Fate/Infinity

The day after, I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing besides my bed. Strange, since the people who know my number are all aware just how intense my research is going… Well, everyone except the retired Magus Killer who knows the real reason I'm killing myself just to get some basic Spells. Grabbing the device, I groggily check the number, "Unknown caller?"

As a celebrity, even if a C-list one only, I do not give away my personal number easy, and everyone of importance is already saved in the contact list…

Sighing, I drop with a heavy thud on the bed, fingers massaging my eyelids tiredly, yet just as I'm about to answer, the call cuts off.

I'm unsure about others, but for me personally, it is impossible to go back to sleep after being woken up.

Not even warm milk will fix the issue.

If the call which interrupted my peaceful slumber after 3 whole weeks of non-stop work was from a scammer, I am going to find them and wring their neck like a dirty fucking rag I'm trying to squeeze dry.

Inhaling deeply, I dial the number again, determined to keep my composure. I won't deny that it's immensely challenging, but when the call is answered, the voice on the other end dissipates my frustration. "—Magnus-san? It's me—Sakura, from yesterday… You mentioned I could reach out if I needed someone to talk to? Did I call at a bad time?"

Springing up from my bed, I swing my legs over the edge and stretch. "No, I was just nursing a killer headache—"

"—Then maybe I should call back—!"

"No, no!" Chastising myself for my poor wording, I try to keep the girl on the line. "I'm up now. Where would you like to meet?"

"—Ahnenerbe?"

Yes, because why wouldn't I want to visit the café with possibly the worst customer service in town besides the aesthetic ones to pay for an overpriced beverage I can make myself.

Sarcasm aside, I did give her my word.

It wouldn't be right to reject her the first time she's mustered the courage to actually call someone. "I need to get ready. See you there in half an hour."

I don't require much time to get myself together, and the café is only a bus ride away. "—You can let me know if I'm being a hassle. You don't have to—"

"Nonsense." I interrupt her self-deprecating ramble.

If I agreed to Sakura's suggestion, the plum-haired girl's likely take it as me politely rejecting her. "Ahnenerbe, 30 minutes."

"—Then, I'll see you there, Magnus-san."

I physically recoil at the honorific, but keep the words on the tip of my tongue to myself. "Aight… See ya'."

Yawning, I stumble off my bed and drag my sorry ass to the bathroom.

Twenty-two minutes later, because I know—not think, not guess, but know—that Sakura will arrive early, I decide to come a bit sooner as well.

As expected, outside the German café Ahnenerbe, the plum-haired girl stands motionless, as still as a lake. "Sakura-san!" I call, waving at the Matou.

"Magnus-san." She responds in kind, waving back and bowing in my direction.

Together, we step into the café, and I immediately exhale a sigh of relief upon seeing the green-haired waitress occupied in another section.

I don't believe I could handle her in this state—half-asleep and irritable.

Rin is one thing; even though she may come across as somewhat brusque, her background has refined her behaviors and demeanor. Her worst insult is 'idiot', for goodness' sake.

That waitress, on the other hand, feels like a bizarre homunculi clone of Rin and Kirei, with a smidgen of Caren thrown into the mix for good measure.

Of course, having worked in retail before, I know there are days when people struggle to put on a happy face.

Most tend to be understanding—but damn, would it hurt to be a bit more courteous?

Sipping on my drink, I look at the stream of people crowding the street.

This used to be one of my favorite pastimes—sit, watch the people blend into each other in a blur of motions with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes I can choke down… Oftentimes, I don't even recall any distinct characteristics of the people around me, just that they're people.

Sometimes, I'll spot someone whose features capture my interest—could be the pair of shoes they are wearing; the the cool hat; the cat furs desperately clinging for dear life on their coat…

Something about the fact the world hadn't ended while I was in the tiny, overpriced apartment where one couldn't even stretch without bumping into something soothed me.

It still does, if only I have a window of time to reconnect with my hobby.

"How's your night, Sakura-san?"

I prod, swirling the sweetened coffee in my mouth to give my tastebuds a helping hand. Her answer shall determine the direction our conversation will head—coloring every one of our interactions moving forward. "It's decent."

