Extra's Stories

As they sped through the night, both Fate and Morgan felt it—a presence following them. A Heroic Spirit.

A tall woman with long purple hair stood ahead, blocking their path. She wore a somewhat revealing white robe, a holy shroud draped over her shoulders, and long white ribbons tied on each side of her head. In her hand, she held a white cross-shaped staff, her piercing gaze locked onto them.

Fate's grip on the handles tightened, bringing Fate Riser to a smooth but cautious stop right before her.

"So you're the Extra Servant."

The woman's elegant voice cut through the night air as she raised her staff, pointing at the two.

"Morgan le Fay."

Fate & Morgan: "..."

—Silence.

Both Fate and Morgan simply stared at her.

Morgan blinked. Fate frowned.

…Did she just call her the Extra Servant?

Morgan.

Morgan Le Fay.

Not Fate.

Artoria didn't even know about Morgan's presence. So how the hell did this woman assume Morgan was the Servant?

Morgan's smirk was downright devilish.

Before Fate could say a word, her hands suddenly slipped under his shirt.

"Heh?" Fate glanced down, feeling the warmth of Morgan's soft hands tracing his torso.

And then—she kissed his cheek.

"Well, hello, Rider."

Fate's eyes snapped back toward the purple-haired servant, narrowing.

Rider's face was red. Her hands trembled ever so slightly.

Morgan's voice took on a sweetly venomous tone. "You see this, Spinster?"

Fate turned toward her, already knowing she was about to start some bullshit.

"He's mine. How does it feel to be old and forever alone, with no one to love you!?"

She broke into a gleeful, mocking laugh, and in that instant, Fate realized what she was doing.

He turned back toward Rider.

Her right eye twitched.

Her grip on her staff tightened.

Morgan just declared war.

"Oh? We'll see about that... WITCH."

A powerful surge of energy erupted from Rider's body.

Morgan grinned.

Fate sighed. "Motherfu—"

Revving the engine, he executed a sharp 180-degree spin, the back wheel kicking up a cloud of mud and dust right into Rider's face.

"GET BACK HERE, SINNERS!"

The purple-haired Saint charged forward, unfazed by the filth clinging to her clothes.

"Damn it, Morgan! What was the point of doing that!?" Fate shouted as he accelerated to 63 km/h, watching in the mirror as Rider closed the gap—on foot.

Cracks splintered across the road with each of her steps.

Morgan simply tilted her head back, watching with a smug expression. "Something personal."

Her amusement only grew as she saw Rider seething.

'Oh, I see why Fate enjoys this now.'

She had forgotten how satisfying it was to poke and prod at a rival's pride, to twist the knife where it hurt most.

How long had it been since she stomped on her half-sister's pride?

Fate gritted his teeth, shifting gears and pushing the speed up to 95 km/h. "I already have rotten luck with women. You don't need to provoke a damn bear with honey!"

Morgan chuckled. "Oh? Calling me honey now?"

Then she turned back toward Rider.

"You hear that? He called you an ugly bear while I'm honey."

Fate's grip on the handlebars tightened.

Rider's expression twisted in fury.

The ground shook.

Morgan's smug grin disappeared.

A shadow loomed over them.

A massive beast—Rider's mount—burst from the side, lunging toward them.

It was a Phantasmal Beast, possessing a gigantic head, a spiked shell, six powerful legs, and a long, barbed tail.

Fate swerved, narrowly avoiding the creature's charge.

He didn't need to guess who she was anymore.

Chaos Control

Tracing her weapon, "Cross of Saint Martha," he immediately discovered her identity.

Saint Martha. Rider-class.

No wonder she could control that monster.

Riding Skill: A++. Nearly maxed out.

Meanwhile, he only had Rank: B.

'She's going to be the death of me.'

Fate exhaled sharply.

He was so tempted to drop Morgan off the bike right now.

But knowing her, she'd dematerialize, rematerialize behind him, and cause even more trouble.

…He really must have rotten luck with women.

Morgan? A menace.

Erza and Mira? Always fighting over dominance.

Starfire? Dragging him into random missions.

Raven? Chill—until her asshole dad showed up to end the world.

