can you do it?"

From within her fanged helm came a peculiar sound, like she was coughing. But it was laughter: emanating from chapped lips and hoarse, battle-worn throat. "Master. You're a natural jester."

"How dare you show your face here, traitor!" Saber Alter cried. Excalibur flashed in all its glory.

"Have at you, Father! Hraaaagh!" Mordred's own dread blade exploded with fiendish light.

They were as comets blazing over the ground. Their mighty clash shattered the earth around them, forcing Shirou to brace against the chunks of earth that rose in furious waves.

Artoria, fed by the infinite power of the Grail was mighty and terrible to behold, swinging her blade with ruthless precision. It was gratifying to see his Mordred match her strike for strike, parrying deadly strokes with unmatched brutality. It was a contest for the ages, to be sure, but they were on a time table here. So Shirou had to do his part.

"Saber! Finish her off! I'll give you a cookie!"

There was no hesitation in her reply. "You got it. Hear that, Father? Master needs you off the game so bad he's gonna let me do whatever I want later. So this is goodbye."

Saber roared. "You damned wretches! I'll slaughter you all!" A familiar light blazed from the edge of her blade. "Ex—"

"Oh no you don't!" Mordred said with a laugh as she grabbed the blade with her gauntlet. The faerie letters on the blade seethed, as if they were just as angered as its owner by the enemy's audaciousness. She smashed her helmet into the enemy's beautiful face, drawing blood. Shirou cringed, but she was the enemy, so mercy was out of the window.

Saber reeled back, but was quick to react. With a determined thrust, she stabbed her sword deep into Mordred's gut. Shirou disliked the sight of the blade jutting out the back of someone he cared for, but it was the necessary thing. And besides, this was also crucial to activating Mordred's Noble Phantasm.

"Gotcha, daddy-o," Mordred drawled, once more gripping the blade in her gut. "That's another one of you fucks I get to kill."

"What are you doing, fool?" Saber said.

"For my treachery, I'm going back to hell. But you know what? I'm taking you with me." Mordred's indulgent cackle was lost in the ensuing implosion as her Noble Phantasm activated. It was a self-destructive curse, woven onto the armor she'd worn. For as long as the Battle of Camlann was repeated, the curse would never fail to activate: devouring the enemy Artoria in a wave of destructive energy, powerful enough to destroy Galahad's mighty shield—but also consuming Mordred in the process.

When the implosion ended in smoke and rubble, nothing was left of the combatants but a crater gouged into the earth.

Shirou exhaled. It was always distasteful to send his Servants off with a Noble Phantasm like that, even if back then a Servant could be regenerated by Chaldea's systems. And even now, with this new system of him as a Servant summoning other Servants, making Mordred die was never an easy thing to stomach. He would have to do his best to spoil her as he'd promised. She at least deserved that.

"Unbelievable," Caster said from behind him. "You actually did it. You actually beat the wench."

Despite the relief surging through him, he turned about warily. "We could have used your help."

The man scratched his head. "I'm pretty sure the bitch could shrug off anything this body can throw at her. Well, not like it matters now. You did it! You beat her."

"Now what?" Olga-Marie said, who'd also come up. "I can sense that the Servant is no longer here, but there remains the problem of the singularity. Or more pertinently, that big mass of mana that's supposed to be a 'Grail'."

"The normal thing would be to claim it…" Caster stopped, and looked down on himself. "… If you were a Servant, and if you were given a fucking chance!" Shirou saw that the man was already disappearing from the feet up, which meant that the Grail was losing power. The Singularity was almost done. "Well, whatever. I had my fun. Saw something interesting too." He looked at Shirou. "You need me for anything at all, just call. It might not be as a Caster, sure, but Cu Chulainn's always up to kick in some heads."

The Servant disappeared. Shirou blinked at the spot where he'd been. "What the hell…? Cu Chulainn? But she's…" His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden earthquake. He looked around, watching for any threat.

"Well now, isn't that a surprise? Such a decisive end to the whole mess, and all without even a Master present! The world is certainly an amazing place!"

He froze. He knew that voice. He hated that voice. He frowned, as Olga pushed past him. "Lev! It's you!" Shirou watched as an old nemesis, Lev Lynor, appeared, floating downward from the air. He grit his teeth, seeing the wide, infuriating smile on the man's face. He had always longed to wipe that grin from his face. He had succeeded, a lifetime ago, banishing him and his ilk to oblivion.

But why was he here, now? Why were the chain of events different? Lev Lynor had been working against Chaldea from the start, but he had only ever shown his face halfway through, by exploiting Director Olga's feelings and almost bringing a certain singularity to chaos. He had become a constant scourge from then on, toying with their efforts in the singularities that followed, all until the end, when they had defeated Goetia.

That he was here lead to a distressing revelation: everything was different in this world. And there was no time to be complacent.

"Director, we must leave, now!" Shirou shouted. Lev Lynor was a dangerous element, and even as a Servant he knew the dangers. Far from just being a skilled magus, he was also a greater existence also called a "Demon Pillar", a nexus of power that should never be underestimated.

"What? What are you talking about?" Olga asked him. "Professor Lynor is an ally of Chaldea; no, he's one of the leading architects!"

