Gci2
# The Wrong Summon: When the Cosmos Boredom Strikes
## Chapter 6: Summoning Chaos (Continued)
The kitchen staff had embraced the challenge of creating novel pudding varieties with surprising enthusiasm, treating each new creation as a high-stakes culinary experiment. Today's offering—a constellation-themed dessert with tiny edible stars suspended in layers of cosmic purple and deep blue—awaited delivery to Viyrim's quarters.
But the most significant change in Chaldea's operations centered around the summoning chamber.
"It's happening again," Romani reported, staring at readings on his console with a mixture of fascination and dread. "The FATE system is activating independently."
Da Vinci nodded, making rapid adjustments to the monitoring equipment. "The pattern is becoming clearer. Every twelve hours, almost exactly, the system resonates with Viyrim's energy signature and initiates an unsanctioned summoning."
Olga Marie paced the observation deck overlooking the summoning chamber, where the magical circuits in the floor pulsed with an eerie purple glow that definitely hadn't been part of the original design. "And there's nothing we can do to stop it?"
"Not without risking catastrophic feedback," Da Vinci confirmed. "Whatever connection has been established between Viyrim and the Throne of Heroes, it's operating on principles beyond our current understanding."
"At least the Servants being summoned aren't hostile," Mash offered optimistically from her position beside the Master candidate. "Unusual, yes, but not actively dangerous."
"Yet," Olga muttered darkly.
The previous days had seen five unexpected Servant materializations, each following the same bizarre pattern—instead of appearing in the summoning circle itself, they manifested directly in Viyrim's vicinity, already kneeling as if in automatic deference to his divine status. The roster thus far included Scáthach, Gilgamesh, Tamamo-no-Mae, EMIYA, and most recently, a confused but adaptable Jeanne d'Arc.
Each had initially struggled with the compulsion to kneel before Viyrim, a behavior pattern encoded into their manifestation that seemed impossible to override. Gilgamesh had been particularly vocal in his outrage, though notably less arrogant than usual in Viyrim's actual presence. Scáthach had adapted with pragmatic acceptance, while Tamamo had quickly shifted from confusion to calculating interest in the cosmic being. EMIYA maintained a wary distance but couldn't hide his fascination with a power that existed outside his understanding of reality, and Jeanne approached the situation with the serene perspective of one who had faced the impossible before.
Now, as the summoning system hummed with increasing intensity, they waited to see who would be the sixth unexpected addition to Chaldea's roster.
"Here it comes," Da Vinci announced as the purple glow intensified. "Energy signature stabilizing... manifestation imminent in Sector 7-C."
"That's the recreation area," Romani noted with alarm. "Where Viyrim is currently—"
"Holding his pudding tasting session," Olga finished with a grimace. "Of course he is."
---
In Chaldea's recreation area—a large space with panoramic windows overlooking the Antarctic landscape, transformed by Viyrim's casual reality manipulation to include floating islands of comfortable seating and ambient lighting that shifted through colors not found in the natural spectrum—the God of Destruction was indeed holding court.
Viyrim reclined on a floating divan that hovered a few inches above the floor, surrounded by a semicircle of attentive Servants. Before him stood an eager chef presenting the latest pudding creation with the gravity of a scientist unveiling a groundbreaking discovery.
"I call it 'Cosmic Nebula,'" the chef explained, indicating the layered dessert with its suspended edible stars. "The bottom layer is blueberry infused with lavender, the middle is black currant with a hint of elderflower, and the top is acai berry with edible shimmer dust."
Viyrim regarded the offering with exaggerated seriousness, then took a ceremonial spoonful. The assembled Servants watched with varying expressions—Gilgamesh with barely concealed impatience, Scáthach with cool assessment, Tamamo with bright-eyed curiosity, EMIYA with professional interest in the culinary technique, and Jeanne with polite attention.
"Mmm," Viyrim pronounced after savoring the bite. "The texture gradient is inspired—denser at the bottom, progressively lighter toward the top. The flavor profile has genuine depth, reminiscent of actual cosmic dust clouds, though obviously simplified for human palates."
The chef beamed with pride.
"I award it eight out of ten stars on the Cosmic Deliciousness Scale," Viyrim declared magnanimously. "Your best effort yet."
As the chef bowed repeatedly in gratitude and backed away, Arcueid Brunestud entered the recreation area. Over the past days, she had taken to wearing clothing borrowed from Chaldea's stores—today a simple white blouse and black skirt that somehow looked runway-ready on her perfect form.
"Another pudding ceremony?" she asked, her crimson eyes sparkling with amusement as she approached Viyrim's floating divan.
"A critical aspect of interdimensional cultural exchange," Viyrim replied seriously, then broke into a grin. "Besides, you should have seen the look on Beerus's face when I sent him samples yesterday. Pure envy."
Arcueid gracefully settled onto the divan beside him, a proximity that none of the Servants had attempted. Their unusual rapport had evolved rapidly, two apex predators recognizing in each other a kindred eternal spirit beyond conventional categorization.
"You enjoy provoking your counterpart," she observed.
"It's one of life's simple pleasures," Viyrim confirmed. "Like good pudding and excellent company." He offered her a spoonful of the Cosmic Nebula creation, which she accepted with a small smile.
The assembled Servants exchanged glances at this casual intimacy. Gilgamesh, in particular, seemed to be reassessing the situation with newfound interest.
"You seem to collect kneeling subjects wherever you go," Arcueid noted, nodding toward the Servants.
"A charming side effect of my interdimensional presence," Viyrim explained. "Their summoning system finds my divine authority irresistible."
"I find I can relate," Arcueid murmured, just quietly enough for only Viyrim to hear, her eyes meeting his with unmistakable intention.
Before Viyrim could respond to this decidedly forward comment, the air in the center of the recreation area began to shimmer and distort. The familiar signs of an impending unsanctioned summoning.
"Ah, right on schedule," Viyrim commented, setting aside his pudding cup to observe the phenomenon with interest. "Wonder who we'll get this time? Taking bets, anyone?"
"As if random chance has anything to do with it," Gilgamesh scoffed. "These summonings clearly reflect your preferences and nature."
