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Chapter 8 — Extraordinary (Public)
🕑 Added 2024-05-01 07:15:57 +0000 UTCAfter a night of extensive experimentation, I have come to three conclusions. Firstly, my initial assumption holds true—the Great Tree does indeed reward efforts, although the reduction is quite modest.
Currently, it only accounts for 3% of the total cost for the next Perk or Upgrade. However, according to the Hint I received, the maximum price reduction can reach up to 50%, directly halving the cost.
Secondly, I have discovered that my Talent also plays a role in the price reduction.
The more skilled I am in a specific Branch, the faster I can achieve the maximum 50% discount and vice versa. This means that certain Branches, like the ‘Knife Branch’ for instance, will take ‘forever’ to reach the full sale price reduction, and all ‘Red Branches’ can only get 25% reduction. The good news is, the same principle applies to the ‘Gold Branches’ as well, with a staggering 75% reduction if I’m persistent.
Last but certainly not least, I have discovered that the ‘sale’ is essentially a meter that will deplete with each Perk or Upgrade, whether I use it or not. Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of freely selecting and choosing which options to spend it on. More precisely, I cannot save the ‘sale’ for future purchases. Obsession was quite... Pissy about previous ‘sponsored’ keeping the ‘sales’ like vouchers until the late-game.
‘It defeats the whole point!’
He had said in the Hint... In all caps as well.
The blame falls squarely on his shoulders, really. Did he honestly believe he could leave such an immense loophole without anyone catching on and exploiting the shit out of it? Hah… For someone who claims to be the God of Obsession, he sure lacks understanding of the things which consume human minds. ‘Bro had the nerves to act surprised, as if we and every other alien species are not trying to find and exploit the laws of nature to our own ends already.’
Interrupted from my musings by the first glimpse of sunlight at dawn, I mechanically begin my typical daily routine.
Plucking at the damp locks cascading across my face, I ponder the idea of a drastic trim, adopting a Spartan-like appearance.
After all, I am already armed with a spear, and even bear the name Leonis, which I am completely convinced was not my original given name but rather the designation of this body’s, even if recollections of my past existence all seem to indicate otherwise. Then, I remember where I am… Japan, and nearly every Asian country can be described by this simple idiom: ‘The nail which sticks out gets hammered down.’
This mindset is even more prominent in the early 2000’s,
Sporting such a hairstyle for my debut could do more harm than good to my reputation.
Public opinion can be as fickle as a cat’s mood, and I’d rather not take that risk. “A middle-parted look makes me seem friendlier, doesn’t it?” Styling my hair simply, I fetch the business card out of my dirty-clothes, before deciding to give the Fuyuki Church’s landline a test. Here’s a hint, “—Thank you for calling us, Magnus‐san!” It works fine.
"Just Magnus is sufficient,"
I interject, feeling a twinge of cringe at the mention of honorifics. “May I ask how you recognized me?"
"—I keep separate phones exclusively for business purposes, it's been quite some time since I received a call from an unknown caller, so I took an educated guess." The journalist responds, her tone all smiles. “I know it's a little early, but I’m calling to tell you I wish to do the interview today, under one condition, miss.”
“—Which is?”
I could ask them for monetary compensation for my time, but one must look at the long-term benefits first, always. Putting on my most innocent voice, I loudly say. “I would like to keep my identity hidden!”
As I previously noted, the likelihood of encountering people—Caucasians, specifically—with my unique characteristics in Fuyuki is extremely minimal, and by ‘extremely minimal,’ I mean practically non-existent. Considering the speed at which information spreads even in this age of technology, and how poor the techonology is, obscuring my face with mosaic like the privates of a AV actress should noy result in any negative repercussions.
Moreover, it could be seen as a gesture of humility on my part.
Afterward, I plan to participate in some sort of contest and hope the paparazzi to do their job dutifully. ‘To think there’d come a day when I’d prefer having my privacy violated, what strange places promises of power can do to us…’
Naturally, riding the initial wave of fame is a relatively simple task, but the real challenge lies in sustaining that fame. ‘Arts…’ In times of war, men prove themselves by surviving said war, while times of peace require three things: Appearance; talents and good publicity, two of which are already well in my pockets, unless I somehow fuck the interview up spectacularly. ‘The real problem is still talent, huh?’
