Uic
The Golden Error: Chaldea's Summit Beyond the Stars
—When a Man Stronger Than the Root Arrived—
Chapter 1: The Impossible Decision
The situation room of Chaldea hummed with a tension so thick it seemed to distort the very air. Holographic displays flickered with alarming readings, their blue light casting ghastly shadows across the faces of those gathered around the central table. Director Goredolf Musik dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief that had long since become sodden with nervous sweat.
"Explain it to me again," he said, his voice strained to maintain any semblance of composure. "In terms even I can understand."
Leonardo da Vinci—not the historical figure, but rather his consciousness transferred into an artificial body of her own design—nodded patiently. Her casual demeanor belied the gravity of the situation, but those who knew her well could see the concern in her eyes.
"Simply put, Director, we're facing something unprecedented." Da Vinci manipulated the holographic display, zooming out to show a visualization of reality itself—countless glowing threads interweaving to form the tapestry of human history. "This Beast-class entity we've detected... it's not attacking human history directly. It's attacking the very foundation that records history."
Mash Kyrielight, her lavender hair framing a face too young for the burdens it carried, leaned forward. "You mean... the Root? Akasha itself?"
"Precisely." Da Vinci's finger traced a dark corruption spreading through the glowing threads. "Our sensors detected it three days ago—a conceptual cancer growing within the fundamental architecture of reality. At first, we thought it was a standard temporal anomaly, but..."
"But it's much worse," finished Sherlock Holmes, his pipe unlit between his fingers. The detective's analytical gaze never left the display. "If this entity succeeds in corrupting the Root, then all of human history—past, present, and all possible futures—will become simultaneously vulnerable to alteration."
Ritsuka Fujimaru, the last Master of humanity, had been silent until now. Unlike the others, whose expertise and supernatural abilities made them exceptional, Ritsuka was painfully ordinary—a young person thrust into extraordinary circumstances through cosmic coincidence. Yet something about them had proven uniquely capable of bonding with Heroic Spirits, forging connections that transcended time and space.
"What about conventional countermeasures?" Ritsuka asked quietly. "Can we Rayshift to the origin point?"
Da Vinci shook her head. "That's just it—there is no origin point. This corruption exists outside conventional spacetime. We can't reach it with standard Rayshift technology." She paused, seeming to weigh her next words carefully. "But... I may have an alternative approach."
The room fell silent. Even the ambient hum of machinery seemed to dull in anticipation.
"I've been developing a theoretical extension to the FATE summoning system," Da Vinci continued, calling up new schematics on the display. "A modification that could, in theory, allow us to summon entities from beyond our conventional understanding of reality."
"Beyond?" Holmes raised an eyebrow. "You mean to reach outside the Throne of Heroes?"
"Beyond even that," Da Vinci confirmed. "Beyond divine spirits, beyond concepts, beyond Akasha itself."
Goredolf's complexion, already pale, now took on a ghostly hue. "That's... that's madness! The energy requirements alone would—"
"Be substantial, yes," Da Vinci agreed. "But not impossible, especially if we channel power from the leyline nexus directly through the FATE system. The real concern isn't the power cost."
"It's what might answer the call," Mash whispered.
Da Vinci nodded grimly. "We would be reaching into the truly unknown—beyond any database, beyond any recorded existence. Whatever we summon might not conform to any rules or limitations we understand."
"Or it might be exactly what we need," Ritsuka said, drawing everyone's attention. "Something outside the Root's jurisdiction might be the only thing capable of fighting a corruption within the Root itself."
Holmes studied Ritsuka with newfound respect. "Logical. Fight fire with that which cannot be burned."
"It's still incredibly dangerous," Goredolf protested. "We could end up summoning something worse than the Beast we're trying to fight!"
"With all due respect, Director," Da Vinci said gently, "we're rapidly running out of options. Our projections give us less than a week before the corruption becomes irreversible."
The room fell silent again as each person weighed the impossible choice before them. Risk summoning an unknown entity from beyond reality itself—or watch as reality crumbled around them.
Finally, Ritsuka stood. "I'll take responsibility. If something goes wrong... it's on me."
"Senpai, no!" Mash protested.
"The decision is mine, ultimately," Goredolf said, surprising everyone with his sudden firmness. "And as much as it terrifies me, I see no alternative." He straightened his cravat with trembling fingers. "Proceed with the modified summoning, Da Vinci. May God have mercy on us all."
The preparations took three days of non-stop work. The summoning chamber, normally a place of controlled ritual, had been transformed into something far more chaotic. The standard summoning circle had been overlaid with new designs—symbols and equations that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles.
Where traditional summoning used catalysts—artifacts connected to the hero being called—this modified ritual required something different. Objects that defied conventional reality: paradoxical geometries, metals transmuted through True Magic rather than science, fragments of conceptual weight but no physical form.
Da Vinci worked tirelessly, her artificial body requiring no rest. Engineers and mages rotated in shifts, their exhaustion evident in the dark circles under their eyes and the increasing frequency of minor accidents.
Finally, as the deadline for action drew perilously close, Da Vinci declared the preparations complete.
"It's ready," she announced to the gathered observers, her voice hoarse from continuous technical directions. "Or as ready as something like this can ever be."
The modified FATE system hummed with power, the air around it seeming to bend and distort as if reality itself objected to what they were attempting. The walls of the chamber had been reinforced with layered bounded fields, though Da Vinci had admitted privately to Holmes that if something truly beyond Akasha decided to be hostile, no bounded field in existence would likely stop it.
Ritsuka stood at the edge of the summoning circle, command seals faintly glowing on the back of their hand. Mash positioned herself protectively nearby, her shield at the ready despite Da Vinci's warnings that it might prove useless against what they were calling.
"Begin the summoning sequence," Goredolf ordered from the safety of the observation room, his voice slightly higher than usual.
Da Vinci activated the system.
At first, the ritual proceeded much like a standard summoning—the circle glowed with blue light, the air charged with magical energy. But then the similarities ended. The blue light flickered, shifted, and suddenly blazed with a golden radiance that had never been seen in any previous summoning.
The monitors tracking the process went haywire. Some cracked, others displayed impossible readings—negative mana measurements, inverted spirit origins, conceptual densities that rewrote themselves moment by moment.
"Something's responding!" Da Vinci shouted over the increasing roar of energy. "The connection is... it's like nothing I've ever seen!"
The golden light intensified until it was painful to look at directly. The summoning circle began to crack—not breaking under pressure, but rather as if reality itself was fracturing around a foreign intrusion.
"Da Vinci!" Ritsuka called out, shielding their eyes. "Is this supposed to happen?"
"Nothing about this is 'supposed to' happen!" she called back. "We're in completely uncharted territory now!"
The fracture in reality widened, the golden light pouring through like arterial blood. For a moment, those present had the distinct and terrifying impression that they weren't summoning something to them—rather, something was using their ritual to tear its way through to them.
And then, abruptly, everything stopped.
The golden light vanished. The roaring ceased. The fractured circle sealed itself with a soft hiss, reality seemingly exhaling in relief.
In the center of the circle stood a man.
