Ten minutes remained until the bell signaling the end of classes. Rin was awaiting it impatiently. Oh, how many methods of retribution she had devised. Fine, refusing to shift into spiritual form; fine, getting on her nerves; fine, showing up at school. None of that was too significant and didn't create major problems. But. He had the audacity to pretend to be her uncle. And even pat her head! That was impossible to tolerate. So, as soon as they were alone, she would make him swallow his smirk and all his sarcastic words. Just imagining it gave the girl pleasure, and when the fantasy became reality...
Her thoughts were interrupted by the entering teacher. Teacher Kuzuki unexpectedly appeared in the classroom. This man stood out with his impassive character and pedantry bordering on madness. Once, due to a single grammatical error in an exam assignment, he canceled it—just one word written incorrectly. For that, he was considered somewhat strange, yet he was a good teacher. He had an excellent grasp of his subject—history.
"Students, before you go to club activities or home, I'll make an announcement." His voice was monotonous, yet it didn't allow distraction from him. "Due to an unexpected order from the principal, a new elective will appear at school. Ethics lessons." A puzzled murmur arose in response, as they already had social studies, which included ethics. "Quiet. The new teacher will explain what exactly will be studied in his classes."
Then Rin felt chills down her spine. Her premonition told her it was better to run from here if she didn't want to lose a couple of kilograms of nerve cells. Barely praying to all spirits and gods for salvation, she watched the opening door. *...Why?...* Her Servant entered. Damn Fulgrim had somehow convinced the principal to make him the ethics teacher. With his unchanging smile, he headed to the teacher's desk, where he nodded thanks to Kuzuki and turned to the class. His purple eyes, so unusual even in Europe, seemed like something out of science fiction to the Japanese. With them, he examined each student, and when his gaze met Rin's, he cheerfully waved, plastering a joyful smile on his face. The girl next to her suddenly heard a crack and turned her head toward her desk. Fortunately, she managed to hide the broken pencil in her case.
"So, children. I think most of you have already heard of me, but allow me to introduce myself again. You can call me simply Teacher Fulgrim, and I will be teaching ethics. Yes, you have a question?" He shifted his gaze to the student who had raised her hand. Ayako Mitsuzuri.
"Yes, Teacher Fulgrim. Could you explain why we need ethics classes? In my opinion, they don't have much practical use." At this, Fulgrim merely widened his smile and turned to the class. Taking a piece of chalk, he began slowly drawing an as-yet-unknown symbol while answering the question.
"I suppose you think ethics just teaches how to behave in society, however..." All the students fell silent, listening to the man's penetrating voice. "...that's not true!" Finally, the kanji was complete, and all present could read it. "Ethics is what will refine your personality, help you comprehend the highest virtues of man."
On the board, in sharp lines, was written the word.
"You all have both merits and flaws. My task will be to elevate the former and eradicate the latter." The Primarch's speech began to find echoes in the hearts of the teenagers. At their age, people most desire to become better, not to end up as hopeless individuals. Deep down, each dreamed of greatness—that's youthful romance. "I will make your valor crush fears, your kindness overcome egoism, and your reason rise above prejudices." His words were underscored by the man's measured steps as he slowly moved between the rows.
"All flaws will vanish, weaknesses will disappear, and each of you will achieve what humanity has dreamed of since its birth." Back at the board, the Phoenix, smile gone, looked at the children with absolute seriousness. "I will make you perfect." The words were spoken. "Perfection," behind the Primarch's back, only amplified the effect. In the silence, one could almost hear a feather slicing through the air. "Of course, if you attend my classes," he said with his usual smile. And when Rin's classmates came to their senses, what followed was something the magus never wanted to remember. And in general, perhaps it's best to omit the details of the Son of the Emperor's charisma's influence on mere mortals.
Already walking through the school corridors, the Servant and his Master remained silent. Contrary to Fulgrim's expectations, Rin showed no aggression. On the contrary, she was completely calm—not feigned, but genuine. *"Has she gotten used to my behavior?" That wouldn't be too good; teasing the girl had become a nice pastime.*
"Fulgrim." Rin called him with the same calm. "I discovered an incompletely formed bounded barrier at school. As soon as the students are gone, we need to find a way to dispel it." The man didn't have time to respond, as a familiar head of hair appeared from around the corner. Red.
"Tohsaka?" Shirou Emiya. The boy, the same age as the aforementioned, stopped mid-step upon seeing the pair. "And... you must be her uncle?" He finished, looking at the platinum-haired man. Over two meters tall, sturdy build, and European features stood out strongly and left no doubt about his identity. After all, in half a day, every student had learned about what happened during lunch break.
