# Throne of No Equal: The God of Destruction Walks the Root
## Prologue: The Birth of Something Extraordinary
It began with a whim.
Vados, Angel Attendant to the God of Destruction Champa, had been observing Universe 7 out of idle curiosity when she sensed something peculiar on an unremarkable planet called Earth—a child born with energy unlike anything she had encountered before. Not godly, not angelic, but something altogether unique. A human soul seemingly without limits.
"Curious," she murmured to herself, staff in hand as she descended invisibly to the planet's surface. The child was nothing special to look at—a squalling infant with a tuft of black hair and dark eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Yet the energy within him pulsed with potential beyond mortal comprehension.
Acting on instinct rather than authority (something she would later justify to the Grand Minister as "research"), Vados plucked the child from his crib, replacing him with an identical construct that would live a normal human life. No one would miss the original—not even the universe itself.
"You," she said to the infant who quieted immediately in her presence, "are going to be my little experiment."
She named him Viyrim, a word in an ancient celestial tongue that meant "unexpected variable," and took him to a pocket dimension where time flowed differently. There, she began his training—not out of ambition or desire to create something powerful, but out of genuine scientific curiosity.
"I'll leave when I grow bored," she told herself as the child took his first steps at six months old. "A century at most."
But Viyrim proved to be anything but boring.
At five years old, he asked questions about cosmic law that even some Supreme Kais couldn't answer. At seven, he began manipulating energy in ways Vados had never taught him—creating pockets of destruction and reconstruction simultaneously, as if the concepts were two sides of the same coin.
"Why train?" he asked her one day, lying on his back and staring at the dimensional ceiling. "If I have infinite energy, why make more?"
"Because control is different from capacity," Vados explained, though she found herself questioning her own answer. The boy's power seemed to grow whether he exerted himself or not.
By his tenth birthday, Viyrim was shattering dimensional barriers in his sleep, causing ripples across nearby universes. Alarmed, Vados took him to meet Beerus, the God of Destruction of Universe 7.
"What's this?" Beerus yawned, barely glancing at the child. "A pet project, Vados? Your brother's influence, no doubt."
"A research subject," she corrected. "One that I believe might interest you."
Beerus, eternally bored and ill-tempered, flicked a small orb of destruction energy at the boy—a test that would have annihilated most life forms instantly.
Viyrim caught it like a ball, examined it with mild interest, and then compressed it into nothingness between his fingers.
"Is that how you say hello?" he asked, unimpressed.
Beerus stared, whiskers twitching in rare surprise. Then he laughed—a genuine, undignified belly laugh that startled even Whis, his attendant.
"Kid's got style," he admitted. "And power too, obviously. What are you planning to do with him, Vados?"
"I'm still determining that," she replied diplomatically.
Over the next few years, Viyrim split his time between training with Vados and observing Beerus. He adopted the God of Destruction's mannerisms—the lazy drawl, the casual arrogance, the perpetual boredom punctuated by moments of intense, focused destruction. But where Beerus destroyed out of duty and temperament, Viyrim seemed to regard destruction as merely a byproduct of existence.
At fourteen, during a friendly sparring match, Viyrim matched Beerus in raw destructive output, causing the God of Destruction to use seventy percent of his true power—something he hadn't done in centuries.
"The kid's a natural," Beerus remarked afterward, sprawled on his hover-chair. "Doesn't even seem to care that he nearly forced me to get serious."
Vados nodded, equal parts proud and concerned. "His power grows exponentially, yet his interest in using it remains minimal. He sleeps eighteen hours a day unless disturbed."
"Sounds like my kind of deity," Beerus chuckled. "Maybe he's destined to replace me someday."
"Perhaps," Vados said thoughtfully. "Though I wonder if any existing position would satisfy his nature."
By seventeen, Viyrim had surpassed every deity, angel, and conceptual entity in Universe 7—not through dedicated training, but through simply existing. His power had become so vast that even Zeno, the Omni-King, felt the ripples of his presence and summoned him for an audience.
In the vast hall of the Omni-King's palace, surrounded by the Grand Minister and the attendants of all twelve universes, Viyrim stood with his hands in the pockets of his loose robe, looking thoroughly bored.
"You're interesting," Zeno declared, hovering around the teenager with childish curiosity. "What are you?"
Viyrim shrugged. "Just me. Nothing special."
The Grand Minister's eyebrows rose fractionally—the celestial equivalent of extreme shock. "Young one, you stand before the ruler of all existence and claim to be 'nothing special'?"
"Didn't mean to be rude," Viyrim yawned, covering his mouth. "But I'm missing my afternoon nap for this."
Instead of being offended, Zeno giggled. "I like him! He's not scared!"
The meeting concluded with an unprecedented declaration: Viyrim would be recognized as the first "Limitless God of Destruction"—a unique position not tied to any specific universe. He would answer only to Zeno himself, and even then, only if he felt like it.
"Do I have to do anything?" Viyrim asked, already half-asleep on his feet.
"Just exist!" Zeno replied cheerfully. "And destroy stuff if you want to!"
And so began the official divine career of Viyrim, the laziest and most powerful God of Destruction in the multiverse. He spent most of his time sleeping, eating, and occasionally obliterating cosmic threats with casual indifference.
Vados remained by his side, partly out of duty and partly out of genuine affection that she would never openly admit to. She carried him when he was too tired to float, brought him exotic foods from across the multiverse, and gently reminded him not to destroy inhabited solar systems just because someone interrupted his nap.
For years, this existence continued in peaceful monotony—until one day, Viyrim woke from a particularly satisfying nap and announced:
"I'm bored."
Those two words sent a shiver through the fabric of reality itself. Vados, who had been polishing her staff nearby, looked up with carefully concealed concern.
"Perhaps a new culinary experience might alleviate your boredom, my lord? There's a nebula in Universe 3 where the cosmic dust forms crystalline structures that taste like what mortals call 'salted caramel'."
Viyrim stretched, his physical form briefly distorting as his true power leaked through the humanoid shell he maintained.
"Food is fine, but it's all starting to taste the same," he complained. "And there's no one interesting to fight anymore. Everyone either runs away or gets destroyed too quickly."
Vados considered this problem carefully. A bored God of Destruction—especially one of Viyrim's caliber—was a cosmic hazard. She needed to find a solution quickly.
"What if," she suggested deliberately, "we were to explore beyond our dimensional cluster? There are realities adjacent to ours with entirely different cosmic laws and power systems."
Viyrim's eyes, usually half-lidded with perpetual sleepiness, opened fully for the first time in years.
"Different... power systems?" he repeated, sounding almost interested.
"Indeed," Vados continued, sensing she had caught his attention. "In one such reality, I've observed entities who manipulate something called 'mana' and 'od'. They have concepts like 'True Magic' and 'Reality Marbles'—fundamentally different from our ki-based universe."
"Would they have good food?" Viyrim asked, always returning to the essentials.
"Exquisite cuisines unlike anything in our dimensional cluster," Vados assured him. "And their most powerful entities might actually provide you with... entertainment."
