"My lord…" Fulgrim heard a quiet whisper at consciousness's edge. In night's silence, it couldn't be mistaken for a distant voice. Moreover, the voice was familiar. The Primarch recognized it.
A little earlier, Masters and Servants had begun discussing next steps, recovering from unexpected news. Now all gathered at the round table. True, it was square, but no alternative. Lacking Heliopolis, the Emiya Estate's living room sufficed.
"Fulgrim, you know in the War, only one Master can claim the Grail, and only one Servant remains." Rin didn't ask, but stated.
"Naturally, but uniting now and holding a fair fight at the end is best." He looked at Artoria. "Am I right?"
"Yes. I prefer cooperating and deciding who's worthy after defeating the other Masters." The queen's stoic manner perfectly explained why the Primarch sought alliance with her.
The Phoenix merely nodded, then closed his eyes. He directed his mind's power to analyzing resources and applications, plus assessing Servant threats. Four known, enemies just two. Caster, Rider, and Assassin unseen, but focus on the first and last. A magic Servant could have myriad abilities, as magical arts are vast. And a magus whose power dwarfed modern ones would surely have surprises.
Assassin less unpredictable, but stealth enabled hypothetically killing Masters past guards. Shirou and Rin needed constant watch. Only a fool would be careless. While the War lasted, any moment could be last. Not just for participants. Recent news endlessly reported gas leaks and incidents tied to the ritual. People lost consciousness, fell into comas—from life force drain, per Tohsaka. Such finesse from Caster or a Servant with specific abilities.
Meanwhile, the academy's bounded field was another's work, simply draining energy fully. Totally different methods. But both built power. Thus, ousting the coma culprit and bloody fort owner were priorities. Leave Berserker last. His Master, Illya, clearly knew Heracles no match for the Primarch. Else she wouldn't have fled so desperately.
As for resources: a magus of known potential. A pseudo-magus of unknown. And a battlefield… with surveillance systems. This era advanced enough for some aids, if not ideal.
"Rin." The sudden address startled the girl. Her Servant unusually serious. And he emanated a strange feeling. As if… now he was where he belonged. And he was at war. "Prepare all magical materials and books. I'll try optimizing your accumulator creation." At those words, the summoner forgot her prior thoughts.
"You… do you even know what you're saying?!" She jumped up, slamming the table. The frail girl had strength; the white kitten even bounced. But only to glare at Rin like a fool, then resume sleeping on the Primarch's shoulder. "Family knowledge isn't for outsiders, period." She pointed. "My line's done this for centuries; what can you do in days?"
"I'm a Primarch, Rin." That didn't convince her. Her look said so, so Fulgrim elaborated. "My mind's capacities surpass normals as yours do a toddler's. I see what you'd miss in life." The magus deemed it boasting. Fulgrim sighed inwardly; hard convincing a self-proclaimed genius of superiority. "We'll discuss later. Also gather your savings; need for equipment… No objections; you knew War participation costs, in every way." Luckily, that tempered her. Only an idiot would argue. Still, her thrifty nature wailed at coming expenses.
"Artie." Fulgrim eyed the warrior. She slightly turned her head, listening while sipping tea. Becoming a habit. "Later, I need to go to the city. Watch Rin and Shirou?" She nodded without hesitation. Masters too weak to leave alone; kids needed a babysitter.
"And finally you, Shirou." The youth tensed, awaiting orders from the veteran strategist. "You're… useless. No tasks for you." Oh, how he deflated. But briefly; the Primarch's next words sent goosebumps, said in a very… promising tone. "Hope you strive to fix that, or I'll run a Neophytes Legiones Astartes course."
"And Neophytes, aren't they… recruits?"
"Right. So program's gentle. Won't let you die, even if you beg." Luckily, Rin had shared what she knew of her Servant; now Shirou grasped the doom. He wanted strength, but doubted such methods spared psychological scars. Dozens. Superhuman training was… anyway, his look assured effort.
"Good. Also, saw tech junk in your shed. Need it." With that, the Primarch gently removed the huffing kitten from his shoulder; warmed, but still weary. "And care for Rylanor." Signs said no lasting health harm. The kitten sturdy in body and spirit. The Primarch headed out.