"Correct." The hand rested on the girl's head and began gently stroking it again. "And you are Rin's acquaintance?" The Primarch's presence even threw the young Emiya off his train of thought. When his attention is on you, a strange desire arises to heed his voice. Moreover, there was no Warp influence or Grail gifts involved here. It was an instinctive ability to present himself such that people unconsciously placed themselves below the Emperor's sons. In a good way, of course—no moral pressure.
"Y-yes, my name is Shirou Emiya. Pleased to meet you."
"As am I. If I'm not mistaken, in Japan they say..." Lost in thought, the man placed a finger to his cheek and was silent for a few seconds. "...take care of my sweet niece." And with the corner of his eye, the "uncle" watched the girl's reaction. *"She's really gotten used to it. Faster than I expected."*
"Ah... of course, definitely!" The boy straightened up like at a parade. "W-well, alright, I need to go. Goodbye, Tohsaka, Teacher Fulgrim." Even the new elective was already known to everyone, and only five minutes had passed since the students dispersed. The Homurahara grapevine worked above standard levels. Emiya himself heard it from Mitsuzuri when she rushed past, more inspired than he'd ever seen her. And now he needed to repair the equipment.
The young man left, and the Master and Servant continued to the library, where they planned to wait for nightfall. After all, the war had rules prohibiting the involvement of ordinary people; the Church's Watcher and the executors' group were to monitor that. They presented false data to the police and media in case of need, like gas leaks. Their work could be trusted—who better than the Lord's servants to plausibly present lies.
Finally, the sun hid behind the horizon, and they could begin acting, though according to Rin, the war hadn't started yet, as the last Master hadn't appeared. This became known after a phone call with Kirei Kotomine, the girl's guardian. She called to report summoning a Servant and received this info during the conversation. Now, they needed to find the focal points of the bounded barrier. Following her magical senses, the magus began the search, and along the way, her Primarch asked a question.
"What do you say about Shirou? Is he a magus like you?" During the wait, Fulgrim hadn't been interested in the answer; after all, he was occupied with more important matters—reading detailed historical data on the Viking era. Leman Russ and his wolves had preserved traditions almost in their pristine form, only replacing raids with the Great Crusade.
"I didn't sense anything from him, as always. Though magic can be concealed, so it's too early to conclude." Rin stopped and tilted her head thoughtfully. "He could still be a Master... I hope not." The last part was so quiet an ordinary person couldn't hear it, but mischief sparkled in Fulgrim's eyes. Seems a new teasing topic had appeared. However, it would wait. No matter how much the Primarch enjoyed unnerving his cheeky Master, business came first, as Rin had explained the barrier's properties. It was meant to drain life force within its bounds and had no limiter, so it could lead to death. Whether this battle interested Fulgrim or not, he wouldn't stand by while innocents suffered. So he decided to be serious. Slightly.
Stepping onto the roof for a better view of the grounds, the pair got lucky—one of the seals was right there. The magus immediately began examining it, concluding it was impossible to dispel the formation. It clearly had more than one core; destroying one would see the others restore it, replenishing spent energy from the students. The only way to rid themselves of the blood fort, as Rin called it, was to kill whoever controlled the barrier. One of the Masters, as no one else would do such a thing. When the Master finished analyzing the spell, her Servant sensed an unknown approaching. New senses gifted by the Grail allowed detecting other Servants at a distance. The guest was approaching quickly, but no one was around—he was clearly in spiritual form. The Primarch didn't act rashly until the figure stopped on the water tower, revealing himself.
"Well, talk about luck today." The tall man with a predatory grin stared straight at the Primarch. Blood lust, as if frozen in his eyes, revealed his love of battle. He craved it; every movement and even his breathing rhythm spoke of it. "Hey, blondie, you're a Servant, right?"
"I was summoned by this girl, but I am no servant to her." Fulgrim stared intently into the crimson pupils, understanding peaceful parting wasn't happening. "And perhaps introduce yourself before speaking so familiarly to me." At this, the blue-haired man smirked.
"Servant Lancer, and you?"
"Archer. That's customary for Servants, using class names, right?"
"Don't remind me; my Master's such a coward, he won't even let me say my name." Clearly, Lancer wasn't used to hiding emotions, so disappointment was plain on his face at the situation. "Well, whatever; the war hasn't started yet, but since we've met..."