That settled it. With a lazy wave of his hand, Viyrim manifested an ornate throne of obsidian and purple crystal—a gift from Beerus that he had modified to his tastes.
"Let's go then," he decided, settling onto the cushioned seat. "Wake me when we get there."
Vados tapped her staff, opening a dimensional corridor. As she guided the floating throne through the swirling vortex, she allowed herself a small, private smile. For all his power and detachment, Viyrim was still predictable in certain ways.
What she couldn't predict, however, was how this new reality—the one mortals called "the Nasuverse"—would react to the arrival of a being who existed outside its conceptual framework entirely.
The God of Destruction was about to walk the Root, and nothing would ever be the same.
## Chapter 1: A Lazy God Crashes the Holy Grail War
The Fifth Holy Grail War of Fuyuki City was proceeding according to ancient design. Seven Masters had summoned seven Servants, and blood had already been spilled in the moonlit battles for the omnipotent wish-granting device. The air hummed with magical energy, tense with the hidden conflicts unfolding throughout the city.
None of the participants, however, had anticipated the dimensional tear that formed above Fuyuki Park at precisely 3:17 AM.
The air split apart like tissue paper, revealing a swirling vortex of colors unknown to human perception. From this impossible opening emerged first a staff—long, blue, and topped with a glowing orb—followed by its wielder, a tall woman with pale blue skin and white hair secured in an elaborate updo. She wore formal attire that seemed both ancient and futuristic, and her expression remained perfectly serene as she guided a floating obsidian throne through the dimensional gap.
Upon the throne lounged a figure who appeared deceptively young—perhaps in his late teens or early twenties. His violet-black hair fell haphazardly across his face, partially covering eyes that remained closed in peaceful slumber. He wore loose-fitting robes of black and royal purple, reminiscent of ancient Egyptian garments but with subtle modifications that suggested alien origins. Despite his relaxed posture and evident sleep, an aura of immense power radiated from him, distorting the very air around his throne.
Vados surveyed their surroundings with analytical precision as the dimensional gate closed behind them. They had materialized in a public park, surrounded by trees and open spaces—an acceptable landing point with minimal risk of immediate conflict.
"My lord," she spoke softly, her voice carrying a musical quality that didn't exist in human vocal ranges. "We have arrived."
Viyrim didn't stir. His chest rose and fell in the deep, steady rhythm of profound sleep.
Vados waited patiently for seventeen seconds before trying again, this time tapping her staff lightly against the edge of the throne. "Lord Viyrim, we have successfully traversed dimensions and arrived at our destination."
One eye cracked open slightly, revealing a golden iris with a vertical pupil like that of a cat. "Five more minutes," he mumbled, turning over on the throne.
"Of course, my lord," Vados replied, unfazed by his response. She had expected nothing less. Using her staff, she created a protective barrier around the throne—not for Viyrim's protection (he needed none), but to ensure his uninterrupted rest.
As she waited for her master to awaken naturally, Vados extended her senses throughout this new reality, gathering information. She detected seven particularly strong energy signatures scattered across the city—the Servants, she presumed. Numerous smaller energy patterns indicated the presence of mages. And far beneath the city, she sensed something... corrupt. A concentrated mass of darkness and malice that intrigued her.
"Interesting," she murmured to herself. "The wish-granting device appears to be contaminated."
Twenty-three minutes later, Viyrim finally stirred. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms above his head with a languid grace that briefly distorted reality around him—a side effect of his power that he rarely bothered to control.
"Are we there yet?" he asked, yawning widely.
"Yes, my lord. We have arrived in Fuyuki City, the focal point of this reality's current magical conflict."
Viyrim blinked sleepily, taking in their surroundings with minimal interest. "Looks ordinary. Their moon is boring too—just one, and it's all gray." He sniffed the air. "Though... there is something interesting about the energy here. Feels... crunchy. Like that breakfast cereal you found in Universe 6."
Vados nodded. "The ambient magical energy of this world differs significantly from our native ki. They call it 'mana'—a force that permeates reality but is particularly concentrated in certain bloodlines and artifacts."
"Sounds complicated," Viyrim yawned again. "Is there food?"
"I took the liberty of researching the local cuisine before our arrival," Vados replied, materializing a lacquered box from seemingly nowhere. "This is called 'yakitori'—skewered chicken grilled over charcoal and glazed with a sweet-savory sauce."
Viyrim's eyes opened fully as the aroma reached him. He accepted the box with unexpected eagerness, selecting a skewer and taking an experimental bite. His eyes widened slightly.
"This... is not terrible," he admitted, which from him was extraordinarily high praise. He devoured the rest of the skewer in two bites. "Actually, it's quite good. Get me more of these."
"Of course, my lord. Would you prefer to remain here while I acquire additional provisions, or would you like to explore the city?"
Viyrim considered this as he started on a second skewer. "Might as well look around since we came all this way. Is anything interesting happening?"
"Indeed. The ritual known as the 'Holy Grail War' is currently underway. Seven mages have summoned seven heroic spirits to battle for possession of an omnipotent wish-granting device."
This caught Viyrim's attention. "Wish-granting? Like the Dragon Balls?"
"Similar in concept, though more limited in scope and evidently corrupted by some malevolent force. The participants appear unaware of this contamination."
"Hmm." Viyrim floated up from his throne, stretching his legs. "Might be entertaining to watch them fight over a corrupted wish. Though if it's a real problem, I suppose I could destroy it. Easy enough."
Before Vados could respond, both of them sensed an approaching energy signature—fast, disciplined, and radiating an unusual form of power.
"One of the local entities approaches, my lord," Vados observed. "A 'Servant,' I believe—a heroic spirit summoned from their Throne of Heroes."
"Heroes, huh?" Viyrim settled back into his throne, looking decidedly unimpressed. "Let's see what passes for heroic in this reality."
A blue blur shot through the trees, materializing into a man clad in a tight blue bodysuit accented with silver. He held a crimson spear that pulsed with deadly intent, and his sharp red eyes assessed the strange visitors with predatory focus.
"Unknown entities," the man called out, his voice carrying the edge of a warrior who had faced countless battles. "You have entered a restricted area during a sacred ritual. Identify yourselves and state your purpose, or prepare to defend yourselves."
Viyrim didn't even glance at the newcomer, continuing to eat his yakitori with deliberate slowness. He was on his fourth skewer now, savoring each bite as if the blue-clad warrior didn't exist.
Vados stepped forward slightly, her expression remaining pleasant and composed. "Greetings. I am Vados, Angel Attendant to Lord Viyrim, God of Destruction. We are merely visitors to your reality, here on a combination of gastronomic tourism and casual observation."
The spearman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "God of Destruction? I've never heard of such a deity, and I've encountered most divine spirits." His stance shifted subtly, ready to attack at a moment's notice. "This area is currently the site of the Holy Grail War. Interference from outside entities is not permitted."
Viyrim finally looked up from his meal, fixing the warrior with a gaze of supreme indifference. "You're noisy," he stated flatly. "I'm eating."