"My preferences?" Viyrim raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I'm subconsciously choosing which heroic spirits to pull from the throne, Goldy?"
"The evidence speaks for itself," Scáthach interjected coolly. "Each of us represents significant power, pride, or unique existence. We are outliers even among Heroic Spirits."
"Special snowflakes, the lot of you," Viyrim agreed cheerfully. "But I assure you, I'm not consciously selecting anyone."
The distortion intensified, reality folding inward upon itself until, with a flash of purple-tinged light, a new figure materialized—immediately kneeling, of course.
Long purple hair cascaded over slender shoulders, framing a delicate face with strikingly beautiful features. The newcomer wore an outfit that seemed to combine elements of traditional Japanese clothing with more revealing modern adaptations, accentuating a figure that could only be described as dangerously curvaceous.
"Servant Rider," she announced in a melodious voice, her eyes downcast in the kneeling position. "Medusa. I have answered the summ—" She faltered as she looked up and found herself facing not a conventional Master but a violet-skinned deity reclining in midair. "Oh."
"Welcome to the collection," Tamamo said with a sympathetic smile. "You get used to the weirdness."
Medusa's gaze swept the room, taking in the assembled Servants, the floating furniture, and the casual violation of physics. Her eyes, partially concealed behind a decorative visor that sealed her Mystic Eyes, lingered on Arcueid with recognition and wary respect before returning to Viyrim.
"You are... not what I expected," she said carefully.
"I get that a lot," Viyrim replied cheerfully. "God of Destruction, Universe 6. Currently on vacation in your reality. You can stand, by the way. The kneeling thing is amusing but unnecessary after the initial manifestation."
Medusa rose gracefully to her feet, her height making her tower over most of the room's occupants. "This is... unusual," she commented, understatement evident in her tone.
"You're in good company," EMIYA assured her. "None of us were expecting... this... either."
"Pudding?" Viyrim offered, holding out his cosmic creation. "Chef's latest masterpiece."
Medusa blinked in confusion at the non-sequitur, but before she could respond, alarms began blaring throughout Chaldea. Red emergency lights pulsed along the corridors, and the facility's automated announcement system activated.
"Alert. Spatial anomaly detected in the upper atmosphere. All personnel to emergency stations. This is not a drill. Repeat: This is not a drill."
"Oh dear," Viyrim sighed, setting aside his pudding cup once more. "And just when things were getting interesting." He turned to Arcueid with an apologetic smile. "Rain check on our conversation?"
"I'll hold you to that," she replied, a predatory gleam in her crimson eyes.
Olga Marie's voice came over the intercom, tense with controlled panic. "Lord Viyrim, your presence is requested in the control room immediately. We have a situation."
"Don't they always?" Viyrim commented to no one in particular as he floated to his feet. "Servants, True Ancestor—shall we go see what apocalyptic crisis requires attention today?"
---
The control room was a hive of frantic activity when Viyrim arrived, followed by his entourage of Heroic Spirits and one True Ancestor. Screens displayed a massive spatial distortion hovering in the atmosphere above Chaldea—a swirling vortex of energy unlike the clean rifts that had brought the divine visitors days earlier.
"What am I looking at?" Viyrim asked, floating over to where Olga Marie stood with Romani and Da Vinci, all three looking grim.
"We were hoping you could tell us," Olga replied tensely. "This anomaly appeared twenty minutes ago and has been growing exponentially. Its energy signature doesn't match anything in our database."
Viyrim studied the readings with unusual seriousness. "It's not from my reality cluster," he confirmed after a moment. "The dimensional frequency is all wrong."
"Could it be related to the Beast you eliminated?" Da Vinci suggested. "Perhaps a secondary manifestation?"
"No," Viyrim shook his head. "That energy was conceptual corruption. This is..." He frowned, genuinely perplexed. "It's almost like a deliberate tear in reality. As if something is forcing its way through from... somewhere else."
Vados, who had been noticeably absent during the pudding tasting ceremony, appeared at Viyrim's side with characteristic silent grace. "My lord," she said quietly, "I believe I may have identified the anomaly's origin."
"Do tell," Viyrim prompted, his usual flippancy subdued by the seriousness of her tone.
"It appears to be from the Void Between Realities," Vados explained, her staff glowing softly as she consulted its orb. "Specifically, from a pocket dimension that exists in the negative space between Universe 6 and what these humans would call the Nasuverse."
"The Void?" Viyrim's expression darkened. "Nothing should be able to navigate the Void independently, except—"
"Void Walkers," Vados finished grimly. "Precisely my concern."
Arcueid stepped forward, her crimson eyes fixed on the swirling anomaly displayed on the screens. "What are Void Walkers?" she asked, a predatory edge to her voice.
"Parasitic entities that exist between realities," Viyrim explained, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "They feed on the energy released when dimensions interact—like the energy released when I crossed from my universe to yours."
"You think they followed you here?" Gilgamesh demanded, accusation clear in his voice.
"Not intentionally," Viyrim replied. "More like moths drawn to a flame. My crossing would have released enough interdimensional energy to attract them, and my continued presence here, creating pocket dimensions and reality bubbles..." He grimaced. "I might as well have been ringing the dinner bell."
"How dangerous are these entities?" Olga demanded.
"On their own, manageable," Vados answered. "In sufficient numbers, they can consume enough dimensional energy to collapse the barriers between realities entirely."
"And how many are we talking about?" Romani asked, his voice slightly higher than normal.
The answer came not from Vados but from a technician monitoring the sensors. "The anomaly is breaching! Multiple entities emerging!"
All eyes turned to the main screen, where the swirling vortex had split open like a gaping wound in reality itself. Through this tear poured what could only be described as living shadows—writhing, amorphous shapes that seemed to distort the very air around them. Their surfaces rippled with impossible geometries, occasionally revealing glimpses of what might have been mouths filled with crystalline teeth or eyes that observed from angles that shouldn't exist.
"Void Walkers," Viyrim confirmed grimly. "Hundreds of them."
"Can you destroy them like you did the Beast?" Olga asked, hope evident in her voice.
"Unfortunately, no," Viyrim replied. "Void Walkers exist partially outside conventional reality. Destruction energy would simply pass through them unless properly anchored to their dimensional frequency." He turned to Vados. "We'll need a more... personal approach."
