NOVEL NEXT Chapter 72: Grand Love
The silence that shrouded the wreckage of the Argo was broken by the sound of a man taking in large amounts of air in a single breath. He coughed.
"Ugh, what happened?"
Jason groaned as he tried to get up. He pushed himself up with his right hand— only to fall back down to the sandy beach and feel the coarse sand bite into an open wound.
The man grimaced from the pain.
"Huh?"
Looking down at his body, Jason saw how he was missing his right hand. Everything down from the elbow was just gone, ripped away as if the victim of some industrial accident.
"Ahhh!"
What happened? Jason wondered, his memories then providing him with the answers he sought.
He was seeking vengeance against the one who had slain Heracles. He steered Argo to where that star landed, to that island Heracles, ever the hero, brought that little girl to. Even if it's a suicide mission, how could he call himself Heracles's friend if he didn't even bother avenging him?
Only for that star to go all over the place! How inconsiderate! To ignore Jason as if he didn't exist!
And afterward, there was… a bright… green… light…
Jason felt a familiar light grace his skin. He looked up and saw a woman hovering in the air as if the very notion of gravity was preposterous. The wreckage of the Argo littered the sandy beach beneath her.
Jason's eyes then focused on the Holy Grail that was now in her hands. His Holy Grail, the one that was supposed to grant him his wish of finally becoming a King.
"Oi!" Jason stood up, using his remaining arm to point at the hovering woman, "That's my Holy Grail! Give it back to me and I'll maybe consider forgiving you for this transgression!"
The woman's attention, previously monopolized by the Grail, turned to Jason. The blonde man felt a chill run down his spine. Whoever this was, they were extremely dangerous. Was this the woman that Medea warned him about? He didn't know, since Medea didn't exactly give him a visual depiction aside from 'the strongest member of Chaldea'.
Jason may have been more cautious… if it weren't for that look.
That dismissive look. That passive look. That ignorant look. It was as though this woman didn't know who the great Jason, Captain of the Argonauts, was. He felt like he was a boy again. A boy of no renown aside from being the son of a King, a boy who held no achievement under his name.
"I am Jason—"
The woman, her name unknown to Jason, raised her right hand and aimed her index finger at him. For a second, Jason wondered what she was doing. Why was she mimicking him—
"Goodbye."
A beam of plasma no wider than a pencil shot out from the tip of that finger and pierced through Jason's chest. It burned the surrounding flesh, carbonizing and blackening them instantly before the Heroic Spirit known as 'Jason' vaporized in a burst of gold particles.
Kukulkan could feel a ripple echoing out in the fabric of spacetime. She could feel how this Singularity was steadily dissolving like a cube of sugar in hot tea. Kukulkan took off, flying across the island and descending next to Zvezdnyy again.
"Oh? Have you finally obtained the true Grail this time?" Zvezdnyy said as she looked up at the approaching figure. Her eyes glanced at the Cup of Heaven before returning to her Polkovodets.
"Yes. They were dealt with."
"Shall we deliver the glorious news to Ritsuka? I wish to bid farewell to those who have followed me before our departure. Though rest assured, I shall summon him during the final showdown."
Her Polkovodets smiled. Like Zvezdnyy, she is also happy at the return to the previous status quo.
"We can do that. Alright," Her Polkovodets lowered herself into a kneeling position, "Hop on my back. We'll fly there."
Zvezdnyy did exactly that. Her legs went inside the gap between her Polkovodets's curled-up limbs and body while the girl wrapped her arms around the Goddess's neck like a noose.
"Hold on tight."
Zvezdnyy's arms grew even tighter, so much so that a normal human would complain of being unable to breathe. But her Polkovodets never said anything. It didn't bother her at all as there was never a need for a Goddess to breathe.
"Um, Zvezdnyy, could you loosen your grip on my neck? I'll be sure to accelerate at a pace you can handle."
"O—oh. Alright."
As she took off, Zvezdnyy placed her head on her Polkovodets' back. She placed her left ear right up to her Polkovodets' body as if it were a pillow. Closing her eyes, she tried once again to take in how her Polkovodets felt. Her skin, her clothing, her hair, her scent— everything once again.