The bluntness of the response seemed to catch the spearman off guard. He studied Viyrim more carefully, sensing the vast reservoir of power contained within the seemingly young god's form. Whatever he detected made him hesitate—a rarity for the legendary Cú Chulainn, Ireland's Child of Light.
"I don't know what manner of Divine Spirit or Phantasmal Being you are," Cú Chulainn said more cautiously, "but the rules of the War apply to all who enter Fuyuki during this time. You cannot—"
"Rules are boring," Viyrim interrupted, licking sauce from his fingers. "And I'm still eating. Come back later if you want to talk about boring things."
The dismissal was so casual, so utterly unconcerned, that it sparked the famous temper of the Hound of Ulster. His magical energy flared, and Gáe Bolg—the spear that struck with causality-reversing certainty—lowered to attack position.
"You leave me no choice but to—"
Viyrim blinked.
Cú Chulainn vanished mid-sentence. Not destroyed, not killed—simply gone.
Vados tilted her head slightly. "Interesting. You sent him through seventeen dimensional planes simultaneously. Most beings would be obliterated by such transit."
"He seemed durable," Viyrim shrugged, returning to his yakitori. "He'll probably find his way back eventually. Or not. Doesn't matter." He looked at his now-empty box with disappointment. "Is there more food?"
"I shall acquire more immediately, my lord." Vados bowed slightly. "Would you prefer to remain here, or shall I relocate you to a more comfortable position while I'm gone?"
Viyrim glanced around the park. "This grass looks comfortable enough for a nap. I'll stay here." He floated off his throne and stretched out on the grass, hands behind his head. "Get more of that yakitori. And see if they have something called 'sake.' I've heard it's interesting."
"Very well. I shall return shortly." Vados disappeared with a subtle distortion of air, leaving Viyrim alone in the park.
The God of Destruction yawned widely and closed his eyes, seemingly unconcerned that he had just banished one of this world's legendary heroes to a multidimensional labyrinth over a minor annoyance. Within moments, his breathing deepened as he drifted into sleep.
Unknown to him, the ripples of his arrival—and especially his casual dismissal of Lancer—were spreading rapidly through the supernatural community of Fuyuki. Masters consulted their Servants in hurried, anxious conversations. Familiars were dispatched to observe the sleeping god. And in the Tohsaka mansion, a certain red-clad Archer's eyes narrowed as he sensed a disturbance unlike anything in his extensive experience.
"Something has changed," he murmured to his Master. "Something fundamental."
The Fifth Holy Grail War had just become infinitely more complicated.
---
Viyrim's nap lasted precisely 47 minutes before he sensed an approaching presence—different from the spearman, but carrying a similar otherworldly energy. He opened one eye lazily, not bothering to sit up as a figure materialized from golden particles several yards away.
The newcomer cut an impressive figure—a man of regal bearing clad in golden armor that caught the moonlight with supernatural brilliance. His crimson eyes surveyed Viyrim with open disdain, and his blonde hair seemed to defy gravity in its perfect arrangement.
"A mongrel sleeps in my garden," the golden man proclaimed, his voice dripping with aristocratic contempt. "How...amusing."
Viyrim yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. "Your garden? I don't see your name on it." He sat up reluctantly, stretching his neck. "Who are you supposed to be, anyway? The local sun god or something?"
The golden man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Your ignorance is offensive, though perhaps expected from an entity foreign to this world." He stood straighter, an aura of supreme authority radiating from him. "I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, the oldest king and first hero of human history. All treasures of the world belong to me by right, including this land upon which you trespass."
Viyrim blinked slowly, processing this introduction with evident boredom. "That's a lot of titles for someone I've never heard of." He stood up, brushing grass from his robes. "I'm Viyrim. God of Destruction. Nice garden, I guess."
The casualness of the response clearly shocked Gilgamesh, whose expression flickered between outrage and disbelief. Few beings had ever addressed the King of Heroes with such blatant disregard for his status.
"Your insolence exceeds even your ignorance," Gilgamesh declared, golden ripples appearing in the air behind him. "While I would normally execute one such as you on principle, your unusual energy signature intrigues me. Declare your true nature and purpose here, and perhaps I shall permit you to serve me."
Viyrim tilted his head, genuinely confused by the king's persistent arrogance. "Serve you? I don't think you're understanding the situation here." He yawned again, losing interest in the conversation. "I already told you—I'm a God of Destruction. I destroy things. Planets, stars, galaxies, concepts. Whatever needs destroying for universal balance."
"A destroyer god?" Gilgamesh laughed coldly. "How primitive. In this world, even gods bow before the King of Kings." The golden ripples behind him expanded, revealing glimpses of countless weapons of legend. "My treasury contains artifacts capable of slaying gods. Perhaps a demonstration of my power will teach you proper respect."
Viyrim watched the display with mild curiosity. "Huh. A collector. That's actually kind of interesting." He stretched his arms above his head. "But I'm really not in the mood for a fight right now. My attendant should be back soon with more food, and I'd rather eat than play with your collection."
The dismissal pushed Gilgamesh beyond restraint. With a gesture of his hand, a dozen legendary weapons launched from the Gates of Babylon, each aimed with perfect precision at Viyrim's vital points.
The God of Destruction didn't move. He didn't flinch. He simply looked at the approaching weapons with the same lazy disinterest he had shown everything in this world thus far.
The weapons stopped in mid-air, inches from his body. They hung there, trembling, as if caught in an invisible vise.
"These are nice," Viyrim commented, plucking one elaborate spear from the air and examining it casually. "Good craftsmanship. Interesting energy signature too." He tossed it back, where it remained suspended with the others. "Is this the best you've got? Because I was hoping for something actually impressive."
Gilgamesh's composure cracked for the first time, his perfect features contorting with rage. "Impossible! No being can resist the might of my treasures! You dare to mock the King of Heroes?"
"I'm not mocking you," Viyrim replied with a shrug. "Just stating facts. Your toys are neat, but they're still just toys to me." He waved his hand dismissively, and all the suspended weapons disintegrated into golden dust that scattered on the night breeze. "See? Neat, but ultimately not very interesting."
The King of Heroes stood frozen in shock. In all his existence, across all his incarnations, no one had ever neutralized his Noble Phantasms with such casual ease. It was beyond his comprehension.
"What manner of entity are you?" he demanded, his voice losing some of its imperious tone.
"I told you already. God of Destruction. From another dimension." Viyrim floated up slightly, crossing his legs in mid-air. "Look, I get it. You're used to being the most powerful thing around. Big fish, small pond and all that. But I'm not from your pond. I'm not even from your ocean." He yawned again. "You're what they call a 'Servant' here, right? Some kind of heroic spirit? That's cute. Where I come from, spirits are snacks for minor deities."
Before Gilgamesh could respond to this unprecedented insult, a spatial distortion announced Vados's return. She materialized beside Viyrim's floating form, carrying several lacquered boxes and a ceramic flask.
