Sif
The Dragon Behind the Curtain
Cid Kagenou vs. the Holy Grail War
PART I: AWAKENING IN A FOREIGN REALM
A chill wind swept through the empty streets of Fuyuki City, carrying with it the faint scent of ozone and magic. Streetlights flickered in sequence as though bowing to an unseen presence. In the central plaza, where moments before there had been only empty benches and decorative stonework, a figure materialized—not through magical means, but as if he had always been there, standing perfectly still in the shadows.
Cid Kagenou blinked, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings with calculated indifference. His last memory had been practicing his "Atomic Shadow Slash" technique in his bedroom, perfecting the angle of his wrist on the downswing to maximize the dramatic visual impact. Now, he stood beneath an unfamiliar night sky in an unfamiliar city, with nothing but the clothes on his back and the unmistakable sensation of arcane energy prickling against his skin.
"Interesting," he murmured, unconsciously adjusting his stance to a more imposing silhouette against the moonlight. "Transportation to another realm without a summoning circle or interdimensional portal... This reeks of divine intervention."
Of course, Cid had absolutely no idea what had happened. His conclusions were based entirely on the manga he'd read and the delusion he'd cultivated since childhood—that he was, secretly, a being of unfathomable power destined to manipulate events from the shadows. But if there was one skill Cid had perfected above all others, it was improvisation in service of his fantasy.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and expanded his senses—or at least, performed a convincing pantomime of doing so. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze had sharpened, focusing on subtle details most would overlook.
Faint magical circuits etched into the pavement beneath the streetlights.
The lingering aura of recent supernatural conflict hanging in the air like invisible smoke.
The distant sensation of seven—no, wait—six powerful magical signatures scattered throughout the city, pulsing with ancient energy.
None of these observations were real in the conventional sense. Cid couldn't actually sense magical energy. But he had an uncanny intuition born from years of observation and overthinking, and something about this place felt charged with purpose and conflict.
"A city soaked in magical tension," he whispered to himself, his voice dropping an octave for dramatic effect despite the empty plaza. "A secret war fought beyond the veil of mundane perception... Perfect."
Cid began walking, his steps deliberate and silent. He had no destination in mind, but that was irrelevant—in his experience, the universe had a way of placing him exactly where he needed to be for maximum dramatic impact. All he needed to do was move with confidence and await the inevitable inciting incident that would draw him into this world's hidden conflicts.
As he walked, he took stock of his surroundings. The architecture suggested Japan, perhaps an alternate version of it. The buildings were similar to those in his home world, but with subtle differences in design that spoke of a slightly divergent history. The streets were immaculately clean, the infrastructure well-maintained. This was a prosperous city, though currently devoid of pedestrians at this late hour.
After nearly an hour of walking, Cid found himself drawn to a particular neighborhood. The buildings here were older, with a weight of history pressing down upon them. And at the edge of this district, standing on a hill overlooking the city, was an abandoned church.
The structure was Western in design, with Gothic elements that seemed at odds with the surrounding Japanese architecture. Stained glass windows reflected moonlight in fractured patterns, most panes cracked or missing entirely. The wooden doors hung awkwardly on rusted hinges, and the stone steps leading to the entrance were cracked and overgrown with persistent weeds.
But it wasn't the church's dilapidated state that caught Cid's attention. It was the unmistakable concentration of magical energy emanating from within—or rather, the subtle disturbances in the night air and the faint blue glow visible through the broken windows that Cid interpreted as magical energy based on his extensive fantasy reading.
"A nexus of power," he mused, approaching the church with measured steps. "Abandoned by its former attendants but still humming with latent potential... A perfect stage for a shadow master to claim."
He paused at the bottom of the stone steps, instinctively arranging his posture into what he imagined was a imposing silhouette against the moonlight. Then, with deliberate slowness, he ascended toward the entrance.
The doors creaked open at his touch, revealing a sanctuary cast in shadows and moonlight. Rows of damaged pews faced a stone altar, upon which sat a tarnished silver chalice—not the Holy Grail itself, but a ceremonial stand-in used in religious services long since discontinued. The walls were adorned with faded frescoes depicting biblical scenes, their colors muted by time and neglect.
But what drew Cid's attention was the floor before the altar. There, barely visible in the dim light, was a circle etched into the stone—not carved, but drawn recently with what appeared to be chalk. The circle was incomplete, its design interrupted as if the artist had been forced to abandon their work in haste.
Cid approached carefully, his eyes narrowing as he examined the markings. Though he had no formal magical training and couldn't actually read the arcane symbols, his extensive consumption of fantasy media provided him with enough context to recognize the general purpose.
"A summoning circle," he whispered, crouching to examine the incomplete design. "Not for demons or spirits, but for something... more. A catalyst for bringing forth an entity from beyond the veil of reality."
He ran his fingers along the chalk lines, leaving faint smudges where he touched. The incomplete nature of the circle nagged at him. Who had begun this work, and why had they fled before completing it? What manner of being were they attempting to summon?
More importantly—could Cid complete the circle himself and perform the summoning?
The thought sent a thrill of excitement through him. This was exactly the sort of opportunity a shadow master would seize—claiming abandoned power, turning someone else's preparation to his own advantage. It was dramatic, opportunistic, and potentially dangerous—all elements that appealed to his cultivated persona.
Cid searched the church and found, as if by narrative convenience, a box of chalk in a back room, likely left behind by local children who used the abandoned building for games. He returned to the circle and began to study it more carefully, trying to discern the pattern and intent behind the design.
Though he couldn't actually read the magical formulae, Cid had an eye for pattern recognition, and the incomplete circle had a certain symmetry that he could follow. Working slowly and methodically, he began to add to the existing design, completing lines and adding symbols that seemed aesthetically appropriate based on the fragments already present.
Where the original design was precise and functional, Cid's additions were more elaborate, incorporating flourishes and embellishments that he felt enhanced the dramatic impact. He added what he imagined were runes of power at key junctures, and where the original summoner had left spaces blank, Cid filled them with intricate patterns that "looked cool" to his sensibilities.
After nearly two hours of work, Cid stood back to admire his creation. The summoning circle was now complete—or at least, it appeared complete to his untrained eye. The chalk lines glowed faintly in the moonlight filtering through the broken windows, creating an appropriately mystical atmosphere.
Now came the moment of truth—the ritual itself.
Cid positioned himself at the edge of the circle, taking a deep breath to center himself. He had no actual incantation in mind, no genuine magical knowledge to draw upon. But he had countless fictional references stored in his memory, and an unshakable commitment to his role as a master of shadow magic.
He raised his arms dramatically, fingers splayed toward the ceiling as he began to speak in a voice deepened for maximum impact.
"Hear me, powers that lie beyond the veil of mortal comprehension!" His voice echoed through the empty church, bouncing off stone walls and creating an impressive acoustic effect. "I, Shadow, master of darkness and keeper of forbidden knowledge, call forth a servant worthy of my unmatched potential!"
Nothing happened, but Cid was undeterred. He adjusted his stance, shifting to a position he felt projected more authority.
"By blood and shadow, by moon and stars, by the ancient pact between mortal and divine, I command the gates to open! Bring forth my destined companion from across the infinite expanse of possibility!"