Not a heroic spirit wreathed in conceptual weight. Not a divine being radiating otherworldly presence. Not a monster or a demon or an abstract force given form.
Just... a man.
He was tall, powerfully built but not excessively so, with a casual posture that suggested complete ease in his surroundings. His hair was silver-white, pulled back from a handsome face that wore an expression of mild curiosity. He was dressed in what appeared to be casual clothing—a sleeveless black hoodie with a curious winged design on the back, loose pants, and simple shoes.
Most striking was the tattoo visible on his left forearm: the number "77" with a design around it that seemed to shift slightly when viewed directly.
For a long moment, nobody moved or spoke. Even the ever-analytical Holmes seemed temporarily stunned into silence.
The man looked around, taking in the smoking summoning circle, the array of defensive weaponry pointed in his direction, and the expressions of shock on everyone's faces. He scratched the back of his head and grinned.
"Huh," he said finally, his voice surprisingly normal, tinged with amusement. "This definitely isn't the 78th Floor."
Da Vinci's hands flew across her instruments, her eyes widening as she processed the readings—or lack thereof. "Impossible," she whispered. "He's not registering as anything. Not a Heroic Spirit, not divine, not human, not even a concept." She looked up, her genius mind truly boggled for perhaps the first time in her existence. "The instruments can't classify him because he doesn't fit any known classification. He doesn't even leave a Spiritron footprint."
Mash attempted to deploy her shield—Lord Camelot, the crystallized noble phantasm embodying the perfect defense. For the first time since she'd mastered her abilities, the shield failed to materialize. Not from any attack or interference, but simply from the sheer conceptual dissonance of the man's presence.
"The FATE system has stopped responding," reported a technician, panic edging into their voice. "It's like... it's like reality itself doesn't know what to do with him."
Through all this, the man stood casually in the center of the circle, seemingly unbothered by the commotion his arrival had caused. If anything, he appeared mildly interested in their reactions.
Ritsuka, overcoming their initial shock, took a careful step forward. "Who... who are you?"
The man's grin widened—sunshine and danger in equal measure. He gave a small, informal wave.
"Name's Urek Mazino," he said simply. "But my friends call me Ray. Sorry about dropping in unexpectedly—I was climbing the Tower when something weird happened." He looked around again, more curiously this time. "So... what is this place exactly? And who's in charge around here?"
Chapter 2: The Irregular Visitor
The security protocols that followed were, on paper, the most stringent Chaldea had ever implemented. In practice, they proved largely ceremonial—Urek Mazino walked through the facility as if the concept of restriction simply didn't apply to him. Not with malicious intent or deliberate disobedience; he simply moved with the unconscious freedom of someone who had never conceived of limits as anything but suggestions.
They escorted him to a specially prepared containment room—a space designed to hold beings of immense power. Urek entered willingly enough, looking around with the casual interest of a tourist visiting a mildly interesting museum.
"Nice place," he commented, testing the reinforced chair by rocking it back on two legs. "Kind of reminds me of a Workshop facility on the 43rd Floor. Less weird mutant stuff though, which is probably for the best."
Outside the containment room, the Chaldea leadership convened in urgent discussion.
"The readings make no sense," Da Vinci insisted, spreading printouts across the table. "It's as if he exists in a state of conceptual independence from our reality. The Root itself doesn't quite know what to make of him."
"Could he be the threat we were detecting?" Goredolf suggested nervously.
Holmes shook his head. "Unlikely. The temporal corruption began before our summoning attempt. Besides, his arrival appears to have temporarily stabilized the anomalous readings. It's almost as if..." he paused, considering. "As if reality is accommodating itself to his presence."
"What do we know about him so far?" Ritsuka asked.
"Very little," Da Vinci replied. "He calls himself Urek Mazino. He mentions a 'Tower' with numbered floors, and he claims to have been 'climbing' it before our summoning reached him. Beyond that, we have more questions than answers."
"He doesn't seem hostile," Mash offered hopefully.
"No," Holmes agreed. "Rather the opposite—he appears almost unexpectedly amiable. But that tells us nothing about his capabilities or intentions."
Da Vinci tapped the readings again. "Whatever he is, he's powerful. The energy signature around him is... well, it's not quite energy as we understand it. It's something else entirely."
"I think," Ritsuka said slowly, "we should just ask him."
The others exchanged glances.
"Sometimes the direct approach is best," Ritsuka continued. "He doesn't seem threatened or threatening. If we want answers, let's simply talk to him."
"I concur," Holmes said after a moment. "Observation can only tell us so much. Direct interaction will reveal more."
Inside the containment room, Urek had discovered the facility's attempt at comfortable furnishings—specifically, a deck of playing cards left on a side table. By the time Ritsuka and Da Vinci entered, he was in the middle of constructing an elaborate card house that defied several laws of physics in its structural integrity.
"This is pretty relaxing," he commented without looking up, somehow sensing their presence without seeing or hearing them enter. "Though I am getting a little hungry. Do you guys have food in this place?"
Da Vinci blinked, momentarily thrown by the mundanity of the request. "Yes, of course. We can arrange for meals."
"Great!" Urek carefully placed another card, completing what appeared to be a small castle. "So, I'm guessing you folks have some questions for me, right? About how I got here, who I am, that sort of thing?"
"That would be a start," Ritsuka said, taking a seat across from him.
Urek leaned back, the chair somehow not tipping over despite being balanced at an impossible angle. "Well, like I said, I'm Urek Mazino. I'm what they call an 'Irregular' in the Tower—someone who entered from the outside rather than being born there."
"The Tower?" Da Vinci prompted.
"Yeah, it's this massive structure—nobody knows exactly how tall it is. Each floor is like the size of a continent, with its own ecosystems, civilizations, rules... all that stuff." He shrugged as if this were perfectly ordinary. "I climbed to the 77th floor faster than anyone in history, which is how I got my nickname—the Ray of the Tower."
"And what were you doing when our... call reached you?" Ritsuka asked.
"Trying to reach the 78th floor," Urek said simply. "There was this weird energy distortion, which isn't that unusual for a floor test, but then everything went gold and—boom—here I am, talking to you folks." He looked between them curiously. "So what exactly was that summoning thing you did? Some kind of teleportation magic?"
Da Vinci hesitated, trying to frame her explanation in terms that would make sense to someone from an entirely different reality system. "We... we were attempting to summon help. Our world is facing a threat that conventional methods can't address."
"A threat?" Urek's interest visibly perked up. "What kind of threat? Is it strong?"
The eagerness in his voice wasn't what they'd expected. Most beings, when informed of world-ending dangers, didn't respond with what sounded suspiciously like enthusiasm.
"Something is attacking the fundamental structure of our reality," Ritsuka explained carefully. "The Root—Akasha—is the foundation that records all of history and possibility. This entity is corrupting it, threatening to unravel everything."
"Huh." Urek rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So this Root thing is like... the Administrator of your world? The one who makes the rules?"
"Not exactly," Da Vinci began, then paused. "Actually, that's not an entirely inaccurate comparison, from a certain perspective. Akasha isn't sentient as we understand it, but it does establish the fundamental laws and records of our reality."