"I have returned with provisions, my lord," she announced, seemingly unconcerned by the standoff she had interrupted. "I found several varieties of yakitori, along with premium sake and assorted local delicacies."
"Perfect timing," Viyrim said, his attention immediately diverted from Gilgamesh to the food. "I was getting bored with this conversation anyway."
Gilgamesh watched in disbelief as the supposed God of Destruction completely dismissed him in favor of examining the contents of the food boxes. No one had ever treated the King of Heroes as irrelevant—it was conceptually impossible in his worldview.
"You... dare to turn your back on me?" he managed, his voice strangled with rage.
Viyrim glanced over his shoulder, already chewing on a piece of grilled chicken. "Oh, you're still here? I thought we were done. Unless you have something actually interesting to show me?"
Pushed beyond all rational limits, Gilgamesh reached into his treasury and withdrew his ultimate weapon—Ea, the Sword of Rupture, the blade that had split heaven from earth at the dawn of creation.
"Behold, arrogant god, the instrument of your humbling!" he proclaimed, the tri-cylindrical blade beginning to rotate and glow with primordial power. "Even if you are truly divine, Ea will return you to nothingness!"
Vados looked mildly concerned for the first time. "My lord, that weapon appears to possess genuine concept-cutting capabilities. It might actually be able to—"
"To tickle me, at best," Viyrim finished, still eating. He glanced at the glowing sword with slightly more interest than before. "Though I'll admit, it's the first thing in this world that actually has some decent power behind it."
As Gilgamesh began the activation sequence for Enuma Elish, his ultimate attack, Viyrim sighed and set down his food box. With a casual flick of his finger—literally, just a flick—he sent a pinpoint of purple energy toward the King of Heroes.
The energy struck Gilgamesh in the center of his forehead. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, the golden king froze completely, Ea still clutched in his hands but its rotation ceasing. His eyes widened in stunned realization as he felt something unprecedented—his divine-mortal body being completely overwritten by destructive energy beyond his comprehension.
"Don't worry, I didn't erase you," Viyrim said conversationally, returning to his meal. "Just temporarily rewrote your conceptual structure to make you unable to move or use power for... eh, probably a few hours. Didn't want to deal with all the noise and light from that attack while I'm eating."
Gilgamesh stood like a golden statue, only his eyes able to move—burning with helpless rage and, beneath that, the first stirrings of genuine fear.
Vados approached the immobilized king, examining him with professional interest. "Fascinating. This world's heroic spirits possess a durability beyond what I expected. His Saint Graph remains intact despite your conceptual rewrite."
"Saint Graph?" Viyrim asked between bites.
"The spiritual foundation of Servants in this world—similar to a soul matrix but more complex. It seems to have properties that resist even destructive energy on your level, though not enough to maintain functionality." She circled Gilgamesh thoughtfully. "What would you like me to do with him, my lord?"
Viyrim considered the question as he tried a different type of yakitori. "Leave him there, I guess. He makes for an interesting garden statue. And when he eventually recovers, maybe he'll have learned some manners." He paused, then added with a slight smile, "Or at least learned not to interrupt my meals."
And so the King of Heroes remained, frozen in place, as the God of Destruction continued his impromptu picnic in Fuyuki Park. Far above, the moon shone down on the bizarre scene—a lazy deity and his attendant enjoying street food beside the immobilized form of humanity's oldest king.
The Holy Grail War had never witnessed anything quite like it.
## Chapter 2: Divine Politics and Reluctant Gatherings
Word of the extraordinary visitor spread quickly through Fuyuki's supernatural community. Masters huddled with their Servants, crafting hasty strategies to deal with this unprecedented variable. Some advocated for direct confrontation, others for cautious observation, and a few wiser souls suggested temporary alliances until the nature of this "God of Destruction" could be fully understood.
In the elaborate European-style mansion owned by the Tohsaka family, Rin paced anxiously before a crackling fireplace, her red coat swishing with each sharp turn. Archer leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, his steel-gray eyes following his Master's movements.
"This is insane," Rin muttered, running a hand through her dark hair. "First Lancer disappears into thin air, then Gilgamesh—*Gilgamesh*—gets turned into a statue? What are we dealing with here?"
"Something beyond the parameters of a normal Holy Grail War," Archer replied, his voice calm despite the tension evident in his posture. "I've analyzed the energy signatures from the park. They don't match anything recorded in the Throne of Heroes or any known magecraft."
Rin stopped pacing, turning to face her Servant with determination in her blue eyes. "Could it be a True Magic user? Someone who achieved the Kaleidoscope like Zelretch?"
Archer shook his head. "No. This is something else entirely. The energy doesn't feel like magic at all—it's more fundamental, like a base law of reality itself."
"Then what do we do?" Rin demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "We can't just ignore them, but confronting them directly seems suicidal if they can neutralize Gilgamesh without effort."
Archer pushed himself off the wall, his expression thoughtful. "We observe. We gather information. And we prepare for multiple contingencies." A grim smile touched his lips. "After all, I've always believed in having a backup plan. Or ten."
Across the city, in the ancient Japanese mansion of the Matou family, a different sort of conversation was taking place. Zouken Matou, the centuries-old patriarch whose body was little more than a vessel for writhing worms, stood in his darkened study, addressing the shadowy figure of his Servant.
"This presents both danger and opportunity," Zouken rasped, his gnarled fingers gripping a walking stick. "A being of such power could disrupt our plans entirely... or become the key to achieving our goals more directly."
"The entity isn't human," observed the wraith-like Assassin, multiple voices speaking in eerie unison from beneath a skull mask. "Nor is it a proper Heroic Spirit. It exists outside the rules that bind the rest of us."
"Indeed." Zouken's lipless mouth formed something approximating a smile. "And entities outside the rules are often unaware of the... subtler approaches to conflict. We will observe this God of Destruction and find its weakness. Every being has one."
Meanwhile, in the forest outside the city, Illyasviel von Einzbern stood before her massive Servant, Berserker, her tiny frame dwarfed by the mountain of muscle and divine fury that was Heracles.
"What do you think, Berserker?" she asked, her childlike voice at odds with the calculating gleam in her crimson eyes. "Should we pay this visitor a proper greeting?"
The towering Servant growled, the sound rumbling through the trees and scattering nearby wildlife. Though robbed of his sanity by the Berserker class, something of the hero's tactical mind remained—enough to communicate caution to his Master.
Illya nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. We should gather more information first." A mischievous smile played across her face. "But soon, very soon, we'll introduce ourselves. I want to see what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unkillable Servant."
---
Back in Fuyuki Park, Viyrim had finished his meal and was once again lounging on the grass, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the moonlight. Vados stood nearby, staff in hand, scanning their surroundings with calm attentiveness.
"We're being watched," she noted without particular concern. "There are at least seven different observational familiars in the vicinity, along with two concealed Servants."
"Mmm," Viyrim acknowledged without moving his arm. "Let them watch. Not like they can do anything interesting."