And now?

A purple-haired saint was chasing him with a staff, ready to beat him into the ground.

Fate revved his bike twice, the deep roar of the engine echoing through the highway. With a sharp flick of the throttle, he shot forward—only to slide sideways at the last second, narrowly avoiding Martha's strike.

"Could you do something useful!?" Fate barked.

Morgan, sitting comfortably behind him, simply smirked. "Nah, I'd rather watch."

Fate's eye twitched in irritation. 'Why is she even here if all she does is cause trouble?'

His only real advantage right now was maneuverability—his bike was smaller and easier to handle compared to Martha's monstrous Phantasmal Beast. But in terms of speed? He wasn't sure if he had the edge.

The highway stretched endlessly ahead, the red glow of Fate Riser's tail light cutting through the darkness. Behind them, Tarasque's massive feet shattered the pavement with every step, the beast relentlessly pursuing them.

Fate gritted his teeth.

'Fine.'

Summoning [Mirage Edge] beneath his bike, Fate kicked off a hard U-turn, the blade of his summoned platform glowing beneath his wheels.

Morgan's brows raised. "Oh?"

Instead of escaping, Fate charged straight toward Martha and Tarasque.

Martha's eyes widened—she clearly hadn't expected him to double back.

Fate jumped off his bike.

Excalibur Morgan flashed in his left hand, its black and red chaotic energy crackling against the night sky.

His red motorcycle slammed into Rider's side, the force sending her stumbling back. At the same time, Fate's blade crashed into Tarasque, the raw impact blasting the Phantasmal Beast into the air.

In the same motion, his right hand grabbed Morgan.

With one swift movement, he lifted her by the thighs, her body resting against his shoulder as he landed gracefully onto the road.

Behind him, his bike, Martha, and Tarasque were sent flying off the cliff.

A long silence.

Morgan stared at him. Shocked. Embarrassed.

For a moment, she could only blink, feeling his firm grip around her.

This was the kind of thing she had only read about in fairy tales.

Fate sighed, adjusting his hold on her before turning toward the cliff's edge. The projection of his bike had already faded, and with it—Martha and Tarasque had disappeared.

Morgan suddenly let out a snort, recalling the sheer look of disbelief on Martha's face when the bike had crashed into her.

Fate shook his head, exhaling sharply.

"Alright, we're done here."

He turned away from the cliff, still carrying Morgan, making his way back to where they came from.

Morgan remained silent for a while before smirking.

"My, my, to think you'd go so far to protect me. How sweet~"

Fate didn't even look at her. "Don't make me drop you."

Morgan huffed, quickly dismissing her teasing tone.

She'd rather be carried like this than be dropped like some sack of potatoes.

Fate's clothing shifted, turning back into his regular clothing before he pulled out a Monster Card he had obtained from [Storm Access] during the last world, when his energy reached 10% he was able to get this monster card.

If he created a skill he could probably use this Monster Card like it was a Class Card. The only issue is it.

"Why the hell did I pull a butler named Alfred Pennyworth?" Fate murmurs to himself before pocketing the card currently finding no use of it.

"A bulter huh? You really are sweet getting me a personal butler." Morgan said with a smirk, which made Fate roll his eyes as he decided to ignore her.

Using [Presence Manipulation] combined with his [Reinforcement], Fate began running by foot leaping high with his reinforced legs quickly reaching the city and soaring from building to building.

The Next Day

"Tch!" Morgan clicked her tongue in irritation, floating lazily behind Fate as he watched over Artoria outside her school. The blonde girl stood at the entrance, chatting with Rin, completely unaware of the two observing her from a distance.

Morgan scowled. 'I can't believe this idiot is actually babysitting my half-sister from another dimension.'

Morgan glared daggers at Artoria, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. What made it worse? Fate hadn't even slept. While she got a good night's rest inside his inner world, he had stayed up all night working.

And yet, despite having an entire house-sized space to herself inside his Reality Marble, she hated how empty it felt when he wasn't there.

"I can't have her killed," Fate finally spoke, his tone casual but firm. "She got dragged into this mess because of me."

