How I Saved History (Fate/Grand Order SI)

It's of my own devising, I'm sad to say. And it was actually an honest mistake. The giant panda was only introduced to the West in 1869. Further, in traditional Chinese texts and symbolism, it's often associated with righteousness, and good emperors, being a creature that is both fierce as a tiger and a strict vegetarian. Zouken, in 1751, heard about pandas in fleeting accounts through some of his black-market contacts in China, and assumed that they were some sort of mystical, legendary creature related to purity of heart, similar to the Western unicorns.

Since he was the head of the Clocktower's Cryptozoology department, in charge of tracking down and aiding in the conservation of magical creatures, he started planning a beneath-the-radar expedition into China, at that time still closed off to the outside world, which actually set out in 1772. He put his department's entire budget behind it.

The expedition... went poorly. First, they were stopped at the border by the local answer to the Association (who were eventually rendered defunct after the Boxer's Day Rebellion, with all member families either forced to join the Association or killed and robbed of their Mysteries, mostly the latter) and, although they managed to fight their way through, several members of the expedition were killed. Their travels were further hindered by their limited knowledge of the local terrain, and continued attacks from the local magi, who were quite thoroughly displeased with the foreigners intruding on their sovereign territory.

Finally, after suffering fifty-percent casualties, they were able to track down and examine a panda (which ended up mauling a research assistant to death when he got a little too handsy) and determined that the creature was, in fact, a completely mundane animal.

They were then left with the uncomfortable realization that they had just fought their way through miles of enemy territory for nothing, and that, furthermore, they were going to have to go back out the way they came.

 

Three hours. That's how long Frankenstein buys us before Tesla emerges from the London Underground, missing an arm and walking gingerly on a still half-broken leg, but still wreathed in seething, crackling electricity that will spell the doom of anyone who draws too close.

Three hours. And we used every second of it.

We can't face him in a prolonged fight. Just getting near him is a guaranteed death sentence. Frankenstein, with his own mastery of electricity, was the only one capable of braving that electric kill aura and living, and he's gone, dead deep beneath the earth.

But the lightning can't just disintegrate you instantly. And, as Frankenstein has so readily proved, behind his thunderous armor, Tesla is still vulnerable.

"You ready for this?" I ask.

Our trump card just grins.

The titan that tamed the thunder strides forwards, his every footfall another nail in the coffin of the world he forged.

And then, a blue bullet shoots forwards, faster than sound itself, face pulled back in a snarl of savage glee. The thunder strikes him, coursing through his body, sealing his doom and charring his flesh, and he never falters, his blood-red spear gripped tight in his hand. Because he's Cu Chulainn. Like hell he's going to die when you kill him.

Tesla starts to react, bringing up his arms to defend himself, but for all his impressive Noble Phantasms and Personal Skills, his Parameters are still shit. And as the Father of Electricity struggles to react in time, Ulster's Hound skids forwards, his stance shifting as he lunges forwards, spear in hand-

"GAE BOLG!"

-and with an accuracy that is carved into the annals of fate itself, pierces Tesla's heart, pinning him to the wall of the station he walked out of.

It's over.

"You… stopped me." Tesla wheezes out, as blood begins to dye his shirt red. "Thank God."

And as the man who tamed the heavens fades, Cu turns back to look at me, bloodied spear resting on his shoulder. The melted, charred remains of his jumpsuit are indistinguishable from his smoking flesh, and I can see his skull, peeking out through the charred remnants of his face, a few of which are still burning. "Really? The first time I actually get to fight a proper opponent that bleeds since you summoned me, and he dies just like that?" He's already fading as he fixes me with a one-eyed glare. "Next time? Let me get an actual fight in, alright?"

And then he's gone.

"Alright. It worked." Everyone else is still staring at where Cu and Tesla stood, just moments before. I don't think that any of them actually thought that my plan would work. To be fair, though, 'buff Cu up to the gills and then throw him at Tesla' isn't exactly a plan that inspires confidence. "Now, we call in another Servant from Chaldea to replenish our numbers, and then head down at full strength to properly dismantle Angrboda, and give Frankenstein a proper burial if we can find the body."

They wake from their stupor, jerking into action. Tesla may be dead, but Angrboda is still a threat, and one we must deal with soon.