"Perhaps, my lord, it would be prudent to establish a more suitable base of operations? This park, while pleasant, lacks certain amenities that you might desire # Throne of No Equal: The God of Destruction Walks the Root
## Chapter 2 (Continued): A God's Accommodation
"Perhaps, my lord, it would be prudent to establish a more suitable base of operations?" Vados suggested. "This park, while pleasant, lacks certain amenities that you might desire for extended comfort."
Viyrim sighed dramatically, finally removing his arm from his eyes. "I suppose you have a point. Sleeping under stars is nice, but I do prefer actual pillows." He sat up, stretching languidly. "Any suggestions?"
Before Vados could answer, a small figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. A girl who appeared no older than twelve, with snow-white hair and crimson eyes that glowed faintly in the darkness. She wore an elaborate purple winter coat despite the mild evening temperature, and her smile held wisdom far beyond her apparent years.
"I might have a suggestion," she said, her voice childlike yet carrying unmistakable authority. "If you're looking for proper accommodations, that is."
Viyrim glanced at the newcomer with mild curiosity. "And you are?"
"Illyasviel von Einzbern," she replied with a formal curtsy. "Master in this Holy Grail War and heir to the Einzbern family."
"Another Master?" Viyrim yawned. "You people keep popping up like weeds."
Illya's smile didn't waver, though her eyes narrowed slightly at the dismissive tone. "I'm not just any Master. My family owns the largest estate in Fuyuki—a castle with every possible comfort. And I'm willing to offer it to you as a residence during your stay."
This caught Viyrim's attention. "A castle? With actual beds and bathrooms and kitchens?"
"Multiple of each," Illya confirmed. "Plus gardens, a library, and staff to attend to your needs."
Viyrim glanced at Vados, who nodded slightly. "The Einzbern Castle is indeed the most luxurious residence in the area. And strategically positioned away from the city center."
"What's the catch?" Viyrim asked, turning back to Illya. "You're in this war thing, right? Why offer your home to a stranger?"
Illya's smile widened. "Let's call it a strategic alliance. You're clearly powerful—powerful enough to neutralize Gilgamesh without effort." She gestured to the still-frozen King of Heroes. "Having you as a guest rather than an adversary seems... prudent."
"Smart kid," Viyrim acknowledged. He floated to his feet, hovering a few inches above the grass. "Fine. We accept your invitation. Lead the way to this castle of yours."
Illya nodded, pleased. "Berserker will escort us."
At her words, a massive figure emerged from the treeline—a towering giant of muscle and barely contained fury, with grayish skin and glowing red eyes. Despite his clearly monstrous appearance, he moved with surprising grace, taking up position beside his diminutive Master.
"This is Berserker," Illya introduced proudly. "The strongest Servant in the Holy Grail War."
Viyrim eyed the massive Servant with mild interest. "Heracles, right? I can sense the divine blood in him." He shrugged. "Impressive by this world's standards, I suppose."
Berserker growled, the sound reverberating through the park. Even robbed of his sanity, he seemed to recognize the casual dismissal of his strength.
"Now, now, Berserker," Illya patted his massive arm. "Our guest doesn't mean any offense. He's just... from a different scale of power."
"Your Servant has good instincts," Vados observed. "Most entities would be raging against such a dismissal of their strength, yet he maintains control despite his Berserker class."
"He's special," Illya agreed, a genuine note of affection in her voice. "Now, shall we proceed to the castle? It's a bit of a walk, but I suspect that's not a problem for beings like yourselves."
Viyrim settled back onto his floating throne, which Vados summoned with a tap of her staff. "Lead on, little Master. Just try to make it quick—I'm due for another nap soon."
As they proceeded through the darkened forest, Viyrim's throne floating serenely behind Berserker's massive form, Illya fell into step beside Vados.
"Your master is... not what I expected from a god," she commented quietly.
Vados smiled diplomatically. "Lord Viyrim defies most expectations. It's part of what makes serving him so interesting."
"And dangerous, I imagine," Illya added, glancing at the lazily lounging deity.
"You have no idea," Vados replied, her tone light but her eyes serious.
---
The Einzbern Castle loomed against the night sky, its white stone walls and Gothic spires creating an imposing silhouette. Built as a perfect replica of the family's ancestral home in Germany, it stood as a testament to both the Einzberns' wealth and their commitment to tradition.
"Impressive," Vados acknowledged as they approached the main gates. "The magical boundary field is quite sophisticated as well."
"A necessity in a Holy Grail War," Illya explained, leading them through the ornate iron gates that opened at her approach. "Though I suspect such defenses are redundant for beings of your caliber."
"They wouldn't stop me from getting yogurt from your fridge at 3 AM, if that's what you're asking," Viyrim commented, now fully awake and examining the castle with genuine interest.
The entrance hall was cavernous, with a sweeping staircase of white marble and crystal chandeliers that cast prismatic light across the polished floor. Portraits of stern-faced Einzbern ancestors lined the walls, their pale features and crimson eyes marking them as homunculi of the same lineage as Illya herself.
"Sella! Leysritt!" Illya called out, her voice echoing in the vast space.
Two maids appeared almost instantly—both with white hair and red eyes similar to Illya's, though their expressions couldn't have been more different. One looked stern and proper, the other sleepy and indifferent.
"Yes, Lady Illyasviel?" the stern one, Sella, responded with a formal bow.
"Prepare the east wing guest suites immediately," Illya ordered. "Our visitors will be staying with us indefinitely."
Sella's eyes widened slightly as she took in the strange pair—particularly Viyrim lounging on his floating throne and Vados with her clearly inhuman features.
"As you wish, my lady," she replied, bowing again before hurrying off, practically dragging the more lethargic Leysritt with her.
"The east wing has the best views of the forest," Illya explained, leading them further into the castle. "And the largest bathrooms, which I thought might appeal to you."
"Smart kid," Viyrim repeated, floating down from his throne to walk alongside her. "So what's your stake in this Grail War anyway? What would a little girl want with an all-powerful wish?"
Illya's cheerful demeanor faltered for a moment, something ancient and sorrowful flashing in her eyes. "That's a rather personal question for someone I've just met, isn't it?"
"Fair enough," Viyrim shrugged. "I was just curious. Most people who seek power usually have boring reasons—revenge, domination, immortality. The standard list."
"And what do gods seek?" Illya countered.
Viyrim smiled for the first time since their meeting—a surprisingly genuine expression that transformed his face from lazy indifference to boyish charm. "Mostly good food and uninterrupted naps, in my case."
This unexpected answer startled a laugh from Illya—a sound that seemed to surprise even her, as if genuine mirth was a rare visitor in her life.
The tour continued through opulent hallways and grand chambers, eventually reaching the east wing where Sella and Leysritt had worked minor miracles in preparing the rooms on such short notice. The suite designated for Viyrim was palatial, with a four-poster bed large enough to accommodate a small army, a bathroom featuring a marble tub that more closely resembled a small swimming pool, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the moonlit forest.
