"What do you mean 'defiled'?"
"Exactly that." Seeing her interlocutor awaiting an answer, the woman stopped giving one-word replies. "Even I don't know what happened to the Grail, but it can no longer be considered what it originally was."
"In that case, what does this threaten?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Hinako slightly raised her brows, as if puzzled what could be unclear. "Something created to grant wishes has been corrupted but continues functioning. The Chalice bestows what the possessor craves—but will it truly be what they wanted?"
The primarch pondered how a globally scaled wish might turn out. Like "world peace," one of the most banal examples. Peace means absence of conflicting interests, ideologies, worldviews. True peace with no struggle is only possible in void, for humans can't stop striving. That's their nature. Thus, eliminating living minds on Terra would fulfill that unattainable dream. But what good is that, to put it mildly? The world isn't so simple; paths always matter. Something built on blood and bones lasts less than that raised by bearers of burning hearts and united will.
"Why tell us this? What do you seek?" At the question, a soft smile played on the girl's lips, bestowed on the platinum-haired one.
"Dissembling now would endanger my life, so I'll answer sincerely." A quiet step brought the dark-haired girl—her locks like interstellar voids—closer. "I need your help." Her slender hand rested on her chest, the gesture meaning words from the heart.
"In purification?"
"Precisely." She nodded slightly pleased but regained composure. "For ages, my lineage has practiced what you might call exorcism. My ancestors swore to protect ordinary people from entities beyond their understanding—a vow so ancient no one remembers why." She spoke with deep reverence in her eyes. "Thus, sensing evil in the ritual, I acted immediately." She gestured to her Servant at her right shoulder.
"You seized control and ordered the barrier dropped." The answer to the blood fort's disappearance finally revealed itself. "Then why did Gorgon attack me in the forest?" Sharp gazes crossed on the pair. Vergil stood out especially, unsurprisingly. Though Artoria matched him.
"I couldn't rule out the summoned being cursed, so I had to check." Tsurukawa remained unflappable throughout. "Fortunately, all Servants are clean; the evil's source is the Grail itself. And allow me to preempt your next question. Only you, in my view, suit forming an alliance—no need to explain why."
A cruel ancient magus controlling Assassin, both dead besides. A battle-hungry spearman. And a maddened hero with a matching Master. Choices indeed few; Fulgrim acknowledged it yet stayed vigilant. Quite possible this girl gambled on a risky ploy to ingratiate under false pretenses. Though the latter nearly impossible. Everything—from heartbeat to facial muscles—screamed sincerity. Unless temporary self-hypnosis or similar; this world's mages surprised despite limits. And speaking of mages.
"One thing I don't get…" Rin eyed Hinako curiously. "How could I not know of such an ancient hunter clan? First I've heard of your clan or whatever. Explain."
"Nothing to explain. My kin simply avoid mages; our interests rarely overlap—we don't pursue wicked magi, the vow doesn't imply it."
"Sounds dubious." Tohsaka pressed, but the holy blade's bearer spoke, her purpose guarding humankind's peace.
"I agree. But if true, we must act immediately."
"Naturally, Artie." Fulgrim supported her.
The queen, a moment later, felt piercing dark eyes upon her, the blue stronger. Hinako stared intently at the warrior, tracking every move. When Artoria responded with well-hidden bewilderment—as always—Rider's Master collected herself and blushed faintly.
"My apologies." She bowed slightly to the group opposite. "Unrelated, but I enjoy studying histories and legends in spare moments. You're one of their heroes, so I… couldn't help it." A betraying blush colored her pale cheeks, revealing another side of the poised beauty. She elegantly coughed into her fist. "Ahem, better return to the topic."
"No harm, and yes, we should continue." The primarch took charge.
"How did you detect the Grail's changes?" Fully composed, Tsurukawa replied.
"My family holds special knowledge enabling this. I'd share some if we agree, but detection method isn't crucial."
"Fair… Suppose we ally. What do you propose?" Under the purple gaze, the girl fell silent briefly, seemingly entranced.
"…First, find the creature committing brutal murders in the city."
"Like tonight?"
"Yes… You've heard of them. From what I gathered, it uses humans' life forces for sustenance. Likely to regain strength and manifest physically."