Sakura replies, sounding quite thankful. 'Nothing happened last night…' I conclude. 'That's a relief.'

Strange that she'd call me, though.

I don't believe I've done anything to stand out.

Then, the thought hits me.

How many people does she even talk to?

The Tohsaka sisters are having the equivalence of a cold-war; she has not met Shiro and Shinji's a prick—a sympathetic prick, perhaps, but one nonetheless.

Who would want to be friends with the gloomy girl…? Nowadays, kids are shielded from dangers—as they ought to be—which makes it hard for them to comprehend the kind of suffering Sakura's enduring. In their bubble, nothing ever goes wrong—not even a simple 'No'—so who else could the plum-haired girl turn to for a chat?

"Mine was too. It's the best I've had in weeks, actually."

Literally, more like.

"So, what's up?"

"Ah," She yelps, her mind likely running a million miles an hour to give me a reasonable excuse, before settling for, "Nothing. I just want to meet… Is that weird?"

"No, not at all."

It is kind of weird, but let's keep that to myself.

Oh, well, while it is a bother to piece the crumbs each outing into a whole conversation, I won't rush her. I like this, anyway—to just sit in one spot; slow down and watch the street while the minute ticks by in silent.

That's the most important part.

Moreover, the coffee and refreshments are delightly as treats, neither too fatty nor sweet. "Magnus-san?" What little good mood I have mustered is shattered with the mere addition of an honorific…

Behold, the power of words.

"Yes?" I hum into and through the cup.

"I think I saw you once… On TV, I mean. The 'Hero of Fuyuki', they called you." The girl snorts, probably finding something so darkly amusing about the fact. "I wasn't so sure in the beginning, but now that I have gotten a better look."

"I'm no hero," I tell her honestly.

I'd rather not get burdened with more expectations than I already am.

I have no way to rescue her.

The likelihoods of me successfully catching Matou Zouken of all people are incredibly slim…

Someone like Kirei or even Kiritsugu, I can handle so long as I am cautious, but how would I kill something whose Soul has been fragmented to so many pieces?

Who willingly shattered the very essence of the self in pursue of eternity?

"It was just convenient to save them."

Sakura's imploring gaze pierces through me as she grabs a fork and digs into the red velvet cake I had ordered for her.

She was looking at it the entire time… Probably too shy to ask.

I almost nod approvingly, but catch myself just in time.

If she's eating, then she is probably more at ease than her outward appearance suggests.

After taking a bite, Sakura puts down the fork and dabs the corner of her lips with a napkin. Then, she retrieves a wad of cash from her pocket. "Magnus-san, this is for yesterday and—"

I close my fingers around hers, pushing the money back. "It's my treat." Aside from the phenomenal drinks, Ahnenerbe is surprisingly affordable, especially for an establishment of its aesthetic and size.

Everything is 25% off the market price.

If not for the fact that I've verified their quality using [Structural Grasp], I might have worries about the café cutting corners.

My concerns prove unfounded, their wares are as fresh and high-quality as can be.

"I'll go to Germany for work in 3 weeks," I inform her all of a sudden, so her curious mind doesn't wander. "So if I don't pick up, it's likely because I'm occupied with something."

"Ah, I understand. I didn't expect this to be a frequent thing, anyways."

"Oh, no! We definitely have to do this again when I'm back."

Where I shall proceed to… Engineer a meeting between her and Shiro. It shouldn't be too difficult once I have a grasp of her patterns. I'll simply call Shiro there, make up some flimsy, bullshit excuse that no one would buy except for the heroine-wannabe, and voila! Sakura will be off my hands and in better ones.

Maybe Shiro will even mend the broken bridge between the sisters.

It's a win-win,

With the three occupied, I will have more time to train; sing Kumbaya and overall just enjoy life while conquering the world in secret. What could go wrong?

"Really? I don't want to be a bother—"

I hush, cutting the plum-haired girl off abruptly. "Whether you're a bother to me or not is not for you to decide."

She regards me with a stare many would consider 'creepy', yet for a fleeting moment, a ripple emerges within the bottomless depth of her otherwise emotionless gaze.