“Certainly, Mr. Magnus. That can be accommodated, but people with your appearance are rather uncommon in Japan, and the paparazzi can be... Rather Intrusive, shall we say.”
“I understand, and won’t hold it against you if they happen to find out, but my guardian wants a period of preparations at least.”
“—Completely understandable. When can we meet?”
“Whenever you’re ready, Tanabe-san.”
A short while later, I find myself seated opposite two journalists, both of them visibly excited for the interview, though the one called Yukio-san seems a touch more composed than yesterday—less pushy at least. Sitting out in that bitter cold, -5° weather, waiting to speak with a kid who wasn’t even home when they arrived must have tested his patience.
But that is the nature of their profession, always racing to chase the next big story before others. “Mr. Magnus, is your guardian not with you?”
“Unfortunately, Kirei is out at the moment. He’s volunteering at the soup kitchen. Helping people get back on their feet is the best way for Fuyuki to recover, don't you think?” I say politely, as we begin to exchange the usual pleasantries, neither of us truly meaning them. “It’s a pleasure to see you both today. Shall we get started?”
“Let’s.”
Sipping our teas, I start providing the journalists with all the minute, imaginary details about my life right now.
When it comes to my past, I simply tell the truth: Like the other kids who survived the Great Fire, I don’t recall much. “When I woke up, I was surrounded by flames and smoke choking the sky. My first thought was to escape with my life.”
“Why didn’t you?” Yukio inquires.
“I heard people trapped beneath the rubble, and I just couldn’t leave them,” I explain, which is technically the truth, though not the full story. In truth, I had wanted to see how many lives I could affect—to test the limits of my power—to see how close I am to a God. I got my answer: Many, but not nearly enough.
Sipping my tea, I continue, face twisting in agony, as though still haunted by what I saw. “The flames were choking the air, but I had to try. I had to do something, anything, to help those people. Even if I couldn’t save them all, I had to try…”
Turns out, those ‘crying-on-commands’ YouTube shorts can be useful. “I, uh, I’m sorry. It’s been a very tough time for the people of Fuyuki.”
“Do you need a little time to catch your breath, Leo?”
I notice the subtle shift in how they address me, but choose to ignore it.
After all, I’ve got to play up the act for the cameras, haven’t I?
The truth is, I felt nothing while saving those people—nothing but the reassurance that I could protect myself. It was simply something to occupy my time in that moment.
The reality of it is: I didn’t feel any deep connection or sense of purpose in saving those souls. It was just something to do at the time, a way to test my own capabilities.
I suppose I also took some satisfaction in knowing I could, but beyond that?
No, I felt nothing profound.
No heartfelt warmth for saving lives;
No ‘light’ that opens me up to the glory of God(s) or whatever.
Nothing.
I myself find no joy in act of helping anothee human being, I’m merely emulating, like Shiro(u) who’s so desperate to feel that same joy Kiritsugu did dragging her out of the Fire, hoping she may experience that too. Taking another sip of tea, I meet their gazes tearily, then shifts it to my cup, my thumbs scratching the cup ‘anxiously,’ the ripples on the surface seeming to reflect my own state of mind.
Even so, I can’t help the occasional glance upward, like a shy child seeking affirmation, to check their expressions, which have softened considerably since I began my account. ‘Hook, line…’
“You’re just a kid, after all.” Yukio mumbles under his breath words I’d never have caught without my improved hearing. ‘And sinker!’
"That's it, thank you for your cooperation, Leo-san." Tanabe Eri's posture has noticeably relaxed, and she moves to take the seat beside me. Reaching out, she gently pats my head. "Off the record, are you... Doing alright there? I have a few wealthy friends who would be more than happy to welcome you into their home, if you'd like."
‘Always thought it’d be me to pat someone’s head first...’
