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CHP 59: Fairytale
🕑 Added 2023-12-08 14:42:18 +0000 UTC
(A/N: All demon gods look more or less the same, so just go with this.)
Andras was a Demon God considered parasitic by many of his peers but… that was alright, if a parasite could accomplish their goal, then he was fine with being one. His King had chosen him for this momentous task because his parasitism allowed him to function as a Holy Grail under specific circumstances, using the age itself to materialise desire.
Combined with the other Grail they had formed by using the age, as they had numerous times before to destroy and throw history off it's course, that meant they could materialise a story that had never come to be.
It stared at the recipient and to-be agent of their grand ambition and felt empty, no insect was impressive in his eyes.
They had incinerated humanity, and would continue to do so, using the energy drawn to accomplish their King's desire. But there were hindrances, such as the Goddess that had come upon this world incidentally and was attempting to remove it from their influence, for whatever purpose.
They did not like that.
A former human resisting them was folly, it was an insult.
An insult that shouldn't have mattered but drew the attention of their King regardless. Now, Andras was to lose his sense of self to bring back something from an age long destroyed by humanity itself.
From a time that was not permitted.
History had long veered off it's course, their intentions would be accomplished regardless of what the Goddess did. But, their meticulousness was what had brought it about, perhaps it wasn't harmless to overlook one small wrench in their grand plan.
Those that sought to hinder them, those that sought to stop them.
They would be brought to heel by one of their own.
Andras moved to the Lancer class servant, and gazed at the two insects that sought to hinder him. Armed with a Grail of their making, Andras didn't even need to look at them. A simple thought was all it took to blow them away into the distance. A simple thought was enough to form a barrier that spanned human miles, keeping out even nature itself.
The Demon God stared at the frozen Aston from up close, peering into the man's dull eyes.
It was strange, yet very typical of humans.
The Lancer in front of him was someone who had done them much good, protected them, yet was hated and disliked by most for the methods he employed.
"How... f00lish..."
They were fortunate, they did not know of what he could be if there was a slight difference in his circumstances.
They were fortunate, they did not know of what humanity itself chose to remove.
They were unfortunate, they deprived themselves of a perfect future.
They were fortunate the Demon Gods had noticed the possibility the Lancer's summoning brought.
As they had done before, when they had corrupted his King and made truth a story never told.
With a thought, the Grail floating nearing him glowed and evaporated into particles of golden light that entered the Lancer's form.
With a thought, Andras himself was subsumed into the Lancer's form.
It was of no consequence, so long as their King lived, the Demon Gods were eternal.
He cast a glance at the army summoned by Richard in his final moments before disappearing entirely.
And when he had left, the same darkness that brought him into the age now slithered over the form of a hero that sought nothing in return for his compassion. It seeped into his very core, changing it into a form humanity was acquainted with but refused to accept.
It brought forth an individual from a fairytale that was never told, a story never written, an age culled by the collective consciousness of man.
The story of a witch cast out and abandoned and a young boy who lost everything, his one connection to an external force that sought to help him, powerless to change a grim fate.
A union blessed by Mother Nature herself.
Their eternally stagnating empire, and the story of a mortal who became a God.
The barrier erected by Andras cracked and fell apart, allowing Tristan and Gawain to hurry over to their fellow knight, worried for his fate.
"...Sir Aston?"
"What has happened?!"
What they found was no monstrous knight, no slaughtering monster, yet something vile enough to make the former pale in comparison.
Darkness sprung from underneath his very footsteps, spiked tentacles slithered out of it, feeling for their surroundings before retreating into the body that gave rise to them.
What stared at them wasn't the Knight of Atrocity, it was a being antithesis to the King of Heroes himself.
Where one separated the Heavens and the Earth, the other conjoined the two.
Thorns grew from a body enshrouded by dark mist, joined by horns behind what they could only hope were forearms. Two curved horns protruded from the sides of a head that was barely visible, and two glowing white orbs stared at them in an unsettling silence.
The Knight of Atrocity's jagged spear was replaced by a refined spear that was more like a massive axe the size of a monarch's staff.
"Hmmm..." A guttural, disembodied hum left his mouth and the darkness parted to reveal rows of sharp teeth in what they could only presume was a mouth, "This is not my... empire. Where is my treasure?"
"Vile being! Name yourself!"
One of the remaining crusaders shouted at 'him' and the Monarch's eyes shifted to the one who had dared raise his voice, "You may... address me as Tyron, the King of Tyrants. Submit and I shall grant you place among my own."
"Sir Aston, what has happened to you?" Tristan asked slowly, even though the individual in front of him felt nothing like Aston. Instead, it felt they were in the presence of a monarch, one that should be knelt to at a moment's notice.
Raw magical energy reminiscent of the Lion King rolled off his figure, corrupting the very air around them.
The weaker among the Crusaders had done so involuntarily.
'Tyron's' eyes immediately shifted to the red-haired Archer, "Such insolence... That is not a name for the likes of you to utter." He seemed to contemplate for a moment before, "But I shall forgive... I feel well... This is not my age… This is not my Britannia."
"How dare you to tempt my brethren, heath-...?!" Angered, one of the Crusaders had rushed towards him as he was speaking. He was cut off by one of the tentacles slithering around in the darkness at 'Tyron's' feet shooting at him, piercing through his heart and then ripping his corpse to shreds when innumerable spikes appeared all over it's body.
"...Very well."
Tyron raised an open hand, palm pointing to the blue sky and a slit appeared in the air above them. A cursed magma-like energy spilled from it, and flooded the desert with it's sheer volume, devouring all that remained of the crusaders. It was disgusting and nauseating to observe…but, it reminded the knights of home, of Britannia.
He then turned to look at the shocked knights of the Round Table with open arms, a grin etched in his shrouded features, "Go forth, tell this age of my coming... Tell your people to rejoice... I shall construct my eternal Empire once more, aided by my treasure."
The dark sea retreated into the darkness under the King of Tyrants within moments, leaving behind nothing of those it had devoured.
-
They finally lifted my age restriction.
Read forward if you don't mind some contextual spoilers.
Originally, I'd planned out a different plot but then Fate/Samurai Remnant and it's premise, plus Goddess Rhongomyniad, came in. The premise of culled timelines.
Anyone who's into fate may have recognised who the 'witch' is by context alone, if not that, then by the weapon Aston/Tyron is holding. Tyron is Aston Alter, an Aston from a culled timeline where he didn't have the speedforce, no cheats whatsoever and took an extremely different path compared to main timeline Aston. An Aston that didn't meet Artoria in the way main Aston did.
'A union blessed by Mother Nature' means he's backed not by Alaya but instead by Gaia/ Earth. His power comes from that, and the 'witch'. That's why he looks so sinister as compared to the normal Aston. The reason he's the King of Tyrants, is interesting, at least in my view, but I'll leave that for the story to explain.
It's something I really wanted to do.
Why do you think a certain witch gave him a spear?
The main idea to ponder with here is,
'Why does Artoria get to have everything?'
And the main cause for my psuedo writer's block, 'This became a little too much about Artoria.' It's gone now, don't worry.
Cause you know Alters are supposed to be entirely different from the main ones.
Tyron is from a culled timeline, brought into the Sixth Singularity by the Demon Gods. An artifically created situation. It's an Aston that was never supposed to exist after Aston and Alaya's contract.
-
See you with the same/more amount of chapters tomorrow, or maybe today if my laptop charges fast enough. At least until we're the designated amount ahead of Webnovel and Scribblehub.
Updates for Fate/Absolution will be coming too.
P.S: Did I cook?