Morgan let out a sharp snort.

'What a load of nonsense. Like hell it's his fault—he can hop between worlds whenever he damn well pleases.'

Her frustration deepened as she watched Artoria talk so casually with Rin, as if everything was just handed to her.

'Again with this... I have to work my butt off for everything, and yet my half-sister gets it so easily, as if the world itself is handing her everything on a silver platter!'

Morgan clenched her fists.

'Camelot was supposed to be mine, but Uther gave it to her. And now this?!'

She had poured everything into her contract with Fate—months of planning, countless spells, endless manipulation. She had bent over backward—literally—to make that contract irrefutable.

And yet, Artoria formed one by accident.

A weak contract, sure, but a contract nonetheless.

Morgan bit her nails in frustration, her sharp teeth cutting into the flesh.

'No. No. No. No.'

He is mine.

She claimed him first.

She endured eight hours of being bent, twisted, and pounded into oblivion upon forming that contract—eight. hours. nonstop.

And yet, Artoria didn't have to pay a damn thing.

Morgan gritted her teeth so hard it hurt.

"Are you okay?" Fate's voice suddenly pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked, realizing she had bitten her fingers so hard they were bleeding.

...Which, frankly, she hadn't even realized was possible.

Morgan cleared her throat, quickly regaining her composure.

"Yeah. Anyway, could you keep an eye on her without, you know... actually babysitting her?" She waved her hand dismissively, trying to sound casual.

In truth, she was desperate to keep Fate away from Artoria as much as possible.

If that meant having him watch her from a distance instead, then so be it.

Fate hummed, tapping his chin. "Something to keep an eye on her, huh?"

A beat of silence.

Then—a lightbulb went off in his head.

"That's it! Morgan, you're a genius!"

Morgan blinked.

"...I am?"

She wasn't sure what shocked her more—the fact that he actually complimented her, or the fact that he sounded so genuinely impressed.

A small screen popped up in her vision.

Trust: 7%

Loyalty: 2%

Love: 9%

Morgan snapped out of her daze, quickly puffing up her chest.

"-I mean, of course I am!" She grinned, flipping her hair back dramatically.

[Doppelganger] - a shadow clone born of infernal energy and shaped by "Fate Redgrave". The doppelganger mirrors both its and Fate's movements and attacks - even its appearance is a copy of his true self. That both shadow and master can move in such harmony is a testament to Fate's mastery of the skill. The shadow can follow order commands by the master, along with switching places with each other once, doing so the shadow will disappear after 3 seconds.

Morgan's eyes widened as a spiritual clone appeared beside them.

It was an exact replica of Fate, except for its translucent, magenta-hued form, giving it the appearance of a phantom.

"Impressive," she mused, circling the clone with a critical gaze. She then turned to Fate, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "It's almost like you're in two places at once."

Fate tilted his head. "Yeah… it reminds me of something, but I just can't put my finger on what."

He furrowed his brows, trying to grasp the fragmented thought.

With his jumbled-up memory, caused by multiple concussions under Scathach's brutal training, combined with Morgan's meddling, tracing weapons, installing cards, and new memories constantly forming, recalling his past life had become a blur.

He could remember things, sure, but not where they came from or what they truly meant.

Hell, he couldn't even remember his own father's face or name properly.

All he could recall was a wacky, pizza-loving mercenary who took the dumbest jobs imaginable, and who had the uncanny ability to get shish-kebabed by his own swords.

Yeah. Something was definitely wrong with his memory.

Fate shook the thoughts away and turned to his clone. "Anyway—your job is to watch over Artoria. Make sure she's safe, don't reveal yourself unless absolutely necessary, and if push comes to shove, tell her to use a Command Seal to summon me."

The clone gave a silent nod before using its skills to become nearly undetectable to anyone except Fate himself.

Morgan's expression darkened.

'Why does he care so much about her?!'

Her fingers twitched, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from snapping.

'What does she have that I don't?'

Their Origins were practically made for each other—Rule and Power mixed so well together.

'Yet, for some reason, he's falling for her.'

Fate glanced at Morgan, sensing her distress. Though he couldn't quite figure out why she looked so agitated, he made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment before turning toward the other white-haired woman.