"Indeed, my lord," Vados agreed.
"What does that mean?" Scáthach asked, her crimson eyes narrowed in calculation.
Viyrim smiled, and for the first time since his arrival, the assembled humans and Servants glimpsed something of the true God of Destruction beneath his casual exterior—ancient, implacable, and terrifyingly powerful.
"It means," he said, cracking his knuckles with a sound like distant thunder, "that I get to stretch my legs a bit. Who's up for a little void entity extermination?"
## Chapter 7: Divine Combat
The Antarctic sky, usually clear and piercingly blue, now boiled with unnatural darkness as hundreds of Void Walkers poured through the dimensional tear. They moved like oil on water, sliding across reality rather than existing fully within it, leaving distorted afterimages in their wake.
On a plateau a safe distance from Chaldea's main structure stood an unlikely battle line—a God of Destruction, his angelic attendant, a True Ancestor, and six legendary heroes summoned from across time and space.
"Remember," Viyrim instructed as they watched the approaching horde, "these things exist partially out of phase with our reality. Standard attacks will pass through them unless synchronized to their dimensional frequency."
"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" EMIYA asked, already tracing specialized arrows that pulsed with modified prana.
In answer, Viyrim raised one hand and sent a pulse of purple energy washing over the assembled defenders. "Temporary dimensional attunement," he explained. "Your attacks should connect now, but it won't last indefinitely. Make them count."
"What's the strategy?" Scáthach asked, her crimson spear Gáe Bolg already humming with deadly intent.
"Hit them hard, hit them fast, and don't let them touch you," Viyrim replied. "Their touch drains dimensional energy—which for you Servants means your spiritual anchor to this reality."
"In other words," Jeanne clarified, raising her battle standard, "if they touch us too much, we disappear?"
"More or less," Viyrim confirmed cheerfully. "So maybe don't let that happen."
"Wonderful," Gilgamesh muttered, though the golden portals already opening behind him suggested he wasn't overly concerned.
"What about me?" Arcueid asked, her crimson eyes tracking the movements of the Void Walkers with predatory focus. "I'm not a Servant."
"You're still a conceptual being in this reality," Viyrim explained. "They'll drain your connection to the planet if they get a hold of you. Not immediately fatal, but definitely not pleasant."
"Noted," Arcueid replied with a feral smile that promised violence.
Vados stood slightly apart, her staff glowing with increasing intensity. "I've established a perimeter barrier," she announced. "None will escape to threaten the wider world."
"Always so thorough," Viyrim commented appreciatively. "Right then! Let's—"
He was interrupted by the arrival of Medusa, who emerged from Chaldea at a dead sprint, her long purple hair streaming behind her as she joined the defensive line. "Sorry I'm late," she said, slightly breathless. "Had to retrieve my chains." She brandished her signature weapon, the Chains of Heavenly Binding, which now glowed with the same purple energy Viyrim had infused into everyone.
"The more the merrier," Viyrim grinned, then turned to face the approaching horde. "Now then, shall we get started?"
Without waiting for response, he shot upward like a violet comet, trailing destruction energy as he hurtled directly into the heart of the Void Walker swarm. The moment he made contact, the sky erupted with purple light and the sound of reality itself protesting as destruction energy met void matter.
Void Walkers scattered like disturbed insects, their amorphous forms writhing as they tried to evade the God of Destruction suddenly in their midst. Viyrim moved with impossible speed, each punch and kick leaving trails of purple energy that sliced through the shadow entities like a hot knife through butter.
"Show-off," Gilgamesh muttered, then thrust a hand forward. "Let's not be outdone, shall we? Gate of Babylon!"
The air behind him shimmered as dozens of golden portals opened, each disgorging a different legendary weapon. These treasures, now infused with Viyrim's dimensional attunement, shot forward like divine missiles, piercing through Void Walkers and causing them to dissolve into motes of dissipating darkness.
Not to be outdone, Scáthach leapt into action, her movements a crimson blur as she carved through the descending entities with precise, economical strikes. Each thrust of Gáe Bolg found a vital point despite the Void Walkers' amorphous nature, their shadowy substance parting like smoke before her legendary spear.
EMIYA took a different approach, hanging back and providing covering fire with traced arrows that had been modified to split into dozens of smaller projectiles midair. These energy bolts rained down on clusters of Void Walkers, forcing them to scatter and making them easier targets for the close-range combatants.
Jeanne raised her battle standard high, and a wave of golden light pulsed outward, creating a protective barrier around the defenders. "Their touch is cold," she warned as several Void Walkers tested the barrier, leaving frost-like patterns where they made contact. "Like the absence of life itself."
Tamamo danced through the battle with surprising agility, paper talismans flying from her hands in precise patterns. Where they struck Void Walkers, the entities froze momentarily, their shadowy substance crystallizing long enough for her to shatter them with a well-placed kick or spell.
But it was Arcueid and Medusa who truly surprised the observers from Chaldea, who watched the battle through protective barriers and surveillance systems. The True Ancestor moved with primal grace, her slender hands somehow hardening into claw-like weapons that tore through Void Walkers as if they were tissue paper. Each movement was precisely controlled yet utterly predatory, revealing the ancient hunter beneath her beautiful exterior.
Medusa, meanwhile, wielded her chains with deadly precision, each strike accompanied by a sonic boom as she broke the sound barrier. The chains seemed to extend and retract at her will, wrapping around Void Walkers and constricting until they imploded into nothingness.
Above them all, Viyrim carved a path of destruction through the heart of the swarm, his movements becoming increasingly elaborate and showmanlike as he warmed to his task. He spun, twisted, and pirouetted through three-dimensional space, each movement leaving trails of purple energy that formed complex patterns in the sky.
"He's showing off," Scáthach observed dryly as she impaled three Void Walkers simultaneously.
"Of course he is," Arcueid replied, a hint of admiration in her voice as she tore another entity to shreds with her bare hands. "Wouldn't you, with power like that?"
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden shift in the battlefield. The remaining Void Walkers, perhaps recognizing they were outmatched individually, began to flow together like mercury, combining into larger, more coherent forms.
