Extra's Stories

"Are you my master?"

The words echoed in Fate's mind, cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion. His icy blue eyes locked onto hers—crimson, sharp, and unreadable. There was something familiar about this moment, as if he had stood at this precipice before, though he knew he hadn't.

Still, despite the situation, despite the wounds stinging across his body, he managed to breathe out a single word.

"Yes."

The woman raised a brow at his response, tilting her head slightly. "A kid?" she mused, scratching the back of her head before letting out a deep sigh. "To think I was summoned by a child."

Fate snickered, the sound raspy yet amused. His body was still screaming in pain, the cuts on his skin still fresh, and yet, here he was—grinning up at the woman who had effortlessly slain the demon that nearly ended him moments ago.

His expression didn't go unnoticed. The woman arched a brow, intrigued. "Oh?" A teasing smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Aren't you a little too young to be looking at me like that, boy?"

There was something playful in her voice, though laced with a dangerous edge. She stepped closer, her crimson eyes never leaving his. The way the moonlight illuminated her made her presence even more striking, more commanding.

"Tell me, boy…" she continued, her voice like silk and steel entwined, "what is your name?"

He didn't hesitate.

"My name is Fate. Fate Redgrave."

Despite the exhaustion weighing on him, despite the demon's blood still dripping from the tip of her spear, his smile remained—calm, fearless.

"Nice to meet you, Scathach."

Condition Unlock: Servant: Scathach (Lancer)

"I see… this is rather frustrating." Scathach muttered, her crimson eyes narrowing as she absorbed Fate's explanation. A world with no Holy Grail. No structured Magecraft. And yet, she had been summoned here.

"Yeah… sorry about that. If you want, I can try to release you from our contract." Fate offered, his voice carrying a rare hint of guilt as he carefully wrapped a bandage around his wounded shoulder.

"Tempting," she admitted, crossing her arms. "But before I make my decision, I need to understand a few things."

Her gaze drifted across the open small wooden house, analyzing every detail with a scrutinizing eye. The runes glowing faintly on the walls, radiating warmth and light. The sword resting on the floor—Red Crown, a steel zweihander its blade adorned with intricate runes pulsing softly with magic.

Scathach could feel the air itself was different, thick with energy, reminiscent of the Age of Gods. It was a stark contrast to the stagnant, dwindling magic of her own world. 

She glanced back at Fate, her interest piqued. "Tell me more about this world."

It wasn't a request.

Fate let out a sigh, adjusting his bandages before launching into a rough explanation of the world's magic, history, and its absurdly chaotic inhabitants. By the time he finished, Scathach was sitting on the wooden table, arms folded, nodding in understanding.

"I see…" A slow smile spread across her lips. "Now, this is interesting. I think I'll stay."

Fate blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

She pulled down her mask, her smile deepening as she examined him. "You intrigue me, boy. Your use of runes is… crude, but not entirely unrefined. More than that, they're not ordinary runes. They belong to the Age of Gods."

Fate scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, well… I kinda cheated my way into learning them."

She ignored his self-deprecating remark and continued, "To think I was summoned by a third-rate magus."

Fate winced. "Ouch. That stings."

"It's the truth." She smirked, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. "And yet, despite your incompetence, you managed to summon me without a catalyst. That means fate itself chose me as the best Servant for you."

Fate gave a half-smile. "Guess I lucked out, huh?"

"Luck has nothing to do with it." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with determination. "You have potential. And I have made my decision."

She rose from the table, standing tall, her spear now resting against her shoulder.

"From today onward, I will be your mentor. I will teach you Magecraft. I will train you."

Fate's brain stuttered. "Huh? Wait, hold on—"

"Since you're the reason I'm here," she interrupted smoothly, "you will take responsibility for it."

Fate felt heat rise to his face. "Don't say it like that! You make it sound weird!"

Scathach chuckled, clearly amused by his reaction. "You should be grateful, boy. For I—" she placed a hand over her chest, her voice laced with undeniable authority, "Scathach, Queen of the Land of Shadows, shall be your mentor from this day forth."

Fate exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He had a feeling his life was about to get a lot harder.

Finding A Teacher(Scathach): +3 points

"Uggghhh…" Fate groaned, sprawled out on the ground, every inch of his body screaming in pain. He had been thoroughly beaten—no, demolished—by the woman standing over him.

Scathach barely looked winded. She stood tall, arms folded, gazing down at him with mild disappointment.

"I was only joking at first," she mused, shaking her head. "But it turns out you truly are a third-rate magus. You don't even know Reinforcement—the most basic Magecraft every magus should start with."