Urek nodded, processing this. "And you pulled me here to fight this thing that's messing with your Administrator? Must be pretty tough if you had to reach outside your world for help."
"We didn't specifically target you," Da Vinci clarified. "The modified summoning was designed to reach beyond conventional boundaries, but we had no way of knowing who or what would answer."
"Lucky you got me then," Urek grinned, completely without arrogance—as if stating an obvious fact. "So when do we fight this thing?"
Ritsuka and Da Vinci exchanged glances. His casual confidence in the face of what they considered an existential crisis was both reassuring and unsettling.
"Before we discuss that," Ritsuka said carefully, "we need to understand more about you. What exactly can you do, Urek? What are your abilities?"
Urek's grin widened, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes. "Now we're talking! I was wondering when you'd ask the fun question." He stood up, stretching casually. "I use Shinsoo—it's this energy that fills the Tower. Kind of like air, except it's also water, solid matter... everything, really. I can shape it, control it, strengthen myself with it."
"Similar to our concept of mana or Od," Da Vinci murmured.
"Wanna see?" Urek asked, not waiting for an answer. He raised his hand, palm upward.
The air around his hand began to shimmer, distorting like heat waves above hot pavement. Then, impossibly, a small sphere of light formed, glowing with a blue-white radiance that wasn't quite like anything they'd seen before. It wasn't magical energy as they understood it—it was something else entirely, something that seemed to follow different physical laws.
The containment room's sensors went haywire. Several monitors cracked, and the reinforced walls actually creaked under some invisible pressure.
"Whoops," Urek said, extinguishing the light with a casual gesture. "Your reality feels a bit fragile compared to the Tower. I'll be more careful."
Da Vinci stared, her scientific mind racing to process what she'd just witnessed. "That energy... it wasn't registering on any known spectrum. It's as if you're introducing completely foreign physics into our universe."
"I get that a lot," Urek shrugged, seeming completely unfazed by the implications. "So, about this Beast thing you need help with—when do we start? And more importantly, is it strong? Because I've been looking for a good challenge."
The casual way he asked about confronting what they considered an apocalyptic threat left them momentarily speechless. It wasn't bravado or foolhardiness—rather, it was the simple curiosity of someone accustomed to a level of power that made most dangers trivial.
Before they could respond, an alarm blared throughout the facility. Red emergency lights flashed, and a voice came over the intercom:
"Alert! Temporal distortion detected! Beast-class entity activity registered in 18th century France! All hands to emergency stations!"
Urek's eyes lit up with genuine excitement. "Sounds like my cue! Let's go see what this Beast can do!"
Chapter 3: First Contact
The process of Rayshifting—transferring consciousness through time—was typically smooth for experienced Chaldea staff. Today, with the fabric of reality under attack, it felt more like being pulled through a meat grinder.
When they materialized in 18th century Paris, Ritsuka immediately knew something was wrong. The sky overhead wasn't the clear blue of a summer day, as historical records indicated it should be. Instead, it was... fractured. Like looking through a shattered mirror, each piece reflecting a slightly different version of reality.
"Timeline collapse at 57% and accelerating," Mash reported grimly, her shield deployed as she scanned their surroundings. "The Beast's influence is growing."
Around them, Paris existed in multiple states simultaneously. Buildings stood intact on one street corner, while the same structures lay in ruins across the intersection. People walked about their business in some areas, while identical sections of the city were completely deserted. In the most severely affected regions, day and night occurred simultaneously, creating disorienting patches of light and darkness.
"Neat trick," Urek commented, looking around with genuine interest. "Reminds me of the Hidden Floor—a place in the Tower where data and reality get all mixed up."
He'd insisted on joining the emergency response team, brushing aside concerns about his unfamiliarity with Rayshift technology. "I've been teleported between dimensions before," he'd said with a shrug. "It's no big deal."
Now, standing in the fractured reality of Paris, he seemed more intrigued than concerned.
"Civilians are being affected," Ritsuka pointed out, nodding toward a group of Parisians who stood frozen in mid-motion, like statues caught between moments of time.
"The temporal flux is disrupting their existence," Da Vinci's voice came through their communication devices. "They're experiencing all possible versions of this moment simultaneously—their minds can't process it."
A howl tore through the fractured reality—a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, bypassing the ears entirely and resonating directly in the mind. Several nearby civilians clutched their heads and collapsed, blood trickling from their eyes.
"The Beast is here," Mash said grimly, positioning herself protectively in front of Ritsuka.
Urek, who had been examining a building that existed in multiple architectural styles simultaneously, turned toward the sound with evident curiosity. "So that's your Beast? Sounds interesting."
"We need to establish a defensive perimeter," Ritsuka began, falling into the familiar pattern of crisis management. "Mash, if you can—"
A blur of motion cut them off as Urek simply... vanished. One moment he was standing beside them, the next he was gone, moving so quickly he seemed to teleport.
"Did he just—" Mash began.
An explosion rocked the far side of the city—a flash of blue-white light that briefly stabilized the fractured reality around it.
"He engaged the Beast. Alone." Da Vinci's voice sounded both impressed and horrified. "Without even knowing what he's fighting."
They raced toward the disturbance, using Mash's shield to protect civilians along the way. When they reached the scene—a wide plaza now transformed into a smoking crater—they found Urek standing casually in the center, examining his knuckles with mild interest.
"Is that it?" he asked as they approached, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I just punched it once and it ran away."
"It... ran away?" Ritsuka couldn't hide their disbelief.
"Yeah," Urek nodded, pointing vaguely. "Made this weird screeching noise and tore a hole in the air. Went that way, I think, through some kind of dimensional gap."
"Impossible," Da Vinci's voice crackled through their communicators. "Beast-class entities don't retreat. They—wait, the temporal readings are stabilizing! Whatever you did, it's working!"
The sky was indeed healing, the fractures slowly mending themselves as reality reasserted control. Civilians were recovering, looking around in confusion as their temporal perception normalized.
"What exactly did you do to it?" Mash asked, studying Urek with new respect.
Urek shrugged casually. "Just punched it. Not even that hard—maybe one percent of my full strength? Didn't want to accidentally break your universe on my first day here."
Ritsuka and Mash exchanged concerned glances. One percent?
"The Beast appears to be retreating from this time period entirely," Da Vinci reported. "We should return to Chaldea and analyze what happened."
"Already?" Urek asked, looking around with disappointment. "But we just got here. This place seems interesting." He gestured toward the recovering city. "All these old buildings and weird clothes... I've never seen a world outside the Tower before. Can't we explore a bit?"
His childlike enthusiasm for exploration was so at odds with the power he'd just displayed that Ritsuka couldn't help but smile. "Maybe next time. We need to understand what we're dealing with before the Beast attacks again."
"Fine," Urek sighed dramatically. "But you owe me a proper tour of your world at some point. I want to see everything."
As they prepared for Rayshift back to Chaldea, Mash leaned closer to Ritsuka. "Senpai," she whispered, "did you notice? When he punched the Beast, the reality fractures actually healed. It's like his presence somehow reinforces stability rather than disrupting it."
