V1C7

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“What

does death mean?”

No sooner

had those ominous words left the boy’s mouth than I was running

full-tilt. I heard voices behind me, calling me back, but I was

already long gone.

I had been

blind. Foolish. More than happy to think that completing my ‘work’,

as my 'master’ requested, made me the sole defender of this city.

Chitose had build a castle on sand, and with every flaw I had

uncovered, I had rejoiced to find more evidence of my grandmother’s

clumsiness and lack of forethought.

All that

time, Ms. Fujimura was fighting her own battles. Battles I couldn’t

even understand, let alone win. Without rest or reprieve, until they

tore her apart.

-

The

Colosseum’s outer walls cast a long shadow in the setting sun. In the

twilight, I could see the seawater that had once filled the

battlefield had somehow drenched the highest spectator seats; far,

far higher than it should ever have been able to reach, even

accounting for the impact of Noble Phantasms. The water rushing down

the aisles guided my way as I followed the current back to its source

in the upper levels.

The seats

up here were almost submerged in water. The bodies of spectators who

had failed to escape floated among them, like dead leaves in a

gutter.

-

What did he say he saw? A black dog? Could that actually have been real?

The role of

the Reaper was to kill Servants. To hunt down outsiders ill-suited to

this city and expel them - or, if necessary, end their lives.

In truth,

removing those Servants who had become too troublesome was the

easiest part of my job.

My master

had always been thinking about how they could be accepted.

Forgive

them. Accept them. Turn none away, but embrace them as you would a

dear friend. Those had been her words, always.

-

I followed

the ramp that ran above the interior seats to the very highest level

- and there she lay, face-up, in the middle of an unnatural puddle

halfway up the slope.

“Ms.

Fujimura!”

I ran to

her and cradled her sodden body in my arms. She coughed up water with

visible difficulty, as though until this very moment she had been

drowning.

“Is that

you… Erice?”

I quickly

checked her for injuries, and gulped.

“It

seems… I’ve managed to last longer than I predicted before ceasing

operations. My accuracy must be failing me…”

She was wet

with more than just water. Her clothes were hardly even torn, but

beneath them her body was peppered with holes about the diameter of a

fingertip. Warm liquid oozed from them; the distinctive transparent

vital fluids of a humanoid interface.

I trawled

the murkiest recesses of my brain, trying to recall how a damaged AI

could be salvaged. Perform a backup as quickly as possible. Induce a

comatose state to stall any data loss. Extract her optical core and

install it in a second terminal. I could still make it, if I was

quick.

But one

thing was for certain: An AI directly connected to the Holy Grail

could not be killed by any physical means. For one thing, it was not

alive to begin with. Any appearance of life was nothing more than an

emergent state.

No

tears, Erice. Not now. You can cry as much as you like after you’re

done.

I tried to

lift her to my chest and carry her to the lower floors, but was met

with a strange, slippery resistance. Only then did I notice the

strange fabric draped over her. It was sheer cloth, like linen, about

large enough to cover her body and dyed red. The colour grew deeper

in hue where it had been soaked, drawing even closer to the crimson

of blood.

-

“You

ought to let her go.”

A voice

broke the silence, devoid of presence.

“Real

truth, unchanging truth, is found only in death.”

-

I was

wrong. It had presence. It was simply so close that I hadn’t noticed

it.

They had

been standing there all this time, filling the dusk of the arena with

an aura no less overpowering than Nzambi’s. It was austere, noble,

almost divine.

“Porca

miseria…”

“Quiet… you cur.” Ms. Fujimura’s voice might have grown weak, but it had lost

none of its sting. “They infiltrated the city… though the

seawater. Even though… the pipes were consecrated. A failure… on

our part…”

—-

“We have

given humanity sufficient warning. Soon we will leave this citadel.”

The voice

emanated from the hound resting on its haunches at the top of the

ramp. Its coat was midnight black, deeper even than the surrounding

darkness, and with its long ears and oriental air it exuded a

graceful beauty. A cherubic young girl stood by its side, clad in

exotic garb.

“However,

before we depart… A moment with the one she fought so hard to keep

us from.”

“Erice…

You can’t stay here. You have to…”

Ms.

Fujimura urged me to flee, but I couldn’t move. This voice stirred

some deep memory in me, and its queer familiarity had me paralysed.

-

“Day

shall strike down night…

As

womanhood is wrought by man’s hands, and manhood wrought by woman’s.

The throne

is warped, and the grail overflows with the mud of deceit.

The hour

has come to remake the day, for soon the sun will set.”

-

A flurry of

thick, square stakes rent the silence to pierce them both through

with a series of thuds. Chitose stood behind us, Command Seals

shining on the backs of both hands.

However,

the binding properties of her Sacri Clavi failed to hold them, for

they were not really here. Ripples spread across the surface of their

bodies, and a moment later both girl and beast collapsed into

shapeless water. They had never been more than puppets.

Only a

deep, quiet voice remained. “You stand with us, Erice. We will

return for you.”

-

The

sinister invaders vanished, leaving me alone. In spite of Ms.

Fujimura’s dire condition, Chitose remained where she was.

“Eri…

ce…”

Ms.

Fujimura implored me to listen to her final message. I listened

faithfully to her words, occasionally interrupted by frothy

coughing, and held them desperately to my chest… but there was no

stopping what was coming.

“Ms.

Fujimura… Caren… Please, don’t die…” I called her name as I

held her in my arms. Her body was surprisingly light; it had already

shed much of its weight.

“This…

is not death, Erice. An AI has lost one of its terminals. Nothing…

more or less.”

“How do

you expect me to accept that?”

She smiled

weakly up at my face, ugly from crying.

“Thank

you, Erice…” She lifted one trembling hand to touch my forelock,

and brushed my forehead as she’d done so many times.

“Ms.

Fujimura, you know… I had… A mother, and, well… She died

horribly, awfully… So at least, this time, I wanted…”

She never

heard the end. Her fingers traced my cheek as they quietly fell to

the sodden ground.

-

“Reporting

in.”

A

holographic screen appeared in the air next to Chitose, accompanied

by an incoming voice. A thaumaturgical means of communication,

relayed through a telescopic Mystic Code. The screen showed a member

of the Caren Series, dressed in an arrow-patterned hakama.

“Destruction

of Caren Fujimura’s spiritron kernel confirmed. Protocol dictates

administration of Mosaic City and control of the Caren Series will be

assumed by Caren Himuro. Authority over Akihabara Ward will be

distributed equally between all members of the Caren Series on an

interim basis.”

She paused.

“Sounds

fun, don’t you think? Waiting for your go, Chitose!”

Chitose

knelt down and removed Ms. Fujimura’s fractured glasses, before

placing a hand over her face and gently closing her lifeless eyes.

“Permission

granted.”