Zvezdnyy was like a girl who had just lost their favorite teddy bear and then suddenly got it back, and was now suffocating it in 'love'. She felt its absence, and that scared her.
Zvezdnyy's attention was once again drawn to how unnaturally smooth her Polkovodets' skin was, such that it was inhuman. One might even mistake it for plastic, right up until they press down and discover how it easily sinks in up until two millimeters in and you hit a hard surface.
Soft and smooth.
Her hands began to roam. Zvezdnyy recalled where the arrows had hit her Polkovodets during that initial barrage and moved to her throat. The girl's fingers traced all across her Polkovodets' vocal cords like a musician tuning their instrument, trying to find what was causing that off-beat sound.
She found nothing. Just smooth skin as if the wounds caused by those arrows were a bad dream she had awakened from. But Zvezdnyy knew it wasn't a bad dream. It was very much reality.
Zvezdnyy held her Polkovodets even tighter as though she were water that would leak if her hands held any gaps.
As much as Heracles could resist her powers… he wasn't like her Polkovodets. No, her Polkovodets was someone truly special. Someone who could resist her changes at all levels. She was a hole burned into a canvas, not a spot of raw black paint that's difficult to color over as with Heracles. She wasn't one with the world, like a side character in a novel… but rather someone unique.
No one could replace her.
Zvezdnyy loves her Polkovodets… so, so, so very much. Her Polkovodets do return it, right? Memories of the conversation with Jeanne d'Arc surfaced in Zvezdnyy's mind. The Saint said how love is like a clap; you need two hands to make it.
Because of the shield that her Polkovodets had surrounded both herself and Zvezdnyy with, the girl didn't feel any wind whipping across her body. How thoughtful if perhaps unnecessary. Zvezdnyy could've just wished the wind away.
Still, she leaned further into her Polkovodets' body, clamping down more on the waist with her legs, she's truly alright. She's alright. She's not harmed. She's not damaged. She's alright.
Her Polkovodets was indeed invincible. But perhaps seeing her being harmed by those arrows right in front of her planted a seed of doubt in Zvezdnyy's mind, one that couldn't be removed even with her Polkovodets' return.
The idea that her Polkovodets might die and never return… reality might as well b̵̜̞͔̍̀̄͑̏̈́͠͠͠u̷͎̘̗̲̿̒̈́͂̆̽͑ͅr̴̡͍̝͔̬̼͇̹̺̊̈́̂̑̾̋͋͠͝n̸̖̥̑̈́͝͠—
No, that potentiality was too terrible to think about.
A tear comprising not of water, but what appeared to be distant stars, congregations of planets, or clusters of galaxies, rolled down Zvezdnyy's cheek, fading away from existence unnoticed by all.
Zvezdnyy denied all thoughts and once more drank in her Polkovodets' company.
Then she fell asleep not five minutes into the flight. She didn't sleep for half of the night, after all, so it's only natural for a growing girl like her to try and catch up on some rest.
It was only when Zvezdnyy heard a loud 'hissing' noise did she woke up. Her vision was blurry, and half-closed eyelids meant all she could see was through a narrow slit. The girl still wanted some sleep. So she tried to snuggle inside the Coffin.
Zvezdnyy heard a sigh. She felt familiar hands wrapping around the girl's body like ribbons, carrying her off to presumably her room.
The girl leaned into her breast, using those soft mounts as the world's greatest pillows. Combined with the gentle sway as her Polkovodets carried her, the girl quickly dozed off, but just before she fully entered the realm of sleep Zvezdnyy was placed onto her bed.
Her empty bed.
A sudden rush of abandonment jolted Zvezdnyy awake. Her hands shot out like a viper, bringing her body along with her as she rushed to the floor and grasped her Polkovodets' hand.
"Please… don't leave me. Stay with me. Stay on my bed. I'll… I'll get nightmares if you leave."
Desperation filled Zvezdnyy's voice. There was none of the Way of Drama, for she was truly desperate for her Polkovodets to hold her as she slept.
Her Polkovodets' eyes softened as she gently patted Zvezdnyy's head.