"I noticed," Ritsuka nodded. "He's not just powerful—he's somehow outside the Beast's influence entirely. Da Vinci was right. Fighting fire with something that cannot be burned."
Chapter 4: Ripples in the Pond
News of the mysterious visitor spread quickly throughout Chaldea. In a facility accustomed to housing legendary heroes, divine spirits, and mythological beings, Urek Mazino still managed to be the subject of unprecedented curiosity and speculation.
"He's not in any historical record," Nightingale reported during a staff meeting, her clinical precision as evident in her speech as in her nursing. "I've checked his vital signs—insofar as they can be measured. They don't correlate to any known species or spiritual designation."
"The FATE system still can't classify him," added Da Vinci. "It's as if he exists in a blind spot of the Root itself."
"More concerning," Holmes interjected, "is the Beast's reaction. Based on our analysis of the Paris incident, it didn't just retreat—it was repelled. As if Urek's very existence is antithetical to its nature."
Director Goredolf, who had been stress-eating his way through a plate of petit fours, looked up. "Isn't that good news? That's what we wanted!"
"It is," Holmes agreed, "and yet it raises more questions than it answers. Why would a being from beyond our reality have such a specific effect on a Beast tied to the Root? There's a connection we're missing."
Ritsuka, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. "Where is Urek now?"
"In the cafeteria," Mash answered promptly. "He said something about being 'hungry enough to eat a Bull for breakfast,' though I'm not entirely sure if that was literal or figurative."
"With him, I wouldn't rule out either possibility," Da Vinci said with a small smile.
"I think," Ritsuka suggested, "we should give him more freedom around the facility. If he wanted to harm us, he could have done so already. And if we're asking for his help, keeping him in containment sends the wrong message."
"Agreed," Holmes nodded. "Observation will tell us more than isolation. Let him interact with Chaldea naturally—including the Servants. Their reactions to him, and his to them, may provide valuable insights."
"Just... please try to keep him from destroying anything important," Goredolf pleaded weakly.
In the cafeteria, Urek had become the center of attention without even trying. He sat at a table piled high with empty plates, regaling a growing audience of staff members and curious Servants with tales of the Tower.
"...so then Arie Hon says, 'No one has ever passed my test on the first try,' and I'm thinking, 'Well, no one like me has ever taken it,'" Urek was saying, gesturing expressively. "He does this fancy sword technique that's supposed to be unblockable—looks like a million blades coming at you from every direction. Very flashy."
"What did you do?" asked one of the younger staff members, completely enraptured.
Urek grinned. "I caught his sword. Just reached out and grabbed it." He demonstrated with his hand. "The look on his face! Priceless! Then I said, 'Nice move, but have you tried hitting harder?'"
Laughter rippled through his audience. Servants were typically impressive and often intimidating—living legends with the weight of myth behind them. Urek, despite his apparently vast power, had none of that conceptual gravitas. He was just... personable. Approachable in a way that even the friendlier Servants rarely managed to be.
"Another serving, Sir Mazino?" One of the kitchen staff approached with a fresh plate of food.
"Just Urek is fine," he corrected good-naturedly, accepting the plate. "Or Ray, if you prefer. And thanks! Your food is amazing. Reminds me of this restaurant on the 54th Floor, except without the weird gravity effects that make everything float off your plate."
As he dug into his newest meal, a hush fell over the cafeteria. Urek, sensing the change in atmosphere, looked up to see the crowd parting for a new arrival.
Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes, strode deliberately toward Urek's table. The golden Archer carried himself with his usual imperial arrogance, crimson eyes assessing the newcomer with undisguised interest and disapproval.
"So," Gilgamesh said, his voice carrying throughout the now-silent cafeteria, "this is the anomaly that has all of Chaldea buzzing like common worker bees. The man who supposedly exists outside the Root itself."
Urek looked up from his meal, blinking. "Hey there! Nice outfit—very shiny. You must be important around here."
A collective intake of breath rippled through the onlookers. No one addressed the King of Heroes so casually, certainly not upon first meeting.
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You stand before the first and greatest king, mongrel. The one who collected all the world's treasures. Your very existence is a paradox that offends me."
"Huh?" Urek seemed genuinely confused rather than intimidated. "Why would my existing offend you? That's a weird thing to get upset about." He gestured to the seat across from him. "Want to join me? The food here is great."
Gilgamesh's expression darkened. "You fail to comprehend your position. Everything in this world—every treasure, every concept, every possibility—exists within my purview as king. Yet you claim to come from beyond the very foundation of reality. Beyond my treasury."
"Well, yeah," Urek shrugged, taking another bite of his meal. "I'm from the Tower. Different place entirely. Is that a problem?"
"It is a claim that requires verification," Gilgamesh declared, golden portals beginning to shimmer into existence behind him. "Perhaps a demonstration of my authority will—"
Faster than anyone could track, Urek was suddenly standing, his hand resting lightly on Gilgamesh's armored shoulder. No one had seen him move—he was simply there, casual as could be, still holding a fork with a piece of food speared on it.
"Look, man," Urek said, his voice friendly but with an undercurrent that made the air feel heavy, "I'm trying to enjoy this delicious meal and make some new friends. Not really in the mood for a measuring contest right now." His grip tightened slightly on Gilgamesh's shoulder—just enough to make the golden armor creak audibly. "Maybe later though? I'd love to see what you can do when I'm not eating."
The tension in the room was unbearable. Staff members began quietly retreating toward the exits. Several combat-ready Servants tensed, preparing for what might be a catastrophic confrontation.
For a long, taut moment, Gilgamesh and Urek locked eyes—crimson meeting dark brown in a silent battle of wills. Then, remarkably, Gilgamesh laughed.
It wasn't his usual mocking laugh, but a genuine sound of surprised amusement. The golden portals behind him closed.
"Interesting," the King of Heroes said, studying Urek with new appreciation. "Very few have ever touched the king uninvited and lived. You may continue your meal... for now." He turned to leave, then paused. "But know this, stranger from beyond the Root—Gilgamesh does not forget such boldness. We shall have our contest when the time is right."
After he departed, the cafeteria remained silent for several seconds before erupting into excited whispers. Urek simply sat back down and continued eating, seemingly unperturbed by the encounter.
"Is it always this exciting around here?" he asked a wide-eyed staff member sitting nearby. "Because I'm starting to like this place."
Word of Urek's nonviolent confrontation with Gilgamesh spread through Chaldea like wildfire. By evening, most of the facility was buzzing with embellished accounts of how the mysterious visitor had "put the King of Heroes in his place"—a feat most considered somewhere between impressive and suicidal.
The incident had another, unexpected effect: it catalyzed curiosity among the Servants. If this stranger could earn something resembling respect from Gilgamesh, perhaps he was worth investigating further.
Cu Chulainn was among the first to seek him out, finding Urek in one of Chaldea's observation lounges, where he sat gazing out at the snow-covered mountains with childlike fascination.
"Never seen snow before?" the Lancer asked, leaning against
the doorway. "Or are the mountains themselves what's got you so interested?"