Fulgrim closed his eyes, recalling Tacitus's records from earlier. Indeed, probably war-related. Victims not intact could result from an unknown devouring them, though initial hypothesis was a Servant. But tonight all were known, none seeming capable. Even Gorgon, as the primarch understood, drained prana with blood—flesh unnecessary. Archer's musings concluded there.
Slightly turning his head to glance at those behind, the Phoenix silently asked his comrades'—even juniors'—opinions. First, unsurprisingly, Vergil. He gripped the halberd shaft tighter, producing faint ceramite scrape, then struck the pavement. Second, Artoria decisively nodded at Fulgrim. Those sparkling emerald pools brimmed with resolve to uncover truth and do what must be done. As expected from the noble queen. Her pure intent matched only the Promised Victory blade's gleam.
Rin eyed the unknown magess suspiciously awhile. Doubt swirled in blue eyes, a few drops splashing even Fulgrim—why unclear, perhaps warning—but yielded nothing, so a strained nod came with a heavy sigh. Only Shirou hesitated, not from doubt but worry. The situation stirred odd apprehension, even fear. As if… it wouldn't end well. Especially after the man-eating entity mention. But Shirou wouldn't be Shirou if he stood aside when innocents might suffer.
"Well, seems luck's with you tonight." Hinako, awaiting silently, smiled sincerely at the success.
"I'm immensely grateful, Lord Fulgrim." Another light bow showed thanks.
"Don't celebrate early; we're not comrades yet. You're clearly no fool and know deception's cost." The primarch spoke coldly.
"Naturally, I'd not be so naive or hasty. But all told is pure truth. If needed, I'll swear by anything for extra trust."
Fulgrim looked at her and couldn't suppress a chuckle. It puzzled the black-haired girl—what amused the primarch? Simple: irony. This girl sought to swear to one who'd broken oaths and turned from vows. The Phoenician witnessed the truest betray and fall to darkness. After… hard to trust words or even deeds. Never assume assurances hold.
"Leave oaths to believers." Fulgrim's gaze involuntarily slid to Artoria. "Or those who've kept faith."
The voice faded into silence. The queen caught the man's eye movement. Clear whom he thought of, warming her soul pleasantly. Each deemed the other better. Internally, Artoria echoed the primarch's chuckle. How ironic. The addressee glanced with fleeting sympathy. But before leaving, Hinako added.
"Then we meet tomorrow after sunset." Already turning. "I hope our cooperation builds on mutual trust."
No more words from the receding silhouette, her glossy black ponytail swaying waves below shoulders. The remaining group headed to base soon after. Emiya Estate, that is. Masters of legendary heroes were school students, overly responsible even.
At last the night ended; Masters whose bodies differed little from ordinary humans sought sleep. Little time left, so they savored it. War's new knowledge didn't hinder dreamland. Those needing no rest awaited dawn on the veranda, contemplating the clear moon. Thick clouds had dispersed, yielding to pale light.
The primarch was lost in thought, a new headache among them. Grail defilement muddled already shaky plans—Dark Prince not enough. If the Chalice failed its purpose, last hope to banish Warp spawn vanished. Possibly the world too, unknown what the entity desired. Fulgrim knew no way to strike it. Though Slaanesh likely lacked full might, Chaos God's power remained vast.
Perhaps it'd turn the planet to pleasure realm, burn all life, or simply reclaim her "prince." Phoenician knew not why she named him thus or her tender attitude. In a sense, the dark lady meant no harm—but in her twisted view. Owned by an Immaterium lord was worst for a human; eventually, nothing else desired. Their corrupting influence inexorable, eroding mind thought by thought till worthy human son became warped parody. That's what befell Fulgrim since that cursed blade.
The outwardly beautiful weapon hid perilous essence. Now, once-beloved sword induced nausea with silver sheen. Worst, primarch preferred it to Flameblade. Neglecting brother's gift for vile xeno Chaos-worshippers' creation. Though Laer Blade might be Warp-forged, not mortal—worsening it.