"This will do nicely," Viyrim approved, immediately testing the bed by flopping onto it with childish abandon. "Much better than grass."
"I'm pleased you approve," Illya said formally, though amusement danced in her eyes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's rather late for me. Breakfast is served in the main dining hall at eight, though I can arrange for it to be brought to your rooms if you prefer."
"Food brought directly to me without having to move? Definitely that option," Viyrim mumbled, already burrowing into the silk pillows.
Vados bowed slightly to Illya. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Einzbern. We appreciate your accommodation of my lord's... particular schedule."
After Illya departed, Vados turned to find Viyrim already half-asleep, still fully dressed atop the covers.
"My lord, perhaps you might want to change into something more comfortable for sleep?" she suggested.
"Too much effort," he muttered into a pillow.
With a resigned sigh that carried the weight of centuries of similar exchanges, Vados tapped her staff. Viyrim's robes shimmered and transformed into loose sleeping attire, and the covers folded themselves around him properly.
"Rest well, Lord Viyrim," she said softly. "I suspect tomorrow will bring many more... interesting encounters in this curious world."
A soft snore was her only answer.
## Chapter 3: Morning Revelations and Unexpected Visitors
Viyrim's first morning in the Einzbern Castle set the tone for what would become his new routine. He slept until nearly noon, despite several attempts by Sella to deliver breakfast as requested. Each time the maid approached his door, she found herself inexplicably walking back the way she had come, forgetting her purpose entirely—a passive effect of Viyrim's aura when he desired uninterrupted sleep.
When he finally emerged from his chambers, stretching languidly in loose black silk robes that Vados had materialized for him, he found a small welcoming committee waiting in the grand salon adjacent to his suite.
Illya sat primly on an antique sofa, dressed in what appeared to be her casual wear—a purple blouse and white skirt that still managed to look formal on her doll-like frame. Beside her stood Berserker, a looming presence that made the high-ceilinged room feel suddenly cramped. Vados was engaged in what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with Sella about the castle's architecture, while Leysritt dozed in an armchair nearby.
"Ah, the sleeping god awakens," Illya greeted with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory?"
"Best sleep I've had in at least three dimensions," Viyrim confirmed, floating rather than walking into the room. "Though I'm starving now. Is there food?"
"A full luncheon has been prepared," Sella confirmed, bowing slightly. "Shall I have it served here or in the dining hall?"
"Here is fine," Viyrim decided, sinking into a plush armchair that adjusted itself to his preferred lounging position as he settled into it—another subtle manipulation of reality that he performed without conscious thought.
As Sella departed to arrange the meal, Illya leaned forward, her expression becoming more serious. "While we wait for lunch, perhaps we could discuss the... parameters of our arrangement?"
"Parameters?" Viyrim repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it was pretty simple. You provide comfortable lodging, I don't accidentally destroy your castle when I sneeze."
"There's the matter of the Holy Grail War," Illya pressed. "Your presence has... disrupted the normal progression. Lancer remains missing, Gilgamesh is still frozen in the park, and the other Masters are hesitant to make any moves while an unknown factor of your magnitude remains unaligned."
"Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem," Viyrim shrugged. "I'm not here to participate in your little magical tournament. I'm just a tourist."
"A tourist with the power to obliterate reality as we know it," Illya noted dryly. "Forgive me if that causes some concern among the participants."
Before Viyrim could respond, a commotion erupted from the entrance hall—raised voices, the sound of running feet, and a familiar growl from Berserker who moved protectively in front of Illya.
"It appears we have uninvited guests," Vados observed calmly. "Three Servants and two Masters, approaching rather hastily through the main entrance."
Viyrim sighed dramatically. "Can't a god get lunch in peace? Who is it now?"
His question was answered moments later as the salon doors burst open, revealing a diverse group of individuals all radiating varying levels of power and agitation.
At the forefront stood a young woman with twin-tailed black hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a distinctive red coat. Beside her was a tall man with white hair and tanned skin, clad in black armor with a red shroud. Behind them came a boy with auburn hair and golden-brown eyes, accompanied by a petite blonde woman in a blue dress who carried an invisible weapon. Completing the group was a striking woman with long purple hair and blind-looking eyes, dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit.
"Illya!" the red-coated girl called out, her voice tense with urgency. "We need to talk about—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as she spotted Viyrim casually lounging in the armchair. "You! You're the one who froze Gilgamesh!"
"Guilty," Viyrim acknowledged with a lazy wave. "He was being noisy. And rude. Mostly rude, actually."
The white-haired man in black stepped forward, his steel-gray eyes analyzing Viyrim with unsettling intensity. "So this is the anomaly. Interesting. Your energy signature is... unlike anything I've encountered."
"That's Archer," Illya explained to Viyrim, seeming more amused than concerned by the intrusion. "And his Master, Rin Tohsaka. The boring-looking boy is Shirou Emiya, with his Servant Saber. And the woman in black is Rider, though I don't see her Master present."
"She means me," came a soft voice as another figure stepped into the room—a girl with long purple hair and glasses, who seemed to shrink into herself as all eyes turned to her. "I'm Sakura Matou. Rider's Master."
"Great, introductions all around," Viyrim yawned, clearly unimpressed. "Now, was there a particular reason you all barged in here, or did you just want to stare at me during lunch?"
Rin Tohsaka stepped forward, her posture radiating determination despite the obvious power imbalance. "We're here because your presence has thrown the entire Holy Grail War into chaos. Masters and Servants are forming unprecedented alliances just to figure out how to deal with you."
"As evidenced by your little delegation here," Viyrim noted with a smirk. "Former enemies working together in the face of a bigger threat. Classic story."
"You're not taking this seriously," Rin accused, frustration evident in her voice.
"Because it's not serious to me," Viyrim replied simply. "Your war, your rules, your wish-granting cup—none of it matters in the cosmic scale of things."
The auburn-haired boy—Shirou—stepped forward, his expression earnest. "But it matters to us. People are fighting and dying for the Grail. If you're not here for it, then why interfere at all?"
Viyrim studied the boy with newfound interest. There was something peculiar about him—not power exactly, but potential. Like a sword not yet forged but containing exceptional ore.
"I'm not interfering," he clarified. "I'm observing. And eating your food. And occasionally napping in comfortable beds." He stretched lazily. "If my presence disrupts your plans, that's incidental."
The blonde woman—Saber—moved to stand beside Shirou, her invisible weapon held ready though not yet raised. "With all due respect, mere observation has consequences when performed by a being of your apparent power. Your actions with Lancer and Gilgamesh have already altered the course of the War."
"Lancer was annoying me while I was eating. Gilgamesh threatened me with his toy collection," Viyrim explained as if talking to small children. "Actions have consequences in any reality. They acted, I reacted."
"Where is Lancer now?" Archer asked, his tone neutral but his posture tense.
"Somewhere between the seventeenth and eighteenth dimensional plane, probably," Viyrim shrugged. "He'll find his way back. Eventually. Maybe."