Urek turned, his face lighting up at the new company. "Both, actually! In the Tower, we have artificial weather on some floors, but nothing like this." He gestured at the vast expanse of wilderness. "A world that just... continues. No walls, no ceiling, no administrators setting the rules. It's incredible."
Cu studied the strange visitor with undisguised curiosity. "So this Tower of yours—it's completely enclosed?"
"Yep! Nobody even knows how big it is exactly. Each floor is like a continent, with its own ecosystems and civilizations, but it's all inside." Urek's gaze returned to the horizon. "I've been trying to find a way out for centuries."
"Centuries?" Cu raised an eyebrow. "You don't look that old."
Urek laughed. "I'm older than I look. Time works differently for Rankers in the Tower—especially high ones like me."
"Rankers? High ones?" Cu settled into a chair, obviously intrigued. "Sounds like you have your own hierarchy."
"Oh yeah. The whole Tower runs on rankings. You climb, you take tests, you get a position." Urek's expression shifted to something more contemplative. "That's one reason I like it out here. No assigned number telling people what they're worth."
Cu nodded appreciatively. "I can respect that. Never was one for arbitrary authority myself." He extended a hand. "Cu Chulainn, by the way. Ireland's Child of Light."
Urek shook his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Cu Chulainn! So what's your story? Everyone here seems to have one."
"Died in battle after a life of warfare, glory, and women," Cu grinned wolfishly. "Not necessarily in that order."
"My kind of guy!" Urek declared with genuine enthusiasm. "We should spar sometime. I've been looking for good training partners, but everyone here seems worried I'll break something."
"You might," Cu chuckled. "But I heal fast, and I've never been one to back down from a challenge."
Their conversation was interrupted when Scáthach appeared in the doorway, her crimson eyes immediately fixing on Urek with analytical intensity.
"So you're the anomaly," she said without preamble. "The one who made Gilgamesh reconsider."
"That's me!" Urek answered cheerfully. "Though I wouldn't say he reconsidered—more like postponed. I was eating."
Cu groaned. "Teacher, don't start trouble. We were just getting acquainted."
"I'm not starting trouble," Scáthach replied, though her posture suggested combat readiness. "I'm assessing a potential threat—or ally."
"No threat here," Urek assured her, standing up. "Unless something threatens your world. Then I'm happy to help punch it."
Scáthach's lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. "Bold words. In my experience, those who boast most loudly often fall most quickly."
"Not boasting," Urek shrugged. "Just facts. Where I come from, you don't survive long by exaggerating your abilities."
"Hmm." Scáthach circled him slowly, studying his casual stance and the strange tattoo on his arm. "Cu mentioned sparring. Perhaps that would be more... informative than conversation."
Cu looked between them with growing alarm. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Urek asked, genuine excitement lighting his eyes. "I've been itching for a good workout since I got here."
"Because," Cu explained carefully, "my teacher is known for not holding back. And you..." he gestured vaguely, "...well, you broke reality just by showing up."
"Sounds perfect then," Urek grinned. "When do we start?"
The training facility couldn't contain them. After Urek's first casual movement cracked the reinforced floor—he'd simply taken a step, faster than most eyes could track—Da Vinci ordered an emergency relocation.
"The mountain range south of the facility," she directed through the communication system. "It's uninhabited and geologically stable... relatively speaking."
Scáthach and Urek faced each other across a snow-covered plateau, their breath misting in the cold air. A small group of observers huddled at what they hoped was a safe distance—Cu, Ritsuka, Mash, and a few other curious Servants including Artoria and Emiya.
"Should we set some ground rules?" Ritsuka called out nervously.
"No killing," Scáthach replied calmly.
"No problem," Urek agreed. "I'll be careful."
"I wasn't concerned for myself," Scáthach clarified, a red aura beginning to emanate from her spear.
Without further warning, she attacked. To the observers, she seemed to vanish—moving with the preternatural speed that had made her legend as a warrior queen and trainer of heroes.
Urek didn't move. He simply stood, watching with apparent curiosity as death approached in the form of a crimson spear.
At the last possible instant, he tilted his head slightly to the left. Scáthach's spear missed him by millimeters, the displaced air ruffling his silver hair.
"Nice speed!" he complimented cheerfully. "Almost had to try there."
Scáthach didn't pause. She spun, using the momentum to launch a flurry of strikes from multiple angles simultaneously—a technique that utilized her mastery of the Land of Shadows to attack from dimensional pockets outside normal space.
Urek dodged each one with minimal movement, his body barely shifting as he evaded strikes that should have been impossible to avoid. His expression remained calm, almost playful.
"You're attacking from outside conventional space," he noted with interest. "Reminds me of spatial manipulation skills from the 134th Floor. Very clever!"
For the first time, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed Scáthach's face. No one had ever analyzed her techniques so casually mid-combat.
She leapt back, crimson energy swirling around her as she prepared to unleash her Noble Phantasm. "Gáe Bolg Alternative!"
The spear transformed, splitting into dozens of crimson projectiles that tore through reality itself, targeting not just Urek's physical form but the conceptual space he occupied. It was an attack that rewrote causality—the effect of piercing the heart predetermined before the cause.
Urek's eyes widened with genuine interest. "Now that's cool!"
Rather than dodging, he raised his hand. Blue-white energy—what he'd called Shinsoo—coalesced around him in swirling patterns that seemed to distort the very fabric of space.
When the crimson spears struck, they didn't penetrate. Instead, they seemed to slide around him, as if reality itself refused to allow the two different systems of physics to interact directly.
"Fascinating," Holmes murmured from the observation point. "His existence operates on fundamentally different principles. Even conceptual attacks that bypass physical defense can't properly affect him."
Scáthach lowered her spear, studying Urek with new respect. "You didn't counter or evade. You simply... existed in a way my attack couldn't comprehend."
"Yeah, something like that," Urek nodded. "Your spear is trying to rewrite cause and effect, but I'm not fully subject to your world's causality." He grinned suddenly. "My turn?"
Before Scáthach could respond, Urek moved. Unlike her calculated strikes, his movement was pure, overwhelming speed and power. One moment he stood twenty meters away, the next he was directly in front of her, his finger gently tapping her forehead.
The impact—carefully controlled though it was—still sent her sliding backward across the snow for nearly a hundred meters before she regained her footing.
"Sorry!" Urek called out. "Still getting used to how fragile everything is here!"
Rather than appearing angry, Scáthach looked intrigued. She brushed snow from her shoulders and slowly walked back toward him.
"In thousands of years," she said quietly, "I have never encountered power like yours." There was no fear in her voice, only the cool assessment of a warrior who had seen everything—until now. "It's not merely your strength, but its nature. You don't draw power from legend or belief or divine authority."
"Nope," Urek confirmed. "Just me and my control over Shinsoo. Nothing special where I come from—well, the amount I can control is special, but not the principle itself."
"That," Cu called from the sidelines, "was the most terrifying 'nothing special' I've ever seen."
Artoria stepped forward, her regal bearing unchanged despite the awe-inspiring display they'd just witnessed. "Your power is truly remarkable, Sir Mazino. Yet what intrigues me more is your restraint. You could have easily caused tremendous destruction, yet you held back with precision."