"They're adapting," Vados called out in warning. "Preparing for a coordinated assault."
The amorphous shadows coalesced into three massive entities, each roughly humanoid but with proportions that hurt the eye to observe—limbs too long and jointed in impossible places, torsos that twisted in non-Euclidean geometries, and heads that seemed to observe from multiple dimensions simultaneously.
"Well, that's new," Viyrim commented, floating back down to join the others. "Usually they're not smart enough to coordinate like this."
"Perhaps they've been feeding on something particularly nutritious," Vados suggested, giving Viyrim a pointed look.
"Are you implying my divine energy is making them smarter?" Viyrim asked, sounding more intrigued than concerned.
"I'm stating it outright, my lord," Vados confirmed. "These entities have clearly absorbed trace amounts of your power from the dimensional disruptions you've been creating."
"Huh." Viyrim considered this with a head tilt. "That's both flattering and concerning."
The three massive Void Walkers began to move toward them with purpose, each step leaving reality slightly distorted in their wake. The ground beneath them frosted over instantly, organic matter withering at their proximity.
"New plan?" Tamamo asked nervously, her ears flattened against her head.
Viyrim cracked his knuckles again, a dangerous smile spreading across his face. "Divide and conquer. Three big nasties, eight of us. Seems fair."
"I'll take the left one," Arcueid declared immediately, her crimson eyes locked onto her chosen target with predatory intensity.
"Servants with me on the right," Scáthach commanded, assuming battlefield leadership with natural authority. "We'll coordinate our attacks."
"I guess that leaves the middle one for me," Viyrim said with mock disappointment. "Vados, maintain the perimeter. We don't want any of these things escaping to the wider world."
"Of course, my lord," Vados agreed, rising higher to oversee the battlefield.
With the plan established, they split into three groups—Arcueid alone against the left Void Walker, Scáthach leading the Servants against the right one, and Viyrim facing the central entity.
The battle resumed with renewed intensity, but now with a focus that had been absent in the chaotic first engagement. Scáthach coordinated the Servants with military precision, each attack building upon the previous one in a symphony of destruction. Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasms opened gaps in the entity's defenses that EMIYA's arrows exploited, creating vulnerabilities for Jeanne to target with her holy banner. Medusa and Tamamo worked in surprising harmony, the Rider's chains binding the creature long enough for the Caster's spells to take devastating effect.
Arcueid, meanwhile, faced her opponent alone but showed no signs of being outmatched. Her movements became increasingly inhuman as she gave herself over to her true nature, her perfect form blurring as she accelerated beyond what the human eye could track. She seemed to be everywhere at once, tearing into the massive Void Walker with such ferocity that it began to retreat, its shadow substance disintegrating under her relentless assault.
But it was Viyrim who commanded the eye, hanging back initially to observe his opponent with unusual seriousness. The central Void Walker, clearly the largest and most coherent of the three, moved with an intelligence that suggested it had absorbed more than just trace amounts of dimensional energy.
"You're a clever one, aren't you?" Viyrim remarked, floating just out of its reach. "Absorbed enough of my essence to develop a rudimentary consciousness. Impressive adaptation."
The entity made no sound, but its form rippled in what might have been acknowledgment. Then, without warning, it lunged forward with impossible speed, one elongated limb stretching to three times its apparent length as it tried to ensnare the God of Destruction.
Viyrim dodged with a casual sidestep in midair, but his expression showed newfound respect. "Quick, too. This might actually be entertaining."
What followed was less a battle and more an elaborate dance, with Viyrim weaving through the entity's increasingly complex attacks with the casual grace of a being who existed partially outside conventional physics. Each near miss was clearly deliberate, a taunt designed to draw his opponent into overextending.
"Are you just playing with it?" Arcueid called out as she tore the last remnants of her opponent to shadowy shreds.
"Studying its patterns," Viyrim replied, executing a perfect backflip over a whip-like appendage. "This one's different. It's not just hunting dimensional energy—it's hunting me specifically."
The Servants, having reduced their opponent to dissipating shadow matter, regrouped to observe this final confrontation. The remaining Void Walker, perhaps sensing its comrades' defeat, suddenly changed tactics. Its amorphous form collapsed inward, then expanded in a pulse of void energy that momentarily distorted everything within a hundred-meter radius.
When the distortion cleared, the entity had taken on a new form—a mirror image of Viyrim himself, though rendered in living shadow with eyes that burned like negative stars.
"Okay, that's just rude," Viyrim commented, sounding more amused than concerned. "Identity theft is a serious crime, you know."
The shadow Viyrim attacked with a punching motion identical to one of the God of Destruction's favored techniques, releasing a pulse of void-tinged energy that mimicked destruction power.
"And now you're copying my moves?" The real Viyrim dodged effortlessly, then countered with a flick of his finger that sent a pulse of genuine destruction energy through the entity's midsection. "Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but you're missing some key elements."
The shadow Viyrim rippled where the energy pulse had passed through it but didn't dissolve. Instead, it seemed to absorb the attack, its form growing more solid and defined.
"It's feeding directly on your power," Vados called out in warning. "Conventional attacks will only strengthen it now."
"Well, that complicates things," Viyrim mused, dodging another mimicked attack. "Guess I'll have to get creative."
With a theatrical gesture, Viyrim suddenly vanished, reappearing instantly behind the shadow entity. Before it could react, he clapped his hands on either side of its head—but instead of releasing destruction energy, he simply held on, his form beginning to glow with intense purple light.
"If you want my power so badly," Viyrim said, his voice resonating with harmonic overtones that shook the very air, "let's see how you handle the real thing."
The shadow entity writhed in his grip, trying to absorb the energy flowing into it, but Viyrim's expression remained one of focused concentration. "You adapted to the trace amounts that leaked through dimensional barriers," he explained conversationally, as if instructing a student rather than battling an existential threat. "But there's a rather significant difference between licking drops from a faucet and drinking directly from a fire hose."
The entity's form began to bulge and distort as more power than it could possibly contain flooded into it. Its shadowy substance stretched thin, light beginning to shine through from within as Viyrim's energy overloaded its capacity.