I call in Tamamo Cat to replace Cu. She might not be precisely the best Servant for the job ahead of us, but she's familiar, and she was the first Servant I ever summoned. I feel better, having her around.

"Alright. You up to date on what's been going on?" I ask.

"Yes, Master! Dr. Roman let me stay in the Command Room as long as I behaved, so I'd know how you were doing!" she assures me.

"Good to hear. Now let's get ready to head down, people!" I turn and look about, and, yep, every body's ready. I start towards the subway entrance-

'Master. Two unknown Servants are approaching.'

"Change of plans, defensive positions, potential hostiles." I rattle off, turning back and looking around for these Servants.

"Come on, Kintoki!" a familiar voice exhorts. "I need you to help me practice for my honeymoon!"

The two figures emerge from the mist. A blonde giant of a man, and a kimono-clad woman hanging off his arm who's a dead ringer for Tamamo.

"A-Alright. I just thought I felt some strange electricity." he mumbles, before his eyes alight on our own party, more than ten Servants strong. "Oh, hey! Do I know you guys? Because you're looking GOLDEN!"

The woman at his side looks at us in annoyance. "Damn tourists, clogging everything up. I wanted to see the Underground!" Then she freezes when she sees Cat. "Oh no."

"THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE!"

Our departure into the Underground is then delayed for thirty minutes, as we are left with the unenviable task of separating the two fighting kitsune.

 

The tunnels of the Underground are cramped and cluttered as we make our way through them, navigating by the light of Paracelsus' fire elemental. The walls are scorched and blackened, scarred by the passage of the dueling lords of lightning, and we have to go around multiple cave-ins, which have blocked off tunnels.

We don't find Frankenstein's body.

Finally, however, we emerge into the cavern (through a different tunnel than last time, since our previous way in was blocked off by rubble) and find it a warzone.

Angrboda is ruined, great rifts of scarred, half-melted machinery marring its sprawling features, fires raging out of control from ruptured furnaces in some parts, as boiling water flows between jagged bits of destroyed machinery on the cavern floor. As we watch, another boiler explodes, and I take shelter from the shrapnel behind Galahad.

"Looks like the job's already done." Caesar says with a shake of his head, clearly audible. Angrboda's previous thundering roar has died down, replaced with the flowing of water, the crackling of fire, and the occasional, disorganized thrum of a lone piston or gear rattling to life, kicking away wildly in solitude, the death rattle of a behemoth.

"All that's left is to claim the Grail," I note, pointing towards the now-exposed glowing golden chalice. "So, who's getting it out of there?"

"That'd be me, actually!" an unknown voice calls, deep, and rich with malice. "You're welcome!"

Besides me, Roman's hologram flickers to life once more. "Charlie, we're picking up some unusual readings. Similar to the ones that Nero's projection of the Beast of Revelations gave off. Be careful."

"Thanks for the heads-up." I mutter, before turning to my allies. "Prepare for hostiles."

"Now, now, little man." the voice continues, as the twisted and ravaged metal of the fallen Angrboda liquifies uniformly, collapsing down onto the floor of the cavern, where it solidifies into a smooth floor. "Are you sure you want to try your luck? After all, you're punching quite thoroughly out of your weight class, right now."

"Might I ask your name, then, Mister Heavyweight?" I ask, tamping down my indignation and ego. Keep him talking, go for the kill while his guard's down, or at least gather information you can use to defeat him. Don't jump immediately to trying to kill him just because he called you short and belittled your competence. No matter how much you want to.

"Certainly." the speaker emerges, a white haired, tan-skinned man in ornate, vibrant robes, his face adorned with black tattoos of some uncanny design. "I am Solomon. The King of Mages." He snorts. "I believe that puts me in two circles of your... 'Venn Diagram of Hate,' was it?"

"At least you admit you're an aristocratic Luddite." I say with a smirk, whilst I internally panic. Solomon. Granted wisdom and a thousand gifts besides by God Himself. Widely considered by most Abrahamic faiths to be the only "virtuous" magician, since his powers were granted and sanctioned by God.