Urek scratched the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed by the praise. "When you're as strong as I am, you learn control pretty quick. Otherwise, you end up breaking everything you touch." His expression grew momentarily somber. "Lost some friends that way, before I figured it out."
This small glimpse of vulnerability—this hint that his tremendous power came with genuine cost—shifted something in how the observers perceived him. He wasn't just an anomaly or a weapon against the Beast; he was a person with his own history and burdens.
"Perhaps," Scáthach suggested as they began walking back toward Chaldea, "you could teach some of that control while you're here. Many of our younger Servants struggle with the limits of their abilities."
"Sure thing!" Urek agreed enthusiastically. "Always happy to help. Though my teaching style is pretty hands-on. Hope your repair crews are good."
As days passed, Urek became an increasingly integrated presence at Chaldea. His training sessions—which always required extensive facility repairs afterward—became popular events that even the most reclusive Servants would observe from a safe distance.
He developed an unexpected friendship with Nursery Rhyme, the personification of children's stories. She was fascinated by his tales of the Tower, while he found her ability to transform imagination into reality "ridiculously cool."
"So you're saying you're not in any books at all?" she asked during one of their conversations in the library.
"Nope," Urek replied, carefully turning the pages of the storybook she'd given him—his strength could easily tear them if he wasn't mindful. "Where I come from, the stories that get written down are usually propaganda. The really good stuff happens out of sight."
"But stories are how people remember," Nursery Rhyme insisted. "Without stories, how will anyone know what you did?"
Urek considered this, his usual carefree expression turning thoughtful. "I never really cared about being remembered. Just about doing what I wanted, when I wanted." He shrugged. "Freedom's more important than legacy."
"What about friends?" she pressed. "Don't you want them to remember you?"
"My friends know who I am," Urek smiled. "Don't need books for that."
Their conversation was interrupted when King Hassan materialized from the shadows, his skeletal presence causing the temperature to drop noticeably.
"The Irregular," the Old Man of the Mountain intoned, his hollow voice echoing despite the library's acoustic dampening. "I have observed thee."
"Hey there!" Urek greeted him cheerfully, apparently unfazed by the Assassin's ominous presence. "Cool armor. Very spiky."
Nursery Rhyme giggled behind her hand, while King Hassan remained motionless, blue fire flickering in his eye sockets as he studied Urek.
"Death hath no claim upon thee," he finally stated. "Thou exists beyond its jurisdiction. This... interests me."
"Oh, I can definitely die," Urek clarified. "It's just really, really hard to make it happen. You'd need someone at least Administrator-level."
"I am death itself," King Hassan responded. "Yet I sense my blade would pass through thee as through mist. Not in failure, but in irrelevance."
Urek tilted his head curiously. "Want to test that theory? I'm always up for a good spar."
"No fighting in the library!" Nursery Rhyme protested. "Hans will be very cross!"
"Perhaps another time," King Hassan conceded, his voice carrying a hint of what might have been amusement. "I merely wished to confirm what I sensed. Thou art beyond even the concept of mortality as this world understands it."
"You make it sound way more complicated than it is," Urek said with a laugh. "I'm just built different, as the kids on the 35th Floor would say."
As King Hassan faded back into the shadows, Nursery Rhyme tugged on Urek's sleeve. "He likes you," she whispered conspiratorially. "He doesn't talk to many people."
"Death seems like a lonely job," Urek replied thoughtfully. "Reminds me of the Floor Guardians, always watching, never participating." His face brightened suddenly. "Hey, you want to see a cool trick with Shinsoo? I can make little animal shapes!"
The Beast made its second appearance three weeks after Urek's arrival. This time, the target was ancient Babylonia—one of the foundational pillars of human civilization.
"The temporal corruption is following a pattern," Da Vinci explained during the emergency briefing. "It's targeting key points in human development—moments where history could have gone dramatically differently."
"Why not just destroy everything at once?" Ritsuka asked. "If it's powerful enough to attack the Root itself, why these specific points?"
"It's being strategic," Holmes suggested. "Each of these points represents a conceptual foundation of human history. By corrupting them individually, it weakens the overall structure."
"Like taking out support beams one by one instead of trying to demolish the whole building at once," Mash added.
Urek, who had been balancing a pencil on his finger with perfect equilibrium, spoke up. "So this thing is learning? Getting smarter?"
"It appears so," Da Vinci confirmed. "After your encounter in Paris, it's changing tactics. Rather than direct confrontation, it's going after vulnerabilities in the timeline."
"Sounds like it's scared," Urek grinned. "Good! That means it knows it can't win in a straight fight."
"Or it's adapting," Holmes cautioned. "Never underestimate an enemy's capacity to evolve their strategy."
"Either way," Ritsuka said, "we need to protect Babylonia. If that era's history is corrupted, a significant portion of human development could be erased."
Urek stood, stretching casually. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go say hello again."
Ancient Babylonia was suffering the same reality fractures they'd witnessed in Paris, but with a terrifying additional element: the sky itself was torn open, revealing glimpses of the void beyond time and space.
"The boundary between reality and the Root is thinner here," Da Vinci's voice crackled through their communicators. "This civilization exists closer to the divine age, when gods walked directly among humans."
They had materialized near the famous hanging gardens, though "gardens" no longer accurately described the scene. Plants grew, withered, and regenerated in chaotic cycles. Water flowed upward as often as downward. In some sections, the magnificent structure existed in multiple architectural styles simultaneously.
"Humans are being affected more severely this time," Mash reported, her shield deployed as she scanned their surroundings. Several Babylonians lay on the ground, their forms flickering between different possible versions of themselves—sometimes whole, sometimes injured, sometimes aged decades in an instant.
Gilgamesh had insisted on joining this mission—his era, his responsibility, he'd declared. Now the King of Heroes surveyed the corruption of his city with cold fury.
"This desecration will not stand," he declared. "Where is the creature responsible? I would introduce it to the full might of my treasury."
As if in response to his challenge, the air split open before them. Unlike a conventional portal or tear in space, this was more like reality itself folding inward, revealing something that existed between the frames of existence.
From within this impossible space emerged a form that defied conventional description. It wasn't precisely a creature, but rather a conceptual distortion given partial substance—a cancerous growth on reality itself. Its constantly shifting appearance suggested faces, limbs, and structures from throughout human history, all melting into each other in a nauseating display of temporal corruption.
"Calamitas Rex," Holmes identified through the communication link. "The Beast of Regression."
"IRREGULARITY DETECTED," the Beast spoke, its voice bypassing their ears to resonate directly in their minds. The sensation was physically painful, causing several nearby Babylonians to collapse, blood trickling from their ears. "UNWRITTEN EXISTENCE. CLASSIFICATION: ERROR."
Its attention focused directly on Urek, the shifting mass of its form orienting toward him like a flower turning toward the sun.
"YOU DO NOT BELONG," it continued. "YOU EXIST OUTSIDE PARAMETERS. OUTSIDE AUTHORITY."