The trace vanishes just as swiftly as it had appeared.

All of a sudden, her face dips several tones paler; fingers tightening around the fork as she breaks into cold sweat. "S- Sorry, Magnus-san. I'm afraid I'll have to cut this short, I think I left the oven on back home."

A rather convincing lie, I must admit; excellently delivered as well, though I suppose Sakura didn't truly have to feign anything—not the terror at what awaits her upon returning home, at least. Contemplating whether this warrants my intervention or not, I ultimately decide against it…

Nothing good would come of the ordeal even if I tried. Sakura will still have to return, as long as the Crest Worms remain present within her body, and I might just end up with a stalker for my troubles—a rather creepy-crawly stalker at that.

'Fucking penis Worms.'

Each of those nouns can be pleasant on their own, but them together in a sentence and you'll have something that not even 'disgusting' can capture properly.

I can't even stand tentacles, let alone his Crest Worms…

Honestly, of all the forms Makiri Zolgen could've chosen, why that?

What kind of Magus would want their whole shtick to be dick-shaped Worm Familiars?

The whole thing sounds like a silly joke.

"It's fine," I say, waving at her, before calling the waitress over. "Ah, it's you again, brat…"

The worst tsundere in town speaks up—staring at me with baleful eyes.

Instead of rewarding such behavior like I had yesterday, I narrow my eyes.

Not even Rin or Taiga have been this rude, and those two can be rather thoughtless at times.

I kept the thoughts to myself 'cause I didn't want to scare Sakura off yesterday, but I have had enough of this.

"What's your fucking problem with me? Did I piss in your rice cooker or something?"

Her attitude grows even more rigid, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut while the second waitress jumps in with her attempt to diffuse the situation.

With our desserts packed up, I give it to the plum-haired girl to finish, then depart as well and wander the streets of Fuyuki aimlessly, if only to commit my new hometown to memory.

On my way back, I stumble upon the residential priest—dressed in a black polo and trousers; distracted by a, "Jewelry store?" What's even more surprising, though, is the woman next to him—clinging to his arm tightly.

"Holy shit! Bro got himself a sidechick…"

Now I know for certain where Rin's inheritance went in the original.

I snort in amusement and decide to turn the other cheek.

What he does in his free time is none of my business, and neither is Rin's inheritance.

I've done my part, her refusal to take the warning seriously is out of my hands at this point.

Later that night, I spot a ring on the priest's finger…

He has never worn accessories before, none besides the cross dangling from his neck.

It's so out of character that even the Gil herself looks confused.

I'd have been confused too, if not for what I saw earlier.

"That looks like a engagement ring." I comment, stealing amused glances at the priest.

"It is an engagement ring." Kirei answers, fingers subconsciously rubbing the piece of jewelry, as though afraid my gaze will dirty it. The prick. "Don't you have a wife already?"

My question snaps the priest out of his daze.

"She's dead. I was informed of her passing 5 months ago."

I blink owlishly at his casual admittance.

It's not like I expect all widows to stay single, but 5 months? 'That's cold.'

Looking like he has just read my mind, Kirei elaborates, "To Claudia, I was her husband. To me, she's a failed experiment."

Well, that's just about what I expected.

"This new fiancee of yours, you feel anything for her?"

Cautiously, I prod, raising my arms as the priest shoots me a glare.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Just curious."

I'm ready to end the conversation at that, but Kirei isn't, it seems.

If I didn't know any better, I might have mistaken the look on his for joy—oh, wait, it is joy. "Isane is amusing. I met her after your suggestion."

Confused, I throw him a quizzical look, then recall the conversation we had months prior. "You mean the BDSM thing?"

I said it in passing as a joke, but if it's working out, good for him. "You feeling any less murderous?"

"Oh, no. I still want to destroy Humanity."

"Thought so…" Can't blame a man for trying.

Although, credit where credit's due, the guy works fast.

"When's the big day?"

Kirei smiles at the question, a smile that makes my hair stand on end. "You are not invited, your Highness."

Thinking nothing of his answer, I shrug, returning to my meal.

