Volume 2. Prologue.

The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood in the dimly lit room.

A young orange haired adult hummed a discordant tune to himself as he crouched on the wooden floor, meticulously tracing lines with a brush dipped in fresh blood.

The floorboards creaked under his shifting weight, and the sound mingled with his sing-song chanting.

"♪ Fill, fill, filling, fill. Repeat four times—Wait, was it five times?" He paused before shrugging, and glanced at a book in his hand. "Um, destroy each when filled... Or something?"

His words were half-muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

The living room was now desecrated by a grotesque circular pattern on the floor, as the former residence had been turned into makeshift paint for the occasion.

A magic circle that spanned from one end of the room to the other, formed with careful, almost artistic strokes of gore.

It wasn't the ambience that mattered to Ryūnosuke; it was the feeling, the dark thrill coursing through his veins as he played at being a demon summoner.

He had practiced drawing the circle all night, perfecting each twist and turn of the occult symbols.

Now, it came naturally, the brush gliding smoothly across the rough wood, leaving trails of glistening red in its wake.

The blood was still warm, fresh from the lifeless bodies of the parents and their eldest daughter, who lay discarded in the corner like broken dolls.

"♪ Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill," he said while counting on his fingers. "All right, that makes five times! Okay."

With a grin, he finished the last line and glanced at the remaining blood.

It was tempting to use it for some more "artwork" on the walls, to see how it might drip and splatter, creating new shapes, new stories.

But he resisted, knowing there were more pressing matters at hand.

Turning, he looked at the last surviving member of the family—a young boy, bound tightly with rope, his eyes swollen and red from tears.

The child trembled, staring wide-eyed at the mangled bodies of his loved ones.

Ryūnosuke's gaze softened in mock concern.

"Say—kid, do you believe in demons?"

He tilted his head, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

The boy, gagged and terrified, could only shake his head slightly.

"You know," Ryūnosuke continued, his voice light and conversational, "newspapers and magazines keep calling me a demon. But wouldn't that be kinda rude to demons if they really exist?"

Ryūnosuke chuckled, enjoying his own dark humor.

"You've gotta be clear about these things."

He liked kids; they were easier to deal with.

Unlike adults, who screamed and begged and made a fuss, kids just cried.

You could almost laugh when they wet themselves.

"Sup!" He exclaimed aloud while striking a salute, causing the boy to flinch.

"My name is Uryū Ryūnosuke, and I'm a demon!" He said in an overexcited voice, before deflating.

"I dunno if that's how I should introduce myself..." 

Shaking his head, he suddenly perked up, and dangled the worn book in front of the bound child.

"So like, I found this," he said while carelessly waving the book.

"It's some old book I found in my family's storehouse," he explained before opening it up and flipping it to a random page.

"It looks like my ancestors were researching on how to summon demons."

Glancing back at the kid, he snapped the book shut, and gave him a smile. "So like, I've gotta find out if demons really do exist!" He said in an excited tone.

Pocketing the book, he pushed himself up, and turned around.

"But, y'know..." His words trailed off as he moved further away from the child.

"If a demon really did come out, it'd be pretty dumb to just chat with it and have nothing to offer him," he explained, before seating himself on a chair, using the backrest as a front rest.

"So... If a demon really does show up..." He raised a hand in front of his face, in a halfhearted gesture of apology.

"Mind if I let him kill you?"

The boy's eyes widened in horror, he started to give muffled screams through his gag, and his small body started to desperately fight against the ropes.

Ryūnosuke laughed at the sight, delighted by the child's amusing reaction.

"I wonder," he mused aloud, "what it's like to be killed by a demon!" He said with excitement.

"Not many people get to experience that— Ow!"

His words cut off abruptly as a sharp pain seared through his right hand. He yelped, more in surprise than in agony, and glanced down.

A strange, intricate pattern had begun to form on his skin, glowing faintly as if etched by an invisible hand.

"... What's this...?"

He blinked at the mark—three intertwined lines, their forms twisting together like a tribal tattoo in the shape of a sickle.

He felt a curious mix of confusion and fascination, admiring the design even as it throbbed painfully. But his attention was quickly diverted as the air around him began to shift.

A hot breeze stirred, impossible in the closed room, picking up strength until it became a gusting wind.

Ryūnosuke felt his excitement rise as he turned his eyes to the blood-drawn circle, which was now glowing with an eerie, phosphorescent light.