When the man left, the trio eyed the white bundle. Fearlessly, it stared at Shirou, somehow knowing this biped fed him. The fluffy Dreadnought's gaze unnerved the youth. Those blue eyes held… strength. And seemed tied to why the Primarch brought him. Artoria also eyed the cat. She'd always liked lions, so the kitten appealed. Pride in every move betrayed a true king of beasts. Small, white-furred, but beautiful. The engrossed warrior snapped from the beast when estate doors parted.
She realized Fulgrim nearly gone, so jumped up and strode after. Youths' puzzled looks irrelevant. Moments later, she halted in the passage, gazing at the Primarch's back. He hadn't left, merely stood in pouring rain. His impression starkly different. Hours ago, even the shortsighted saw him broken, crushed. But now… he towered amid raging wind. Frost forced steam breaths. Amid it, the still figure evoked a monolith unbreaking, whatever woes assailed. The Primarch noticed his "pursuer" and turned. Vivid purple eyes held a silent question.
"Fulgrim… who was that woman?" How easily she'd hurled the ancient mighty hero. One cry with reality-warping effect, and Artoria hit the wall. Hearing her, the man's gaze hardened.
"A guest from my past." Now his voice steady. It conveyed his view of the topic. "That being extremely dangerous; my duty to banish it. I brought her here, after all."
"And how you… acted…" Artoria knew reminding him might displease, but she needed certainty.
"A moment of unforgivable weakness. She won't get that again, thanks to Rylanor." He said the last with faint smirk. Still amused a Nordic kitten helped the great Phoenix.
"I see. Then I'm at ease; that look doesn't suit you." A rare sight graced the queen's face: lips' corners lifted. Fulgrim smirked again.
"Really? What does suit me?" His sly side resurfaced. The girl half-closed lids, hiding emerald eyes, pondering. What did this strange Archer show in her eyes?
"I suppose... resilience, composure, and... a certain audacity." That dance under the moon still brought embarrassment, even if it didn't show outwardly.
"Ha-ha, thanks for the compliment." A sincere smile appeared on the Primarch's lips. On that note, he considered the conversation over and soared into the sky once more. But now he wasn't running—no. Now he would charge without doubt even into the fiery Gehenna, for it couldn't be otherwise.
At that moment, the Primarch was studying the locations of surveillance cameras, police communication towers, and other services. Battles of Servants usually took place in deserted areas, but an additional reconnaissance network wouldn't hurt. Standing on the tallest building in Fuyuki, he gazed at the city. Night had already taken hold, so there was a small chance of running into other summoned ones, but for now, all was calm. It was at that very moment that a whisper sounded in Fulgrim's mind.
"My lord..."
The booming voice characteristic of all Space Marines made it clear that suspicions about his phantasm were correct. However, it was unclear why his legion had managed to make contact without activating the crystallized miracle. Well, the one who issued the call could provide the answer to that question.
The Phoenix focused on the depths of his soul. Those in which he felt his personal weapon and true power. From that mist he hadn't been able to peer into before, a beam of light now emanated. And that light carried a familiar presence. When all of the Primarch's attention converged on that beacon, the voice became many times stronger.
"My lord!" Energy passed through the barrier and was released into the real world. The mighty voice was accompanied by a whirlwind of silver fire. The very same that had transformed Fulgrim into his true form.
Amid the concrete rooftop appeared a familiar figure once the flames dissipated. Encased in polished armor, he seemed to emanate a purple glow. The artwork and golden ornamentation left no doubt about this warrior's high status. His helmet was adorned with bird wings, and its crimson visors inspired awe, immediately dispelling any desire to become the enemy of this Astartes.
As soon as the summoned one's gaze cleared, he immediately dropped to one knee, leaning on the shaft of a massive halberd. Its blade faintly sparkled with lightning, as if warning of what would happen if its master decided to unleash the full might of his weapon. The cloak covering his back was purple and white. It better accentuated the splendor of the noble color of the armor. On his chest could be seen the same symbol as on the Primarch's chest. The double-headed eagle.
"...Vergil..." The Primarch couldn't fail to recognize the one who had accompanied him for many years. The great warrior who had survived all battles, even back in his days as Imperial Herald, and who had gone through the entire Great Crusade protecting his Primarch. The one who had laid down his life on Tarsus. The head of the Phoenix Guard—Vergil Anusoran.