A crimson spear materialized in the man's hand. And if those present thought its owner exuded strong blood lust before, now... Made not of metal but bone, the spear seemed to have absorbed all the hatred of its numerous victims. It had struck down the master's enemies many times. And he himself, upon arming, made a sharp dash toward the opponent. A shockwave spread in the air from breaking the sound barrier. A moment later, the Primarch was deflecting the tip's thrust, surprising the foe. Bare-handed, he deflected the spear as if foreseeing its twisting trajectory, and as the spearman charged unable to stop his momentum, slammed his palm into his gut. From the sudden direction change, Lancer even felt queasy.
The body smashed through the roof railing and hurtled toward the sports field. There, it left a furrow in the ground, raising a pillar of dust. Sharply rising, the blue-haired man regained focus and saw purple eyes gazing down from the roof. Fulgrim leisurely headed toward the enemy. With the grace of a bird, he landed and continued striding to the center of the field, pondering what he'd seen en route. How the weapon simply materialized in the spearman's hands—that meant Servants could summon it at will. And Archer was no exception. But how—not known. And unlikely the Primarch would summon anything substantial; his only personal ranged weapon was a plasma gun. Forged in the Ural forges, it was a work of art, but Fulgrim rarely used it, preferring Firebrand... or the cursed Laer Blade. *"Though I wouldn't refuse a weapon, even a plasma gun."*
No sooner thought than outlines formed in his hand. In not even a second, it took the form the Primarch had envisioned. In the colors of the Third Legion, its power field elements glowed, battling the moonlight. Intricate engravings of flaming birds left no doubt this was a weapon worthy of the Emperor's son. Momentarily surprised, Fulgrim gripped the plasma gun with both hands, noting it fit his current body perfectly. Checking the charge—full—he immediately aimed the barrel at the spearman.
"What the...—" The enemy didn't finish before an azure plasma bolt flew at him. At tremendous speed, it covered the distance and was mere meters from the target. It already felt the immense heat and tensed its body to dodge. Shifting a meter aside, Lancer felt unbearable scorching. *"It'll roast me, and no resistance will help."* "What the devil was that?!" he yelled, on edge.
"Barbarian..." The shooter rolled his eyes in disappointment. "...can't even recognize plasma." And switched the plasma gun to burst-fire mode. As it turned out, this could be done by thought, as the weapon felt like part of his body. A very strange sensation, but adaptation took less than a second. "A blob of ionized gas..." Like raindrops, blue flashes began leaving the muzzle. "...with temperature comparable to the sun's surface."
But the opponent wasn't listening, focusing on the deadly projectiles. Dodging the hail of fire was hard, as the Primarch fired unerringly, anticipating the target's movements. She quickly realized this Archer preferred mid-range, so she closed in. Timing it, the crimson spear's owner dashed at the opponent, sacrificing part of her long braid in the process. And finally, the fight went to close quarters.
With lightning speed, the predatory weapon tried to catch its prey, but she wouldn't yield. Fulgrim deftly maneuvered; it was clear he yielded in pure speed, but no strike had landed yet. Nevertheless, at one point he opened up after a combo of precise attacks. Lancer's mastery was superb, so he thought he'd unbalanced the foe. As the tip headed for the platinum-haired man's chest, he fired to the side, and the weapon's recoil helped avoid the wound, if not fully. The plasma rifle had very weak recoil, but it existed and allowed completing the shift rightward.
The left side bled, but the Primarch ignored such a trifle; regeneration had already clotted the blood, and the wound would soon be gone. And now, while the opponent couldn't defend, the Phoenix swung the plasma gun's reinforced stock into the spearman's face. From the force, blood sprayed. The blue-haired man's nose poured blood copiously, but that wasn't all. The momentary daze was extended by a fist to the jaw. And again, the spearman flew back a distance.
"Pah... You're not bad; interesting opponent I got. Weapon's kinda anti... What are you doing?" Lancer was surprised to see Fulgrim lick the blood from his knuckles.
"...Cú Chulainn." The Primarch activated one of his body's biological abilities—Omophagy. Not many know, but all the organs and abilities Astartes possess were designed based on the Primarchs, so everything their sons have, they have too. "Character from the Ulster cycle, son of the sun god—Lugh. Though I knew I might meet mythic heroes, this still surprises."
"You figured that out from blood?.. Who the hell are you?"
"Exactly; now I know who you are—so I should introduce myself." The man straightened his back, though he always maintained perfect posture. "I am Fulgrim, called the Phoenician. Primarch of the Third Legion Astartes—the Emperor's Children." He said with a soft smile. But his eyes weren't.
"...Never heard of it, though it sounds pompous." Setanta scratched his head, trying to recall if he knew such a figure. "Well, whatever; before we continue, tell me why you fight like that?"