The wind howled, whipping through the room, knocking over furniture and sending loose papers flying.

In the center of the circle, a mist began to form, swirling and thickening, sparks flying from its core.

Ryūnosuke's heart raced; his breath quickened.

This was beyond his wildest dreams—a scene straight out of the horror movies he usually found so boring, now happening right in front of him.

The mist grew denser, the wind more violent.

Objects flew across the room, smashing against the walls, but Ryūnosuke remained still, enraptured by the spectacle.

The circle pulsed with energy, and he felt a tingling sensation running up his spine.

His lips curled into a wide grin.

He was a child again, watching a magic trick with breathless anticipation.

And then, with a blinding flash and a thunderous roar, it happened.

A surge of power shot through him like an electric shock.

He staggered backwards, blinking against the sudden brightness, his eyes watering.

The pain in his hand flared, and then faded, leaving only the strange tattoo, still glowing but now tinged with a deeper red.

The air grew still.

The light from the magic circle dimmed, and the blood that had formed it was now charred black, as if burned by fire.

The mist began to clear, revealing a figure standing at its center.

Ryūnosuke squinted through the haze, his heart pounding in his chest.

A young man stood there, his face pale and gaunt, his large, hollow eyes gazing back with a calm, unreadable expression.

His robe, long and flowing, was adorned with ornate, glittering patterns that looked like something out of a medieval painting.

He seemed almost too tall, his presence filling the room like an overbearing shadow.

The figure's lips moved, and his voice, soft yet commanding, reached Ryūnosuke's ears.

"I ask you. You who calls me and seeks me... Summoner who manifests me under the class of Caster... I ask your name. Yes... Who are you?"

For a moment, Ryūnosuke was stunned into silence.

The man before him was no monster, no grotesque creature from a nightmare, but rather an ordinary human—or at least, he appeared to be.

Disappointment mixed with curiosity in his gaze.

Scratching his head, Ryūnosuke finally replied, "Uh, name's Uryū Ryūnosuke. I'm currently unemployed, and I like killing people, pretty much. Especially kids and young women."

The man in the robe nodded, seeming to consider only his name. Ryūnosuke's grin widened. This might turn out to be interesting after all.

"Very well. The contract is made," he said while giving a slight nod.

"I desire the Grai—" His words were cut short, as blue lines shimmered into existence, before disappearing.

The floorboards gave an audible groan, before a section of it burst open, revealing a small wooden sign that sprung out from the hole.

The man calling himself Caster raised an arm, and a leather covered book shimmered into existence in his hand.

"I thank you for your contribution, but you've outlived your usefulness, Prison Of Avalon," said an ethereal voice that reverberated through the entire room.

No sooner than those words had been said, both Ryūnosuke and Caster fell to their knees, while the former started clutching his chest.

Slowly, a figure draped in shadows emerged from the corner of the room, and sauntered over to Caster.

The struggling man fixed a crazed look onto the shadow clad figure, and started to frantically flip the pages of his book, before ripping a page out from it.

In the blink of an eye, three purple magic circles formed in the air, before suddenly fizzling out.

"Wha—" "Shhh…." The same voice came from right next to his ear, causing him to turn his head in the direction of the noise, only to come face to face to an ink black veil.

"Be a dear, and sleep tight," she said in a caring tone, before Caster felt a dagger puncture his ribs.

Caster gave a low wheeze, before his eyes glazed over, and his body slumped over.

The woman retracted the golden blade from the man's body, before wiping off the blood on the slumped form of Caster, before the blade suddenly disappeared into a shadow.

Ryūnosuke was left in awe, as his eyes had not left the scene that had played out in front of him.

The demon he had summoned had been taken out by this woman draped in shadows with such contemptible ease, and Ryūnosuke couldn't draw his gaze away from it.

Somehow, he had summoned a second demon, or at worst, lured a stronger one over thanks to the summoning.

"So cool!" The words slipped out of his mouth reflexively after seeing how she killed the man.

Slowly, the veiled woman turned her head to look at Ryūnosuke, causing the boy to feel a shiver trail down his spine.

"Such a filthy thing," she said in an exasperated tone, before slightly shaking her head, and lifting a finger to point at the boy.

"Perish," no sooner had her words left her mouth, did Ryūnosuke's neck snap, and his head faced the wall behind him, in an excellent imitation of an owl.

Slowly, Ryūnosuke's vision started to turn dark, and he felt regret.