“Thank you, but Kirei is a ‘Man of God;’ my savior—” I pause, too ‘emotional’ to continue as I choke. “I won’t say he’s perfect, but he is all I have.”
Her expression—warm, concerned, stands in stark contrast to the professional detachment she maintained earlier.
"Alright, if you’re sure... Why don't you let us treat you to something from the menu? Anything at all."
"I... appreciate the offer, Tanabe-san. It's very kind of you."
Pausing, I consider for a moment whether to accept or reject her proposal. "If it's no trouble, I wouldn't mind the strawberry sundae... If that is alright with you, of course!"
Hastily, I correct, as if embarrassed by my own choice.
I’d go for a coffee with whipped egg yolk, but I’ve put so much effort into crafting this pink, cutesy image in their minds that a sundae will help cement.
Even Yukio seems to have let his guard down around me, and the sight of a boy too shy to eat strawberry ice cream will surely win him over. It’s a conflict many men have faced as kids—on one hand, men enjoying ice cream can diminish their image in this era since it is considered ‘girly’ by most, especially all the strawberry-flavored comfort foods; but on the other, ice cream is delicious. “Have as much as you want, kiddo! We’ll pay for it!”
“Thank you, Yukio-san...”
With three stomach-churning sundaes forced down my throat, I bid farewell to the two journalists—the first of many more to come. Heading out, I make my way towards the soup kitchen where Kirei volunteers. I have to admit, I was just as surprised to learn that tidbit. But it seems Kirei volunteers at events like this quite often, mostly because he seems to take some perverse enjoyment in witnessing the misery emanating from the downtrodden.
Today starts my first shift…
I signed up to join for the publicity boost, but given my young age, the volunteers have relegated me to the easier tasks– carrying chairs, taking dirty dishes to the back for cleaning, and the like.
“Thanks to everyone for all the hard work!”
One of the volunteers call out. “Kotomine-san, Leo-chan, how about you two join us for dinner?”
The priest and I exchange a glance, before I politely decline their invitation. “Apologies, but I’ve already made plans to have dinner with a friend.” That friend, of course, being Rin. “And the Church is in a bit of a state of disarray with Father Risei’s passing, so I’m afraid neither of us will be able to join you guys.”
The volunteer's smile fades as he solemnly addresses Kirei, “I’m so sorry for your loss… Your father was a great man.”
He then turns to me, his expression brightening once more. Kneeling down, he leans in and whispers in my ear, “Is it a girl?” I nod, and he hums excitedly, “Ah, young love…”
“There’s nothing of the sort between us,” I correct, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears as the man continues, “When are you going to tell her your feelings?"
I deadpan, “We’ve met twice, and I kinda fainted the first time we did.”
Undeterred, he asks, “Ah, where do you plan to take her on the first date?”
“I’m not planning on it.” I reply flatly.
“I remember how I met my wife,”
‘Homie, you’re like 18, you don’t have a wife!’ I want to scream.
“It’s—”
‘How much longer will this go on?!’
I cast a glance at Kirei, whose expression has grown increasingly dark with each passing word, hoping he’ll intervene to get us out of this predicament. However, as our eyes meet, a sinister smirk spreads across his features, as if to tell me: ‘I’m fine with suffering, as long as you suffer more.’
‘This fucking asshole—!’
After half an hour which felt like an eternity, we are finally freed from the ordeal, albeit both mentally exhausted and emotionally tortured. If the man’s aura had been any pinker, I suspect it may have smothered us entirely. “You seem drained, your Highness.”
“Speak for yourself.”
I jokingly retort as we reach a crossroad.
“I have other matters to attend to, and I believe you have somewhere to be as well?”
I suggest, “Let’s part ways here.”
“Your Highness?” Kirei begins while we waits for the light to flick to red.
“Yes?”
“If I were to… Kill the Tohsaka girl, on a scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be?”
Humming contemplatively, I shrug. “A 2, maybe a 3… So, mildly annoyed, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
At the moment, my relationship with Rin is little more than a casual acquaintanceship.