"Now, that's hardly fair, little Panda." Solomon says, and I flinch reflexively. "Aristocrat I may be, but I am hardly a Luddite. I made full use of the most advanced technologies available in my time. It was simply that they weren't very good."

"How did you-"

"Know about that adorable little childhood nickname of yours?" he finishes for me with a positively sadistic smirk. "Quite simple, really. The Lord has granted unto me wisdom and foresight second only to His own. I see and know all things, And while I mostly only ever used it to pick up women-" he says that bit with a hint of anger, and Roman's holographic form looks distinctly uncomfortable, "-I do, on occasion, use it for things other than sating my own base desires."

"Functionally omniscient, and you still thought that threatening to bisect a baby was the best way to resolve a custody dispute." I snark, trying my level best to conceal the terror bubbling up inside my chest right now. Omniscience would be a hellish thing to face off against. Then again, maybe he's actually on our side, in spite of the relentlessly evil vibes I'm getting from him. Solomon was a virtuous and righteous king, after all, if you can look past the veritable army of concubines. Still, I'm kind of glad that Cursed Arm snuck off to set up for Strategy Two.

"Yes, that really wasn't my finest moment, even if it worked." he says, with a self-deprecating smile. "It ended up being, all things told, an extremely embarrassing incident that only happened because I ignored the advice of a councilor far wiser than me."

"You mean God?"

"...more or less." his grin ratchets up about ten degrees of pure smug at that, for some reason, and then he shakes his head, spreading his arms wide in the manner of a man stretching to greet the rising sun. "But enough about the various embarrassing escapades that illustrate why I should always have listened to the people smarter than me, let's get back on that Venn Diagram of Hate you call your guide!" He laughs, strolling towards us at an angle. "I believe you've failed to correct my math. You see, I fill two circles of it. How can that be?" He turns on his heel and paces back the way he came, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Well, I'm an aristocrat, born and bred, practically marinating in privilege, so that's one circle for you! But where's the other?"

He turns again, beginning to count off on his fingers as he talks. "I'm no Luddite, I worked with the breaking edge of my time's technology, so that's out. I'm certainly not a Nazi. I don't talk much about my religious beliefs, so there's that off the table too, and I certainly think I'd have noticed if I was a squirrel. Or Nero, for that matter. Now, what does that leave us with?" He stops for a moment, face screwed up in mock contemplation, before shooting up straight, an over-exaggerated look of pure revelation on his face. "Ah, that's it! I caused the Incineration."

'Cursed Arm, KILL HIM!'

"Delusional-" he appears, his twisted, fiendish hand drawn back and ready to plunge into his target, and is immediately vaporized by the wave of raw magical energy that erupts from Solomon's back. The King of Mages tilts his head to look back over his shoulder, keeping us in his field of vision, before turning back towards me with a wry grin. "Did you really think that would work?"

"Kind of." I say, hating my voice for how it squeaks at the admission. Current tactical assessment? We're boned.

'Making a small tactical retreat to keep as many of our own Servants alive as possible.' Caesar informs me. 'I slipped away with Cat and Paracelsus. They're the most fragile Servants on our current team, and the ones that he'll most likely target to demoralize you. We brought Jekyll with us, too.'

'You're abandoning me?' I ask incredulously. 'You know that you guys all die if I die, right?'

'Do you honestly think that any of us could actually stop that man if he was seriously trying to kill you?' Caesar shoots back.

'Fair enough. Godspeed, Caesar.' I return my attention to the battlefield, where Solomon is watching me with amusement.

He claps his hands. "Done with your little telepathic pow-wow with Mr. Hairy? If so, I have a question for you." He snaps his fingers, and I hear an explosion in the distance. "How many of those fleeing rats do you think I just killed?"

I- He-

Well, I guess this is where I die.

It was a good run, all the same.

"You don't have to answer me," he continues with a smirk. "I already know. But I'm not telling you, it's important for young men like you to find these things out for yourselves.. I'll give you Jekyll as a freebie, though."

Mordred lunges at him with an inarticulate howl of pure, unbridled hatred, and he waves his hand.

Pillars rise from the floor of the room, five in all, and their eyes flash as one, a wave of pure, destructive fire and death rushing towards us, spelling our doom-

"LORD CAMELOT!"