This casual admission sent a ripple of shock through the gathered Masters and Servants. The ability to banish a Heroic Spirit to another dimension with apparently no effort exceeded even the capabilities of True Magic users.
"Perhaps," Vados interjected smoothly, "we could continue this discussion over lunch? My lord is rather particular about his feeding schedule, and I fear his mood may deteriorate if it's further delayed."
As if on cue, Sella and Leysritt entered with a procession of servants carrying trays laden with an assortment of dishes—both Japanese and Western cuisines represented in lavish abundance. The scent of perfectly prepared food temporarily distracted everyone, even the tense Servants.
"Now we're talking," Viyrim approved, his attention immediately diverted to the approaching feast. "Everyone sit down and eat something. Hard to be properly antagonistic on an empty stomach."
Surprisingly, this simple statement broke some of the tension in the room. The absurdity of the situation—a being of godlike power inviting his potential adversaries to lunch—created a momentary sense of normalcy in an increasingly abnormal scenario.
Illya, ever the proper hostess despite the circumstances, gestured to the dining table that dominated one end of the salon. "Please, be seated. We might as well discuss matters civilly."
Reluctantly, the unexpected guests complied. The seating arrangement quickly became an awkward exercise in supernatural politics—Servants standing protectively behind their Masters, eyes never leaving Viyrim, who remained oblivious to their concern as he eagerly examined the food options.
"Try the wagyu beef," he recommended to no one in particular as he loaded his plate. "It's one of the best things this planet has to offer."
"You speak as if you've visited many planets," Archer observed carefully.
"Thousands," Viyrim confirmed between bites. "Though usually just long enough to try the local cuisine or destroy something problematic. Rarely do I stick around this long."
"Destroy something problematic?" Shirou repeated, his expression troubled. "Like what?"
Viyrim waved his chopsticks dismissively. "Unstable stars, reality-threatening anomalies, occasionally civilizations that have become too destructive for universal balance." He shrugged. "It's my job. God of Destruction, remember?"
The casual way he discussed planetary annihilation sent another chill through the room. Even Berserker seemed to tense, his instincts recognizing a predator far above his place in the food chain.
"And is there something here you deem... problematic?" Rin asked carefully, her hand inching toward the magical gems concealed in her pocket—a futile precaution, but instinctive nonetheless.
Viyrim considered the question as he savored a piece of sashimi. "Not yet determined. Though that corrupted wish-granting device you're all fighting over does ping my interest. Something about it feels... off."
This statement captured everyone's attention.
"Corrupted?" Saber questioned, her green eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"The Holy Grail is supposed to be pure magical energy," Rin added, leaning forward. "A direct connection to the Root itself."
Viyrim glanced at Vados, who nodded slightly.
"Your Holy Grail contains a malevolent consciousness," she explained clinically. "A concentration of 'all the world's evils,' if the psychic impressions I've gathered are correct. Any wish granted through such a vessel would be twisted toward destruction and suffering."
The revelation landed like a bomb in the middle of the elegant lunch. Sakura gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Shirou's face paled. Rin looked stunned, then furious. Illya alone seemed unsurprised, though her expression darkened.
"You knew," Rin accused, turning to the white-haired girl. "The Einzberns knew the Grail was corrupted!"
"Of course we did," Illya replied coolly. "We've known since the Third War. Why do you think we've been so desperate to secure it? Only an Einzbern can purify the Grail and restore its original purpose."
"That's not entirely accurate," Vados noted gently. "The corruption has spread too deeply into the Grail's conceptual framework. Purification through conventional means is no longer possible."
"Then what's the point of all this?" Shirou demanded, rising from his seat. "If the Grail can't grant pure wishes, why are we fighting? Why are people dying?"
"Because humans love fighting over shiny things, even poisoned ones," Viyrim observed, helping himself to more food. "Tale as old as time, across every dimension I've visited."
The bluntness of his assessment stunned the group into momentary silence. It was Archer who finally spoke, his voice carefully measured.
"If the Grail is truly corrupted beyond salvation, then perhaps it should be destroyed rather than claimed."
"Finally, someone talking sense," Viyrim approved, pointing his chopsticks at Archer. "I like this one. Practical thinking."
"You can't be serious," Rin protested. "The Holy Grail is a direct link to the Root—the source of all magic in our world. Destroying it could have catastrophic consequences for thaumaturgy itself!"
Viyrim shrugged. "Or not. Depends on how it's destroyed. I could probably erase it without disrupting your magical systems too much." He paused, considering. "Probably. No guarantees though."
"That's not reassuring," Saber commented dryly.
The conversation might have continued in this vein indefinitely had it not been for a sudden shift in the atmosphere—a heaviness that descended over the castle like an invisible blanket. Even the humans present could feel it, a pressure that made breathing slightly more difficult and caused the fine hairs on their arms to stand on end.
Viyrim paused mid-bite, his expression shifting from lazy indifference to mild interest for the first time since their arrival.
"Now that," he said, setting down his chopsticks, "feels like something actually worth waking up for."
Vados nodded, her normally serene expression showing a hint of concern. "Indeed, my lord. It appears we have another visitor. One of... significant divine presence."
"What is it?" Illya asked, glancing between them. "Another Servant?"
"No," Viyrim replied, rising from his seat and stretching languidly. "Something native to this world, but older. Much older." A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "And apparently curious enough about me to make a personal appearance."
The pressure intensified, focusing into a single point in the center of the salon. Space itself seemed to fold inward, colors inverting briefly before resolving into a human figure—a woman of breathtaking beauty with long black hair streaked with white, wearing an elaborate kimono of deepest blue patterned with stars. Her eyes, when she opened them, were utterly empty—not blind, but containing the void itself.
"Interesting," she said, her voice echoing strangely as if coming from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. "Very interesting indeed."
Saber immediately moved into a defensive stance, her invisible sword raised. "Void Shiki," she breathed, recognition and alarm evident in her tone.
"You know her?" Shirou asked, unable to tear his gaze from the newcomer.
"Not personally," Saber replied tensely. "But every Heroic Spirit knows of her. She's an avatar of Akasha itself—the Root given human form."
Viyrim tilted his head, studying the woman with genuine curiosity. "The Root, huh? That thing you mentioned earlier—source of all magic and whatnot? Gotta say, I expected something more impressive. Maybe with more tentacles."
Rather than taking offense, Void Shiki laughed—a sound like crystal wind chimes that somehow carried both warmth and absolute emptiness.
"And I expected something more impressive from a so-called God of Destruction from beyond dimensions," she countered. "Perhaps we are both destined for disappointment."
"Ouch," Viyrim clutched his chest in mock pain. "The embodiment of your reality just insulted me. That stings a bit."
The exchange left the onlookers in stunned silence. The casual banter between beings of such incomprehensible power was both surreal and terrifying.
"I came to see what manner of entity could penetrate the dimensional barriers of this world without my awareness or permission," Void Shiki explained, gliding forward with movements that seemed to float between moments rather than occupy them continuously. "You are... anomalous. A concept that exists outside my records."