The somber man spoke not, as usual then. Artoria, with her favorite drink and post-nirvana, eyed the primarch thoughtfully. Pale skin glowed in white light, furrowed brows deep cogitation. Gaze detached, mind of Imperium Lord's son spawning myriad futures.
"Fulgrim." So immersed, he didn't hear. Superhuman rarely lost vigilance fully, but queen's presence no threat. Thus Phoenician missed the call.
"Fulgrim…" Slender hand on shoulder yanked primarch from reverie. He startled, gaze shifting dazedly to girl. "Why so worried?"
"I'm sorry. There's too much to think about." The Primarch gave a faint smile to show that things weren't that dire. Then he placed his palm over Artoria's hand and nodded gently.
"Isn't it easier to think together?" A rare but all the more beautiful smile adorned the Queen's delicate face. Her interlocutor, who was essentially of noble blood as well, responded in kind, completely dispelling his sullen image.
"Yes, you're probably right." The Primarch's hand rested on the fair crown of her head, in yet another futile attempt to calm its restless inhabitant. A golden lock withstood the assault with true knightly resilience and refused to yield its "lands" to the "conqueror."
"You're not acting this way because of the defilement of the Grail, but because it might turn out to be useless." Artoria endured the man's actions with no small pleasure, for his hand was very warm and gentle.
"You're right again. The Grail itself doesn't concern me, as before. It's this... entity."
"That woman?"
"...Slaanesh." The tone in which this name was uttered made the golden-haired one feel inner unease. Fulgrim wasn't just afraid; he considered her something pernicious.
"You still haven't told me who she is." The man paused slightly, gathering his thoughts.
"It's not 'she.' Slaanesh is an entity dwelling in the Immaterium. A mighty offspring of vices and sins, whose domain is dark pleasures." With each word, his voice grew quieter. "And the one I worshiped."
"Worshiped as... a deity?" Given the Primarch's attitude toward superstitions, this was truly surprising.
"Correct. An artifact fell into my hands, containing the Archdemon of the Dark Prince sealed within it. For a long time, it whispered to me what I took for my own thoughts. My mind sank deeper into darkness."
"So that's why you turned against your father?" The weight of betrayal was familiar to the girl, albeit not in that form. After all, she had betrayed all the hopes of those who believed in her, and that was already an unbearable burden. But Fulgrim had betrayed in the most direct sense. He had turned his sword against those with whom he had marched side by side.
"...Yes." The Primarch finally said it aloud. And afterward, a boulder seemed to grow on his shoulders, under whose weight he hunched, losing all his inner strength. "Me and others. They too fell victim to the Dark Gods, which sparked the fratricidal war." His dull eyes scanned his hands, so pure and perfect. "I don't know how it all ended, but the last thing I remember... was killing Ferrus. And I was the killer." His fractured mind seemed to feel his brother's hot blood trickling over his skin. And his imagination made his vision see it streaming over his palms right now.
"...Tell me about him." Unable to speak louder than a whisper, Artoria leaned toward the Phoenix's face, looking into his eyes. As lifeless as the wastelands of Chemos before his future lord descended from the heavens. "Otherwise, you'll never overcome the pain."
And Fulgrim spoke. Of their acquaintance and argument. Of how they found each other's aspirations mirrored, for the desire to be perfect and rid themselves of weaknesses was indeed similar. He told of arguments and misunderstandings that only strengthened their long friendship. Of joint conquests and battles. At some point, the Primarch seemed to forget the past and simply shared how happy he had been to have such a brother. The one closer to him than all others, the one who was with him in his final moment—pity only that on the other side of the blade.
"And what if he were here now?" Seeing her companion literally coming alive before her eyes, Artoria continued.
"I think... he'd punch me in the face." Contrary to the grim conclusion, a cheerful smile played on his face. "Then he'd call me a wimp and a crybaby who needs to stop blubbering..." When the man stunned himself, Artoria once again illuminated the world with her smile. Finally, he understood.
"You can't change actions, Fulgrim." Gently placing her palms on the Primarch's cheeks, the girl turned his face to hers. The rekindled purple met the warm gaze of emerald eyes. "We can only move forward, despite regrets. In memory of those who believed in us before... and believe now." Now it was Artoria's turn to freeze, for what she said applied to her just as much as to the platinum-haired one. Thus, she didn't notice the mischievous spark that lit in him.