"Yes, my lord." The voice, duplicated by external vox-systems, chilled to the bone. "At last, you heard my call."
"At last? You called to me before?" Fulgrim was certain he would have noticed a whisper on the edge of consciousness; it wasn't that quiet to ignore.
"Every second since your summoning. But you didn't hear." The warrior bowed his head even lower as he spoke those words, making it clear he dared not reproach his Primarch in any way.
"I see. You... know why that changed?" Fulgrim had already realized why his soul hadn't let the call penetrate his consciousness. He had feared meeting his sons, whom he had failed.
"Yes, my Primarch. I saw with your eyes and heard with your ears. I know everything." The guardsman remained in the kneeling position before his genetic father. And even the fact that the current Fulgrim was no different from an ordinary human did not diminish the reverence before the lord of the third legion.
"And you're willing to stand by my side, when I..."
"Forgive my insolence, my Primarch, but I will not tolerate such words. Not even from you." The powerful voice of the Astartes was echoed by the strike of the halberd's shaft against the stone surface. "My oath was given decades ago, and only death prevented me from upholding it. And now, even death will not be cause to break my vow."
Fulgrim fell silent. At first, he was struck that one of his most loyal sons had dared to interrupt his Primarch. Only lord-commanders could allow themselves that, and only under serious circumstances. But after, joy ignited in the Phoenix's heart. Even despite the past, he hadn't been abandoned—at least one of his legionaries.
"Your words... please me, Vergil." At the unexpected praise, the guardsman froze, though he had already seemed like an unmoving monument. Then he shuddered slightly and bowed even lower. He could find no words to express his gratitude to his lord.
For a time, both faithful servants of the Emperor remained lost in thought. Fulgrim gazed into the distance at the clouds beginning to disperse. The downpour had stopped, leaving only a light drizzle. The Primarch pondered the possibilities opened by the presence of even one Phoenix Guardsman—the head of that formation, to be precise. In one moment, a question came to Fulgrim, which he voiced without delay.
"Rise, Vergil, and answer. What of the rest of the legion?" The bowed head lifted so its owner could look at his master. A second later, he obeyed the order. The ceramite statue came to life and towered over his Primarch by two heads. In height, the Astartes matched Heracles but was bulkier due to the power armor that made him so. Servomotors hummed quietly, echoing the movement of the complex system of synthetic muscles.
"They sleep, my lord. It seems a colossal amount of energy is needed to awaken them. But even so, the souls of the legion yearn for battle. I managed to outpace them only because of my oath. And perhaps personal strength. Besides me, only Tacitus has awakened."
"Tacitus? Unexpected..."
"I share your surprise. One could never tell what was on his mind."
And their conversation was overheard. From a new whirlwind emerged another guardsman. He was much bulkier than his leader, as he was clad not in standard power armor. He wore dreadnought tactical armor. Tartaros pattern. In the same noble purple tones, it was a true bipedal tank that could only be crushed with massive effort. His helmet had an additional visor, allowing more detailed and varied information about the surroundings than standard auspexes. A powerful mechadendrite protruded from his shoulder, indicating that this Astartes was versed in technology.
Tacitus, before being selected for the Primarch's personal retinue, had served as a Techmarine. And his talents there were no less than those of his brothers from the tenth legion—on the contrary, they surpassed the overwhelming majority. This was aided by the natural drive of the third legion's sons toward perfection. They could train to exhaustion, memorize every letter of doctrines, tactical and technical manuals, and so on. Not every Magos of the Mechanicum could stand equal with this specialist. When the Terminator's voice resounded around, the area seemed to vibrate.
"Primarch..." This warrior was never verbose, preferring to speak briefly and to the point. Thus, he wasn't particularly reverent when speaking to his lord. For this, many thought he showed insufficient respect to the Primarch, but it turned out the opposite. That he had awakened, like Vergil, proved his absolute loyalty and strength of will. This was the only way to bypass the restrictions on using the heavenly phantasm.
"Tacitus. I'm glad you're with me too."
"What are my tasks?" The Techmarine had no intention of discussing the past, focusing instead on the present. And it boded nothing good, especially if wasting time on idle chatter. So thought one of the oldest legionaries of the Emperor's Children.