"Alright, alright, I'll stay with you."
Zvezdnyy's clothing changed into a one-piece yellow pajama with symbols of the cosmos. She pushed herself in with a single raised leg, sliding between the blanket and the bed. There, the girl lifted the blanket like someone holding a door open, waiting for her Polkovodets to come in.
Her Polkovodets didn't protest, merely smiling as she took off her shoe and tuckered in.
There, with her Polkovodets all around her, Zvezdnyy quickly dozed off even when the light was still on. The sound of gentle snoring coming from her mouth.
Looking over at the switch next to the door, Kukulkan took Authority over the wind and commanded a small breeze to flip the switch, basking the room in darkness.
For the first time in over a year, Kukulkan ended this stream of continuous consciousness and closed her eyes. She fell asleep almost as quickly as Zvezdnyy.
____
Ritsuka opened his eyes. He blinked once, twice, before bringing a hand up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The teen lay there on the bed, most of his body covered by the blanket, staring up at the ceiling above him.
Even after so many months he's still not used to seeing the metal, sterile ceiling. Ritsuka reminisced about his home back in Japan, that two-storied house on the edge of Tokyo situated at the corner of a T-intersection.
He thought of his own room. Comfy, walls covered in posters, two figurines lined the shelves— all so full of life, so full of evidence that someone lived here rather than this place he found himself in currently.
This sterile place.
Ritsuka closed his eyes and found himself wanting to drift back to sleep. He wants to remain here, in this room, and never go out into a world where he could easily die the next second.
Inevitably, the teen's mind drew to his Servants. The more he thought of them, a knot tightened in his chest. A sour taste filled his mouth, moments of their incredible strength and speed erupting into the forefront of his thoughts.
Was this… jealousy that's coiling around his heart like a python? Was he envious of their strength? The way they could avoid death so easily burned him.
He tried to banish those jealous feelings by imagining what Kuku would do. He imagined himself in her shoes, his mind trying to enter into a state of serene calmness sure to remove such negative feelings…
But he found those feelings only intensified. The emptiness he feels intensified in power.
Ritsuka knew it was wrong, but he can't help it. Thinking about Kuku was only pouring salt onto a wound. Her strength was unparalleled. She was easily more powerful than all of Chaldea combined, and he wondered if he could've resolved any of the Singularities without her.
Well, there's no way to know. It only made him feel even more useless.
Ritsuka's knuckles turned white. The corrosive feelings of being useless, that he doesn't matter, burned away positive feelings associated with Kuku's help.
In Japan, a method for employers to get rid of an employee without firing him, in which case the employers would be forced to give him a severance package, is through isolation. No work will be given to the targeted employee, nor will he join a meeting. All he'll do is hang around the office all day. The idea was to make the employee feel so useless and isolated that he'd quit on his own.
Ritsuka feels like that targeted employee. He felt like he should just quit—
There was a knock on his door.
"Ritsuka." Da Vinci called out to him, her voice muffled by the closed door, "I need to speak with you about something."
"Right! Coming."
Ritsuka felt like he had to make extra effort just to get out of bed. His feet slid into the slippers and he sauntered over to the door, opening it to see Da Vinci smiling kindly at him. The woman had a clunky metallic gauntlet on her left hand that held a staff.
"Hey Da Vinci—Ahem" Ritsuka cleared his throat and injected more life into his voice, "Hey there Da Vinci. Is there a problem?"
The genius looked up and down Ritsuka's body as if to analyze him like a kind of scanner. The woman retained that poker face throughout this lookover, giving no hint as to what she thought of him.
Does she know? It wouldn't surprise Ritsuka if Da Vinci knew of his inner turmoil through a single glance.
"The summoning array for the new Servant is ready. We've already hooked up the Grail to our generators."
"Oh, that's good."
But why would she come personally? Ritsuka was skeptical. He thinks there's something more since it wasn't like the summoning of a new Servant is top secret or anything.
Da Vinci looked around in the hallway outside of Ritsuka's room like she was about to steal something. The woman leaned in, "Just between the two of us, I think Olga's burning herself out."