-before it breaks against the walls of Arthur's shining city, raised anew by his most virtuous knight. Mordred dies outside that barrier, baked alive in an instant.

"JESUS CHRIST, WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE THINGS?" I scream in a collected, eminently manly fashion.

For the first time since he first appeared, Solomon actually looks annoyed about something. "You- You don't recognize them?"

"No! Why the Hell should I?" I snap, still staring at the writhing columns of black flesh and red eyes in disgust.

"You killed three of them!" he snaps, beginning to look affronted.

"...I think I'd remember killing something that ugly."

One of the pillars wails, and then sinks back into the floor. Hold on...

"Dammit. Now he's going to be like that all day." Solomon grouses, looking supremely irked. "Now why'd you have to go and say that? He's very sensitive!"

"To be fair, he did just help to try and kill me." I note. "I think that a few harsh remarks pale in comparison."

"Fair enough." He concedes with a restored grin. "But I think I'll take my pound of flesh all the same." He snaps his fingers again. "Oh, artillery!"

A thousand eyes or more burn with a vicious light, and just as many arcing beams of pure death lance towards us. Galahad barely manages to cover me in time, the heat from a near-miss singing my uniform's shoulder.

The others die, unable to stand against the unrelenting, infinite barrage. He toying with us. I can see it in his eyes. He's toying with us, and he's still slaughtering us.

Finally, he holds up a hand, and the barrage comes to a halt. "Pathetic. I suppose that really is all that you can-" He stops, looking surprised.

Georgios is still standing. After a moment, the dragonslayer seems to realize it himself, and his face breaks out into a grin.

"Well, perhaps your little saint survived my Demon Pillars, but no matter. You still cannot even hope to stand against me." He glares at Georgios, who's charging in to attack the pillars on Bayard, Ascalon in hand. "You will fall in the Singularities to come. Your body and spirit will be- OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE, HOW HARD CAN IT BE FOR YOU IDIOTS TO KILL HIM?"

The knight comes to a stop at charging distance, facing on of the Demon Pillars. "O beast and fiend, damned by all, know the will of God. Shed thy flesh and don thy scales, thy soul and flesh be one. ABYSSUS DRACONIS!"

It warps and twists, its flesh shifting to black scales, countless half-formed wings and draconic maws emerging between the glaring red eyes, a monstrosity that I don't doubt will be stalking my nightmares tonight, if I live to have them. Georgios is undaunted, though, and charges forwards with Bayard, dodging or emerging unscathed from every last shot of the renewed volley the Pillars send his way.

"Oh God above, hear my prayer, and let all the world know peace. INTERFECTUM DRACONES!" Ascalon glows as its wielder cuts across the newly-dragonized Demon Pillar, the light reaching through all the way to the other side. And when the Saint's charge is complete, the newly bisected Demon Pillar topples to ground, already dissolving.

"That hard, apparently," Solomon notes with a raised eyebrow. He turns to look at me, his former amusement replaced with some slight semblance of respect. "Perhaps you do have a chance of making it through the Singularities, after all. I suppose I'm practically obligated to let you try your luck, now. The prospect is just too entertaining to pass up." He claps his hands, and the pillars sink away, the smooth metal flooring rising up to wall Georgios off from our half of the cavern. "In any case, I think I'll be taking my leave. I've had my fun." He stops, and then tosses me the Grail. "A token of my appreciation, for an excellent show."

"Why?" I ask.

"Hm? I believe I made my motivation for giving you the Grail clear."

"No, why the Incineration?" I ask again. "You're famed as the wisest king to ever live, given the wisdom to rule your people by God. Why destroy all of humanity? What made you think that was necessary?"

"Curious as ever, aren't you?" he asks, grinning once more. "Well, I'll make you a promise. If you manage to make it to the end, I'll tell you. Have fun."

And then he's gone, leaving us in the increasingly unstable cavern with Georgios.

Tamamo and Caesar survived, it turns out, which was a relief. Paracelsus felt the explosion coming and used all five of his Elementals to shield the two furthest from its epicenter.

Galahad secures the Grail, and we confirm that the fog is dissipating before we Rayshift out, but I don't think I can really call this one a win. Sure as hell doesn't feel like a victory.