"Like what?" Fulgrim already understood what the spearman wanted to know, despite the feigned puzzlement.
"You're a master—no denying it, but..." The man waved his hand in his usual manner, searching for words. "You fight like it's habit, not from the heart... Probably..." Cú Chulainn was never a master of eloquence, but he conveyed the thought. A quiet chuckle came from the opponent. Sad.
"...I lost what I fought for." At this, the spearman closed his eyes. He'd seen it many times. Fierce warriors who charged with great valor became shadows of themselves when they lost what mattered most.
"And why answer the summons? Only those with wishes for the Grail participate in the war."
"I have one, but the past can't be changed; only a fool would hope for the Grail for that. And in my case, it's even more complicated."
Hearing the answers, Cú Chulainn shook his head sadly. *"What a pity; finally met a strong rival, and he doesn't want to fight."* Finishing his inner lament, the crimson spear's owner got serious. Even if Fulgrim wasn't fighting full-out, he was still very dangerous. That plasma could turn Setanta into fried meat, so time to end it; such a fight wouldn't be interesting anyway. Dropping into a low stance, Lancer prepared to lunge. In fractions of a second, his weapon glowed crimson, and he launched the attack.
"Gáe Bolg!" With the battle cry on his lips, he was right before the opponent. The lightning thrust from below was deflected again. Fulgrim slapped the palm against the spear's side, diverting its path aside, yet still felt the prick.
Dissolving in the air, the weapon pierced the Primarch's chest straight through the heart and out the back. *"Well, that's it; pity I didn't see you when you still wanted to fight."* But thoughts were interrupted by a hand grabbing Cú Chulainn by the throat. He bulged his eyes, unable to believe the enemy was still alive after a heart pierce. No one survived that, but the wave of searing blue flame denied it. The plasma gun, switched to melta auxiliary mode, badly burned the spearman's body. Fortunately, the plasma wave's power was much less than a full melta gun, or there'd be an extra hole in his chest.
The Primarch pulled out the spear that pierced one of his two hearts and tossed it aside. As it turned out, the body was a copy of his former one, just weakened, but all extra organs remained. That's how he survived certain death. Tossing the bone weapon aside, he looked at the Spearman, irritation in the Phoenix's eyes. After that, the enemy wouldn't go unpunished. Blood stopped flowing again, and the through-wound began closing rapidly. This surprised Setanta, as he knew the curse well. Wounds from the spear healed very slowly, but it was nothing to the Primarch.
"Who's there?!" When the spear reappeared in Cú Chulainn's hand and he prepared to continue the fight, a shadow flashed in one of the school windows. Hearing the shout, it vanished immediately. "Damn, Master orders to eliminate the witness!" The second disappointment of the night—even the fight couldn't finish. "Sorry, but we'll have to break off."
At high speed, the Blue Lancer dashed toward the school and quickly vanished into the window frame. Fulgrim wanted to follow, but noticed his summoner. She had stood aside the whole fight, just watching, but pallor appeared on her face. As Rin thought, maintaining the Primarch during battle was taxing. Without her mana-filled gems' reserve, she couldn't stand; even now it was hard. Fortunately, her Servant supported her, quickly understanding what was happening to his Master. Finally relaxing a bit, she looked at the man.
"Didn't expect you to be so strong. By the way, Archers are supposed to fight at range, if you didn't know." Fulgrim just smirked. As if war rules meant anything to him. "And, you only gave your name. Turns out you're some Primarch. And what are Emperor's Children?"
"My sons, whom I led during the Great Crusade." Hearing unfamiliar terms again, the girl wanted to continue questioning, but heard a scream.
"Damn, he was chasing the witness! Who the hell would be at school so late?!"
At Rin's request, Fulgrim helped reach the voice's source, and there lay a boy in a pool of his own blood. His heart was pierced, and life had nearly left him. The magus slowly approached, refusing the Servant's help.
"Sorry, you had to die because of me." She knelt beside him and began turning him onto his back. "What? No, not you... Why did it have to be you here?!" Rin was saddened by an innocent student's death, but the one lying before her caused far greater pain.
"Shirou Emiya. Your death is partly my fault; I should have ended the fight sooner." Fulgrim was also affected. Protecting the innocent wasn't empty words to him, but partly life's purpose. That's why Father created him and the other Primarchs.
"No, you won't die..." Rin, quietly muttering these words, removed the necklace from her neck, set with a massive ruby. A family heirloom containing immense magical power. "You won't die in my arms, you idiot!"
***
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