Fate: But This Is Not Solomon I Know!

Bayeux, Normandy – Sword of Logos Grand Hall

In the cold stone grand hall, flickering candlelight cast shadows over ancient crested pillars. Zoth walked slowly, the echo of his boots ringing through the silence like a conqueror's proclamation. He stopped before four summoning circles, eyes narrowing like a predator selecting its first prey.

After a few moments of silence, he raised a hand. His voice was low, steady—cold as a blade:

"Emiya-kun, go to St. Salo and receive the two Knights of the Round Table… They're on their way."

Emiya stood in a corner of the hall, arms crossed. His eyes, sharp as knives, swept across Zoth. He adjusted the black sword on his hip and gave a smirk—half mocking, half intrigued.

"Oh? Knights of the Round, huh?"

He rolled his shoulders, neck stretching like a beast preparing to pounce.

"Got it… Want me to bring them back alive?"

Zoth turned his head, shrugged like he was discussing breakfast:

"No need. Just annihilate them."

A beat of silence. Emiya glanced at the ritual circles, frowning, voice tinged with skepticism:

"Wait a sec… Without the Grail, how the hell are you planning to summon Servants?"

Zoth sneered, as if he'd just been asked the dumbest question on Earth:

"That broken cup? Gimme a second."

He raised a hand, twisting space like turning the page of an old book. A rift of light cracked open midair—and from it, he pulled a gleaming golden chalice, radiating like a divine relic from another world.

"Ta-da~! The Holy Grail!"

Emiya froze, eyes widening. He instinctively took a step forward.

"Where the hell did you get that?!"

Zoth placed the Grail atop the crimson carpet that stretched down the hall. His voice was lazy, but the smugness was unmistakable:

"Oh this? Found it lying around, just before I kicked Goetia into the [Solomon Gates]. Right next to where I smashed his face in."

"Anyway, it's just a big clump of thick mana… though, I still had to form contracts to get them to work for me~."

He extended a hand toward the summoning circles, voice steady—like telling a fairytale.

But the pressure from his words made the stone floor tremble.

(Too lazy to write the chant, gimme a pass~)

Crimson light erupted like a storm of mana, spreading through the hall. The temperature spiked, the air wavered, and swirls of deep red light twisted violently—as if burning away the very fabric of old history.

From the center of the magic circles, four figures slowly emerged, their shadows long—like nightmares born from the distorted memories of mankind.

Zoth sat down, arms folded, eyes as sharp as razors:

"Welcome, Heroic Spirits."

"I am Zoth. Or, if you prefer formality, Solomon the Holy Lord. Hobby: Lazy. Passionately hate: evil."

"Now then… who are you?"

A tall figure stepped forward first—black armor trimmed with red, eyes wild like a beast:

"I am Vlad III, Berserker. I answered the call because—"

"You want to erase the shame of being labeled a Vampire, right?" Zoth cut him off, lips curling as if he already knew the answer. "Don't worry. I can make it happen."

A woman followed, her long dress brushing the cold stone floor. Her eyes, blood-red like coagulated frost, her voice flat as death:

"I am Carmilla, Assassin. Like Vlad… I wish to erase the disgrace of history."

From the light behind, a girl strode forth—wild, determined, cat ears perked high:

"I am Atalanta, Archer. I want every child in this world to live in happiness."

A soft growl—like a sob caught in the throat.

Frankenstein – Berserker – stepped forward with a slight knee bend. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, lips trembling in silence.

But that gaze… was the desperate cry of a forsaken soul.

Zoth gave a slight nod, his voice dipping with quiet understanding:

"You just want… a friend. Don't you?"

He rose, one hand propping his chin, eyes calm yet commanding:

"Don't worry."

"Once we rewrite the world… I promise, every wish will come true."

He tilted his head and called out:

"Neko Megid~. Bring me the four Sacred Swords and [Wonder Ride Books]."

"At your command, Holy Lord." Neko Megid bowed, then vanished into the wind.

Twenty minutes later, the grand hall doors flung open.

Neko Megid led the Megid procession, followed by Shimi Megid and others carrying long boxes draped in black velvet. The metal glint inside sparkled—like weapons of the divine.

Zoth approached, running a hand lightly over a box before giving the command:

"Vlad III – your forte is spearmanship, correct?"

He drew out a long trident-like spear, blue light running down its blade like a living stream of mana.

"This is Jikokuken Kaiji.

Beside it is the [Ocean History] book.

Take them. Get familiar. I won't need to teach you."

"Carmilla – you loved singing when you were young, dreamed of becoming an idol, didn't you?"