Still nothing. Cid frowned slightly, breaking character for a brief moment before redoubling his efforts. Perhaps he needed more dramatic flair? He spun in place, his coat flaring out around him before he dropped to one knee, one hand extended toward the circle while the other clutched at his chest.
"Ancient forces! Respond to my superior bloodline! My destiny awaits fulfillment through your acknowledgment of my rightful place in the cosmic hierarchy!"
The church remained silent and still, the only movement coming from dust motes drifting through beams of moonlight. After three more increasingly theatrical attempts, Cid stood in the center of the circle, hands on his hips, a hint of genuine frustration breaking through his carefully constructed facade.
"Honestly," he muttered, momentarily speaking in his normal voice rather than his "Shadow" register, "the quality of interdimensional summoning circles these days is just—"
The words died in his throat as the chalk lines beneath his feet suddenly flared with brilliant blue light. The air in the church grew heavy, charged with an energy that made the hairs on Cid's arms stand on end. The light intensified, shifting from deep blue to bright white, becoming almost blinding in its intensity.
"Yes!" Cid shouted, immediately slipping back into character despite his genuine shock. "The ancient powers recognize their master at last!"
In his mind, however, a much less composed voice was screaming: What the hell did I just do?!
The church filled with wind that seemed to come from nowhere, powerful enough to send pews sliding across the floor and tear ancient tapestries from the walls. The stained-glass windows shattered inward, but instead of raining down dangerous shards, the broken glass hung suspended in the air for a moment before dissolving into glittering dust that swirled around the circle.
And then, at the center of the maelstrom, within the blinding light of the summoning circle directly in front of Cid, a figure began to take shape—first as a silhouette, then gaining color and definition with each passing second.
Cid shielded his eyes, trying to make out what manner of being he had accidentally summoned. Through the gaps between his fingers, he glimpsed long, flowing hair the color of seafoam and mint, a voluptuous figure draped in white and blue garments that seemed to shift between modern and ancient designs, and most strikingly, a pair of mismatched eyes—one blue as a summer sky, one golden as the setting sun—that seemed to contain galaxies within their depths.
When the light finally faded and the wind died down, a woman stood before him. No, not just a woman—a being of such otherworldly beauty and presence that "woman" seemed an insufficient descriptor. She towered over Cid by nearly a foot, her generous figure accentuated by clothing that somehow managed to be both modest and revealing simultaneously. A small hat perched atop her mint-green hair, and those mismatched eyes regarded him with warm amusement and ancient wisdom.
For perhaps the first time since developing his "Shadow" persona, Cid found himself genuinely speechless, his carefully constructed character momentarily forgotten in the face of the being he had somehow summoned.
The woman—goddess?—leaned forward slightly, bringing her face closer to his. This inadvertently gave Cid a view that made his face flush crimson and his mind go temporarily blank.
"Well, hello there!" she said cheerfully, her voice melodic and warm, carrying notes of distant thunder and gentle rain. "I am Quetzalcoatl, though most call me Lucoa these days. I appear to have been summoned as your Servant in this Holy Grail War!"
She tilted her head, studying him with those mesmerizing mismatched eyes. "And you are...?"
The familiar question snapped Cid back to himself, and he immediately slipped into character, crossing his arms and adopting a stance he hoped conveyed mysterious power rather than the bewildered shock he actually felt.
"I am Shadow," he declared, his voice dropping to its practiced commanding tone. Then, remembering he was in a different world where context might be important, he added, "In this realm, I am known as Cid Kagenou. But my true identity is that of Shadow, the architect of darkness, the eminence that ends."
Lucoa's smile widened, genuine delight dancing in her eyes. "Oh my! What wonderful phrasing! 'The eminence that ends'—I haven't heard such delightful self-introduction in centuries!"
She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing through the church like gentle thunder. "I've been summoned by someone with a flair for the dramatic. We're going to have so much fun together, Master!"
Before Cid could formulate a suitably mysterious response, Lucoa stepped forward and wrapped him in an embrace that threatened to suffocate him between her considerable assets. Her body radiated warmth like a small sun, and a scent like cinnamon, rain, and something ancient and indefinable enveloped him.
"I can already tell we're going to be the best of friends!" she exclaimed, squeezing him tighter.
As Cid struggled for air, part of his mind remained committed to maintaining his character, thinking: The shadow master has bound a goddess to his will. All proceeds according to the grand design.
But a much larger part was simply screaming internally: WHAT HAVE I DONE AND WHY IS SHE SO SOFT?!
And somewhere deep in the city, seven other magical signatures—Masters and their Servants, participants in a ritual as old as the land itself—felt a disturbance in the fabric of Fuyuki's magical ecosystem. An eighth participant had entered a war meant for seven, disrupting the careful balance established by the founding families centuries ago.
The Fifth Holy Grail War had taken an unexpected turn, and none could predict the chaos that would follow.
PART II: DIVINE ACCOMMODATIONS
Dawn broke over Fuyuki City, painting the skyline in hues of gold and amber. Sunlight crept through threadbare curtains into a modest apartment that until yesterday had stood vacant. Now, it housed two beings who, by any reasonable assessment, should not exist in the same dimension—an ordinary Japanese teenager with delusions of grandeur, and an ancient dragon goddess from beyond the conceptual framework of human understanding.
Cid awoke slowly, his consciousness emerging from dreams filled with shadows and power and inexplicably, dragons with mismatched eyes. For a blissful moment, he thought perhaps his summoning of a divine being had been part of those dreams. Then he became aware of a weight on his chest and opened his eyes to find Lucoa's face inches from his own, those galaxy-containing eyes watching him with fond amusement.
"Good morning, Master!" she said cheerfully, seemingly untroubled by the intimacy of their position. "You sleep so peacefully for someone supposedly steeped in darkness. Did you know your face gets all soft and cute when you dream? Not very shadow-master-like at all!"
Cid made a sound that was half strangled gasp, half dignified greeting, and attempted to sit up—which only made him more aware of Lucoa's substantial presence draped across his upper body.
"A shadow master never truly sleeps," he managed to say, his voice rougher than usual from sleep but conveniently matching his cultivated dark tone. "I was merely... meditating on the challenges ahead while my physical form rested."
"Of course, of course," Lucoa agreed, making no move to change her position. Her smile suggested she found his commitment to character endearing rather than convincing. "And what did your 'meditation' reveal about our situation?"
Cid's mind raced. In truth, he still had only the vaguest understanding of what a "Holy Grail War" entailed, gleaned from Lucoa's brief explanation the previous night as they secured lodging. After the summoning, they had needed shelter, and Lucoa had somehow charmed a building manager into renting them this furnished apartment despite Cid's lack of local currency or identification.
"Many things," he said vaguely, finally managing to extricate himself from beneath Lucoa by sliding sideways off the bed. "The shadow perceives what others cannot."
Standing now, he took stock of their accommodations in the morning light. The apartment was small but functional—a combined living area and kitchenette, a bedroom barely large enough for the full-sized bed they had apparently shared (a revelation that sent heat rushing to Cid's face), and a compact bathroom. Basic furnishings included a small table with two chairs, a worn but serviceable couch, and a television that had seen better days.