Regret that he hadn't offered the demon the offering he had brought, if he had, perhaps she would have let him live.

~~Fate/False Order~~

Fucking kill me…

{Morgan… help me out…} I grumbled through our mental link.

My body felt like shit, as if someone had treated me like a spit roasted pig, before being thrown into an ice bath…

Case and point, I feel really fucking warm, yet piss cold at the same time, and it fucking sucks.

{A moment if you will.} Came Morgans amused voice, before I was forcibly dragged into a shadow, and spat onto a sofa.

As I fell on the couch, I landed on the dead homunculus that had been a decoy for the family that was living here.

Slowly I felt his blood seep into my clothes, causing me to give a grunt of annoyance.

Glancing to the side, I saw Caster's slumped form on the ground.

"How are your preparations going?" I said dully, while snapping my finger, causing the surrounding blood to float up, form a ball in the air, freeze, and then fall to the floor.

Allowing me to clean and dry my clothes from the blood in one go.

Morgan moved into my line of sight, and held a severed hand with three command seals on it.

"All tasks at hand have been cleared, so now it's just up to me to do the final touches," she said dismissively.

Caressing the command seals, Morgan's hand gave a blue glow, before retracing, leaving a severed limb without command seals.

Slowly, I saw three identical marks form into existence atop her hand, causing my witch to give an appreciative hum.

"Now… did it work?" I probed, causing Morgan to give a disappointed sigh.

"Yes, but not in the way we had hoped," she explained with disappointment, causing me to mirror her action, and give a disappointed sigh.

Our working theory was that if she gained command seals, that she could utilize them the same way as her God's Resolution skill would allow her to use her command seals on any servant.

Shaking away the disappointment, I fixed my gaze onto Caster.

"A shame, but then we should continue with plan B," I said, causing Morgan to discard the severed hand, before moving towards the unresponsive Caster.

The blade she had used on him, was apparently a mystic code by the name of Erosion, a dagger that had the ability to sever the mind and Soul from the body, as well as allow the user to slip someone else into the body, spirit, and soul of its victim.

Yes it is scary, and no, it somehow isn't a Noble Phantasm, despite its bullshit abilities.

It's safe to say that Caster isn't going to be waking up, with his mind having been separated from his body, meaning that he is effectively braindead.

As Morgan got up close, she crouched down, and placed a hand on Casters head.

A green pulse of energy spread over Casters form, before his body started to convulse.

Removing her hand, Morgan took a few steps back, and loomed over Caster's twitching body.

Slowly his limbs started to twist and stretch, making a few uncomfortable popping and crunching sounds, before each limb imploded into his body.

Slowly his head did the same, before shrinking, and shoving itself into his torso.

I watched on in morbid fascination, as Castor slowly imploded in on himself, and turned into a huge meatball, before compressing himself into an even smaller shape.

This continued until he turned into the size of a fist sized lump of flesh.

"Ok…" I said slowly, before turning my head to look at Morgan.

"What the fuck did I just see?" I said dryly.

Morgan tilted her head towards me, before giving an amused huff.

"Nothing too special… that's for the next part," she said before snapping her fingers.

Slowly, a naked homunculus woman with light blue hair, and pointy ears floated out of Morgan's shadow and hovered in front of her.

Slowly, the meatball floated up, and hovered over the spot where the homunculi's heart would be, before it seamlessly sunk into her chest.

There was a moment where nothing happened, before the homunculus suddenly gasped and sat up mid air.

Clapping, Morgan conjured a cloak, which proceeded to wrap itself around the homunculus, that now radiated the feeling of a servant.

Morgan turned her head to me, and placed a hand on the homunculus's shoulder.

"Meet 'Medea',"she intoned with amusement. "this Wars 'Caster', and my avatar" 

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222 Hours, 24 Minutes And 48 Seconds Until Zero 

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A/N

Welcome back, my reader Overlords, please add this to your library and give me some comments, stones and Reviews, as it would be much appreciated.

Now that the mandatory begging is done, time to ask the hard hitting questions.

Welcome to Volume 2.

All the servants for the Grail War have officially been summoned!

Any thoughts, or ideas on what happen next?

Anything you'd like to see? If so, ping me a comment, or ask me on my discord server!

Btw, I have made a Discord server for the fic, come on and chat with me!

https://discord.gg/eJpSFD4H

Now I'm tired, so have a nice day, and send me some stones or some shit, I need motivation, or some shit like that.