Fate grumbled something incoherent into the dirt, but before he could try to push himself up, Scathach grabbed him by the back of his neck with one hand, hauling him up like a misbehaving kitten. He groaned in protest, his limbs too sore to resist as she effortlessly dragged him back inside the house.

Since last night, the bounded field had been altered—now, Scathach could see through it, and under her guidance, Fate had placed an additional protective barrier around the cabin. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Slumping onto the wooden floor, Fate exhaled sharply and muttered, "I never actually learned magic the right way."

Scathach's crimson eyes flickered with curiosity seeing his body slowly healing itself, the speed was a little faster than a normal human, watching as some of the bruises and cuts on his body began to fade.

For just a moment, Scathach frowned realizing something was off about him.

'This boy…'

Her expression returned to neutrality just as quickly, but the thought remained.

"I see," she finally said, arms still crossed. "Then I'll also need to teach you Mage Craft then."

A smirk tugged at Scathach's lips. "But before that... I need to strengthen this body of your."

Fate barely had time to register the warning before her foot was already swinging toward him.

Thud!

"Uggghhh—!"

Fate and Scathach continued to spar, though "spar" was a generous term—it was more like a one-sided beatdown. Every time he thought he was making progress, she would effortlessly knock him down again. He had gained a lot of story points from the guild brawl yesterday, but at this moment, lost in thought, those points felt meaningless.

His brief distraction cost him.

SLAM!

His head bounced off the wooden floor, the impact snapping him back to reality.

"Get up, boy."

Groaning, Fate pushed himself up, bones popping with each movement. His entire body ached, the strain catching up to him. He slumped onto the ground, trying to steady his breath.

Scathach, standing over him with her usual unreadable expression, folded her arms. "Fate, what is your element and origin?"

He blinked at her. "Huh?"

She sighed, already growing frustrated with his lack of reaction. "Your element and origin. I need to know them before I can decide what to teach you—aside from combat."

Fate remained silent, his gaze distant. Scathach narrowed her eyes. 'Is he ignoring me?'

Then, a thought crossed her mind. The magic system in this world was vastly different from her own, and yet, somehow, this boy had knowledge of it—enough to summon her, even if by accident.

"Alright, Fate," she said, shifting gears. "I don't know how you managed it, but that isn't the problem right now. Lie down inside the magic circle."

For now, she would focus on teaching him. Criticizing him could come later.

Fate sighed, but he didn't argue. Standing up, he walked over to the glowing circle, removed his shirt, and lay down inside it. Scathach gave a small nod of approval—at least he understood that much.

Stepping toward him, she pulled out a small dagger, making a shallow cut on his arm. With the blood, she began inscribing runes on his body, carefully drawing each symbol with practiced precision. As she worked, the magic circle pulsed, the light intensifying. It took a few minutes, but soon, the ritual was ready.

Scathach placed a hand on his chest, closing her eyes to focus. The circle would reveal his element and origin.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, an image formed in her mind.

A single glowing light, flickering in the distance, floating in an empty void.

She frowned. 'That's it?'

Then, another image appeared—a massive red hand with sharp nails, reaching toward the light. It stretched, clawed, desperate to grasp it… yet it could never quite reach.

The hand was menacing, yet it gave off no sense of malice. No hostility. Just… obsession.

Scathach opened her eyes, then closed them again, attempting to force a clearer vision.

Nothing changed.

This… was strange. Even with all the magi and warriors she had encountered in her lifetime, she had never seen a case like this.

Meanwhile, Fate, still lying on the floor, blinked up at her.

From his perspective, Scathach had been on top of him for an unusually long time, her hand pressed to his chest. It was starting to get awkward.

"...Weird," she finally muttered, standing up.

Fate sat up, rubbing his arm. "What's weird?"

Scathach folded her arms, deep in thought. "I can't determine your element or origin. The only thing I saw was a hand reaching for a distant light."

Fate tilted his head, confused. "And… that means?"

She exhaled through her nose. "It means your case is complicated. We can't pinpoint what you are."

A pause.

"... So, does that mean I can't use magic?"

Scathach smirked. "I never said that."

His shoulders relaxed slightly.

"This may prove troublesome," she admitted, "but it doesn't mean we have nothing to work with. I can still teach you basic Magecraft. And, considering you can already use the magic of this world, we'll practice that as well."

She observed him for a moment, a glint of interest in her crimson eyes.

Yes, this was a rare opportunity. She had found a student with potential—rough, untapped potential, but potential nonetheless. And, on top of that, she saw this as… a vacation.

A world overflowing with magical energy. A different magic system to explore. No duty as a gatekeeper in the Land of Shadows. No Holy Grail War to fight. A new student to beat—ahem—train.

And, who knows? Perhaps she'd encounter strong opponents in the future. But for now?