"I get that a lot," Viyrim shrugged. "Dimensional tourists don't usually register on the local cosmic radar until we do something interesting."
"Like freezing a demigod in time or banishing a Heroic Spirit to another dimension?" she suggested with a small smile.
"Minor stuff," Viyrim waved dismissively. "Basic tourist activities. You should see what happens when I actually try."
The air between them practically crackled with power—Void Shiki's infinite emptiness against Viyrim's unlimited destructive potential. Two conceptual absolutes facing each other across an elegant dining table laden with half-eaten gourmet food.
"Would you like to see?" Viyrim offered suddenly, his golden eyes gleaming with an excitement that had been absent until now. "I haven't had a decent sparring partner in centuries."
The temperature in the room plummeted. Masters and Servants alike found themselves unable to move, caught in the gravitational well of powers beyond comprehension.
Void Shiki's empty eyes seemed to fill briefly with stars—entire galaxies spinning in their depths. "Tempting," she admitted. "But perhaps not here. This castle and its occupants might not survive even our most restrained exchange."
"Fair point," Viyrim conceded. "Rain check, then?"
"Indeed." Void Shiki's gaze swept over the assembled group, lingering particularly on Shirou Emiya with an expression of amusement. "How curious that you all gather here, pieces moving on a board whose true dimensions you cannot comprehend."
"Yeah, they do that a lot," Viyrim agreed, resuming his seat and returning to his meal as if the manifestation of the cosmic source of all reality was an everyday occurrence. "Want some sashimi? It's pretty good."
To everyone's astonishment, Void Shiki gracefully accepted a seat at the table. "I rarely indulge in physical pleasures," she admitted. "But this vessel does appreciate fine cuisine on occasion."
And so began one of the strangest luncheons in the history of the Nasuverse—Masters and Servants breaking bread with a lazy God of Destruction and the anthropomorphic manifestation of the Root itself, discussing the corruption of the Holy Grail as casually as others might discuss the weather.
Reality in Fuyuki had never been so precariously balanced—or so unexpectedly mundane.
## Chapter 4: Divine Entanglements Begin
The bizarre luncheon with Void Shiki marked a turning point in Viyrim's stay in the Nasuverse. What had begun as casual tourism quickly evolved into something more complex as word of his presence—and more importantly, his casual interaction with an avatar of the Root—spread through the supernatural community like wildfire.
The next morning, Viyrim discovered that his private bathing ritual had gained an unexpected observer. The enormous marble bath in his suite, more akin to a small swimming pool, had become his favorite feature of the Einzbern Castle. He had just settled into the steaming, scented water when a ripple in reality announced a visitor.
"You know," he commented without opening his eyes, "most dimensions have customs about knocking before entering someone's bathroom."
"How boring those dimensions must be," replied a sultry voice that seemed to caress the air itself.
Viyrim cracked one eye open to find a woman of extraordinary beauty perched on the edge of his bath. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her hair a cascade of lavender silk that fell to her hips. She wore what could generously be described as minimalist attire—strips of black fabric that emphasized rather than concealed her perfect form. Most striking were her eyes—crimson irises that smoldered with ancient desire.
"Let me guess," Viyrim said, closing his eye again and sinking deeper into the water. "Another divine entity feeling threatened by my presence and coming to assess the competition?"
The woman laughed, the sound like dark honey. "Close, but not quite. I'm not threatened—I'm intrigued." She trailed one delicate finger through the bath water, creating ripples that bent unnaturally around Viyrim's body. "I am Kama, Goddess of Love and Desire. Or Beast III/L, if you prefer my darker title."
"A pleasure," Viyrim replied without enthusiasm. "Not to be rude, but I was kind of in the middle of something here."
"A bath?" Kama smiled mischievously. "I don't mind. In fact, I could join you. Bathing together is an ancient ritual of intimacy in many cultures."
Before Viyrim could respond, the bathroom door opened, and Vados entered with fresh towels. She paused, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow but otherwise showing no surprise.
"I see you've already met Lady Kama," she observed. "She arrived at the castle gates twenty minutes ago, claiming an appointment with you."
"Did she now?" Viyrim glanced at the goddess, who smiled innocently.
"A small deception," Kama admitted without a trace of remorse. "But necessary. Your... attendant is quite protective of your privacy."
"For good reason," Vados noted. "The last deity who interrupted Lord Viyrim's bath time was transformed into a constellation as a permanent reminder of proper cosmic etiquette."
Kama's smile didn't waver, though her eyes narrowed slightly. "How fascinating. And yet, here I sit, unscathed. Perhaps your master finds me more amusing than threatening?"
"Or perhaps I haven't decided what to do with you yet," Viyrim countered, finally sitting up in the bath. The water cascaded off his upper body, which despite his lazy habits was perfectly defined—the physical manifestation of destructive power contained in humanoid form.
Kama's eyes widened fractionally as she took in the sight, a flicker of genuine desire replacing her calculated seduction. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable to beings who had existed for eons.
"Now that's interesting," Viyrim noted with a smirk. "The Goddess of Desire actually experiencing the emotion rather than simply manipulating it in others. Doesn't happen often, does it?"
For the first time, Kama appeared slightly discomposed. "You... perceive more than you let on, God of Destruction."
"I perceive everything," Viyrim shrugged. "I just usually can't be bothered to care." He stood up fully, the water sluicing down his form as he reached for a towel. "Now, was there a point to this invasion of my bathroom, or were you just admiring the view?"
To her credit, Kama recovered quickly. "I came to satisfy my curiosity about the being who can converse casually with Void Shiki and dismiss Gilgamesh like an annoying insect." She rose gracefully, moving with liquid elegance. "Entities of your caliber are rare visitors to this reality. As a goddess of this world, it's my... duty to investigate."
"Your duty," Viyrim repeated skeptically, wrapping the towel around his waist. "Nothing to do with the fact that my existence threatens the established divine hierarchy you're comfortable with?"
Kama laughed again, this time with genuine amusement. "Oh, I care nothing for hierarchy. Chaos suits my nature far better than order." She moved closer, her scent—jasmine and something darker, more primal—filling the humid air. "What interests me is power that exists beyond desire. You want nothing, yet you possess everything. It's... paradoxical."
"Not really," Viyrim countered. "Wanting is exhausting. Having is simple."
The philosophical simplicity of this statement seemed to genuinely intrigue Kama. She studied him with new interest, her head tilted slightly.
"You are unlike any deity I've encountered," she admitted. "Most gods are defined by their wants—power, worship, control. You seem defined by their absence."
"I'm defined by my function," Viyrim corrected, gesturing to Vados who immediately provided him with a robe. "I destroy what needs destroying to maintain universal balance. No more, no less."
"And what needs destroying in our little reality?" Kama asked, her tone light but her eyes intent.
Viyrim shrugged into the robe. "Haven't decided yet. The corrupted Grail is a candidate, but I'm still weighing the entertainment value against the cosmic hazard ratio."
"Entertainment value?" Kama repeated, her perfect brows arching.
"Sure.