At night, I quietly slip into my Workshop to experiment with [Hyper Metabolism]. Unlike Magecraft, I don't need to fully understand how it works; all that matters is knowing It will work when I need it to.

When I activate the Perk, my skin takes on a crimson hue similar to Herakles.

I can't measure my Stats without a point of comparison, but my guess is I've just entered the E-Rank. 'I can probably push it to E+ if I use [Reinforcement].'

Despite the sudden boost in power and the energy surging through me, the Perk is not without is downsides, one in the form of this… Insatiable hunger that consumes me; the other a pressure which threatens to split my skin open.

"It's late."

Whirling around, I come face-to-face with Gil, who spares a moment to take in my appearance.

At this point, it's a game between us, and my part is to find or invent a Bounded Field that can detect her presence and Gilgamesh's to use whatever Mystic Code or Noble Phantasm she needs to bypass my defenses…

So far, she's winning. "You gotta learn to knock."

I tell her, growling out the words.

"Why? What are you doing in here that I can't see?"

"Things…" I grunt, my movements rigid and stiff in fear I'll crash into the opposite wall. Seeing the difficult situation I've landed myself in, the Queen of Heroes approaches, kneeling on one knee, fingers poking and prodding the bulging veins which run across my torso. "This isn't Magecraft. It does not use Mana… It's like your body's being told to prioritize making extra adrenaline and testosterone. It is giving you a boost, but—"

"I'll be weakened afterwards, I know."

I nod, then chuckles. "When did you catch up on biology?"

"A week ago."

Spinning on her heel, Gil jumps on a desk, feet dangling over the edge as she slides on her back.

Everything has to be a fashion show for her, 'Must be exhausting.'

"I visited the local archive. The information contained there is enlightening. A shame so few seem interested."

"Not everyone's built for science." I shrug.

If not for the existence of Magecraft, I'd have included myself in the category.

"So… What's up?"

"Boredom."

Yawning, the Queen rolls on her stomach, chin resting on her crossed arms, feet up and kicking lazily at the air. "Thought I might amuse myself with you."

"A spar?"

She grins mockingly at me. "You've gotten more powerful, but don't bite off more than you can chew."

"Valid."

Didn't even know what I was thinking…

The gap between Kirei and Gilgamesh can't even be any wider if it wants to.

Taking home the first W against the former doesn't automatically translate to victory over the latter. "I'm not doing Magecraft tonight… Just wanna test something."

"Taking it easy? That doesn't sound like you."

"Well, I want to enjoy myself in case…"

"In case?" She prompts.

"In case I die."

Not even Kiritsugu know the full extent of the Einzbern's power, so I only have the basic to work on—hair familiars; homunculi; Alchemy and Wishcraft, but that can't be all of it.

Theirs is ancient House of Magi, even older than the Tohsaka and the Makiri, I reckon.

"You afraid of a bunch of dolls?"

I turn to her, confused. "How did you know about that?"

From what I can gather, [Veil] seems effective against [Sha Naqba Īmuru] too.

Either she's stalking me, or she has figured out a way to bypass it.

Whichever possibility it is, it's quite concerning.

"It was a simple deduction." Gilgamesh blows at her nails. "You frequent the hovel of the idealistic fool who bore a child with the doll. What favor can you offer him besides that?"

Sometimes, I forget she used to be a ruler.

Despite how at ease and unreliable she may appear at first glance, she knows to connect the dots.

"Well, now that you know," I extend my hand jokingly. "Can I get a good luck charm?"

Gil rolls her eyes. "You still owe me."

"Think about it this way, if I die, how am I going to return the favor?"

Snorting, the Golden Queen conjures a [Gate], from which a ring drops out of—a Mystic Code, judging from the way it's glinting. "Consider this a late Christmas gift."

"… We celebrate Christmas?"

"Now we do," She grins at me. "But if you think my gift's too cheap…"

Gil makes a move to grab the ring, but I beat her to it. With a quick command, '[Structural Grasp],' I activate the Spell and examine the Mystic Code in my hand. This device serves as both a Mana battery and a 'Storage Ring,' but instead of holding objects physically in a mini-Dimension, it converts them to digital data.