She was on vacation.

"I must say, kid," she mused, stretching out her arms, "despite being a third-rate magus, you generate magical energy at an impressive rate."

Meanwhile, Fate sat on the floor, attempting to reinforce a stick.

For some reason, he still failed.

Scathach watched as his expression darkened. His eyes lost focus, his movements becoming mechanical as he repeatedly pushed magic into the stick, failing each time.

"Focus… focus…" He exhaled sharply. "I need to get stronger."

Then, something changed.

A flicker of memory surfaced—an image of a sword, impaling his body.

His magic circuits flared to life.

Unaware of the shift, he kept pouring energy into the stick.

SNAP!

The wood burst apart, sharp fragments stabbing into his hand.

"Fuck!" Fate hissed, shaking his hand as blood dripped from his fingers.

Scathach smirked. "Congratulations, kid. Looks like you found your mental trigger."

Fate barely heard her. Something clicked in his mind.

'Mental trigger… wait a minute…'

A screen appeared before him.

Magic Circuits Access

Magic Circuits: 32

Quality: High

Close/Open

His face turns pale. 'I forgot to open my circuits... All this time I have been forcefully pushing my magic with closed circuits.'

[Note] Using Magic Circuits without opening will reduce the SP of the circuits' quality by half.

"Hey, are you okay, kid?" Scathach asked, poking the white-haired boy with the butt end of her spear. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Fate didn't respond. He simply stared into nothingness, lost in thought for what felt like hours. Eventually, Scathach grew impatient and kicked him, snapping him back to reality.

Now walking through the streets of Magnolia, Fate made his way back to the guild with Scathach beside him. The townspeople couldn't help but steal glances at the striking woman in skin-tight dark armor, a crimson spear resting on her back. The Queen of the Land of Shadows found herself fascinated by this world—a curious mix of medieval and modern elements. Though the technology here wasn't as advanced as what she had seen elsewhere, it didn't bother her much.

"You okay, kid?" Scathach asked again, this time noting the irritated expression on Fate's face.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Just annoyed at myself."

Despite having the ability to open his magic circuits far more easily than Shirou from the show, he had failed to realize it until now. Shirou had pushed himself every day, forcing magic through his circuits without properly opening them—an agonizing and inefficient method. And here Fate was, making the same mistake despite having a clear advantage.

"I really am a Third-Rate Magus," he grumbled.

Scathach smirked. "That's what I said."

Her words only made his frustration worse.

Fate pushed open the guild's doors, immediately greeted by the chaotic sight of a full-blown brawl.

"What the—?" Scathach blinked in surprise, watching as bodies flew across the room and furniture was reduced to splinters.

Fate sighed, stepping inside without hesitation. "Don't question it. This is normal for Fairy Tail."

Scathach raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the scene unfolding before her. "Fairy Tail, huh?" she mused, watching the guildmates clash with reckless enthusiasm.

Fate dodged a chair that whizzed past his head before turning to her. "Yeah, they treat their members like family. Want to join?"

She smirked, clearly entertained by the thought. "I'll think about it." Despite the rowdy nature of the guild, she could sense the strong bonds between its members. More importantly, she knew the boy who had summoned her didn't see her as a tool—he treated her as a person, which was rare.

Before Fate could respond, a familiar voice called out.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to come back."

He turned to see Mira standing nearby, arms crossed, a smug expression on her face. She was so focused on him—clearly eager to land a punch—that she hadn't even noticed the tall, spear-wielding woman beside him.

The moment she was within range, Mira wasted no time, throwing a punch straight at his face.

Much to her surprise, Fate raised his hand and blocked it—his arm reinforced with magic he had spent the last two hours learning. The impact sent a brief shock through his arm, but he held firm.

Mira quickly jumped back, her eyes narrowing.

Scathach, watching with mild amusement, leaned against Fate and rested an arm on his head. "Huh, who's she? Your secret admirer?"

The room fell silent as the guild members finally took notice of the purple-haired woman standing beside Fate. Her striking hourglass figure, large bosom, wide hips, and piercing gaze instantly commanded attention.

Fate remained unfazed. "No. She's just my stalker-turned-aggressor." His voice was monotone, but the words struck a nerve.

Mira's eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

She was well aware that Erza had a stronger claim to being Fate's "stalker," but that didn't mean she appreciated being dismissed so easily. Sure, she occasionally glanced at him, followed him around, and provoked him—but that was just part of the game. After all, in her words, he was "Erza's pet," and messing with him was the fastest way to get under her rival's skin.

But the idea that he was looking down on her? That was unacceptable.

A dangerous aura surrounded Mira as her blue eyes darkened, her fingers cracking as she clenched her fists.