Lucoa stretched languidly on the bed, her form somehow making the simple motion appear both graceful and provocative. "I've prepared breakfast," she announced, finally rising and gesturing toward the kitchenette. "I thought you might be hungry after all that shadow... perceiving."
Cid turned to find the small table laden with an impossible bounty—a breakfast spread that would have challenged a buffet restaurant. Pancakes stacked in precarious towers, eggs prepared three different ways, bacon, sausage, toast, an array of fresh fruits, yogurt, and several dishes he didn't recognize that appeared to include corn, beans, and spices arranged in intricate patterns.
"How did you..." he began, gesturing at the feast that could have fed a dozen people.
"Oh, I materialized some of it," Lucoa said with a casual wave of her hand. "The rest I made with what was available. The previous tenant left some basics. I may have also charmed the nice man at the corner market to deliver a few things early this morning."
Cid raised an eyebrow, momentarily forgetting his character in the face of practical considerations. "You left the apartment? Is that... safe? Aren't Servants supposed to remain hidden?"
Lucoa laughed, a sound like sunlight on water. "Conventional rules don't apply to me much, Cid. I'm not exactly a standard Heroic Spirit." She gestured to her clothing—the same low-cut sweater and minimal shorts she had worn since her summoning. "Besides, who would suspect a tourist with unusual fashion sense?"
She had a point. Despite her otherworldly beauty and distinctive features, Lucoa didn't radiate obvious magical energy or bear any visible marks that would identify her as a supernatural being. She looked like she could be an eccentric foreigner, perhaps a model or influencer with a distinctive aesthetic.
As they ate breakfast—Cid managing only a small portion of the feast while Lucoa consumed portions that would have challenged professional competitive eaters—he attempted to gather more concrete information about their situation.
"This Holy Grail War," he began, affecting a tone of casual interest rather than desperate need for basic information. "Seven Masters, seven Servants, fighting for a wish-granting relic?"
"That's the general framework," Lucoa confirmed, somehow making the act of eating pancakes seem both elegant and mildly indecent. "Although with us here, that makes eight pairs. Which is unusual but not unprecedented. The Grail system has some flexibility when it encounters... anomalies."
"Anomalies?" Cid prompted, sensing important context.
"Well," Lucoa said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a fork, "typically, Servants are Heroic Spirits—exceptional humans whose deeds during life elevated them to the Throne of Heroes. They're summoned into class containers that define their capabilities—Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, and Berserker."
She gestured to herself with a piece of bacon. "I don't quite fit that mold. I'm not human in origin, for one thing. And my capabilities don't neatly align with any single class container. The Grail system had to... improvise when you called me forth."
"Because you're a dragon goddess," Cid stated, trying to sound knowledgeable rather than increasingly overwhelmed.
"Ex-goddess," Lucoa corrected with a wink that somehow involved her entire body. "I was... let's say 'encouraged to step down' from my official divine position after a minor incident involving excessive drinking and my sister. But I retain most of my divine abilities and nature, just with some bureaucratic restrictions."
She leaned forward, her mismatched eyes twinkling with ancient mischief. "Which is why you're such an interesting Master to me. Most humans who summon Servants are trained mages with specific catalysts and prepared rituals. You just... called, and I answered. That's not how this usually works."
Cid processed this information, his mind racing to incorporate it into his understanding while maintaining his facade of omniscience. "The shadow works beyond conventional methods," he declared, hoping this vague statement would cover his complete lack of magical training or knowledge.
"That must be it," Lucoa agreed, her tone suggesting she saw through his bluster but found it charming rather than annoying. "There's something quite unusual about your spiritual makeup, Master. You possess no formal magical circuits that I can detect, yet somehow you're channeling and directing enormous amounts of mana."
This was news to Cid, who had always assumed his "shadow powers" were entirely imaginary. "Of course," he said, nodding sagely. "My power comes not from traditional sources, but from the very fabric of shadow itself."
"Mmm, conceptual manipulation through belief systems rather than established thaumaturgical frameworks," Lucoa mused, as if this made perfect sense. "Fascinating! I haven't seen that approach since... well, since before humans developed writing, honestly."
She finished her last pancake and clapped her hands together. "So! What's our strategy, Master? How shall we approach this war? The other seven pairs have likely already begun moving against each other."
Cid had been dreading this question. He had no idea what the rules of this conflict truly were, who the other participants might be, or even what the strategic considerations should include. But admitting ignorance was fundamentally incompatible with his Shadow persona.
"We observe first," he declared, striking what he hoped was a thoughtful and enigmatic pose. "Gather intelligence on our opponents before revealing our true capabilities. The shadow strikes best when it knows all weaknesses."
"Mmm, cautious and cunning," Lucoa nodded approvingly. "I like it! Though I should warn you, we're not exactly inconspicuous. My mana signature isn't something I can fully conceal, especially in this limited world."
"All the better," Cid improvised, seeing a way to turn this limitation into an apparent strategy. "Let them know a formidable opponent has entered the field. Let them fear what they cannot understand."
Lucoa's smile widened, genuine delight dancing in her eyes. "You really commit to the bit, don't you? It's so refreshing! Most Masters are so serious and brooding, all 'the fate of the world' this and 'family legacy' that. No sense of style at all."
Before Cid could respond, a sudden tension filled the air. The light in the room seemed to dim slightly, and the ambient sounds of the city outside faded to near silence. Lucoa's expression shifted—her smile remained, but her eyes sharpened with ancient focus, predatory awareness suddenly visible beneath her casual demeanor.
"We have company," she said softly, all playfulness temporarily suspended. "A Servant is approaching. They're trying to be stealthy, but..." She chuckled, a sound like distant thunder. "Well, it's cute that they're trying."
Cid felt his heartbeat quicken, adrenaline flooding his system. Already? He wasn't prepared for a confrontation so soon. But outwardly, he maintained his composed façade, rising slowly from his chair and adopting a stance he hoped projected confidence rather than incipient panic.
"Let them come," he said, chin lifting slightly. "The shadow fears no challenge."
"That's the spirit!" Lucoa said, standing as well. She stretched languidly, seemingly unconcerned despite her earlier alertness. "Though I should mention, this particular Servant has a rather... dignified temperament. You might want to stay behind me."
"I fear no—"
A crash interrupted Cid's declaration as the window exploded inward, showering the apartment with glass that froze mid-air—not through Cid's power, but through Lucoa's subtle manipulation of the space around them. The suspended shards hung like diamond confetti for a moment before gently settling to the floor in a neat pile, leaving the window frame empty but the apartment otherwise undamaged.
Through this improvised entrance stepped a figure of such regal bearing that even Cid, committed as he was to his own sense of importance, felt a momentary urge to bow. A woman clad in blue and silver armor that seemed both ancient and timeless, blonde hair tied back in a practical bun, and fierce green eyes that contained none of Lucoa's warmth but all of her focus and more. She carried no visible weapon, yet her hands were positioned as if holding an invisible sword.
"Eighth Servant," the armored woman stated, her voice carrying the weight of command that could only come from genuine leadership experience. "Your presence disrupts the balance of this war. Identify yourself and your purpose."