"Here's the thing about being a God of Destruction," Viyrim continued, his voice still perfectly calm as the entity in his grip began to emit a high-pitched keening sound. "The power isn't just about breaking things. It's about perfect control—knowing exactly how much pressure to apply at exactly the right point."
With surgical precision, Viyrim adjusted his grip, focusing the flow of energy into a specific pattern. The shadow entity's struggles became desperate, its form fluctuating wildly as it tried to disperse the overwhelming power.
"And the most important lesson," Viyrim concluded, "is knowing when enough is enough."
With those words, he released a final pulse of energy—not destruction, but something more fundamental, a recalibration of the entity's very existence. The shadow Viyrim froze, its form crystallizing into perfect stillness before shattering into countless motes of light that drifted upward like reverse snowfall, disappearing into the blue Antarctic sky.
A profound silence fell over the battlefield as the last traces of the Void Walkers dissolved into nothingness. The dimensional tear above slowly sealed itself, reality knitting back together under Vados's careful guidance.
Viyrim floated gently back to earth, landing lightly among the assembled Servants and Arcueid. For a moment, he looked unusually solemn, almost pensive—then broke into his familiar grin.
"Well! That was invigorating. Nothing like a good void entity extermination to work up an appetite." He dusted his hands together as if brushing away crumbs. "Who's ready for lunch? I believe there was talk of a souffle pudding experiment happening in the kitchen today."
The Servants exchanged looks of disbelief, though Arcueid's expression held something closer to appreciation.
"You just battle cosmic horrors and immediately think of pudding?" EMIYA asked incredulously.
"Priorities, Archer," Viyrim replied cheerfully. "When you've existed for millions of years, you learn to appreciate the simple pleasures between apocalypses."
As they made their way back toward Chaldea, Arcueid fell into step beside Viyrim, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed. "That was impressive," she said quietly. "Not the power—I expected that—but the control. The precision."
"High praise from the White Princess herself," Viyrim replied, genuine pleasure in his voice. "I don't often get to demonstrate the finer points of cosmic power manipulation. Most problems can be solved with a casual erasure."
"Like our Beast problem," she noted.
"Exactly. But where's the artistry in that?" He gestured expressively. "Sometimes the challenge isn't in having enough power, but in applying it with appropriate restraint."
"I understand that better than most," Arcueid admitted, her crimson eyes momentarily distant with ancient memories. "When you exist at the top of the food chain, restraint becomes its own art form."
Their conversation was interrupted by Medusa, who approached with uncharacteristic directness. "That entity," she said without preamble, "it chose your form specifically. Why?"
Viyrim considered her question thoughtfully. "Mimicry is a common adaptation strategy for predatory entities. It chose the form it perceived as most powerful—or perhaps most threatening."
"Or most desirable," Scáthach suggested, joining the conversation. "It wanted your power, not just to defeat you but to become you."
"A void entity with cosmic delusions of grandeur," Viyrim mused. "That's actually rather flattering, in a disturbing sort of way."
"Will there be more?" Jeanne asked, practical as ever.
"Possibly," Vados answered before Viyrim could respond. "The energy released during today's battle will have been detected across the void between realities. Others may come investigating."
"Wonderful," Gilgamesh muttered. "So we can look forward to regular invasions from between-dimensional parasites?"
"Think of it as ongoing entertainment," Viyrim suggested brightly. "Breaks up the monotony."
"For you, perhaps," Tamamo pointed out. "Some of us weren't looking for quite so much excitement when we answered a summoning call."
"Speaking of which," Viyrim said, changing the subject with casual deflection, "I believe our little skirmish worked up an appetite. Race you to the dining hall!"
Before anyone could respond, he vanished in a blur of movement, leaving the others to follow at their own pace.
"He treats everything like a game," EMIYA observed, not entirely critically.
"When you've seen civilizations rise and fall like waves on a shore," Arcueid replied, "perhaps that's the only way to stay engaged with existence."
"Or perhaps," Scáthach suggested with surprising insight, "it's a mask that conceals something far more profound."
The group fell silent, considering this possibility as they made their way back to Chaldea, the Antarctic sun glinting off ice crystals disturbed during their battle—the only evidence that cosmic entities had clashed there mere moments before.
## Chapter 8: Divine Domesticity
Two weeks after the Void Walker incident, life in Chaldea had settled into what could generously be called a routine, albeit one that regularly # The Wrong Summon: When the Cosmos Boredom Strikes
## Chapter 8: Divine Domesticity
Two weeks after the Void Walker incident, life in Chaldea had settled into what could generously be called a routine, albeit one that regularly defied the laws of physics, common sense, and institutional protocols. The God of Destruction had become, much to Director Olga Marie's ongoing dismay, something of a fixture in the facility.
Morning found Viyrim floating cross-legged six inches above the floor in Chaldea's observation deck, overlooking the perpetual Antarctic blizzard through panoramic windows. His eyes were closed, and a faint purple aura pulsed around him in time with his breathing. To the casual observer, he appeared to be meditating.
The casual observer would be wrong.
"And that's when the Supreme Kai tried to ban pudding throughout Universe 6," he was explaining to Mash, who sat attentively before him with a notebook. "Can you imagine? A whole universe without pudding! Naturally, I had to take a stand."
"What did you do?" Mash asked, her eyes wide behind her glasses.
"I redesigned his formal gardens into the shape of a giant pudding cup," Viyrim replied with a mischievous grin. "Visible from space. Got my point across rather effectively."
Mash giggled, then quickly composed herself, returning to her note-taking. These morning sessions had become something of a ritual—Viyrim sharing tales of cosmic shenanigans while ostensibly teaching Mash about the broader multiverse. In reality, it seemed to be as much for his entertainment as her education.
"Lord Viyrim," she asked hesitantly, "may I ask a more personal question?"
"Fire away, little shield-bearer," he replied, opening one eye.
"What's it like? Living for millions of years, I mean. Doesn't it get... lonely?"
Viyrim's perpetual smile softened slightly, a momentary glimpse of something ancient and profound beneath his playful exterior. "Loneliness is relative, Mash. When you've existed as long as I have, you learn to appreciate different kinds of connections." He gestured out the window. "See that storm? It's been raging continuously for centuries. From a human perspective, it's just weather, an impersonal force. But when you can watch it for decades, see the patterns within patterns, the dance of snowflakes that will never repeat in exactly the same way... it becomes a form of company."