"Let's go out."

Before Morgan could react, Fate grabbed her wrist and started dragging her off toward the central park.

As they walked, a new set of clothes was projected over Morgan's usual attire.

Her robe dissolved, replaced with a black sleeveless sweater under an unbuttoned light blue jacket, paired with a deep blue skirt that hugged her hips, black leggings, and matching black heels.

Morgan blinked.

'Did he just…?'

She looked down at herself, examining the new outfit. The fit was perfect, as if tailored exactly for her.

"Oh my. Not bad." She smirked, turning to Fate with a playful look. "You even know my size?"

Fate didn't respond, but his own outfit had subtly changed—his long coat now a deep black, paired with matching pants and boots, while underneath, he wore a magenta shirt.

Morgan let out a soft giggle.

Fate raised a brow. 'Huh? What's so funny?'

For a brief moment, he found her adorable—this cold-hearted witch giggling like a normal girl.

A familiar screen popped up in Morgan's vision.

Trust: 8%

Loyalty: 3%

Love: 10%

"You seem to like the color pink," she teased, a smirk forming. "Want me to start wearing pink?"

Fate turned back to her, deadpan. "It's not pink. It's magenta."

Morgan chuckled, clearly amused. "Yeah, keep denying it."

The two walked hand-in-hand through the park, their steps unhurried.

It was quiet, with little need for words.

Fate found it oddly peaceful—this world, the one he once spent 149 hours trying to unlock every ending in, now felt so real beneath his feet.

For Morgan, however, it was something entirely different.

For the first time, someone was holding her hand and walking beside her.

The green trees, the gentle breeze, the setting sun casting golden light over them—it was almost dreamlike.

She looked at the boy in front of her, feeling a strange warmth radiate from him.

Her heartbeat suddenly quickened.

Confused, she tried to focus on the feeling, only for it to slip away the moment she did.

Morgan glanced down at their joined hands, before deciding to push the thought aside—for now.

She would try to understand it later.

As the sun began to set, people slowly headed home—but Fate and Morgan weren't alone.

They both felt it—someone watching them.

Without a word, they purposefully walked deeper into the forested park, luring their stalker into isolation.

Once they were far enough from civilians, the two magi exchanged a glance, already knowing what to do.

A figure stepped out from behind a tree.

Fate's eyes narrowed.

It was a familiar Saint.

To their left, another figure emerged—it was the Assassin Servant who had escaped on the night of Fate's summoning.

And to their right, a third figure revealed herself—a cat-like woman with blondish-green hair, wearing a green dress and wielding a bow.

The three Servants surrounded them.

Morgan's lips curled into a smirk.

Fate simply cracked his neck.

"Well then," he muttered, "looks like it's showtime."

"So it's true. Morgan Le Fay really is here." Servant of the bow said glaring at the Fairy Queen with hateful eyes.

Morgan's face darkened again, she didn't know why all of them suddenly could recognize her. 

"An ambushed huh? Why am I not even surprised." Morgan said with a disappointed tone, she was already expecting something like this the moment her identity was exposed and mistaken for the 8th servant.

Honestly, she fits the role of Master more since she is the one who is gathering magic energy to supply Fate, who was summoned although she isn't giving him any now.

Fate's blue eyes quickly scan the other two servants, recording their weapons into his Reality Marble and identifying them.

Tauropolos: Bow of Heaven - Archer Servant: Atalanta.

Double Clubs - Assassin Servant: Huyan Zhuo.

With this ability, Fate scoffed it was too easy to find out the enemy's true name, legend, and even weaknesses.

"Be careful, the other one is an Extra Class," Huyan Zhuo warned, shifting into a battle stance.

Fate tilted his head, a smirk forming as he eyed the three Servants.

"So, Rider, Assassin, and Archer have decided to team up." His fingers brushed against the deck of Class Cards at his waist before pulling one out.

Morgan, standing beside him, reached over and plucked one from his hand without hesitation.

"I'll be borrowing this for a bit."

Right now, her access to her strongest Magecraft was limited, and this was a perfect chance to experiment with the Class Cards firsthand.

