Fate: But This Is Not Solomon I Know!

Balyeux – The Heart of the Sword of Logos.

Within the majestic castle of the Sword of Logos, faint light trickled down from ancient bookshelves, casting long shadows across stone-paved corridors.

And echoing through the silence—

Was the incessant rambling of someone.

"Books over here, books over there. That's the Ancient Archive—also books. Ah! That place seals the cursed tomes, but hey... still books."

Naturally, who else could it be but Zoth?

He sauntered through the halls like a Hell-born tour guide, pointing left and right with all the enthusiasm of someone giving a lecture on eternity itself, all while repeating one word like a broken incantation:

"Books."

Behind him walked Emiya, arms crossed, face stone-cold—but the exasperation was hard to miss.

He sighed, shaking his head lightly.

"This... is the guy humanity considers a global-level threat…?"

His gaze toward Zoth was like watching a lunatic trying to sell multi-level marketing schemes—simultaneously dangerous and utterly beyond comprehension.

Suddenly, Zoth stopped and spun around.

"Ah, right! Emiya-kun~."

A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. His lips curled into a grin so suspicious it could make anyone instinctively reach for their weapon.

Emiya took a step back without thinking, eyes narrowing in alarm, one hand already drifting toward his blade.

"W–What now...?"

Zoth burst out laughing, rubbing his forehead like a man completely done with the 'over-cautious act,' his chuckle far too relaxed to be trusted.

"Calm down, will you? I just wanted to remind you of something."

He stepped in closer, rubbing his hands together like a sleazy insurance salesman ready to pitch his next 'miracle deal':

"With your busted magecraft and half-spirit, half-corporeal mess of a body…

If you tag along like this, you'll be face-planting real soon."

Emiya's brow twitched. His eyes began to radiate killing intent. But before he could get a word in—

Zoth raised one finger, in full wise-man mode:

"That's why! From this moment on—

You are the first, and I mean the very first Servant I'll grant one of the 11 Sacred Swords to."

He turned on his heel and strolled off, hands in his pockets, footsteps light as a feather.

Like he had just handed down a divine blessing—without a care in the world whether the recipient even realized what they'd just received.

Emiya stood frozen for a moment, stunned. Then let out a long sigh.

He said nothing. Simply resumed walking behind Zoth—

But his eyes now held something different.

No longer just wariness.

But a deeper, more unsettling question slowly stirring in the back of his mind:

"This guy... what the hell is he?"

---

Sword of Logos – The Library of Blades.

Unlike any other room in the Sword of Logos' castle, the Library of Blades felt like a scene torn from ancient legend.

Towering glass cases lined the walls, filled to the brim with Wonder Ride Books and Alter Ride Books, arranged with surgical precision. Golden-red light bathed the chamber, casting a majestic glow that rivaled even the grandest halls of kings.

At the very center stood a stone pedestal encircled by eleven Sacred Swords, each one planted in the rock like part of some eternal rite.

Faint halos radiated from the blades—gentle, calming—like moonlight reaching into the depths of the soul.

In one corner leaned Zoth, one hand resting lazily atop the hilt of Caladbolg, his posture relaxed but eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Go on.

Pick one and pull it out."

Emiya approached slowly, his eyes scanning each of the divine swords in turn.

He paused, glancing at Zoth with a voice tinged with skepticism:

"These... are sacred swords?"

Zoth shrugged.

"Yeah. 'Sacred Swords.'

'Holy Blades.'

'Divine relics that kill gods and chew through saints'—call them whatever you want.

Each has its own trait. Combine one with a Driver and a Wonder Ride Book… boom, you get a unique power set."

Emiya frowned slightly, clearly not understanding half of what Zoth just said. Still, he stayed silent and circled the ring of swords.

As he moved, the glow of the blades seemed to ripple with his steps.

And then—

He stopped.

Before him stood a sword of ominous purple-black. Its aura devoured nearby light, a void among radiance.

And yet... something within it called to him.

A deep, instinctive pull—like the sword had been waiting for him all along.

Without hesitation, Emiya reached out and grasped the hilt.

[Shing!]

A soft golden gleam sparked along the blade as it slid free.

Not defiant, not resisting—

But accepting.

As if the sword had already chosen him.

"Ooh~ good taste, Emiya-kun~."

Zoth whistled, stepping over and giving Emiya a pat on the shoulder, his eyes showing rare interest:

"That sword's called Ankokuken Kurayami, or just The Blade of Darkness.

It's aligned with shadow and dragon energy—deadly when paired with the right Driver."

Zoth took a few steps back, rubbing his chin in that signature lazy tone of his:

"It's often used to seal other Sacred Swords. Or, you know, some overactive artifacts on occasion.

In simple terms… it's a blade of suppression and control.

Honestly? Fits you perfectly, Emiya-kun."

Emiya raised the sword, attempting to analyze its structure through Projection Magecraft, but—

It failed.