"Yeah, I get that a lot," Urek replied casually, stepping forward. The Shinsoo around him began to swirl visibly, creating a blue-white aura that somehow stabilized the fractured reality in his immediate vicinity. "Look, I don't know what your problem is with this world, but I'm going to need you to back off."
"ALL MUST BE WRITTEN," the Beast insisted. "ALL MUST FOLLOW THE PATTERN. IRREGULARITIES WILL BE CORRECTED."
"I'd like to see you try," Urek challenged, cracking his knuckles.
The Beast struck—not with physical attacks, but by warping the very nature of space and time around Urek. The ground beneath him aged thousands of years in seconds, crumbling to dust. The air itself became solid, then liquid, then gaseous in rapid cycles. Probability warped, causing unlikely disasters to manifest—lightning striking from clear skies, the earth splitting open, structures collapsing without cause.
To the observers, it looked as if reality itself had declared war on Urek Mazino.
He responded by simply... refusing to comply. Where the ground disappeared, he stood on air. When lightning struck, he caught it in his hand like a curious toy before dissipating it. When probability turned against him, he moved with such speed and precision that he evaded consequences before they fully materialized.
"Is that all you've got?" he called out, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I was hoping for something interesting after all that buildup."
Gilgamesh, watching from nearby, let out a surprised laugh. "The anomaly has spirit, I'll grant him that."
The Beast's form pulsated with what appeared to be rage. It expanded, tendrils of corruption reaching out to envelop more of Babylonia, accelerating the decay of reality around them.
"It's trying to draw power directly from the Root," Da Vinci warned through the communicators. "If it succeeds, the corruption will spread exponentially!"
Urek's expression finally turned serious. "Alright, playtime's over." He rolled his shoulders, the casual demeanor giving way to focused intensity. "You folks might want to step back. Things could get a bit... disruptive."
"Define 'disruptive,'" Ritsuka asked nervously.
"Last time I went above five percent of my power, I accidentally wrote my name across an entire Floor of the Tower," Urek explained. "But don't worry—I'll be careful."
Before anyone could respond, Urek moved. One moment he stood beside them, the next he was directly before the Beast, his hand extended. The Shinsoo around him intensified, forming patterns that seemed to cut through the very fabric of corrupted reality.
"Let me show you something from Floor 77," he said, his voice carrying despite the chaotic distortion around them.
The Shinsoo condensed, compressing into a blazing sphere of blue-white energy in his palm. Unlike conventional magical energy, this didn't just exist within reality—it seemed to impose its own rules, its own physics, creating a localized domain where the Tower's laws briefly superseded those of this world.
"Extreme Floral Butterfly: Piercing Technique."
The compressed Shinsoo erupted forward in a beam of concentrated force, tearing through the Beast's amorphous form like a spear through fog. Where it passed, the corruption didn't just dissipate—it was forcibly rewritten, the foreign physics of the Tower temporarily overriding the Beast's influence on reality.
A scream tore through their minds—the Beast's rage and pain transmitting directly into consciousness itself. The tear in reality through which it had emerged began to close, the corrupted mass of its form retreating through the dimensional gap.
"Oh no you don't!" Urek declared, pursuing with blinding speed. "We're not done yet!"
He plunged into the closing tear, disappearing into the space between realities. For several tense seconds, nothing happened. Then a shockwave of blue-white energy erupted from the closing gap, spreading outward in a perfect sphere that washed over Babylonia.
Where this energy touched, reality stabilized. Plants settled into their proper state. Buildings solidified into their correct architectural form. The fractured sky began to heal, the glimpses of the void receding as the boundary between reality and the Root reasserted itself.
Moments later, Urek stepped back through the rapidly shrinking tear, dusting off his hands with a satisfied expression.
"It ran away again," he reported, sounding mildly disappointed. "Faster this time. Must have realized I was actually trying."
"You... pursued it into the gap between realities," Mash said, her voice faint with disbelief. "How did you even navigate that space?"
Urek shrugged. "It's not so different from moving between Floors in the Tower. You just have to understand that conventional directions don't really apply." He paused, noticing their stunned expressions. "What? Is that not normal here?"
"No," Gilgamesh stated flatly. "It is not 'normal' to chase an entity of conceptual corruption through the void between realities and return unscathed." Despite his words, there was a new note in the King's voice—something approaching genuine respect.
"The Beast is retreating completely from this time period," Da Vinci reported through their communicators. "Temporal stability is returning to normal. Whatever you did, Urek, it worked!"
"Of course it worked," Urek grinned, the serious demeanor already fading back into his usual casual confidence. "I hit it pretty hard that time. Maybe twenty percent of full power?"
"Twenty..." Ritsuka swallowed hard. "And that was enough to repel a Beast-class entity that was directly tapping into the Root?"
"For now," Urek nodded. "But it'll be back. It's learning, adapting. Next time will be more interesting." He looked around at the recovering city with genuine curiosity. "So this is ancient Babylonia, huh? Since we're here, can we explore a bit? I want to see those famous ziggurats I heard about!"
As they prepared to investigate the recovering city, ensuring no lingering corruption remained, Gilgamesh fell into step beside Urek.
"You fought well," the King of Heroes said simply.
Coming from Gilgamesh, this qualified as effusive praise. Urek seemed to understand the significance, offering a respectful nod in return.
"Thanks! Your city is impressive. Very ahead of its time."
"Of course it is," Gilgamesh replied haughtily. "I would accept nothing less." He paused, studying Urek with those piercing crimson eyes. "When this Beast is defeated, you and I will have our contest. I find myself... curious... about how the full might of my treasury would fare against your power."
Urek's grin widened. "Looking forward to it! Been a while since I had a real challenge."
The fact that Urek considered a confrontation with the King of Heroes—a being who possessed prototypes of all human achievement—to be potentially recreational rather than apocalyptic said more about his true capabilities than any demonstration could have.
Chapter 5: The Nature of Freedom
Back at Chaldea, analysis of the Babylonian incident revealed concerning patterns.
"The Beast is changing tactics," Holmes explained during the debriefing, gesturing to the holographic display of temporal readings. "Rather than directly engaging Urek, it's now attempting to alter fundamental aspects of reality around him."
"Like it's trying to change the rules of the game," Da Vinci added. "If it can't defeat him directly, perhaps it can modify reality in ways that would limit his effectiveness."
"Good luck with that," Urek commented from where he lounged in a chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. "I don't really follow rules I don't agree with."
"That's precisely what makes you effective against it," Holmes noted. "Your existence operates on principles independent from our reality's governing structure. You're a walking contradiction to its attempts at enforcing regression."
"But that may also be why it's targeting you specifically," Ritsuka pointed out. "You represent something it cannot control—cannot 'write' into its preferred pattern."
Urek considered this, his usually carefree expression momentarily thoughtful. "The Administrators in the Tower tried something similar once. Wanted to put restrictions on me because I was too disruptive." His grin returned. "Didn't work out well for them either."
"What happened?" Mash asked curiously.
"Let's just say there's a reason I got the nickname 'Ray of the Tower,'" Urek replied enigmatically. "Some structures needed... remodeling."