"Then take this – Onjuuken Suzune – the Sound Slash Sword. Perfect for you."

"Atalanta – the unyielding huntress.

You'll wield Fuusouken Hayate – Twin Gale Blades.

Swift as the first winds of spring."

"Frankenstein – the rest belongs to you.

Dogouken Gekido – Earth Slash Sword.

Strong enough to shake the earth itself."

He handed them their swords, their books, his eyes tracing each Servant like a sculptor admiring his masterpieces.

The breath in the hall seemed to still, as he issued his next command:

"Each of you – take a position at East, West, South, and North… where I've placed the [Great Books] in the sky."

"If any Servants are forcibly summoned to stop us…"

"Eliminate them. No mercy."

The four Servants nodded sharply. Their eyes cold as steel, their backs fading into the scarlet-lit corridors—as if marching into destiny's battlefield.

Zoth propped his chin, lips curled:

"Oh right… Emiya."

Shirou glanced over, frowning:

"What?"

"I changed my mind. Let the Knights of the Round come here… We'll play with them slowly."

Emiya Shirou blinked. His eyelid twitched like a glitching monitor.

This bastard changed moods faster than Tohsaka Rin changes clothes in the morning…

"Serious question—what do I do now?"

"Keep guarding Sword of Logos like usual."

"Oh, and one more thing…" Zoth clenched his fist, eyes flaring with mad light:

"Chaldea has arrived!! And this game…"

"…just got a whole lot more fun!!"

Shirou instinctively stepped back, face twisted like he'd just swallowed a spoonful of pure Mapo Tofu.

'I swear… someone needs to throw this guy into a psych ward ASAP.'

"Chotto matte!"

"What now?!"

"I plan to summoning Servants to help me destroy this world and rewrite the fate of Jeannette and yours, right?!"

"Yup. 100%."

"Then why the hell is Chaldea here?!

This place isn't even a Singularity!!"

Zoth stood still for a few seconds… then scratched his head.

"Uh… huh… right."

Shirou rubbed his temples and let out a sigh so long it seemed to drain his whole youth away.

This entire scene…

He regretted ever siding with Zoth.

War… always begins as the game of a madman.

---

Far North – Finis Chaldea, Successor Organization for the Protection of Humanity

An organization dedicated to observing and ensuring the survival of mankind.

In a cold, sterile room, cyan lights flickered through thick glass, casting soft shadows across the polished steel floor. A handsome, middle-aged man with light pink hair sat intently watching a series of monitors blinking without pause.

The holographic light reflected off his thin glasses, concealing the eyes weighed down by anxiety. Romani Archaman pursed his lips, fingers flying across the keyboard, tension etched into the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes—marks of both time and responsibility.

"Romani, take a break. You don't need to push yourself so hard."

A gentle voice cut through the tangle of thoughts. Da Vinci — the ever-confident genius with brown hair and a radiant smile — softly placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

She sat down beside him, propping her chin in her hand, her sharp eyes tracking the chaotic graphs dancing across the screen.

"You don't understand, Da Vinci,"

"This singularity… is strange. It's not the result of a Human Order Incineration phenomenon. It was created—deliberately—by someone."

Romani replied, eyes never leaving the data that continued to distort with every passing second. On the screen, a holographic model of the Bayeux region twisted and warped, as if crushed in the grip of some inhuman force.

"Huh? So it wasn't the work of the King of Mages?"

"Now that's... bizarre~"

Da Vinci raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from surprise to suspicion. The light smile on her lips faded, replaced by a cold gleam of wariness in her eyes.

"Should we really send Ritsuka and Mash into this…?"

Romani exhaled quietly, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he studied the unstable leyline values.

"Don't worry. They've grown… They're strong enough to handle it."

Da Vinci gently patted his shoulder. Though her tone was soft, it carried an unmistakable firmness—like an elder sister keeping the team grounded.

"But—"

"Doctor Romani!"

A youthful voice burst in, cutting off his thoughts. From the hallway leading into the command center, Fujimaru Ritsuka rushed in, eyes filled with determination that contrasted sharply with the lingering traces of adolescence on his face. Close behind him was Mash Kyrielight, her short purple hair and glasses framing an expression of unwavering resolve—ready to face whatever danger awaited.

"You don't have to worry. We've got this!"

"Yeah! We've already dealt with seven Singularities, including Babylonian and Jerusalem!"

"Leave this one to us!"

Mash clenched her fists, her voice carrying the confidence of a battle-hardened warrior.