"Hm... There's an abandoned warehouse in the port district. You can set up a workshop there. For now, make do with your own resources; later I'll provide additional ones. Your main task will be creating equipment, as powerful as possible, with priority on a broadband vox-station. And also, connect to the city's information systems." Fulgrim didn't even ask if he could manage. His armor alone was a multifunctional tool. He just needed time and resources. And hacking primitive security systems was out of the question.
"Accepted." The laconic Astartes, wasting no time, shifted to spiritual form and headed where his Primarch had indicated.
"Spiritual form... I didn't think you were capable of that."
"As I understand, we are summoned spirits just like you, only without phantasms. Otherwise, neither I nor Tacitus yield to those you've already met." Vergil's figure suddenly began emanating a threat directed nowhere. "And I swear by my name that I will bring you the head of that dog who dared pierce your heart." Growling notes in the guardsman's tone betrayed the rage boiling within him. "And that beast... when I meet it, I'll kill it until nothing remains of its body."
"Ha, I see you're eager for battle, my friend. But no rush with him yet; our priority tasks are eliminating Caster and Assassin. And we still need to find them."
"As you say, my lord." At one word from the Primarch, his faithful servant suppressed his rage. The Phoenix's orders had the highest priority.
"You will ensure the protection of Rin and Shirou. They are the weakest link in our... host." Yes, that sounded more like mockery.
"...I will carry out your will, my lord, but... couldn't King Arthur handle that?" Receiving an order to guard someone meant he would be sidelined from battles, and even those coming to him should be avoided. All for the safety of the charges.
"Artoria won't yield to you in direct confrontation, but her phantasm makes her combat potential higher than yours." When Fulgrim finished, he saw the proudly squared shoulders of the Phoenix Guardsman sag slightly. It seemed realizing this truth weighed heavily on his pride. "Protecting the one who holds me in this world can be considered protecting my own existence. See it that way."
"Yes!" Another strike of the shaft. Such a formulation definitely pleased Vergil more. Fulgrim sometimes found his guard's desire to eternally protect him... overly zealous.
"Then go immediately."
Bowing once more, the Astartes shifted to spiritual form and raced at high speed toward the Emiya Estate. As for Fulgrim himself, he thought he should have explained in more detail to his legionary how to converse with its inhabitants. Well, never mind—Vergil knew they were allies, so he wouldn't attack. Artoria would also realize the guardsman was linked to the Primarch by the heraldry on the armor. Everything should be fine. "I hope..."
And now, he needed to run through the city. Night was time for war, so other Servants might also be out on reconnaissance. Maybe he could take out at least one. With those thoughts, Fulgrim rushed into Miyama. Best to start with the area around Homurahara Academy. After all, that's where Cú Chulainn had been encountered.
The Phoenix moved at tremendous speed and soon crossed the Mion river. And on that rooftop where he had stood, particles of lilac light began to gather. A moment later, they transformed into a beautiful blonde maiden. She looked with her sparkling eyes in the direction Fulgrim had gone. And a gentle smile played on her lips.
"You've finally found the strength in yourself to overcome fear, my dear Primarch. So..." A merry giggle sounded between the words. "All that's left is to make you stop seeing me as an enemy. Hmm... hmm... Oh, an idea!" Now the girl giggled even harder.
"Yes, that might work. Though his little children and that wretched swordswoman might disrupt the plans. Maybe just get rid of them?" Lost in thought, the dark lady pressed a graceful finger to her lips. They still seemed to taste of her beloved champion. "No, not yet. That would just complicate everything. Ah, why do you appeal to me most only when you're yourself?! Silly Fulgrim..."
Though the Primarch of the third legion had been at her disposal for millennia, that was merely a distorted parody of the true Phoenix. All his character traits and preferences were inflated so much that he was no longer himself. That refinement, grace of thought and action were utterly alien to the demon prince. And all he did was amuse himself in his own world. That was fine, of course, but first and foremost, Fulgrim had captivated the maiden with his drive for perfection. But that serpent thought he had reached the end of that path after gaining daemonhood. Stagnation and entropy were loved by Nurgle. The Dark Prince preferred motion.
"We will be together, Fulgrim. Just wait a little longer, hee-hee-hee." And only the echo of laughter indicated someone had been on the rooftop a second ago. Laughter of one of the Dark Gods.
***
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