The casual way he referenced opposing beings powerful enough to administer entire continent-sized floors spoke volumes about his true capabilities.
"The Beast will strike again," Holmes predicted. "And next time, it will have further refined its approach."
"Let it come," Urek said confidently. "I'm getting a better feel for how your reality works. Next time, I won't let it escape so easily."
That evening, Merlin sought out Urek, finding him on the observation deck where he often went to gaze at the stars. The Mage of Flowers approached quietly, though he suspected Urek had sensed his presence from the moment he entered.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Merlin commented, nodding toward the night sky. "The stars."
"Amazing," Urek agreed with genuine wonder. "In the Tower, we have artificial light, but nothing like this. Just... endless space." He turned to face the mage. "You're different from the others here. Your energy feels... less fixed somehow."
Merlin smiled mysteriously. "Perceptive. I exist partially in Avalon—a realm outside conventional reality. Not beyond the Root, as you are, but somewhat adjacent to the normal flow of time and space."
"That explains it," Urek nodded. "You've got that 'not quite here' vibe that some of the Irregulars have back home."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, both gazing upward at the cosmic display.
"I've been thinking about what you represent," Merlin eventually said. "Beyond your considerable power, your very existence poses an interesting philosophical question for our reality."
"Yeah? How so?"
"Our world operates on principles of causality and consequence—everything written, everything recorded, everything following patterns established by the Root." Merlin gestured expansively. "Heroes become legends because their deeds are remembered and retold. Gods exist because they are believed in and worshipped. Even concepts maintain power through their recognition in the collective consciousness."
"Sounds limiting," Urek observed.
"Precisely," Merlin nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Yet here you are—a being whose power doesn't derive from legend or belief or divine authority. You simply... are. Your strength exists independently of whether anyone acknowledges it."
Urek considered this. "In the Tower, strength is strength. Doesn't matter if people write songs about you or not. What matters is what you can actually do when the situation demands it."
"And that," Merlin said, "is why the Beast fears you. You represent a form of freedom it cannot comprehend—existence without external validation or predetermined purpose."
"Freedom's kind of my thing," Urek grinned. "It's why I climb the Tower—not to rule it like Jahad, but to find a way out. To see what's beyond the next horizon."
"A worthy purpose," Merlin acknowledged. "And perhaps exactly what our reality needs right now—a reminder that even the most fundamental structures should serve freedom, not constrain it."
Their philosophical discussion was interrupted when Nursery Rhyme came searching for Urek, excited to show him a picture book she'd created based on his stories of the Tower.
As Urek followed the childlike Servant, Merlin smiled to himself. "The most powerful forces," he murmured, "are often the simplest. Freedom. Wonder. The desire to see what lies beyond." He glanced once more at the stars. "Perhaps that's what keeps reality worth preserving."
Training sessions with Urek became legendary events at Chaldea, though "structured learning" would be a generous description of his teaching style. He preferred direct demonstration, often leaving participants both enlightened and somewhat traumatized.
"The trick isn't just controlling your power," he explained during one session with several combat-oriented Servants including Achilles, Karna, and Cu Chulainn. "It's understanding that power doesn't define you. It's just a tool."
"Easy for you to say," Cu commented dryly, picking himself up after being launched across the reinforced training room with a "gentle tap" from Urek. "Your power level is absurd."
"Was the same even when I was weaker," Urek insisted. "Met plenty of people in the Tower who were crazy strong but had no identity beyond that strength. They were miserable—always paranoid someone would surpass them, always defining themselves by their ranking."
"Like Gilgamesh?" Achilles suggested with a smirk.
"I heard that, mongrel," came the King's voice from the observation area, where he had been pretending not to pay attention to the training.
Urek laughed. "Gil's actually got the right idea in some ways. He knows who he is beyond his power. King first, collector of treasures second, powerhouse third." He demonstrated a careful movement that somehow conveyed tremendous force while disturbing minimal air around him. "When you separate your identity from your power, controlling that power becomes natural."
"A wise perspective," Karna noted quietly. "Many divine beings could benefit from such understanding."
As the session continued, Enkidu silently observed from the doorway, their expression thoughtful. The Chain of Heaven—a weapon created by gods to restrain their fellow divinity—found Urek fascinating precisely because he existed outside divine jurisdiction.
Later, they approached him directly. "You are neither divine nor human," Enkidu observed. "Yet you possess qualities of both—divine strength with human desire for freedom."
"I'm just me," Urek shrugged. "Don't really worry about categories."
"That simplicity is enviable," Enkidu replied. "I was created with purpose—to restrain the divine. To enforce heaven's will. Yet through friendship with Gilgamesh, I discovered the value of self-determination."
"Sounds like we'd have gotten along in the Tower," Urek grinned. "I founded an organization there—Wolhaiksong. All about freedom and cooperation. No hierarchies, no predetermined roles. Just people working together because they want to, not because someone told them to."
"A radical concept," Enkidu's lips curved into a small smile. "And perhaps exactly what worried the gods about humanity's potential. The capacity to choose one's own path—to defy expectation and predetermined fate."
"If your gods are scared of people making their own choices," Urek said, "they might not be worth worshipping in the first place."
Enkidu's eyes widened slightly at the casual blasphemy, then they laughed—a sound like wind through summer leaves. "Indeed. Perhaps that is why I found my true purpose with humanity rather than divinity."
As weeks passed, a pattern emerged in the Beast's attacks. Each incursion targeted a different foundational moment in human history—ancient Egypt during the unification period, Rome at the height of its expansion, the Renaissance during its most innovative decades.
Each time, Chaldea's response team grew more coordinated. Various Servants took turns accompanying Urek, learning to work with his overwhelming power rather than being intimidated by it. And each time, the Beast attempted new tactics—more subtle corruption, more complex reality distortions, more insidious attacks on the conceptual framework supporting human development.
Yet each time, Urek drove it back, pursuing it with increasing determination through the gaps between realities, reducing the corruption it managed to inflict before retreating.
"It's adapting more quickly now," Da Vinci noted with concern after their fifth encounter. "Learning from each defeat."
"So am I," Urek replied. He'd grown more serious about the conflict, his usual carefree attitude giving way to focused purpose when discussing the Beast. "I'm starting to see patterns in how it moves between reality layers. Next time, I might be able to trace it back to its source."
"Its source?" Holmes raised an eyebrow. "You mean the point within the Root where the corruption originates?"
"Yeah. Everything has a location," Urek insisted. "Even conceptual stuff. In the Tower, Administrators exist as both physical entities and regulatory forces. I'm betting your Beast is similar—a corruption with a specific point of origin."
"If you could locate that..." Ritsuka began.
"I could end this," Urek finished. "Once and for all."
Da Vinci and Holmes exchanged concerned glances. "Approaching the core of Akasha directly would be unprecedented," Da Vinci cautioned. "Even for you, the risks would be substantial."
"Risks are what make life interesting," Urek grinned, his trademark confidence returning. "Besides, this hit-and-run game is getting old. Time to take the fight to the enemy's doorstep."
As they discussed theoretical approaches to tracking the Beast back to its source, Nursery Rhyme sl