Lucoa stepped forward, her casual posture belying the immense power Cid could now sense gathering around her like an invisible cloak. She offered a warm smile and a small wave that seemed comically informal given the tension in the room.
"Hello there! I'm Lucoa, Rider-class... more or less. And you must be Saber! My, you're exactly as regal as the legends say, King Arthur. Or should I say, Artoria Pendragon?"
The blonde woman's eyes widened slightly, her stance shifting almost imperceptibly toward a more defensive position. "How do you know my true name?"
"Oh, I know lots of things," Lucoa said with a wink that somehow managed to be both playful and ancient. "Comes with being as old as I am. Would you like some breakfast? I made plenty!"
The incongruity of the offer in the midst of what should have been a tense confrontation seemed to throw Artoria off-balance. Her eyes flickered briefly to the food-laden table, and for a moment, her stern expression wavered.
Cid, sensing an opportunity to regain control of the situation, stepped forward, placing himself beside Lucoa rather than behind her. "The great Shadow welcomes all who come in peace to his domain," he declared, borrowing phrasing from a fantasy novel he'd read years ago. "Break bread with us, King of Knights, and let us discuss this war like civilized beings."
Artoria's gaze shifted to him, studying him with the assessment of a seasoned warrior. What she saw apparently confused her, as her brow furrowed slightly. "You... are not a conventional magus," she observed. "Your magical signature is... unusual."
"The shadow transcends conventional classifications," Cid replied smoothly, silently thanking whatever cosmic coincidence had given him an apparently unusual magical presence to match his cultivated persona.
Artoria continued to study him for a long moment before finally lowering her hands, though the sense that she could produce her weapon in an instant never faded. "I did not come to fight," she admitted. "My Master sent me to investigate the anomaly we sensed last night. You are... not what we expected."
"We get that a lot," Lucoa said cheerfully. "Now, about that breakfast? The pancakes are still warm, and I notice you have quite an appreciable appetite for one of your stature."
This observation seemed to catch Artoria off guard, and for the first time, a hint of color touched her pale cheeks. "I... that is... how would you know of such things?"
Lucoa tapped her mismatched eyes. "Divine perception. I can see all sorts of interesting things about people—their pasts, their preferences, their particular relationship with food..."
What followed was perhaps the strangest diplomatic breakfast in Holy Grail War history. Artoria, after initial reluctance, proved to have an appetite that rivaled even Lucoa's, consuming stack after stack of pancakes with a dignity that somehow made the prodigious consumption seem regal rather than excessive. Cid found himself playing host to the legendary King of Britain while his dragon goddess Servant chatted amicably about the weather, local attractions, and the merits of modern clothing versus historical armor.
"So comfortable!" Lucoa was saying, tugging at her sweater in a way that made Cid avert his eyes and Artoria frown slightly. "You should try it, Artoria. I bet you'd look adorable in casual clothes."
"My battle attire is functional," Artoria replied stiffly, though her eyes lingered on Lucoa's outfit with something between disapproval and curiosity. "Comfort is secondary to readiness."
"But you can have both," Lucoa insisted. "After breakfast, we should go shopping! I need to build a proper wardrobe for this war anyway."
Cid nearly choked on his coffee. "Shopping? We're in the middle of a magical death match!"
Both women looked at him as if he'd said something fundamentally absurd.
"Well, we can't fight all the time," Lucoa pointed out reasonably. "The war will unfold over days or weeks. And first impressions matter! If we're going to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, we should look good doing it."
Artoria, to Cid's astonishment, nodded in agreement. "Presentation on the battlefield has significant psychological impact. The right appearance can demoralize opponents before blades even cross."
"Exactly!" Lucoa clapped her hands delightedly. "See, Artoria gets it!"
The King of Knights seemed momentarily pleased by the approval before catching herself. "However," she added, her tone returning to its previous formality, "I must return to my Master to report on your... unusual presence in this war. The inclusion of an eighth Servant-Master pair disrupts the established order."
"Before you go," Lucoa said, leaning forward with sudden seriousness that transformed her entire demeanor, "you should know that there's more to this war than what your Master may have told you, Artoria."
The shift in Lucoa's behavior was so dramatic that even Cid felt a chill run down his spine. For a brief moment, he glimpsed what must have been her true divine aspect—ancient, knowing, and possessed of wisdom beyond human comprehension.
"What do you mean?" Artoria asked, her hand unconsciously moving to where her invisible sword would be.
"The Grail is not what it appears," Lucoa said, her voice carrying undertones that seemed to resonate within the bones rather than the ears. "Its corruption runs deeper than any participant knows. But we'll discuss that later, when the time is right."
She brightened suddenly, her usual cheerful demeanor returning so quickly it gave Cid conversational whiplash. "For now, tell your Master—Shirou, isn't it?—that we propose a temporary alliance! Non-aggression at minimum, active cooperation if he's amenable. There are greater threats in this war than an extra participant."
Artoria's expression suggested she had many more questions, but she nodded slowly. "I will convey your message. Though I cannot promise my Master will agree."
"Of course, of course," Lucoa waved a hand casually. "Just plant the seed! And while you're thinking it over, we should all go shopping later. I'm sure Shirou would benefit from seeing more of who we are before making his decision."
And somehow, through Lucoa's inexplicable diplomatic skills and Cid's committed performance as a shadow master (which seemed to both confuse and intrigue Artoria), that was exactly what happened. By early afternoon, plans had been arranged for a meeting at Fuyuki City's central shopping district—not just with Artoria and her Master, but potentially with another Master-Servant pair who were apparently allied with them.
As Artoria departed through the front door like a normal person rather than the window she'd entered through, Cid found himself standing beside Lucoa in their small apartment, trying to process the morning's events.
"Did we just... make friends with King Arthur?" he asked, momentarily dropping his Shadow persona in pure bewilderment.
"More like established diplomatic relations," Lucoa corrected, already sorting through the limited clothing they had acquired. "Artoria isn't the 'friend' type—at least, not yet. She's too bound by duty and her own rigid code. But she's reasonable, and her Master seems to be unusually kindhearted for a participant in this war."
She held up a shirt against Cid's chest, assessing it with a critical eye. "We'll need to get you some better outfits if you're going to properly embody this 'shadow master' aesthetic you've cultivated. The basics are good, but the execution could use some refinement."
"I... what?" Cid stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift to fashion critique.
"Your persona," Lucoa explained patiently. "It's quite compelling, but the visuals need work. The right clothing would really sell the whole 'eminence in shadow' concept. Something with clean lines, dark colors but not just black—midnight blues, charcoal grays, deep burgundies. And better quality materials."
She was analyzing his carefully constructed identity like it was a fashion brand in need of a makeover. What was more disconcerting was that her suggestions actually sounded... good.
"The shadow has no need for material concerns," Cid protested weakly, trying to regain his character's footing.
"Nonsense," Lucoa replied cheerfully. "Aesthetics are essential to any proper mythic figure. Do you think Zeus just rolled out of bed looking like the king of the gods? Or that Quetzalcoatl—my former self—didn't carefully cultivate the feathered serpent imagery? Presentation is half of godhood, and at least two-thirds of being a proper shadow master."