While I would… Prefer for her to remain alive, I simply can’t fathom shedding a tear over her death.
Kirei also begins humming, as if to mock me. “Mere curiosity. What about the daughter of the Magus Killer? Will you cry for her?”
“I doubt I will.” I respond, my heart as tranquil as a still lake.
This development does not come as a surprise. It would be naïve of me to believe Kirei isn't monitoring me in some capacity. “Really?” He chuckles, his gaze boring into mine in search of something—anything that will betray my words, and sighs disappointedly when he finds none. “How boring you turn out to be…”
“Attachments don’t form immediately after meeting, Kirei—nothing does, except hate. That comes pretty spontaneously in most cases.” I explain, since Kirei clearly doesn’t have much experiences regard to the human condition. “Speaking of which, why have you not made a move on ‘him?’”
Silence envelops us as the second ticks by.
“I’m interested in the Magus Killer, and he’s dead.” Stare burning a hole on the side of his face, I can’t help sighing. So I’m not the only one who has noticed… “Are we on for tonight?”
“Miss me already, priest? I knew something was off about you.”
I banter, and being no slouch either, Kirei replies equally viciously.
“My sincere apology, but beating you to a pulp seems to have become my new favorite pastime.”
A mother gasps next to us, backpacking her one-year-old infant away. “And what was the previous one? Kicking puppies?”
“That… Amongst other things, like breaking the lofty ideas of hero-wannabes and trampling on grand dreams.”
“You know, if you were a woman, you’d probably melt when drenched.”
“That’s way less of an insult than you were intending it to be, your Highness.”
The light flickers to green, abruptly ending our exchange. “Pass along my regards to young Rin, Your Highness.”
“I’ll be sure to do so. And convey the same to Gil.”
“I’ll let her know you’re being your usual arrogant self again.”
“See you tonight, priest. I have a ‘present’
Shrugging nonchalantly, I take the right-turn, while the priest takes the left. So deep in my thoughts, I awake from my stupor to find myself outside the Tohsaka Manor, having blanked out of reality unconsciously. Trying to shake the absentmindedness away, I violently turn my head left and right, barely managing to ground myself with the absurd series of actions.
“Ah, Leo, you’re here!” Rin greets me with enthusiasm, having clearly regretted her impulsive actions judging from the flush of color dusting her cheeks. “Well, I did promise.” I answer with a nonchalant shrug, giving her the bag of grocery I have bought from a local market on the way earlier.
Sure, it was bought by Kirei, which is to say it was bought with the Tohsaka Heiress’ own money, but it’s the thought that counts, right? ‘Ah, I’ll just pay her back in the future.’
If I succeed, if not?
It’ll be a valuable lesson for the tsundere, that not every investment is going to make a profit. Entering the Tohsaka Manor, I raise a brow at how clean it is. Not that it was dirty before, but there’s a more… Homey feel to it, like I’m in the local bar of an late 90’s, early 2000’s sitcoms.
The only thing missing is the raucous crowd and the dated laugh track recorded by long-deceased people from a theater I’m not even sure is still open,
A track that fhe whole Hollywood is simply too indolent and miserly to even bother replacing. Dinner with Rin is fun… Mainly because it isn’t smalltalk we end up having, but more technical talks about Magecraft.
It is far more enjoyable to match intellect with Rin than I had thought.
Tohsaka, it turns out, is quite the skilled instructor, breaking down complex subjects into readily digestible morsels. Alas, our time together must come to an end, and I return to the Church where the other two crazies await, a newfound idea blooming in my mind.
The Fuyuki Church? More like the Fuyuki Madhouse.
As a Magus, Rin told me must discover my own Craft—to lack one and rely solely on fundamentals would make me a laughingstock in the Tower, and that is unacceptable. ‘But which Craft shall I choose?’
The Emiya have their Time Manipulation which needs not be elaborated;
The Tohsaka with their Jewel Craft;
The Matou’s ‘Binding Oneself,’ that manifests in the form of Worm and Crest Worm infesting the bodies of the House’s descendants…
Even Shiro(u)’s Projection Magecraft.