Olga's… what?
He tried to recall a single moment of Olga showing signs of burning out; stuff like a disheveled appearance, rings around the eyes, sickness, and others, and was found wanting. He couldn't think of a moment when Olga displayed evidence suggesting she was burning out.
"That's impossible."
"Even a genius like myself needs breaks, you know~?" Da Vinci winked as smugness oozed from her body, "She's good at hiding it. With magecraft, you can hide almost anything and everything. The concealment is further enhanced by her no longer being of flesh and blood, but materialized soul."
"Materialized soul?"
Da Vinci raised an eyebrow, "You didn't forget how she's still alive, right? Director Olga died in the explosion caused by Lev. Our resident Goddess saved Olga by solidifying her soul in Singularity F. She produced a feat comparable to the Third Magic."
Third Magic… that's one of the true magic right? Ritsuka vaguely recalls the lessons on magecraft Dr. Romani tried to give him. One of the few things he remembers is how magecraft is different from true magic since it was repeated constantly by the Doctor. The Third Magic involved true immortality, and effectively turning the body into some kind of 'projection' from a higher dimension.
"However, it seems Director Olga's soul didn't turn into a perpetual motion machine capable of spewing out infinite magical energy. She was quite peeved about that."
Da Vinci snapped her fingers— in the hand unbothered by the metal gauntlet. Her blue eyes shimmered with fascination. Like all geniuses, Da Vinci sometimes gets distracted by a side tangent.
"Ah forgive me for rambling. What happened to Olga was a metamorphosis I don't think any other human has experienced ever since the conclusion of the Age of Gods, it was something I just had to study. As I was saying before we went on this tangent, Director Olga has used magecraft to mold her appearance such she'll appear fine, but if you track her sleep schedule you'll realize she sleeps for no more than an hour every week. Sometimes more if she slips up. Even the greatest magus cannot function for months on as little sleep as her."
"But she's a materialized soul."
She shouldn't have these physical burnouts. Those should only afflict beings of flesh and blood, not a soul-creature like her.
"Not fully. If she was a Complete Materialization she wouldn't need any sleep. But she isn't. Whatever our resident Goddess did was infinitesimally close to the Third Magic, yet not fully. I fear that eventually, she'll collapse one day from exhaustion."
Ritsuka looked thoughtful. Even before he entered high school, he'd heard of many horror stories about black companies forcing their employees to work beyond grueling hours. Workers would collapse from exhaustion by the dozens, only to be woken up in the next minute by their boss, who forced coffee down their throats. The rings around their eyes were so thick they were comparable to lines made by a Sharpie.
He shuddered. He doesn't want anyone to go through all that.
"Alright, so what do you need me to do?"
Da Vinci raised a finger. She let out a radiant smile full of confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"I have a plan. We're going to stage an intervention for one Olga Marie Animusphere."
____
AN: After London, I'll probably skip America entirely, maybe have a few sentences describing the carnage that Kuku wrought. At most America would only last two chapters if I do decide to write it out. I'm thinking of making it to be the Trail of Tears. Essentially, a Grail ended up in the hands of a Native American during the Trail of Tears. With the Grail this individual fights against the American government and prevented such atrocities from happening. Lots of uncomfortable issues are gonna be raised as Chaldea realigns this alternate history.
Now for London. It is probably going to be the most different Singularity out of all seven. It'll be entirely original with elements of Industrial Horror that explore what life was like during the Victorian era. Perturabo would be proud. It'll also have themes of cosmic horror and lots of body horror. Think that with Kuku around such things won't occur? Heh, let's just say, I'm firing one of the Chekhov's guns I've placed back in the SCP Arc.
In short: London will be one hell of a mid-series shake-up
Anyway, guesses as to which servant Ritsuka would summon? Which Servant do you guys WANT Risuka to summon?
Note: It'll probably take a while for it to come out. I'd like to focus on my Inspired Inventor fic since it's so close to completion. Ideally, I'll finish the Inspired Inventor fic before Christmas and have the first chapter of the London Singularity out on New Year by the latest.
Your comments give me motivation. I need a lot of motivation.