"That's beautiful," Mash said softly, "but also a little sad."
"Is it?" Viyrim tilted his head. "I don't think so. It's just a different perspective. Immortality isn't about enduring endless time—it's about learning to experience time differently." His smile returned to its usual brightness. "Besides, I have Vados. She's been putting up with my nonsense for eons."
"I heard that, my lord," came Vados's melodious voice as she entered the observation deck. "And I believe 'putting up with' is the correct phraseology." Despite her words, there was unmistakable fondness in her tone.
"See what I mean?" Viyrim winked at Mash. "Never a moment's peace."
"I hate to interrupt your educational session," Vados said, "but there appears to be a situation developing in the training arena."
"Oh?" Viyrim perked up, his aura dissipating as he unfolded from his floating meditation. "What kind of situation? The entertaining kind, I hope."
"Gilgamesh and Scáthach are having what might generously be termed a 'philosophical disagreement,'" Vados explained with diplomatic precision. "Regarding appropriate hierarchies and respect due to ancient kings versus immortal warrior queens."
"Sounds promising," Viyrim replied, floating to his feet. "Coming, Mash? This should be educational in an entirely different way."
---
The training arena, a vast space designed to withstand the Noble Phantasms of multiple Servants simultaneously, looked as if it had already weathered several apocalypses by the time Viyrim, Vados, and Mash arrived. Deep gouges scarred the reinforced walls, several support pillars had been reduced to rubble, and the central platform sported a crater roughly ten meters in diameter.
In the midst of this destruction stood Gilgamesh and Scáthach, facing each other with expressions of cold fury. The King of Heroes gleamed in his golden armor, dozens of Noble Phantasms hovering in the air behind him through open Gates of Babylon. Scáthach, deadly and composed, held her crimson spear in a casual grip that nonetheless promised instant violence at the slightest provocation.
Around the periphery of the arena, a small audience had gathered. EMIYA leaned against one of the few intact pillars, arms crossed and expression resigned. Tamamo sat cross-legged on a floating platform of her own creation, munching on what appeared to be magical popcorn. Jeanne stood ready with her battle standard, clearly prepared to intervene if necessary. Medusa observed from the shadows, her visor concealing her expression but her body language suggesting keen interest.
And at the edge of the arena, looking both exasperated and resigned, stood Arcueid Brunestud with the Master candidate, who appeared to be trying desperately to de-escalate the situation.
"What did I miss?" Viyrim asked cheerfully as he floated over to join Arcueid.
"Gilgamesh suggested a training regimen where he would take command as 'the first and greatest king,'" Arcueid explained, her crimson eyes never leaving the standoff. "Scáthach pointed out that she was training heroes while he was still learning to use a royal chamber pot."
"Ah," Viyrim nodded sagely. "A standard authority dispute with bonus historical perspective."
"It devolved rather quickly from there," Arcueid continued. "Especially when he called her a 'glorified combat instructor' and she referred to him as a 'tantrum-prone child playing with his father's weapons.'"
"Glorious," Viyrim sighed happily. "I do so love watching legends bicker."
"You're not going to stop them?" the Master candidate asked worriedly.
"Why would I? This is the most entertainment I've had since breakfast." Viyrim settled comfortably in midair, conjuring a small cup of pudding that definitely hadn't existed a moment ago. "Besides, a good sparring match keeps everyone sharp."
"This isn't sparring," the candidate pointed out. "They might actually kill each other."
"They'll certainly try," Viyrim agreed cheerfully. "Though I suspect they'll find it harder than anticipated."
As if on cue, Gilgamesh evidently lost patience with the verbal standoff. "Enough!" he declared. "Your impudence ends now, witch queen! Gate of Babylon!"
The golden portals behind him widened, disgorging a barrage of Noble Phantasms that streaked toward Scáthach like divine missiles. The sheer number and speed should have made evasion impossible.
Scáthach didn't bother evading. With movements too fast for the human eye to track, she stepped *through* the incoming barrage, her crimson spear deflecting key projectiles with pinpoint precision while her body flowed around the rest like water around stones. Not a single blade touched her as she closed the distance to Gilgamesh in the blink of an eye.
"Impressive," Viyrim commented through a mouthful of pudding.
Gilgamesh barely had time to manifest his favorite sword, Ea, before Scáthach's spear thrust forced him to defend. The clash of legendary weapons sent shockwaves through the arena, cracking the floor beneath them.
"You dare to challenge the King?" Gilgamesh snarled, his usual composure crumbling in the face of her skill.
"I've trained better kings than you," Scáthach replied coolly, breaking the deadlock with a spinning kick that forced Gilgamesh back several paces. "And killed gods more impressive than your divine heritage."
"Ouch," Viyrim winced appreciatively. "That's going to sting his royal ego."
The battle escalated rapidly, Noble Phantasms flying in increasingly complex patterns as Gilgamesh attempted to overwhelm Scáthach with sheer firepower. She responded with a display of combat prowess that bordered on prescience, each movement precisely calculated to maximize efficiency while minimizing exposure.
"She's beautiful," Arcueid observed, a hint of predatory appreciation in her voice.
"She is," Viyrim agreed. "Over two thousand years of combat experience refined to its purest expression. There's a certain artistry in such perfectly honed violence."
"You admire her," Arcueid noted, glancing at him with curiosity.
"I admire excellence in all its forms," Viyrim replied. "Whether it's a perfectly crafted pudding, a well-designed dimensional barrier, or a warrior who's turned combat into an art form."
Their conversation was interrupted by a massive surge of energy as Gilgamesh, clearly frustrated by his inability to land a decisive blow, began channeling power into Ea. The sword's segments began to rotate, reality itself warping around the weapon as it prepared to unleash its world-sundering Noble Phantasm.
"Enuma Elish!" he called, raising the sword.
Simultaneously, Scáthach dropped into a stance that radiated deadly intent, her spear beginning to glow with crimson energy that distorted the space around its tip. "Gáe Bolg Alternative," she countered.
"Oh my," Viyrim remarked, suddenly more interested. "This could get messy."