There’s next to nothing in common between these Crafts, but they’re all supposed to reach one goal, somehow. None of it makes sense, except the fact I’ll have to bust my ass thinking of something that has not been tested yet, lest its power is weakened in my lifetime because some schmuck with a boner for the Nobel Prize decides he wants to make to research it and apply to new inventions and applications.
There’s a reason why all Spells are referred to as ‘Mysteries’…
The less people understand a concept, the more potent it is as a Magecraft, and I do not want my hardwork to go straight down the drain because my Craft becomes big in the mundane world. “I really gotta hit the library sometimes soon…” Or I can negotiate with the Magus Killer for his Crest. Time Manipulation sounds dope.
By the next morning, pictures of me talking to the journalists; working in the soup kitchen and studying with Rin next to the windows, which I insisted we did for this exact reason.
“’The Hero of Fuyuki found?’” I murmur, scanning the article before shifting my gaze to the recently-unlocked Branch I had acquired the day prior. Another Minor Branch: Music. The Great Branch is most likely Art, by the look of it. Throwing the newspaper away, I follow the footsteps skulking around the Church. What’s with these people and stalking? “Am I going to need to call the cops?”
“No need!”
The middle-aged woman pokes her head out of the shrubbery, appearing just as unkempt as one would expect. “I’m Momo, and I’m with the CPS!”
‘Oh, damn… They’ve arrived already?’
“We’re trying to document and assist all the children after the Great Fire…” She hurries to the gate, gazing at me awkwardly. “Are your guardians present?”
“They’re both away, ma’am.”
Good heavens, she even sports the Karen hairstyle. “Ah, school will be reopened next week. Have they registered you?”
“Uhm…” I don’t think they have.
Neither Gil nor Kirei seem particularly invested in modern education, and to be honest, I can’t say I feel all that passionate about it either. The traditional schooling environment just does not suit me very well.
I like to do my own things—conduct my own experiments.
“Ma’am, if I may be blunt, is this the reason you're here?" I gesture towards the newspaper in my hand. Regardless of the country, be it Japan or elsewhere, the system simply can’t account for every individual’s needs. That’s why the adoption process is often relatively straightforward, as long as one doesn’t have a criminal history—the authorities are eager to give these children away, few questions asked.
The Fuyuki child welfare office likely doesn’t have the resources to track down every single child either. Some are bound to fall through the cracks, and it’s probably only my public profile that’s bringing them to me so quickly.
“Uhm…” She hums, her hands fidgeting anxiously. “When will your guardians be back?” Kirei’s out getting groceries, he even left me a note to explain my abscene. “Father Kotomine should be returning shortly, ma’am. Would you like some teas and refreshments?”
“That’d be wonderful.”
About half an hour later, just as the CPS official is on the verge of losing her patience, the priest strolls into the room, his arms laden with enough grocery bags to feed a small platoon. 'Goodness fucking gracious!' I hurry to relieve him of the plastic bags, like a dutiful son, "Next time, leave the grocery runs to me, will you?” And whisper.
“No time for chit-chat, Kirei. She’s here about the adoption papers. Handle it.” With that, I head to the kitchen, carrying the grocery bags alobg. As I enter, I stumble upon a Queen who happened to be indulging in…
“Is that soda you’re drinking?”
“What?” Gilgamesh blinks at me with half-lidded eyes. “A Queen can’t enjoy foods? I can certainly see why Mankind have grown so… Weak with these around.”
“It’s pretty unhealthy, though.” I caution, throwing the grocery in the fridge.
I hear her voice and approaching footsteps, closing in on me like a lion stalking its prey. The sensation of her breath on the back of my neck sends a shiver down my spine… "Why bother with them when I have you right here?" She whispers. Either the Golden Queen’s high, or she’s drunk, there is no in-between.
I let out a resigned sigh and turn to face her, rolling up my sleeve. “None of that neck-biting nonsense… You can have my wrist, take it or leave it.”