"Seems like you were trying to comfort me—what was that pause?" The sly smile made the girl indignant in a good-natured way.
"Quiet, or you'll feel the king's wrath."
"You mean queen's?.. Ouch." A small fist mercilessly crashed down on the impudent one's head. "Should I turn you into a parrot again?" A threatening light flashed in his gaze.
"You're not tall enough for that right now... Put me down!"
"What were you saying?" Though not in his true form, Fulgrim was three times larger than the fragile girl, so he effortlessly carried out the threat. Sitting on his shoulder, Artoria once again raised her punishing hand over his crown, and nothing could prevent the punishment. However, at the last moment, her hand halted its flight and simply gently rested on his head, beginning to stroke the platinum locks.
"You're acting like a child... And you're called a Primarch."
The warm smile seemed to dispel the night's chill, finally warming the soul of one of the wayward sons of the Master of Mankind.
"Again."
Rin saw a new dream. This time, the events were a direct continuation of the previous one. Heliopolis was filled with members of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix, such as Julius Kaesoron, captain of the first company, Solomon Demeter and Marius Vairosean, captains of the second and third, respectively. The girl's Servant sat in his place, and though the gathered were at the Round Table, no one would dream of calling themselves equal to the Primarch. After introducing the new members of the Brotherhood, the discussion of the conquest plan began. Fulgrim expressed his desire to complete the campaign in three months, much faster than the projected timelines. Such an approach would inevitably cause losses, but their father wished it so, and the Sons of the Phoenix dared not oppose.
Quickly shifting scenes showed Rin the battles. Hordes of the most diverse creatures, altered by genetic engineering, tried to overwhelm the proud Emperor's Children, but they could not withstand the inexorable advance of the Astartes, created not to fear the flames of war, but to harness them. The battles for each atoll surpassed one another in ferocity. The deaths of brothers, of which there were many, could not break the spirit of humanity's warriors. And finally, the hour came to end it all.
The last, main atoll became the place where the xenos defended most fiercely. In this battle, Fulgrim participated personally, bringing death with the inexorability of a grim reaper. He struck the serpentine creatures without missing. Victory was only a matter of time. And it revealed itself in the very heart of the flying landmass. A structure that was not the seat of rule, but a place of worship. An alien semblance of music resonated with the mind, trying to cloud and distort it, but the Primarch's reason knew no weakness. And in the center of the temple, amid creatures writhing in narcotic fits, their bodies entwined in a loathsome dance of ecstasy, was it. An altar with an unimaginably beautiful weapon—a masterfully crafted silver blade.
Rin felt how the Primarch desired it, clear that he chose it as his trophy. But that was only the first layer, so to speak. Behind it hid the next, the one that revealed what Fulgrim felt now.
Revulsion.
Hatred.
Regret.
Tohsaka understood. Those words her Servant had spoken, the warning of coming nightmares, would begin to come true from this very moment. The dream began to fade, but Rin managed to hear something last... frightening. The Primarch hadn't heard it then, but memories can't be perfectly accurate, even for superhumans. A voice from the depths of the mind, dragging into darkness.
"Fulgrim, can you hear me?"
The girl felt she was lying in a cold sweat, her body even colder.
"What's wrong with you, The Phoenician?" Rin didn't know what to think. Like the start of some sci-fi horror flick. Only you can't feel even a fraction of that inner tremor from a TV screen, from which the girl was only just recovering.
She no longer wanted to see the continuation. All her senses screamed that it would only get worse, something that so profoundly changed the proud Primarch of the third legion of Astartes. What could bring a damn demigod to such turmoil?! Fulgrim's current feelings were clearly felt, leaving no doubts. The horrors the magus would see and feel would not pass without a trace.
Faint voices and striking sounds echoed through the quiet manor. Apparently, Shirou Emiya had fallen into Vergil's clutches or even his lord's. Fortunately, everything healed on the boy like on a dog, or he'd have turned into one big bruise long ago. Rin checked the time and realized there was about an hour until the alarm.
"Maybe I should throw it out? I won't need it anyway with these 'sweet' dreams."
***
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