Warra Servant

Kirei Kotomine loathed his role in Tokiomi's scheme. He was confined to the safety of the church, a mere spectator to the bloody spectacle that was the Holy Grail War. His skills, honed through years of training as a church executor, were being criminally misused as he was reduced to the role of a defeated participant seeking asylum with the overseer.

As he looked out of the stained glass window, Kirei's thoughts turned to his Servant's golems. They were a formidable force, perfectly suited to the battlefield. Their powerful limbs and unbreakable shells were capable of crushing anything in their path. Kirei had often envisioned them charging into battle, their iron feet pounding the earth as they stormed through the enemy ranks.

But, alas, Tokiomi was stubbornly fixated on his plan. He refused to see the potential of Kirei's golems, instead insisting that they be used for reconnaissance. Kirei could hardly conceal his frustration as he watched his precious creations scuttle about like insects, collecting information that was already outdated.

Kirei knew that he and his Servant were capable of so much more. With his sharp mind and lethal skills, he could easily take out the other teams single-handedly. He could feel the satisfying weight of his knife in his hand, its sharp edge glinting in the light. He could almost taste the blood of his enemies on his tongue.

Tokiomi was entrenched in his rigid ways, blinded by his stubbornness to explore alternative paths. His myopic focus on conventional methods to achieve victory left no room for sneaky maneuvers, save for the clandestine partnership he had forged, which was a mere farce.

Kirer sauntered into his sanctum, filled with his prized wine collection, and grabbed a dusty bottle of ruby red liquid. The sound of the cork popping echoed in the dimly lit room, and the rich aroma of fermented grapes wafted through the air as he poured the crimson potion into a delicate crystal glass. Settling into a plush velvet chair beside a curious contraption resembling a gramophone.

Kirei could feel the weight of the dusty file folder in his hand as he flipped it open. The pages were yellowed and brittle, like ancient parchment that had been locked away for centuries. The room around him was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the flickering candles on the table before him. The scent of wax and old paper hung heavy in the air.

As he pored over the scraps of information laid out before him, Kirei couldn't help but wonder why Tokiomi had insisted on using such an archaic means of communication. Surely a phone would have been far more convenient for relaying information, and only one of the known masters would likely know how to tap a phone line.

But as he continued to read through the documents, Kirei began to understand the reasoning behind Tokiomi's preference for secrecy. There was something about this Kiritsugu Emiya, this elusive master, that had piqued Tokiomi's interest. Perhaps it was the similarities between them, or maybe it was something else entirely. Kirei couldn't be sure.

Lost in thought, Kirei's eyes scanned over the pages once more, searching for any clue that might help him unravel the mystery. With each passing moment, the room seemed to grow darker, the shadows dancing around him like specters.

As the clock ticked on, the silence in the dimly lit room was broken by a sudden movement. A humanoid golem, crafted by Kirei's Servant, came to life from its previously lifeless state on the couch. With clunky movements, the golem rose from its seated position, revealing its mechanical nature. It was vaguely human-like, with metal plating covering its frame and glowing eyes that shone with an eerie light.

As the golem approached Caster, it emitted an assortment of whirring and clanking sounds. In its hand, it held a pad of paper and a pen that was moving at lightning speed, scribbling furiously on the page. The golem couldn't speak, but it conveyed its message with the note, which it presented to Caster with a stiff mechanical arm.

Caster reached out and took the note, glancing at it quickly before nodding to the golem. The golem froze in its tracks, awaiting further commands from its creator.

Kirei's eyes scanned the note, the words weighing heavily on his mind like lead. He felt the weight of the impending conversation with Tokiomi, a knot tightening in his stomach as he imagined the discussion. With a heavy heart, he lifted his glass of wine to his lips, the bitter liquid burning down his throat. The taste held no pleasure for him, but he continued to drink, lost in thought.

Setting the glass down with a soft clink, Kirei turned to the magical device beside him. With practiced ease, he activated it, a pale blue light emanating from its surface. The air crackled with energy as he waited for his master's response, his thoughts returning once more to the note in his hand.

"Kirei, what could be so important that you had to interrupt my peaceful evening?" The voice of Tokiomi crackled through the magical phonograph, laced with annoyance and a hint of drunkenness.

Tokiomi's nerves were already frayed, stretched thin like the taut string of a bow. The weight of his responsibilities bore down upon him heavily, threatening to crush him under its weight. Tokiomi could feel his temples throbbing with the onset of a headache, a physical manifestation of the stress he was under.

As if on cue, Kirei's voice sliced through the air like a blade, devoid of any hint of emotion. "Of course, Tokiomi, I have a report from the battlefield," he intoned coolly. "It seems Archer has engaged Berserker and isn't faring well from the looks of it."

Tokiomi's voice cracked with frustration like a dry twig snapping underfoot. His anger was palpable, seeping through the magical communication device like a poisonous gas. The sound of shattering glass was like the breaking of his composure, shards of his rage scattering in all directions.

"I warned him not to step into a fight he can't win," Tokiomi muttered, his words laced with bitterness. The image of his subordinate getting pummeled by the enemy was like a punch to his gut. He could almost feel the impact of the blows himself, each one a sharp jolt of pain.

"Why did fate have to deal me this hand? Summoning a class with such potential for independent action was a double-edged sword," Tokiomi continued, his tone heavy with regret. The weight of his mistake was crushing, like a boulder on his chest. The class he had chosen was like a wild stallion, untamed and unpredictable.

As Kirei, his eyes shifted to the golem standing before him. The creature's limbs were rigid as if carved from stone, and its glowing eyes remained fixed on him. Without warning, the golem thrust out its hand, delivering a crumpled note to Kirei before retreating to the shadows.

Kirei's hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the crumpled note, the crisp sound of paper unfolding echoing in the silent room. The words scrawled in hurried script seemed to jump out at him, almost as if they were alive, conveying the direness of the situation. His heart sank as he read the message, realizing that the already precarious situation had taken a turn for the worse.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he lifted his gaze from the note, Kirei's eyes lingering on the phonograph that sat on the table before him. The machine seemed almost out of place in the dimly lit room, its gleaming brass fittings and intricate gears standing out in stark contrast to the worn wooden furniture that surrounded it.

"Master," Kirei murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It seems that Archer is about to...well, die." The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of their meaning almost suffocating.

"What? That foolish Servant, why did I have to summon Archer from all the classes?" Tokiomi's voice dripped with annoyance, like hot wax seeping from a candle. "Fine, I'll just deal with it myself."