[memory: knight of fate ii-3

[beginningofwisdom]

The vast underground cavern is not as well lit as it should be.

Your Master stands at the lip of a great pit, her green dress shining in the dimness. You stand nearby as a faithful Servant should, watching the writhing, shifting flesh within. She gazes down as if watching an interesting pet, or some favorite treasure. Shadow clings to the thing in the pit, as if it had gathered to itself all the darkness in the world.

It is an idea manifest into the world. A desire made real. A vessel that accumulates countless souls. The Holy Grail -- or at least, so it was claimed to be.

For some time now, you've had your doubts that this...thing is all the Cardinal of the Church claimed it to be. Certainly it's a magical artifact of unbelievable scope and scale, but is it truly a wish-granting device? You were told, when you'd first heard of it, that a Cardinal of the Church had provided it -- a sacred relic equivalent to a miracle, modeled after the cup that had once received the blood of the Savior. Intended to be fueled by the mighty souls of seven Servants, it would also accept lesser souls as sacrifices, if provided in enough quantity. This much you had already verified; you know your fate is to be one of those sacrifices; only Saber will be spared. Such is your Master's will, so it barely troubles you.

No, you were certain now: the will guiding this artifact once it awakened would not be the wish of its wielder.

Of course, your Master certainly knows that.

"Hey, Mr. Fake Grail~". Your Master's singsong voice is as bright as any other girl her age might be. "No, that's not right. You're an egg. A lovely pure black egg struggling to be born into this world."

"An egg, you say?" It's a prompt to continue. You wouldn't doubt her even if your analysis hadn't agreed, of course; she is your Master, and her will defines your world. But even so, you'd reached the same conclusion. The writhing thing in the pit below can only be the shell of a chick awaiting birth, a shell that will surely break when provided the proper nourishment. Your Master continues to muse, speaking of an existence with a spiritual foundation but no roots in the World, but you are distracted by your own contemplation and for once pay no heed.

You've learned this much, at least: the foundation of this summoning isn't the same as the rite which calls forth Heroic Spirits. The existence within the shell will probably be incarnated properly and permanently. But what, exactly, is to be born...you cannot say.

So you'd asked your Master, who surely surpassed you in this knowledge. "What are you trying to awaken, to achieve your loved one's wish?" you'd asked her, and rather than responding, she'd led you here. You'd been braced, to an extent, for her to feed your soul to the pit; after all, not only your own existence, but all the world was hers to do with as she pleased.

Now she turns to you with a pure smile. "You see, the Cardinal was terribly mistaken about it."

"There's surely no one who understands the world better than you, Lady Manaka," you respond, almost automatically, and she giggles.

"Isn't it funny, though? That silly Cardinal thought he could summon a higher-order being if he could activate the Grail."

"...an angel?" You're familiar with the idea of heavenly messengers, at least, but before you can consider the idea properly, your Master shakes her head.

"No, something different."

The shadow below her flares as she looks down upon it, as if hailing her.

"This child is named "Beast."

You feel your eyes widen. You feel yourself shiver. You'd faced war and terror and death, met the assassins sent to kill you with a smile and a kind word and refused to yield, and still the word strikes down to your core. Surely you misheard. Surely--

"What...did you say just now?" you ask, hoping against hope that the fault lies somewhere in your hearing.

"The Holy Grail is not some wish-granting device," your Master continues to explain. "But if I awaken this child, Saber and I can surely save Britain."

She pays your question no heed, as is proper, but even so; her cheeks flush a bit, a girl in the flower of her first love, imagining her beloved.

"So, Caster, please gather more sacrifices with Assassin's help. Lots and lots of them! If we're talking about numbers, I'll need, oh, at least six hundred."

She spins at the edge of the pit, a magnificent flower in the dark.

"I'll give worth to those worthless girls by trading them for his soul. How lovely it will be! And the tens of thousands of other people...I'll make their worthless souls shine as I gather them here."

Your Master points to a shallow hole in the ground, an enclosure of sorts, crowded with people dressed in white. They aren't aware of their surroundings -- rather, their minds are disconnected from reality, thanks to a treatment you refined from Assassin's venom. They feel no fear, no pain, no despair, only the exultation that the ancient Aztec sacrifices might feel as they lay down on the altar.

(It's the only mercy you can give them. Their lives are for your Master to dispose of as she pleases.)

There's no signal you can perceive, but one by one, the sacrifices begin to approach the pit. One by one, silently, ecstatically, they step over the edge. Your Master watches, her smile shining.

"Rejoice," she murmurs. "Even if you are all ordinary people, you can still be of use to him."

You know what this is, now, and you shiver again in horror you're surprised, even now, you can feel. This Beast, the sixth of the Evils of Humanity, is the furthest thing from a higher-order being. It is a being that will destroy mankind, devour mankind, become an enemy of mankind. With each sacrifice, its prana weigh heavier in the air, overwhelmingly powerful even now.

And as the last sacrifice vanishes into the writhing dark, the beast r̴͕̲̒͆̈́o̸̧͎̲̔̇ȧ̶̻͍͉̎̚͝r̷̫̥͚̀̅s̶̛̻̋͜.