As the two Servants prepared to unleash Noble Phantasms capable of reshaping reality, Viyrim casually flicked his finger. A tiny mote of purple energy shot from his fingertip, directly between the combatants, where it expanded into a perfect sphere that encapsulated both Gilgamesh and Scáthach.
The Noble Phantasms activated simultaneously, reality-warping energies colliding within the confines of Viyrim's sphere. The resulting explosion should have leveled half of Chaldea—instead, it was contained entirely within the barrier, the outside world experiencing nothing more dramatic than a slight purple flash.
When the light faded, both Servants stood exactly as before, looking distinctly confused as they realized their ultimate attacks had produced no visible effect.
"What sorcery is this?" Gilgamesh demanded, examining Ea with bewilderment.
Scáthach, more observant, turned her gaze directly to Viyrim. "You contained our Noble Phantasms."
"Just a small localized reality buffer," Viyrim explained, floating over to join them. "Redirected the energy into a pocket dimension where it can dissipate harmlessly. Wouldn't want to damage Chaldea's lovely architecture any further." He gestured to the already devastated arena with an ironic smile.
"You interfered with our combat," Gilgamesh accused, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"I provided appropriate safety measures," Viyrim corrected. "The difference between a productive sparring match and a catastrophic disaster is often just a matter of proper containment." He clapped his hands together. "Besides, I think you've both made your points quite effectively."
"And those would be?" Scáthach asked, her spear still at the ready.
"That you," Viyrim nodded to Gilgamesh, "possess power worthy of the first hero king. And you," he turned to Scáthach, "have the skill to neutralize even the most overwhelming force through perfect technique."
Both Servants considered this, pride momentarily appeased by the diplomatic assessment.
"Now," Viyrim continued, "perhaps you might consider a more collaborative approach to training? Combining the King of Heroes' extensive arsenal with the expertise of the Queen of Shadows could yield fascinating results, don't you think?"
"I do not collaborate," Gilgamesh stated flatly.
"A pity," Viyrim sighed. "I was rather hoping to see what would happen if Ms. Scáthach applied her techniques with some of your more exotic Noble Phantasms." He shrugged elaborately. "But if you're not confident in your ability to work at that level—"
"You question my capability?" Gilgamesh interrupted, predictably bristling at the implied challenge.
"Not at all," Viyrim replied innocently. "I merely wondered if you possessed the versatility to adapt your vast treasures to alternative combat methodologies. But perhaps that's beyond even the King of Heroes."
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed as he recognized the manipulation. "You think yourself clever, God of Destruction."
"I have my moments," Viyrim admitted with a grin.
Scáthach, who had been watching this exchange with growing amusement, finally lowered her spear. "I would be curious to examine the properties of certain legendary weapons," she admitted. "From a purely tactical perspective."
"And I suppose there might be some minor benefit in observing how a warrior of your experience handles divine armaments," Gilgamesh conceded with magnificent reluctance.
"Wonderful!" Viyrim clapped his hands together. "A collaborative training session it is. Why don't you start tomorrow? That should give the maintenance crews time to repair the arena." He gestured to the devastation around them.
As the two Servants departed, still maintaining a dignified distance but no longer actively trying to murder each other, Arcueid approached Viyrim with an appreciative smile.
"Neatly done," she commented. "You manipulated both their egos simultaneously."
"A delicate balancing act," Viyrim admitted. "Though I was genuinely curious about the combination. Imagine Scáthach wielding some of those divine weapons with her technical precision."
"You genuinely enjoy watching them, don't you?" Arcueid observed. "Not just for entertainment, but for the artistry of their abilities."
"Of course," Viyrim replied, floating beside her as they left the arena. "Each Heroic Spirit represents a pinnacle of human potential—legends distilled into their purest expression. Even for a being like me, that's fascinating to observe."
Arcueid studied him with ancient eyes that missed nothing. "You've grown fond of them."
"Fond is a strong word," Viyrim demurred. "Let's say they provide novel perspectives that I find... refreshing."
"Mmm." Arcueid's knowing smile suggested she wasn't fooled. "And what perspective do I provide, I wonder?"
"You?" Viyrim met her gaze directly, something unreadable flickering in his cosmic eyes. "You're neither human nor Servant, neither fully of this world nor entirely separate from it. You exist in fascinating contradictions—predator and protector, ancient and innocent, bound to this planet yet transcending its limitations."
He floated slightly closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. "You're a genuine mystery, Arcueid Brunestud. And for someone who's existed as long as I have, genuine mysteries are precious rarities."
The charged moment between them was interrupted by an alarm suddenly blaring throughout Chaldea. Red emergency lights began to pulse along the corridors, and the facility's automated announcement system activated.
"Alert. Temporal anomaly detected. Rayshift coordinates destabilizing. All personnel to emergency stations. This is not a drill."
"Never a dull moment," Viyrim sighed, though he couldn't quite hide the spark of interest in his eyes. "Shall we go see what temporal crisis requires our attention now?"
"After you," Arcueid gestured with mock formality.
As they made their way toward the control room, they passed Medusa, who had lingered after the arena confrontation. The Rider fell into step beside them, her unusual height placing her at eye level with Viyrim.
"That containment field," she said without preamble. "It wasn't just a barrier. You altered the fundamental properties of space within it."
"Noticed that, did you?" Viyrim seemed pleased by her observation. "Yes, it was a localized reality modification. Changed the rules of causality within the sphere so that cause and effect became circular rather than linear."
"You rewrote physics on a whim," Medusa stated, no question in her voice.
"It's less impressive than it sounds," Viyrim replied modestly. "Just a minor adjustment to how energy propagates through a defined volume."
"For most beings, rewriting the laws of physics would be considered rather significant," Arcueid pointed out dryly.
"It's all relative," Viyrim shrugged. "From my perspective, it's like... adjusting the temperature in a room. A simple parameter change in an existing system."
Medusa studied him with unreadable eyes behind her visor. "You contain contradictions," she finally said. "Great power wielded with casual disregard, yet precise control exercised even in that carelessness."
"I contain multitudes," Viyrim agreed cheerfully. "It's one of the perks of being older than most solar systems."