The complexity and size of the object determine the size of the digital 'file,' and it can only materialize the item directly into my hand.

The entire process is based on quantum mechanics, allowing atoms to exist in multiple states simultaneously, including the theorized 5th state—information.

The concept is too advanced for me to fully grasp, but it's fascinating.

In Magecraft terms, this Craft would likely fall under the category of Imaginary Elements, 'Hollow, maybe?'

I cannot say for certain, though. While the ring acts as a power source for the user, it does have its limits.

Just like a phone battery, there's a maximum capacity, and attempting to exceed it will cause the gem to shatter.

Additionally, the ring consumes a portion of Mana each time it materializes an object.

The Mystic Code's inner-workings spring forth countless ideas and thoughts in my brain.

Shelving the thoughts, I put the ring on my finger and nod thankfully at her. "How much for it?"

"It's a gift."

"Bullshit." Nothing comes without a price.

Even Mysteries need a tradeoff—Mana.

"It's free." She reiterates. "I have dozens of those laying around anyways."

My eyes pinch to better search for signs of deception, only to find none. "You sure?"

"Of course."

"Really?"

This kind of Mystic Code costs a fortune to buy from another Magi.

That's why when ancient crypts; tombs and caves of ages past are discovered, Magi fight with words, favors and at times violence for the chance to enter and obtain the good stuffs first.

The fact that the older a Mystery is, the more powerful it is really doesn't help.

While not always, ancient Mystic Codes are simply better the majority of the time.

Most Houses will straight up refuse to even share the discoveries with the Association.

Although the Tower is strict, it's supposed to be a neutral entity that enforces the laws.

If rumors come out it tries to strongarm someone into giving up their findings, the Houses will revolt. The only acceptable circumstance where this course of actions won't result in a bloodbath is when the Magus in question possesses something that's uniquely theirs.

It could be a Sorcery Trait that's never been recorded;

Mystic Eyes that defy comprehension like Death Perception;

True Magics;…Etc.

That's when they get slapped with the label, 'Sealing Designatee', which is essentially being reduced to a lab rat where all the other Magi get to take turn poking, prodding their ass like overly-curious aliens in those 'based on a true story' urban legends.

And, in order to preserve the Trait, a Designatee will be forced to breed as well… Their personal feelings on the matter are about as relevant to the Magi as a furry's opinions on other people's preferences, which is to say: Irrelevant.

"I'll pay you back. Promise."

"It's just a ring."

"A million dollar ring." I correct. 'And one that can advance my magical studies too.'

Though I suppose it's just chump change for someone of her standing.

What was it they like to say? One woman's trash is another man's treasure… "I saw a few late-night establishments today. You want to head out?"

"Is this what commoners call 'date' nowadays?"

"If you want to call it that, sure."

— [ToI] —

"You asked me to pay attention to the girl with purple hair. I did. She was with a boy."

On the other side of the line, an amused voice comes through.

"—Let me guess, red hair and sharp amber eyes? That's a she, at least in this Timeline."

"No. It's definitely a boy. Had a fight with one of my employees. Black hair, green eyes, really hard to miss."

Silence entertains George briefly while his boss mumbles something to himself. "—So he's the variable…"

Again, his boss mutters, oblivious to George's confusion.

"—Continue to keep an eye on them; the boy specifically. I wanna know how he ticks."

"Understood."

The manager nods, even though the troll of a boss he has won't see it.

"—Oh, and remember to send me more of those cookies you made. They were delicious."

Rubbing his eyelids, George sighs. "I won't send them over sea. The crispy texture makes up half the taste."

"—Hey, I'm paying you!"

"You're not paying me enough."

The manager drawls, remisniscing about all the ridiculous encounters he has had throughout his time running the café. If anything, he's the one doing the troll a favor. "—You are a tough nut to crack, George."

"You know it."

"—Fine… Might be worth my effort checking out the variable. I'll visit in a week, remember to make extra cookies!"

— — — 

If you want to support me and read unreleased chapters, here you go, there are over a dozen Chaps there. Can't miss it.

P a treon: Regularr

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