They held their respective cards aloft.

INSTALL

A golden radiance engulfed both of them as their forms began to shift.

Fate emerged from the light adorned in loose, baggy pants, their flame-like designs flickering as though alive. His upper body was left bare, revealing his finely toned muscles and defined abs. The air around him grew scorching, heatwaves distorting the space around him.

Morgan, on the other hand, now wore a revealing one-piece battle suit, resembling Yubel's, but altered—her chest fully covered, lacking the third eye and the split-colored hair. From her back, demonic wings unfurled, casting an imposing shadow over the battlefield.

Morgan kept her gaze locked on the opposing Servants.

She knew her opponents weren't mere magi or ordinary humans. These were Heroic Spirits—legends made flesh.

And while she wasn't the overpowering Fairy Queen of Lostbelt 6, nor the ancient Morgan Le Fay who went into hiding after the fall of Camelot, she wasn't about to take any risks.

She wasn't dealing with just anyone.

Fate cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders before slamming his left fist into his right palm, a fiery explosion igniting from his hands.

"Alright then, time to kick some ass."

Morgan's eyes narrowed as their enemies prepared to strike.

Assassin was the first to move, blades flashing as she charged toward Morgan.

Fire Dragon: Iron Fist!

Fate's flaming fist met Assassin's blades head-on, the sheer force of the impact sending Huyan Zhuo flying through multiple trees, the trunks snapping like twigs from the sheer force.

Atalanta, positioned at a distance, seized the opening and unleashed a hailstorm of arrows, each one honed to pierce through armor and flesh alike.

Morgan, without flinching, raised a hand.

A thick wall of thorned vines erupted from the ground behind Fate, blocking the arrows effortlessly. The green thorns pulsed with a strange life, coiling menacingly in Atalanta's direction.

"Tch!" Atalanta clicked her tongue in frustration. 'That woman—!'

Her sharp emerald gaze locked onto Morgan, who stood there with a smirk.

"Try a little harder."

Morgan taunted her directly, her newfound confidence unshakable.

After all, at any given moment, she could simply slip into Fate's Reality Marble if things ever took a turn.

Morgan simply flicked her wrist, sending the thorny vines lashing out at the Archer.

Atalanta reacted instantly, flipping backward to avoid them, her movements swift and precise, yet Morgan's attacks chased after her relentlessly.

Meanwhile, Martha charged forward, her fist crackling with power, aiming straight for Fate.

Fate met her head-on, swinging his palm toward her clenched fist.

Fire Dragon: Claw!

The moment their attacks collided, an explosive shockwave erupted, flames consuming everything around them. Nearby trees were reduced to ash, and the ground beneath them fractured, forming a massive spiderweb of cracks.

Fate whistled, impressed.

His flames had burned through part of Martha's robe, revealing her legs and a portion of her cheek.

Morgan's elbow suddenly rammed into his ribs.

"Ow!" Morgan let out a hiss of pain, clutching her elbow.

It felt like she had just hit a block of solid steel.

Morgan ignored the pain and narrowed her gaze at Martha, forcing down a surge of jealousy.

"Such shamelessness," she muttered, eyes shutting as she took a deep breath. "Checking out another woman right in front of your own?"

She raised her hand, stopping another storm of arrows in mid-air using her vines.

Fate, meanwhile, delivered a fire-imbued punch toward Rider, who had attempted to flank Morgan.

The impact launched Martha backward, sending her hurtling toward Atalanta.

At the same time, Assassin reappeared from the shadows, aiming for Fate's blind spot.

But Fate was already anticipating it.

His left hand snapped up, blocking the strike with minimal effort.

Morgan, however, was getting annoyed.

Atalanta was too far away to engage directly, constantly peppering them with arrows from the distance, while Assassin and Rider continuously pressed close-range attacks.

Her smirk widened.

If the Archer wanted to keep her distance, then perhaps it was time to bridge the gap herself.

Change

Fate's attire shifted seamlessly, transforming into his Lancer-Class Enkidu form, while Morgan followed suit, adopting the Archer-Class Oda Nobunaga.