Cid opened his mouth to object further, then close
The Dragon Behind the Curtain
Cid Kagenou vs. the Holy Grail War (Continuation)
PART III: DIVINE SHOPPING SPREE
Cid's protest died on his lips as Lucoa continued sorting through potential outfits with disturbing enthusiasm. He found himself wondering how his life had taken such a bizarre turn. Yesterday, he was practicing shadow techniques in his bedroom. Today, he was preparing to go shopping with an ex-goddess dragon and the King of Knights.
"Fine," he conceded, quickly slipping back into character. "The shadow will allow this facade to better conceal its true nature from prying eyes."
"That's the spirit!" Lucoa beamed, draping herself around his shoulders in a half-hug that made coherent thought difficult. "Now, we should discuss funds. While I can materialize some items, it would be suspicious to create everything from magical energy."
"Funds?" Cid hadn't considered this practical concern. In his world, he had an allowance and part-time jobs. Here, he was essentially a dimensional castaway.
"Not to worry," Lucoa winked, pulling a wallet from seemingly nowhere. "I've already solved this minor issue. The local financial system is quite vulnerable to certain... manipulations."
Cid's eyes widened. "You robbed a bank?!"
"Of course not!" Lucoa looked offended. "I simply... rearranged some digital numbers. Created a small account with a reasonable balance. No one was harmed. Think of it as borrowing from the universe."
"That sounds like magical fraud," Cid muttered.
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Lucoa waved dismissively. "Consider it part of your cover as a wealthy young shadow lord. Now, shall we meet our new potential allies?"
The Fuyuki shopping district buzzed with weekend activity, completely oblivious to the supernatural war unfolding in its midst. Cid and Lucoa arrived first, securing a table at an outdoor café with a good view of the surrounding area—strategic positioning that Cid insisted was for "tactical advantage" but was actually because he enjoyed people-watching.
Lucoa had convinced him to wear what she called "shadow casual"—dark jeans, a charcoal button-up shirt with subtle purple undertones, and a lightweight black jacket that moved dramatically when he walked. She had stayed in her usual outfit, drawing stares from passersby that she either didn't notice or cheerfully ignored.
"They're approaching," Lucoa announced, sipping a latte that was more whipped cream than coffee. "Saber, her Master, and... oh! The duo from the Tohsaka lineage. How interesting!"
Cid followed her gaze to see Artoria, now dressed in a modest blue skirt and white blouse that somehow maintained her regal bearing despite its simplicity. Beside her walked a young man with reddish hair and an earnest expression that seemed painfully out of place for a participant in a magical death match. Behind them came a girl with long black hair tied in twin-tails, wearing a red sweater and black skirt, and a tall white-haired man in dark clothing whose eyes reminded Cid of steel.
"Remember," Lucoa whispered, "Shirou Emiya is Saber's Master—kind but naive. Rin Tohsaka is the twin-tail girl—brilliant magus, tsundere tendencies. And the white-haired one is her Servant, Archer—who is actually—"
"Greetings," Cid interrupted, rising to his feet as the group approached, not wanting to be caught whispering with Lucoa. "The shadow welcomes you to this parley."
Rin Tohsaka's eyebrow twitched. "Is he always going to talk like that?"
"I find it refreshing," Artoria said with surprising diplomacy. "Most mages lack any sense of tradition or ceremony."
Shirou Emiya stepped forward, extending his hand with disarming sincerity. "I'm Shirou Emiya. Thanks for suggesting this meeting. I'd rather talk than fight if possible."
Cid assessed the boy who somehow commanded the loyalty of King Arthur. He seemed completely ordinary—no visible magical aura, no imposing presence, just honest eyes and a genuine smile. Utterly unimpressive and yet... there was something about him that nagged at Cid's highly developed instinct for protagonists.
"Cid Kagenou," he responded, shaking Shirou's hand while maintaining his mysterious demeanor. "Though in the shadows, I am known only as... Shadow."
"Right..." Shirou smiled uncertainly. "Nice to meet you, Cid."
Rin rolled her eyes while her Servant watched the exchange with calculating intensity.
"And I'm Lucoa!" the dragon goddess announced, pulling Shirou into an enthusiastic hug that made him turn scarlet. "Rider class, technically, though I transcend such limited categorizations. You're absolutely adorable!"
"Unhand my Master," Artoria said stiffly, though without drawing her weapon.
"Oh, sorry!" Lucoa released Shirou, who looked dazed. "I'm just naturally affectionate. No harm intended!"
They settled at the table, an unlikely gathering of enemies-turned-tentative-allies. Archer remained standing, positioning himself where he could observe both the group and the surrounding area.
"So," Rin began, all business, "let's address the hippogriff in the room. You two shouldn't be here. The Grail system is designed for seven pairs, not eight. Your presence is destabilizing the entire ritual."
"Destabilizing an already corrupted system sounds like improvement," Cid improvised, having no idea what he was talking about but committed to sounding knowledgeable.
His random statement hit with unexpected impact. Rin's eyes widened, and Shirou leaned forward.
"What do you know about the Grail's corruption?" Shirou asked urgently.
Cid glanced at Lucoa, who gave him an encouraging nod.
"The shadow sees what others cannot," Cid intoned dramatically, deciding to follow Lucoa's lead from earlier. "The Grail is tainted by forces beyond mortal comprehension, poisoned from within by an entity of pure malevolence."
"Angra Mainyu," Lucoa supplied helpfully. "All the World's Evil, sealed within during the Third War when someone tried to cheat by summoning a conceptual entity rather than a proper Heroic Spirit."
Rin's face paled. "How could you possibly know that? That information is—"
"Closely guarded by the founding families?" Lucoa finished with a wink. "Dear girl, I was ancient when your ancestors were discovering fire. There's very little about supernatural rituals I don't know."
Archer finally spoke, his voice laced with suspicion. "And why would an entity of your obvious power involve yourself in a human conflict over a corrupted wish-granting device?"
Lucoa smiled brightly at him. "Because Cid summoned me, of course! And he's interesting. Do you know how rare truly interesting humans are when you've lived as long as I have? Most are so predictably boring, all 'unlimited power' this and 'immortality' that. But this one—" she ruffled Cid's hair affectionately, "—he has style!"
Cid maintained his composure despite the familiar gesture, even as his internal monologue screamed at the casual way she dismissed his supposed grand ambitions.
"What my Servant means," he said solemnly, "is that we have aligned interests. The shadow's designs require a functioning Grail, not a corrupted one that would unleash catastrophe upon the world."
Shirou nodded seriously. "That's what I want too. To prevent the disaster that happened last time."
Rin looked suspicious. "And how exactly do you propose we fix a corrupted Divine Construct that's been accumulating malice for over sixty years?"
Lucoa's smile never wavered. "By working together, of course! Eight Servants instead of seven. Eight Masters instead of seven. The asymmetry itself creates possibilities the Grail system never anticipated."
"Speaking of Servants," Artoria cut in, "we should address the incident from last night. What happened with Berserker?"
"Berserker?" Cid asked, genuinely confused.
"Someone matching your description was seen in the forest with Illyasviel von Einzbern and her Servant Berserker," Archer stated flatly. "There was a significant magical discharge, and afterward, Berserker has been... different."