The blade was veiled in a barrier—unreadable, unsalvageable, unreplicable.

No data. No structure. No copy.

"Hahh…

You really collect the weirdest weapons…

Master Logos."

Zoth laughed heartily, planting his hands on his hips with pride so obnoxious it should be illegal:

"Of course!

Hand-imported from parallel dimensions, thank you very much.

Premium quality—five-star reviews all around!"

With a casual spin, he walked over to a massive bookshelf, plucked out two Wonder Ride Books without so much as a glance, and tossed them at Emiya like snack packs.

[Clack!]

Emiya caught them mid-air on reflex.

He stared at the covers, puzzled.

"These are...?"

"Wonder Ride Books,"

Zoth answered instantly, not even looking back, still rubbing his chin like he was deep in fake thought:

"Each one holds a story—

A legend, a myth, a concept... basically, mythological junk crammed into magical paper."

"You've got stuff like Brave Dragon, King of Arthur, Jaaku Dragon...

Open it, insert it into the right Driver, and—boom! Medieval cosplay with actual firepower."

Emiya sighed, fingers brushing the covers. The books radiated a strange, dangerous aura—so unlike any magical system he'd ever known:

"These things...

They're completely outside the Magecraft framework of the Magus Association, Master Logos."

Zoth suddenly stopped in his tracks.

His eyes flickered—

As if remembering something.

[Pop!]

"Oh, almost forgot."

He spun around.

Before Emiya could even ask—

Zoth drove his hand straight into Emiya's chest.

[Shunk!]

Mana erupted like a shattered tide.

Emiya froze—not in pain, but in disbelief that this madman would do something this reckless without warning!

From Zoth's hand, a stream of azure energy unraveled like silk, twisting together into a pulsating, unwilling Contract Sigil.

Zoth raised an eyebrow, held it up like he was inspecting a counterfeit, then tore it apart without a care.

"Heheh~ Lucky you, Emiya-kun~

Almost forgot I promised to break your contract with Alaya."

Eyes wide, Emiya could only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed.

"This guy… is hopelessly unpredictable…"

But before he could curse out loud—

[BOOM!]

The entire castle trembled.

From the skies above, an insane surge of mana roared like a beast, ripping through space in brute force.

Zoth clicked his tongue, glaring at the ceiling like it owed him rent.

"Tsk, tsk…

One of Solomon's dogs just barged into my house."

"Who are you talking about?" Emiya asked, frowning.

Zoth waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing a fly:

"Ah…

Just some knock-off trying to replace the real deal over in Chaldea.

We'll deal with him later."

Zoth marched toward the center of the room and drew another Sacred Sword—Hanjiken Bilgamed, its blade twinkling like starlight.

Meanwhile, Emiya adjusted the Driver on his waist, gripping Kurayami firmly and swinging it a few times to test its weight and the mana flow within.

Zoth glanced back, twirling Bilgamed lazily before jerking his chin toward Emiya.

"Oh right, Emiya-kun~

Head over to the training grounds I pointed out earlier.

Get used to that sword of yours.

Once I'm done with the bootleg, I'll come teach you how to actually use it."

He turned away, cloak billowing in a swirl of black and white.

Bilgamed shone like a crescent moon, and the power rippling around him promised an imminent clash of titans.

Emiya watched him go.

His eyes calm—but with a flicker of awe he couldn't quite hide.

"He really is…

A madman who dares to defy fate itself.

And yet…

There's something about him you can't help but follow."

---

Bayeux – Central Headquarters of the Sword of Logos.

High in the sky, a figure emerged.

Long silver hair fluttered in the wind. Crimson eyes burned like bloodlit embers. His presence, laced with infernal malice, washed over the entire region with overwhelming pressure.

He didn't bother hiding it.

He descended slowly from the heavens, as if the world itself belonged to him.

"Yo, mutt of Solomon!

Barking in someone else's yard? Real rude, y'know."

Zoth strolled out casually, standing at the center of the grand plaza.

He looked up at the intruder with a smirk that smacked like a slap—no need for subtlety.

"You dare— tch, forget it."

The figure hissed, voice dropping into venomous disdain.

"I am Solomon.

I've come to invite you to join the incineration of humanity—

along with all of human history."

Zoth laughed.

Half amused. Half insulted.

"Oh? You inviting me?

Sorry, I don't play fetch with someone else's pet."

He raised a hand to his face, as if shielding his eyes from something filthy.

A sigh followed—deep, tired, and dripping with contempt.

"You—!"

"Shut it, Goetia."

Zoth's voice suddenly dropped—razor-sharp, cold enough to cut bone.

He touched his ear lightly, eyes locked:

"You, and the 72 mutts following you…

Abandoned by your master, now seething with hatred for the world—

What good does that do?

In the end, you're just a bunch of discarded pets,

howling like someone owes you a bone."

"You arrogant human—!!"

Goetia howled, his form still cloaked in the guise of Solomon.