Romani looked at the two of them, and for a brief moment, a flicker of emotion crossed his eyes… then he slowly nodded, as if finally letting go of a long-held burden.

"Haa… I'll be counting on you two."

"By the way, which Servants are you taking?" Da Vinci tilted her head, her smile returning along with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

"I was planning to ask Senpai Zoth along with Assassin and Avenger…" Ritsuka scratched his head, looking pained. "But… the moment I mentioned France, they all went pale and vanished without a trace."

"So… I'm taking Jalter."

His face looked like he was about to cry.

"Haha~ I'm sure Senpai Zoth and the others are just tired."

Mash chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well then…" Romani nodded, his voice dropping slightly but filled with trust. "We'll leave it to you."

"Yeah! We've got this!"

---

10 Minutes Later – Rayshift Room

The vast chamber echoed with the roar of machinery. Along both sides, rows of spiritron pillars blazed brilliantly like living conduits of energy. The air was unnaturally still—heavy with the silence that precedes a storm.

The Rayshift Engine—the spiritron conversion machine—was ready.

Warning alarms blared in rhythmic pulses, like a racing heartbeat urging those about to enter the fray.

Mash, Ritsuka, and Jeanne Alter had taken their positions.

"Let me make this clear first," Jeanne Alter crossed her arms, her eyes flickering with sparks of rage that threatened to ignite everything around her. Her voice was cold enough to freeze blood. "I'm not doing this for your sake. Don't forget it."

Her black dress fluttered in the swirl of surging mana around her, strands of silver-gray hair lifting slightly as if drawn by static charge.

"Yeah, yeah, we know…"

Ritsuka sighed, rubbing his forehead, gaze lifting to the glass ceiling above—where arcs of light were beginning to converge. It looked as though he were praying for a miracle… or at the very least, a smooth mission.

The three of them stepped into the Rayshift pod. They inhaled deeply, as if breathing in what might be their last grasp of life before stepping into the jaws of death.

Outside, dozens of Chaldea technicians were working at a furious pace—every protocol pushed to the limit. No one spoke, but the tension in the air was stretched to a knife's edge.

"Rayshift preparation: complete."

"Target confirmed: Bayeux – Year 1430."

"Commencing spiritron conversion."

A calm female voice rang out across the command room, crisp and final—like the pronouncement of a sentence.

"Grand Order 8th – Operation Start!"

In that moment, a blinding light engulfed the three of them. Their bodies disintegrated into streams of spiritron data—as if their very souls were being torn apart—before vanishing entirely from this world.

Once again, the fate of everything rested in their hands.

---

Plains of Calvados – France, Year 1430

A beam of light tore through the mist-covered sky, slicing across the heavens like an invisible blade.

Three figures—Mash, Jeanne Alter, and Ritsuka—materialized within the thin fog, landing on dew-covered grass in a pale green field.

The moment they raised their heads—

Their pupils constricted in unison—shock and dread flaring in their eyes.

Above them.

A colossal book—like a divine relic from some forgotten god—floated in midair. Its pages turned slowly, each one glowing with a deep crimson light that bled across the sky, pouring down tendrils of nightmare-like mana onto the earth below.

With each turn of the page, a piece of the sky twisted and warped, as though reality itself were being ripped apart.

"What... is that...?"

Mash's voice trembled as she muttered. She gripped her round shield tighter, feeling the crushing waves of mana pressing down as though to pulverize everything beneath.

"That's Zoth's power..."

Jeanne Alter growled through clenched teeth. Her voice was low, but sharp as a blade's edge.

Her golden eyes burned—not just with fury, but with shame… and fury turned inward.

Her fingers dug into her black flag, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white.

"Zoth-senpai?! That's impossible!"

Ritsuka shouted, voice shaking.

"If he was this powerful, why the hell was he so scared of Lady Jeanne?!"

It was as if the very foundation of his world had cracked beneath him.

"Ritsuka, can you hear me?"

A voice came from the communicator on his wrist—Romani's voice, urgent and cold.

"Loud and clear, Doctor."

Ritsuka took a deep breath, answering with a voice now steadier, lower.

"Good."

"We've confirmed this: This singularity hasn't just diverged from proper Human History—it's actively corroding the timeline itself."

"It's not a localized anomaly—it's a spreading infection, eroding history from its roots."

Romani's words hit like a punch to the gut.

Ritsuka froze for a heartbeat, then his expression hardened—eyes sharpening like drawn steel.

"In that case… we end this fast!!"

He roared, fists clenched so tight they began to bleed.

There was no way back.

No time left to hesitate.

Welcome to the Eighth Grand Order.