All eyes turned to Lucoa, who looked puzzled. "I haven't met any Berserkers yet. Though I'd love to! The class always produces such interesting psychological cases."
"Then who—" Rin began.
A crash interrupted their conversation as a table nearby exploded into splinters. Standing amid the debris was a small girl with white hair and crimson eyes, wearing an elegant purple dress. Beside her loomed a massive giant with gray skin, red eyes, and rippling muscles that seemed barely contained by his physical form.
"Found you," the girl announced with cold satisfaction. "I've been looking everywhere for the dragon who tamed my Berserker."
Murmurs of confusion spread through the café as other patrons stared at the strange scene. Some instinctively backed away, sensing danger beyond their understanding.
"Illya," Shirou said, half-rising from his seat. "What are you doing? There are civilians here!"
"I don't care," Illya replied, her childlike face twisted in frustration. "I want answers! Last night, someone who looked exactly like her—" she pointed at Lucoa, "—did something to Berserker. He's been... weird ever since."
All eyes turned back to Lucoa, who examined the massive Servant with genuine curiosity.
"Oh my! That's Heracles, isn't it? What a magnificent specimen of heroic divinity! But I assure you, little vessel, this is our first meeting."
Berserker growled, his muscles tensing—but instead of attacking, he took a step backward, his red eyes fixed on Lucoa with what appeared to be... wariness?
"See!" Illya stamped her foot. "That's what I mean! Berserker never hesitates. Never shows fear. But since last night, he's been acting strange around anything that reminds him of you!"
Cid, observing the interaction, suddenly had a bizarre thought. "Lucoa," he asked quietly, "is it possible that you were in the forest last night... while sleeping?"
"Hmm?" Lucoa tilted her head thoughtfully. "Oh! That might explain it. My dream-self sometimes wanders when I'm in a new realm. Especially during the adjustment period after being summoned."
"Your dream-self," Rin repeated flatly.
"Yes, it's a dragon thing," Lucoa explained casually. "Our consciousness can manifest independently of our physical form, especially in realms with high magical concentrations. My dream-self might have encountered Berserker while exploring."
"And what exactly did your 'dream-self' do to my Servant?" Illya demanded.
Lucoa shrugged. "Hard to say! Dream logic doesn't always translate well to waking reality. But if I had to guess..." She studied Berserker more carefully. "I probably recognized his divine heritage and attempted to soothe the artificial madness imposed by his class container. A sort of divine intervention, if you will."
"You... cured Berserker's madness enhancement?" Rin asked incredulously. "That's impossible. It's a fundamental aspect of the class."
"Not cured," Lucoa corrected. "More like... created a bypass. The enhancement is still there, but now there's a... hmm, call it a divine override that allows his true personality partial expression."
As if to demonstrate this point, Berserker suddenly spoke—a guttural, painful sound as if his vocal cords weren't designed for speech: "G...goddess."
Every Master at the table froze in shock. Berserker, the embodiment of mindless rage, had spoken.
"See?" Illya pointed accusingly. "This is what I mean! He's remembering things from his life now. Recognizing divine beings. Being... selective about following commands. You broke my Servant!"
"I improved him," Lucoa countered cheerfully. "Think of it as an upgrade! Now you have access to not just his strength, but his legendary wisdom and experience as well."
Illya's face flushed with anger, but before she could respond, Cid rose to his feet. Something about the situation—the gathering tension, the need to defuse a potential battle in a public space—triggered his well-honed protagonist instincts.
"Perhaps," he suggested, his voice dropping to its most mysterious register, "this development serves all our interests. The shadow proposes an extension of our temporary alliance to include the Master of Berserker."
"Alliance?" Illya scoffed. "Why would I ally with any of you?"
"Because," Cid continued, channeling every ounce of his practiced enigmatic persona, "divided, we face certain doom. United, we might reshape the very foundation of this corrupted ritual."
"He's right," Shirou added earnestly. "If the Grail is really corrupted, we shouldn't be fighting each other. We should be working together to fix it or destroy it."
"Destroy the Grail?" Illya's voice rose in disbelief. "The very thing my family has sought for generations?"
"The Grail your family seeks no longer exists," Archer spoke, his tone matter-of-fact. "What remains is a twisted shadow of its original purpose. It cannot grant wishes without catastrophic consequences."
The white-haired girl's expression wavered between fury and uncertainty. Her gaze shifted between the gathered Masters and Servants, lingering longest on Shirou with an emotion Cid couldn't quite identify. Finally, she looked up at Berserker, who met her gaze with intelligence that shouldn't have been possible for his class.
"Fine," she said at last. "A truce. Not an alliance. I'll hear what you have to say about the Grail's corruption. But if I decide you're lying..." She left the threat hanging in the air.
The tension eased slightly, and the bizarre gathering expanded to include Illya and the partially-restored Berserker, who managed to fit himself awkwardly at the end of the café table, drawing incredulous stares from other patrons who assumed he was wearing some kind of costume.
As the discussion resumed—now focused on sharing knowledge about the Grail's true nature—Cid found himself observing the dynamics of the group with interest. Shirou's earnest idealism, Rin's sharp intelligence, Illya's hidden vulnerability, Artoria's steadfast honor, Archer's cynical vigilance, Berserker's emerging sentience, and Lucoa's ancient wisdom... it was like watching character archetypes from a fantasy novel interact in real-time.
And somehow, he—Cid Kagenou, ordinary teenager with delusions of grandeur—had become the enigmatic center around which they orbited.
The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. Instead, he channeled it into his Shadow persona, leaning back in his chair with calculated nonchalance.
"The pieces gather," he murmured, just loudly enough for the others to hear. "The board takes shape. Soon, the true game begins."
"Does he always talk like that?" Illya whispered to Lucoa.
"Always," Lucoa confirmed with affectionate pride. "Isn't it adorable?"
PART IV: DIVINE REVELATIONS
The shopping expedition that followed their impromptu war council was surreal in its mundanity. Three Masters, four Servants (Archer had mysteriously disappeared on some reconnaissance mission), wandering through Fuyuki's retail district like ordinary friends on a weekend outing.
Lucoa insisted on building appropriate wardrobes for everyone, claiming it was "essential to their cover as normal humans." The fact that this group included King Arthur, Heracles, and a divine dragon barely disguised as a busty foreign woman made the concept of "normal" seem laughably unattainable.
Yet somehow, they managed. Artoria discovered a fondness for tailored blue pantsuits that complemented her regal bearing. Illya, initially resistant to the entire concept, found herself enjoying the attention as Lucoa helped her select age-appropriate outfits that were still elegant enough to satisfy her noble sensibilities. Berserker, to everyone's amazement, developed opinions on color coordination, grunting approval or disapproval of various options presented to his diminutive Master.
For Cid, the experience was disorienting. He maintained his Shadow persona, offering cryptic commentary on the "tactical advantages" of various clothing options, but internally he was processing the absurdity of his situation. He had somehow become the nexus of an alliance between legendary heroes and ancient beings, all while having absolutely no idea what he was doing.
"What do you think of this one?" Lucoa emerged from a changing room in a sundress that managed to be both elegant and provocative, the light fabric clinging to her divine figure in ways that made Cid grateful for his practiced poker face.
"It suits your celestial nature while maintaining appropriate terrestrial camouflage," he intoned seriously.