"Oh...?" Her voice dropped, laced with menace. "I'm gonna enjoy breaking you in half."

Fate felt a shiver run down his spine.

'Shit... I just had to open my big mouth.'

Mira's hair began to rise, shifting unnaturally as if it had a life of its own. Her glare locked onto him like a predator about to pounce.

Scathach chuckled, settling onto a stool at the bar and resting her spear on the counter. "If you lose, I'm kicking your ass later, kid."

The Fairy Tail mages exchanged confused glances. Who was this spear-wielding woman? And why did she seem so familiar with Fate? The boy had never mentioned her before.

"Aren't you going to do that anyway?!" Fate shot back, turning toward her. A few hours ago, she had been relentlessly beating him around, only stopping once she realized he was a complete novice in magic.

Scathach shrugged. "I'll just hit you harder." She said it so matter-of-factly that Fate felt a pang of sympathy—for a certain blue Lancer—before his instincts flared.

Mira was already in motion, lunging at him with a right hook.

He barely had time to reinforce his head before her punch connected, sending him flying into the bar. The impact was minimized, but the force still rattled his skull. Rolling with the momentum, he grabbed a tablecloth midair, landing on one knee. The white cloth draped over his shoulders like a makeshift scarf.

Suddenly, music started playing.

Mira smirked, kicking a chair at him. Fate sidestepped effortlessly, letting it soar past before turning toward her. The white cloth fluttered with the movement.

"Oh? Getting cocky now?" Mira's amusement quickly turned to irritation. With a burst of magic, her form shifted—two curved horns jutted back from her head, bat-like wings unfurled from her back, and a thin black tail swayed behind her. A dark sphere of energy formed in her palm.

Black Orb!

Fate pivoted left, avoiding the attack by a hair's breadth.

That only pissed Mira off more. She hurled another, then another. Each attack missed, slipping past him as he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

Dark Fall!

A barrage of dark energy rained down, exploding against the floor with violent force. Yet Fate didn't even break stride—he turned his back to her, walking away as the blasts crashed down behind him. The white cloth flowed dramatically in the wind.

The guild stared in awe.

Mira seethed. It was one thing to be frustrated with Erza. It was another thing entirely to feel looked down on by Erza's pet.

He wasn't even fighting back—just dodging, weaving through her attacks like he was dancing. Mocking her.

Devil Punch!

Mira shot forward, fist crackling with dark energy.

Fate leaned back just enough for her attack to whiff past his nose. Before she could recover, he casually placed a palm on her forehead and pushed, sending her crashing into a table.

Mira recovered instantly, twisting her body mid-fall and launching a kick at his side. Fate simply stepped away.

She pushed herself up, fists flying in rapid succession. Fate dodged every strike with minimal effort, redirecting her hands just enough to throw off her momentum. His movements were fluid, effortless—too effortless.

The onlookers were speechless. He moved with the grace of a dancer, evading Mira's furious onslaught without breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Mira's frustration built to the point that tears threatened to form in her eyes.

And then—

A red blur shot across the room.

With a loud crack, Scathach's spear smacked the back of Fate's head, sending him toppling forward—straight onto Mira.

Silence.

Mira blinked up at him, disoriented, as his weight pressed down on her. Her face slowly turned scarlet.

Scathach rested her spear on her shoulder. "Alright, that's enough. I told you to fight, not dance with her."

Fate groaned, pushing himself up. "You know I don't have much combat experience."

Scathach smirked. "Yet you have an EX-rank in Dancing."

He shot her an exasperated look. "Don't joke around like that."

Then he noticed Mira's expression—blush deepening, teary eyes wide in shock. Confused, he glanced down.

His left hand was on something soft.

Realization struck.

"KYYYYAAA!!"

Mira's scream tore through the guild as she punched him with all her strength.

Fate barely had time to raise his arm in defense. The moment her fist connected, his left arm snapped backward with a sickening crack, bones shattering under the force.

His eyes widened in shock. Pain flared through his entire arm, but his survival instincts kicked in—he poured magic into his broken limb, reinforcing what was left of his bones and torn muscles to keep the damage from worsening.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Even Scathach, who rarely showed concern, narrowed her eyes slightly. She hadn't interfered because Mira's punch hadn't registered as lethal, but she had momentarily forgotten how new Fate was to reinforcement magic. His reaction time was too slow—his defense, too weak. The blow had done far more damage than it should have.

Mira, still lying beneath him, stared in horror at his mangled arm. Blood dripped onto her, staining her black crop top. She could see his exposed bone, the torn muscle barely holding together.

The guild members looked on, wide-eyed and speechless.

And then—

A weak, trembling voice broke the silence.

"It's… not your fault."