Gilgamesh’s gaze sharpens. “There are other ways to Mana-Transfer, you do realize?”
“All of which are illegal.”
I remind, putting my wrist between our faces. “You want a sip or not?”
“Fine…” The Golden Queen rolls her eyes. “But don’t expect me to like this.”
Picking up a knife, I drag it across my skin, watching in amazement as sparks erupt on contact.
There’s a faint, almost invisible line left, but otherwise my skin remains unmarred.
“Huh, looks like I’m kind of knife-proof now… Neat.” But I’d rather avoid getting bit, so I use ‘Senza Esitazione’ to make a cut on my wrist, which she sensually drinks from, then waves my spear away. “How was it?”
“Metallic,” The Queen complains. “But filling.”
“Good… Just don’t kill any kid while you’re out.” I wave her off.
“You’re cooking?”
“Yes.”
Rice’s too heavy for the morning meal, “Buttered bread, scrambled eggs and sausages it is.”
“What a lavish meal.”
“For your time, maybe, but this is the standard for a lot of ‘peasants’ nowadays.”
“How times have changed…”
“Do you still think the modern era’s bad?”
“Still.” Gilgamesh shrugs. “They’re falling in a trap… A trap of comforts. Back in the days, to enjoy such luxuries, one must have either brain or brawn—sometimes both.”
“Isn’t that the point of progress?” I counter. “To make it easier for previous generations?”
“But at what price? Is such comfort truly worth forfeiting your integrity, honesty, and loyalty—everything that makes you human? Even the very strength of your body?”
The Golden Queen questions. “Look on the surface and you’ll only see a paradise, when in truth it is a lone island teeming with snakes and cravens. How disappointing…”
“Has it not always been thus, since time immemorial? We are innately inclined to pursue comforts and pleasures—it is this drive that has propelled us to where we are now.”
“There are the malevolent in every era, but never before has it been this rampant.”
“We wave no flag, and serve no God, except ourselves.” I explain, pouring the eggs on the sizzling pan. “But if it’s any consolation, this era will soon pass.”
Reality does not obey the human mind, and when so many individualistic people exist all at one, it’s merely a matter of time until society inevitably explodes, then implodes on itself. It may take decades, if nor centuries for this little prediction of mine to come, but it will come… I can only hope I will there to see it.
The whole thing is going to be spectacular.
“Stop it…”
I hum questioningly.
“I want you to stop it, build a legacy of strength so people remember what it means to strive for something.”
“You want me to do it?”
“You ‘must’ do it,”
She states, her gaze piercing me intently. “A king’s duties extend far beyond merely keeping his people content. He must be the shining example for his subjects; he must embody greatness itself. But above all, his must be a Will worthy of being followed, else none shall flock to his side when the call to arms is sounded, and a King like that is no true King, for he inspires nothing.”
Perhaps it’s why modern men despise war.
We’ve become so benefit-oriented that we forget what it means to be a part of something great;
Not that I blame them… Their efforts go unnoticed, their paychecks a tiny fraction of what’s available and even their honor is stripped, while the ‘Kings’ and ‘Queens’—tyrants who sit above devour everything, waving their corruption purge efforts around like they’re not guilty of the same crimes, all while continuously putting out smear campaign after smear campaign the people larp up, too idealistic for their own goods.
Only the most foolish kingdom spits at their protectors, and yet so many are doing so.
With all hope dashed; with their pride trampled and their pains going unheard, how can they not grow bitter and resentful? What option is there but for them to prioritize benefits, which seems to be the only language the world now knows?
“A King must be the back that all strives towards. Remember, Boy-King, all rulers are businessmen, but not all businessmen are fit to rule.”
“Was the world ever such a wonderful place?” I chuckle in response.
“Maybe not, but the people were extraordinary.”
“Most people aren’t afraid of sufferings, Gil.” I say, putting the eggs on a dish. “They are afraid of trusting the wrong people—supporting the wrong causes. What can be more hurtful than realizing you’ve been lied to?”