Lucoa smiled knowingly. "That's a yes, then."
As she returned to the changing room, Cid found Rin Tohsaka suddenly beside him, her sharp eyes studying him with unnerving intensity.
"You're not what you appear to be," she stated without preamble.
Cid raised an eyebrow, maintaining his character. "The shadow reveals only what it wishes others to see."
"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about," Rin pressed. "You speak like a third-rate villain from a manga, but you've somehow summoned what might be the most powerful Servant in this war. Your magical signature is unlike anything I've ever encountered, and you navigate complex magical politics with surprising skill for someone who clearly has no formal training."
Her assessment was uncomfortably accurate, forcing Cid to improvise. "Perhaps the absence of traditional training is precisely what allows one to transcend conventional limitations."
Rin's eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps you're something else entirely. Not quite human, not quite Servant. Something... in between."
The irony of her suspicion almost made Cid laugh. She was constructing elaborate theories about his nature when the truth was far more mundane—he was just an ordinary teenager with a vivid imagination and a commitment to role-playing that bordered on pathological.
"Theories and speculation," he dismissed with a casual wave. "The shadow concerns itself with results, not definitions."
Before Rin could press further, a commotion from outside drew their attention. The ground trembled slightly, and the ambient noise of the shopping district fell suddenly silent.
"Boundary field," Rin muttered, her demeanor instantly shifting from curious teenager to battle-ready magus. "Someone's isolating this area."
Cid felt it too—a subtle pressure against his consciousness, like the air before a thunderstorm. Without thinking, he moved toward the store's entrance, Rin close behind him.
Outside, the busy street had transformed. Pedestrians stood frozen mid-step, caught in a temporal suspension that rendered them statue-like. The colors of the world seemed muted, as if viewed through smoke-tinted glass. And standing in the center of the street was a woman in a hooded purple robe, staff raised as she completed the boundary field's activation.
"Caster," Rin identified grimly. "One of the three Servants we haven't encountered yet."
The hooded figure turned toward them, and though her face remained in shadow, her smile was visible—cold and calculating.
"How interesting," she said, her voice musical despite its menace. "I came seeking the anomaly that has disrupted the war's pattern, and I find not just the eighth pair, but a gathering of competitors playing at friendship."
As she spoke, skeletal figures began to rise from the pavement—familiars crafted from bone and magic, their empty eye sockets glowing with pale blue light.
"Where are the others?" Cid asked Rin quietly, scanning for their companions.
"Still inside, probably caught in the boundary field's effect," Rin replied. "Only those with magic resistance or active magical circuits would remain conscious during its deployment."
Which meant Artoria, Lucoa, and likely Berserker would be unaffected, but Shirou and Illya might be vulnerable depending on their capabilities. Cid himself had no explanation for why he remained aware—just another mystery about his presence in this world.
"The shadow does not appreciate interruptions to its designs," Cid called out, stepping forward with more confidence than he felt. "State your purpose or depart."
Caster's laughter echoed unnaturally in the frozen street. "Bold words from an amateur. I can sense your lack of training from here. Whatever you are, you're no magus."
She raised her staff, and the skeleton familiars began to advance. "I came to eliminate variables. The eighth Master-Servant pair threatens the ritual's stability. Once you're removed, the war can proceed as intended."
Cid tensed, mentally cataloging his options. He had no actual magical abilities, just his physical training and quick thinking. Against a Servant specialized in magic, he was hopelessly outmatched.
Then, just as the first wave of skeletal familiars closed in, several things happened simultaneously.
The door of the clothing store burst open as Artoria emerged, now clad in her battle armor, invisible sword at the ready. From a side alley, a flash of red announced Archer's return, bow materialized and aimed at Caster. And from above, a massive form descended as Berserker leapt from the store's roof, Illya clinging to his shoulder.
But it was what happened directly beside Cid that truly changed the battlefield's dynamic.
The air around Lucoa shifted, reality itself seeming to bend as her casual human appearance partially dissolved. Her eyes blazed with inner light, her hair flowing upward as if underwater, and the outline of massive draconic wings briefly shimmered into existence behind her. The temperature around her rose noticeably, and the concrete beneath her feet cracked in a spider-web pattern.
"Now, now," she said, her voice layered with harmonic undertones that vibrated in the chest rather than the ears. "That's no way to introduce yourself. We were having such a pleasant afternoon."
Caster took an involuntary step backward, her confident demeanor faltering. "What... what are you?"
"Currently? Annoyed," Lucoa replied with a smile that contained too many teeth to be entirely human. "I was about to try on a lovely evening gown, and now I'll have to deal with this tedious interruption instead."
She made a casual gesture with one hand, and the skeletal familiars simply... dissolved, collapsing into piles of inert bone dust. The boundary field flickered, its structure destabilizing under Lucoa's passive influence.
"Impossible," Caster whispered. "No Servant could dismantle my magecraft so easily."
"I did mention I wasn't exactly a standard Servant," Lucoa reminded her cheerfully. "Now, we have two options here. You can join our little discussion about the Grail's corruption and how we might address it collectively, or you can continue this attack and see exactly how far outside the standard parameters I truly am."
The threat, delivered with the same bright smile and friendly tone Lucoa used to discuss fashion, somehow made it all the more terrifying.
Caster hesitated, clearly reassessing the situation. Her gaze moved from Lucoa to the gathering of other Servants—Artoria with her invisible sword, Archer with his bow trained on her, Berserker with his massive stone-axe raised—and finally to the Masters: Rin with glowing jewels between her fingers, Illya with a predatory gleam in her crimson eyes, and Cid... who simply stood with arms crossed, affecting an air of bored expectation.
"I serve a Master who would not appreciate such an alliance," Caster said finally, her voice carefully neutral. "But perhaps... a temporary non-aggression pact would be acceptable while I consult with him."
"Wise choice," Cid commented, seizing the opportunity to appear all-knowing. "The shadow acknowledges your prudence."
Caster's hood tilted slightly in what might have been confusion at his manner of speaking, but she offered no comment. "I will withdraw for now. Expect my answer by midnight."
With that, she dissolved into a swirl of purple butterflies that scattered and vanished, taking the boundary field with them. The frozen pedestrians suddenly resumed their movements, completely unaware of the supernatural confrontation that had just occurred.
"Well," Lucoa said brightly, her appearance returning to its fully human disguise, "that was invigorating! Who's hungry? Magical standoffs always give me an appetite."
"You just ate three parfaits an hour ago," Rin pointed out incredulously.
"Yes, and now I need a proper meal," Lucoa nodded as if this were perfectly reasonable. "All that divine manifestation burns calories."
As they regrouped, deciding to relocate their discussion to Shirou's home for privacy and safety, Cid found himself walking beside Artoria, who had dismissed her armor but maintained a vigilant stance.
"Your Servant," she said quietly, "she is far more than she appears."
"As is the shadow," Cid replied automatically.
Artoria gave him a sidelong glance that was difficult to interpret. "Perhaps," she acknowledged. "But there is a difference between one who conceals their nature and one who has not yet discovered it."
The cryptic comment lingered in Cid's mind as they made their way through Fuyuki's streets, an unlikely alliance of legends, gods, and one very committed roleplayer caught in a war he barely understood.