"He's been fooling you lot! He's a traitor to the cause, and even worse—"

"Oh? I see you are quite informed, Servant. How interesting." Lev tilted his hat, and appraised him with cold eyes. "An intriguing enigma…"

"What are you both talking about? We should—"

"You should be silent, my dear. The world can do with less of your pointless barking."

Olga looked surprised. "Wha—"

"We had originally calculated that no one, or at least only one inferior specimen would be allowed to live from Chaldea's attack," Lev said. "And that the Demi-Servant, Mashu Kyrielight, would be here to witness the beginning of despair. But our plans have been much derailed. I don't know what you are, stranger, but you've upset so much of our plans it's almost an annoyance." The demon laughed. "Not that it matters. This world is doomed either way. However much you struggle, humanity's demise has been calculated from the dawn of time."

Shirou made his plans: he would have to try triple summoning: one mobile Servant to evacuate the Director, while the other two distract—no, would it be wiser to summon two who could destroy a Demon Pillar? The Beasts could certainly—

"… Now my dear, we simply cannot be postponing the revelation," Lev said, addressing Olga. "It was a small mercy that Trismegistus ended up transporting what remained of you to the Singularity, though such a glitch is rather unfathomable."

"Lev? What are you talking about? Speak sense!" Olga cried. A deep foreboding came over Shirou. They had to leave!

"Well think about it. The bomb I placed in Chaldea ended up sending you through a convoluted path here. You, who have never had the ability to Rayshift, let alone become a Master—you have achieved the impossible! This is something that humans all desire is it not! Rejoice! Such delicious irony must mean the world loves you very much."

Olga had paled. The implication were sinking in for Shirou—though he refused to believe it. Logically he had processed what the demon was saying, but the incongruity of the situation made his decision-making go haywire.

"Lev…" she whispered. "Wh-what are you saying…?"

The man leered. "You're dead, my dear. Just a batch of lingering atoms given the form and aspect of the late you—have you not noticed that you have never once hungered? Or that you can feel the heat of the singularity, but never once has sweat dripped from your face? You're an after-image of that glorious disaster, Olga-Marie Animusphere."

"No… That can't be! I can't be!"

"Director!" Shirou shouted, now desperate.

The malevolence in his laugh was spine-chilling, and in his experience they never led to anything good. Shirou thrust out his hand, but just as he was about to summon another Servant, space warped around them.

"I have connected directly to Chaldea," Lev said. "There, do you see it?"

As Olga screamed at the desolation reflected in the ruined Chaldea, as well as the doom that was inscribed upon the face of CHALDEAS, Shirou gritted his teeth.

"Mashu!"

"Master." The Mashu who had defeated manifold threats to humanity, appeared. But it was too late—or it was likely that the demon had been right, and that there was nothing that could be done for the Director.

She fell into the abyss, her screams echoing in Shirou's voice and piercing through to the depths of his soul. Once, he had loved the woman, in a different time. Despite their differences, they had learned to respect each other, trust each other, even rely on each other. His Olga-Marie had not died like this, and was "safe" as far as he was concerned. But that did not make seeing this Olga die like this any easier. Never had he failed the Director, and yet now—

"Damn you Flauros!" he shouted. "You'll pay for this! I swear it!" He had not felt this way in a long while: helpless, and torn from all certainty. He had approached this situation as a Servant with plenty of assumptions, which had now been proven wrong.

This was a world where there was no Last Master to take up the reins.

This was a world where Cu Chulainn was not a woman.

This was a world where the Director had died long before he'd arrived.

The demon stared at him; its eyes having lost the bemused malice with which it had regarded Olga-Marie. Now they were piercing, as if it were only one of a pair from out of a thousand eyes appraising him, and Mashu.

"Struggle if you must, but nothing you do or will do shall change what has already been calculated from the beginning of time." The demon crossed his arms. "But perhaps it would be prudent to account for the slightest chance of your succeeding… We must calculate this."

The world seethed and shook around them. The singularity was ending. And with a snap of his fingers, the pensive demon disappeared, leaving Shirou and Mashu alone.

"Wait! Damn it!" He punched the ground, as if he could bring the bastard back with just his fists.

"Senpai…"

He exhaled loudly. "Yeah. We failed." And more than that, they had alerted the crafty Demon Pillars to his existence. They might have saved the singularity, but they had lost the Director, and now Goetia might be more determined to stop them.

"How can you escape, senpai?" Mashu asked. "Dr. Roman wouldn't have your signature, since technically you haven't Rayshifted."

"I'm sure I'll manage. I'm a Servant now. There's probably a system for it," Shirou replied faintly.

"If that's so, then…"

"I know. Thanks for coming again, Mashu. I'll see you later."

Mashu smiled. She went close, grabbed his shoulder, and went on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips. "See you later, Senpai," she said in a whisper. "Don't worry. We're here with you."

Shirou stared all around him, as reality degraded and disintegrated. The world was empty, except for him. He was the last man on this singularity.

He closed his eyes. She was right. This was no time to let despair ride him. The world must be saved, and Goetia defeated once more: which meant he had to start planning. He had to prepare, even for the worst.

A light surrounded him, and in the next second, he too disappeared.

Apocrypha: The Beast Intercepts (Kiara Sesshyouin) available below (mature content):

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