Both arms raised—activating all Ten Rings in a devastating divine bombardment, crashing down from the heavens with godlike fury.

Zoth simply stared up.

Shrugged.

"Man… I love peace,

and yet you force me to fight.

So heartbreaking."

He pulled out the Omni Force Ride Book and, without hesitation, slammed it into his Driver.

Black mist surged, fused with golden particles of power, engulfing his body in radiant shadow.

[Kamen Rider… Solomon!]

[Fear Is Coming Soon…]

Zoth immediately shut the Book on the Driver—

The mechanical voice continued in a deep, decisive tone:

[Omnimus Loading…]

"But hey~

You make a great punching bag to test my new Omni Force loadout!"

He thrust his hand onto the Driver again:

[Solomon Break!!]

Zoth drew Caladbolg, spinning it once in his hand to loosen his grip.

Then he grinned—

A wicked, bone-chilling grin that reeked of unfiltered killing intent.

Red-black energy spiraled around him, merging with True Ether, causing Caladbolg to emit an eerie screech—like the cries of tortured souls from a bottomless abyss.

He didn't wait.

He aimed.

And fired.

A colossal wave of condensed power surged forward, cutting the skies as it tore toward Goetia.

[BOOM!]

Caught off guard right after his divine barrage, Goetia couldn't react in time.

The slash slammed into his chest, blasting him across the sky like a flaming comet streaking in reverse.

But Zoth wasn't done.

He pulled out Bilgamed—the blade of silver light.

In both hands now—Caladbolg in his right, Bilgamed in his left—

He slashed both simultaneously.

Twin golden arcs ripped through the air like judgment from heaven, crossing in an X-shape straight at Goetia.

[SHRAK!]

Goetia's twin horns were sliced clean off.

The impact threw him into a spiral mid-air, leaving trails of burning mist from still-sizzling wounds.

Staggering, Goetia roared with fury.

His form began to shift—

Reverting into his true body: a monstrous, godlike being laced with twisted divinity.

"Human! You've gone TOO FAR!

Then feel the punishment of a god!"

Goetia began to summon his Noble Phantasm—

Exactly what Zoth had baited him into doing.

From beneath his visor, Zoth's smirk widened, eyes flashing with a look that screamed:

"Gotcha, dumbass."

"Oh? Gonna use your Noble Phantasm now?"

"Well then—"

Zoth raised Bilgamed high.

Golden light surged along its blade, ancient runes illuminating in midair.

He traced his hand through the space in front of him—each glowing symbol etched like divine commands upon reality itself:

[Within this realm, use of Noble Phantasms is forbidden!]

A golden seal burst across the sky—like an invisible cage locking reality into submission.

Goetia roared, pouring power into his hands.

He tried to release [Ars Almadel Salomonis], intent on turning all of Calvados to ash.

But—

Nothing happened.

"Wha—?!"

Goetia froze.

He stared at his hands in shock.

Just moments ago, they pulsed with divine energy.

Now... they felt drained, hollow.

Zoth folded his arms.

Grinned like a kid showing off a cheat code in class.

"Scared yet~?

That was just one of the five abilities of Omni Force."

He held up one finger, counting down like he was giving a presentation:

"First – Limited manipulation of reality.

Second – Control over space and time.

Third – Rewrite history and destiny.

Fourth – Create and command fragments of the world.

Fifth – And the best of all…"

He leaned forward, voice low—like a death sentence:

"The ability to rewrite… or alter… the story itself."

Zoth looked Goetia dead in the eye.

"In other words...

I'm the author.

You? Just a side character about to get cut from the script."

Goetia stood frozen.

He, an avatar of Solomon's authority, could not bypass rules written by the one who wrote the rules.

Suddenly—Zoth vanished.

Goetia whipped around, alert—

Too late.

Behind him, a whisper crept up his spine like a devil's breath:

"Surprise, motherf—?!"

Zoth appeared from thin air, teleporting behind Goetia with perfect precision.

A swirling vortex opened—Solomon Gates, a dimensional rift resembling a demonic eye.

Before Goetia could act, Zoth drop-kicked him straight into the portal.

A strike so brutal it shattered space-time barriers like glass.

"You—! HUMAN!

This isn't over—!!"

Goetia was hurled into the dimensional flow, trapped between the rivers of time and space, screaming like a soul tossed into its own custom-tailored hell.

Zoth landed softly.

Dusted off his hands like he'd just taken out the trash.

"Done."

He turned to leave—

But something sparkled nearby, catching the sunlight with an almost divine glint.

He paused.

Stepped closer.

On the ground lay a small, radiant object.

Gleaming gold—like it was forged from distilled holiness itself.

A goblet.

"…God damn.

The Holy Grail?"

Zoth picked it up, turning it in his hand like a new toy.

Then grinned—

A grin too wide, too excited, and too dangerous for anyone's good.

"Huehehehe~

Things are about to get fun~"