PART V: DIVINE DOMESTICITY
Shirou Emiya's home was a traditional Japanese residence, spacious yet modest, with a large main building and several outbuildings arranged around a central courtyard. It radiated an atmosphere of calm that seemed at odds with its owner's involvement in a supernatural conflict.
"Please make yourselves comfortable," Shirou offered as the group removed their shoes at the entrance. "I'll prepare some tea and snacks."
"Allow me to assist," Artoria said immediately, following him toward the kitchen with what Cid recognized as protective instinct rather than domestic interest.
The rest of the group settled in the main living area, a large tatami room with a low table that somehow accommodated even Berserker, who sat cross-legged with surprising grace for his massive size.
"So," Rin began once they were settled, "we need to discuss our next steps. If Caster reports back to her Master—who I suspect is Souichirou Kuzuki based on their location at Ryuudou Temple—we may be facing more organized opposition soon."
"The Grail's corruption should be our primary concern," Illya interjected, her earlier hostility tempered by the afternoon's events. "If what you've all said is true, then even if one of us wins in the traditional sense, the outcome would be catastrophic."
"Precisely," Lucoa nodded approvingly. "The entity Angra Mainyu that contaminated the Grail system isn't just a malevolent spirit—it's a conceptual manifestation of 'All the World's Evil' that was never meant to be summoned as a Servant. When it was forced into the container during the Third War, it corrupted the entire structure from within."
Cid listened attentively, gleaning information while maintaining his mysterious demeanor. He was beginning to construct a coherent understanding of this world's mechanics through the fragments of explanation his companions provided.
"The shadow has foreseen such corruption," he contributed, deciding to test a theory. "The true purpose of our arrival in this realm was precisely to address this taint that threatens to spread beyond its containment."
To his surprise, Lucoa's eyes widened slightly, and she gave him a curious look. "You know, Cid, there might be more truth to that statement than even you realize."
Before he could ask what she meant, Shirou and Artoria returned bearing trays laden with tea and an impressive array of hasty but appetizing snacks—rice balls, sliced vegetables with dipping sauce, and assorted sweets.
"I apologize for the simple offerings," Shirou said as he served the tea. "I wasn't expecting so many guests today."
"It's perfect," Lucoa assured him, immediately claiming several rice balls for herself. "Homemade food prepared with care contains a subtle magic all its own."
As they ate, the discussion continued, focusing on practical matters: the locations of the remaining Master-Servant pairs, the timeline for the Grail's manifestation, potential approaches to purifying or dismantling the corrupt system.
Throughout the conversation, Cid noticed an interesting dynamic developing. Despite their vastly different backgrounds and initial antagonism, the group was beginning to function as a cohesive unit. Rin's analytical approach complemented Illya's inherited knowledge of the Grail system. Shirou's moral clarity balanced Archer's pragmatic cynicism. Even Berserker contributed occasional grunted insights that showed surprising tactical awareness.
And at the center of it all was Lucoa, whose ancient wisdom and cheerful demeanor somehow bridged the disparate perspectives. She treated them all equally—legendary kings, divine heroes, teenage magi, and Cid himself—with the same affectionate respect, as if they were all amusing but beloved children in her eyes.
What was most disorienting to Cid was how they had begun to defer to him on key decisions. Whenever a disagreement reached an impasse, eyes would turn to him expectantly. His cryptic pronouncements, meant to disguise his lack of genuine knowledge, were interpreted as profound insights. His Shadow persona, which had been merely a self-indulgent fantasy in his own world, was being treated with increasing seriousness in this one.
It was as if the universe itself had decided to validate his delusions.
As evening approached, practical considerations arose. The alliance needed a headquarters, a place where they could gather without drawing attention. Shirou's home was the obvious choice, with its spacious grounds and existing bounded field, but accommodating so many was a challenge.
"Lucoa and I will claim the shadows elsewhere," Cid declared, not wanting to impose. "We have established our own territory already."
"Nonsense," Shirou objected with genuine concern. "It's safer if we stay together, at least until we have a better understanding of the remaining opposition. I have plenty of guest rooms."
"And I'd feel better having you all where I can keep an eye on you," Rin added, though her gaze lingered specifically on Cid and Lucoa with undisguised suspicion.
"It's settled then," Lucoa clapped her hands decisively. "Sleepover at Shirou's! This will be fun!"
And that was how Cid found himself assigned to a guest room in Shirou Emiya's home, preparing for a night of strategic planning with a collection of legendary beings and talented magi. The ordinary trajectory of his life had veered so far into the extraordinary that he no longer had any reference point for normalcy.
As he arranged his meager belongings (mostly new clothes from their shopping expedition), a soft knock came at his door. Opening it, he found Rin Tohsaka standing in the hallway, her usual confident demeanor tempered by what appeared to be reluctant curiosity.
"May I come in?" she asked. "There are some things I'd like to discuss privately."
Cid nodded, stepping aside to admit her while mentally preparing to maintain his Shadow character under her sharp scrutiny.
Rin entered, closing the door behind her and taking a moment to study the room before turning her attention to Cid.
"I've been analyzing your magical signature," she stated without preamble. "It's like nothing I've ever encountered. You have no conventional magical circuits, yet you channel enormous amounts of mana. Your entire spiritual structure seems to operate on principles that contradict established thaumaturgical theory."
Cid crossed his arms, adopting his most mysterious expression. "The shadow walks paths unknown to conventional practitioners."
To his surprise, Rin didn't roll her eyes as she usually did at his dramatic declarations. Instead, she nodded seriously.
"That's just it," she said. "I think you might actually be doing exactly that. Your magic—if we can even call it that—seems to function on pure belief and narrative causality rather than traditional foundations."
This was uncomfortably close to the truth, forcing Cid to improvise. "The power of shadow bends reality to its will through the force of absolute conviction."
"Yes!" Rin exclaimed, her academic excitement momentarily overriding her usually reserved demeanor. "That's precisely what I'm detecting. Your belief in your own... shadow persona... is so absolute that it's actually warping local reality to conform to your expectations."
She began pacing, her mind clearly racing with implications. "It's as if you've created your own Reality Marble without even realizing it. Not a projected internal world, but a continuous local distortion that makes the external world treat you as if your internal narrative is valid."
Cid blinked, genuinely taken aback by her assessment. Was it possible that his lifelong commitment to his Shadow persona had somehow manifested as actual power in this magically saturated world?
"The shadow's methods are not for ordinary minds to comprehend," he deflected, buying time to process this revelation.
"I need to run some tests," Rin continued, barely registering his comment. "With your permission, of course. If I'm right, you represent an entirely new approach to magecraft—one based on pure conceptual belief rather than traditional circuits and elements."
Before Cid could formulate a response that maintained his dignity while accommodating her scientific curiosity, another knock came at the door. This time, it was Lucoa who entered without waiting for an invitation, ducking slightly under the doorframe.
"Sorry to interrupt your little tête-à-tête," she said with a knowing smile that made both teenagers flush slightly, "but we have a situation developing downstairs that requires our attention."
"What kind of situation?" Rin asked, immediately alert.
"Oh, nothing dire," Lucoa