They arrived at the control room to find it in organized chaos. Technicians rushed between stations, calling out readings and adjustments while Romani and Da Vinci huddled over the main console with deeply concerned expressions.
"What's the crisis du jour?" Viyrim asked, floating over to join them.
"The Rayshift system is experiencing massive temporal fluctuations," Da Vinci explained, not looking up from her calculations. "It's as if multiple timestreams are trying to converge on a single point."
"That sounds temporally uncomfortable," Viyrim observed. "Any idea what's causing it?"
"We were hoping you might have some insights," Romani admitted. "This started shortly after you contained those Noble Phantasms in the training arena."
"Ah." Viyrim had the grace to look slightly abashed. "There might be a connection there."
"What did you do?" Olga Marie demanded, joining the conversation with the force of an oncoming storm.
"Nothing catastrophic," Viyrim assured her. "I simply redirected some reality-altering energies into a pocket dimension for safe dispersal."
"And where exactly is this pocket dimension?" Da Vinci asked with dangerous calm.
"Adjacent to your Rayshift system's temporal buffer," Viyrim admitted. "It seemed the most convenient vacant dimensional real estate at the time."
The three Chaldea officials stared at him in unified disbelief.
"You redirected two colliding Noble Phantasms into the temporal buffer of our most sensitive equipment?" Olga finally managed, her voice rising with each word.
"When you put it that way, it does sound somewhat inadvisable," Viyrim conceded. "In my defense, it was a split-second decision to prevent half your facility from being reduced to subatomic particles."
Before Olga could formulate a suitably scathing response, the main display screen flashed with new warnings. The temporal anomaly was intensifying, concentric rings of distortion spreading outward from the Rayshift chamber.
"Whatever you're going to do to fix this," Romani said urgently, "now would be good."
Viyrim sighed theatrically. "Always cleaning up my own messes. How pedestrian." He turned to Vados, who had materialized silently beside him. "Would you mind assisting? This might require some finesse."
"Of course, my lord," Vados replied, her staff already beginning to glow. "Though I feel compelled to note that this situation would not require fixing had you simply chosen a more appropriate dimensional dumping ground."
"Yes, yes, lecture me later," Viyrim waved dismissively. "For now, let's prevent any unfortunate temporal implosions, shall we?"
Together, god and angel departed for the Rayshift chamber, leaving behind a control room full of humans and Servants who were beginning to wonder if safety might actually be more threatened by their cosmic visitor than by any external crisis.
"Is it always like this with him?" the Master candidate asked Arcueid, who had observed the entire exchange with serene amusement.
"I suspect," she replied thoughtfully, "that chaos follows Viyrim like a loyal pet. Though whether he leads it or it leads him remains an open question."
## Chapter 9: Divine Attraction
The temporal crisis, like most problems Viyrim helped create then subsequently solved, was resolved with a combination of cosmic power and casual reality manipulation that left Chaldea's scientific staff both relieved and professionally offended. Da Vinci, in particular, spent the following days obsessively analyzing the recorded energy patterns, muttering about "interdimensional energy transfer protocols" and "non-Euclidean temporal engineering" with the fervor of a researcher on the verge of either a breakthrough or a nervous breakdown.
Life in the facility settled back into what had become its new normal—which is to say, a state of perpetual low-grade anxiety punctuated by moments of cosmic absurdity.
The recreation area had become Viyrim's de facto throne room, the space transformed by his casual reality manipulation into something that defied conventional architecture. Gravity became optional in certain zones, ambient lighting shifted according to moods not entirely human in nature, and occasionally furniture would rearrange itself when no one was looking directly at it.
It was here that Viyrim held what the staff had taken to calling his "court"—semi-regular gatherings where he would lounge in midair, sampling the kitchen's latest pudding creations while conversing with whoever happened to be present. What had begun as awkward, protocol-heavy interactions had gradually evolved into something almost comfortable, as even the most dignified Heroic Spirits found themselves drawn into Viyrim's orbit.
Today's gathering had an additional purpose. The facility's sensors had detected unusual energy signatures in the upper atmosphere—nothing as dramatic as the Void Walker incursion, but concerning enough to warrant investigation. Rather than immediately rushing into action, Viyrim had suggested a strategic planning session, which somehow transformed into a social gathering with refreshments.
"These energy patterns are consistent with dimensional thinning," Vados explained, her staff projecting holographic representations above the central table. "Minor breaches, not full ruptures."
"Void Walker scouts?" Scáthach suggested, studying the projections with tactical precision.
"Unlikely," Viyrim replied, floating lazily above his favorite divan. "The dimensional frequency is wrong. These are more like... echoes. Aftereffects of our previous visitors."
"Cosmic rubber-banding," suggested Da Vinci, who had joined the session with scientific curiosity overriding her usual caution around Viyrim. "The membranes between dimensions trying to return to their natural state after being forcibly stretched."
"Precisely!" Viyrim pointed approvingly at Da Vinci. "Gold star for the Renaissance woman. The boundaries between realities are elastic—push them too far, and they'll oscillate for a while before settling."
"Is that dangerous?" Mash asked, seated beside the Master candidate.
"Only if the oscillations amplify instead of dampening," Vados answered. "Which is unlikely unless additional stress is applied to the affected dimensional regions."
"So we're fine as long as no one tears open any more holes between realities," EMIYA summarized dryly. "Which, given recent events, seems about as likely as Gilgamesh embracing humility."
"I heard that, faker," Gilgamesh called from where he reclined on a golden throne he had materialized specifically for these gatherings, apparently unwilling to use the "common" seating provided.
"You were meant to," EMIYA replied without missing a beat.
Before the exchange could devolve into another confrontation, a new arrival distracted the gathering. Medusa entered the recreation area, accompanied by Tamamo and Jeanne. The three female Servants had developed an unlikely friendship over the past weeks, united perhaps by the sheer absurdity of their shared circumstances.
What made their entrance notable, however, was their attire. Gone were the battle outfits and formal regalia, replaced by what appeared to be swimwear. Tamamo wore an elaborate bikini in her signature blue and white, with fox-ear decorations on the top. Jeanne had opted for a more modest one-piece in white and gold that nonetheless accentuated her athletic figure. And Medusa...