Extra's Stories

In a distant land, a world far removed from his own, a body plummeted from the sky, crashing violently into a river below. The impact sent a spray of water in all directions before the current swiftly took hold, dragging the limp figure downstream.

A pale hand instinctively reached out, fingers grasping at something solid—debris, perhaps, or a piece of driftwood. Whatever it was, it kept him afloat, carrying him along the rushing waters.

"Ugh..." A groan escaped Fate's lips as consciousness slowly returned. His head throbbed, his body ached, and every fiber of his being screamed in protest. He could feel the dull burn of his injuries knitting themselves back together, his accelerated healing kicking in.

"That hurt like hell," he muttered, forcing himself upright, one hand pressing against his temple. "I think I just inhaled some old lady's ashes…"

Despite the pain, a dry chuckle left his throat. His final gambit had paid off. He was still breathing.

'Start.'

Vitality: 29.7

Resistance 2/10

Skill: [Death Door] (3/9)

"Wait what?" He murmurs seeing his vitality is extremely low which is understandable seeing how he was almost killed not long ago.

What surprised him was that his Invariable stats now have Resistance, something that even he didn't know he could get. Then his eyes narrowed to his first skill [Death Door] he lost another life.

"Hmm, so I die." He said bluntly, before pleasing on his skill to see his reason for dead. 

1: Dead by blood loss, and internal bleeding.

2: Dead by broken bones, damaged organs, internal bleeding.

3: Dead by in contact with a Holy Artifact.

"Wait… Hold up." Fate's voice was a mix of confusion and irritation. "What do you mean, Holy Artifact?"

He hadn't died by Malenia's blade. He hadn't succumbed to the poison of Scarlet Rot.

No. He had been killed by some Holy Artifact?

His gaze snapped to the sharp, stinging pain in his left hand. The "wood" he had instinctively grabbed onto during his drift downstream—it was still burning against his skin.

"Holy shit…" His breath hitched. "This is a Holy Artifact."

Ignoring the pain, Fate pushed himself upright, his fingers tightening around the object despite the searing sensation it left on his palm. Staggering toward the river's edge, he knelt down and began scrubbing away the mud clinging to its surface.

As the filth washed away, his sharp blue eyes widened. Then, a slow, wicked grin curled his lips.

"Jackpot."

Resting in his grasp was none other than Avalon: The Everdistant Utopia—the hallowed scabbard of Excalibur. A relic woven from legend, crafted by Merlin himself for the King of Knights, Artoria Pendragon.

And now, by some absurd twist of fate, it belonged to him.

The realization sent a thrill down his spine. His Reality Marble had already recorded it, granting him access to one of the most powerful Noble Phantasms in the Type-Moon world.

A Holy Artifact created from sacred dust alone wouldn't have been enough to kill him. But he had already been at death's door—his body broken, his demonic essence hanging by a thread. Avalon had simply finished what Malenia could not before [Death's Door] kicked in.

Fate stared at the scabbard for a long moment, his obsession with power clouding his judgment, pushing aside any lingering hesitation. He had no reason to hesitate.

This kind of treasure… This kind of strength…

It belonged to him.

Without another thought, he drove Avalon straight into his body.

"AHHHHHH!"

A searing, holy fire erupted within him. The scabbard's divine attributes waged war against his demonic essence, purging him from the inside out. Yet before it could destroy him completely, its legendary healing properties mended what it burned, creating a hellish cycle of agony and restoration.

Burn. Heal. Burn. Heal. Over and over again.

Hours passed, his screams echoing through the empty landscape. His body convulsed, his vision blurred, his very existence teetering on the brink of collapse.

And yet…

When the torment finally began to subside, Fate slowly pushed himself up onto his feet.

His entire body ached—but it was different now. The pain no longer tore him apart.

He had survived.

"Fuck yeah!" Fate murmurs staring at his stats

Vitality: 0.8

Resistance 6/10

Avalon: Active 50%

Despite almost ending myself, again.

Fate now can recover from almost any wound, but his Vitality has dropped to nearly zero due to implanting Avalon into him, and his Resistance went up to the point he obtained a low-mid tier Holy Element resistance.

"FuhahahahaHAHAHAHA!" Fate laughs like a madman his right palm over his face looking up high in the air, as he starts to resemble a golden king.

A devil having resistance to holy elements, the irony.

A smirk appears on his face before he moves his hand up and slick his hair back now resembling a golden king along with a power-hungry half-devil in blue.

"Now then…" Fate muttered, rubbing his chin. "If this Holy Artifact is anything to go by… I'm probably in Camlann."

He paused.

"Wait a minute…" His breath hitched. "I'm in Camlann."

His mind reeled as realization struck. Camlann—the site of King Arthur's final battle. A battlefield littered with the remnants of legends, where countless weapons and Noble Phantasms lay abandoned, forgotten by time.

His fingers twitched. His pulse quickened.

"I can get more power."

The thought took root, sinking its claws deep into his mind.

"Fate, no."

A familiar voice rang in his ears. Scathach had manifested beside him in her astral form, her expression caught between exasperation and worry.

"I can get more power," Fate muttered again, barely hearing her.

Avalon's presence within him pulsed, like a beacon calling out to its missing counterpart. His feet moved on instinct, his obsession pulling him forward, drawn toward Excalibur's location.

Scathach sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. He was doing that thing again. That dangerous, reckless fixation on strength.

If she had a physical form, she would've smacked some sense into him.

…Wait. She could.

A smirk tugged at her lips as a realization dawned. Although she couldn't harm others due to the restrictions of her existence, Fate was the sole exception. And if she attempted something fatal, her actions would turn transparent—nullified. The same rule applied to his companions.

Which meant…

With zero hesitation, she materialized and swung.

THWACK!

Fate barely had time to process the sharp impact before his vision blurred. His legs gave out.

And then, everything went dark.

Scathach huffed, shaking her head as she caught his unconscious body before it hit the ground.

"Honestly… what am I going to do with you?" she muttered.

With little effort, she slung him over her shoulder and carried him toward a nearby tree. After setting him down, she began preparing a camp, casting a glance at the slumbering fool beside her.

A battlefield filled with legendary weapons, and this was the first thing he did.

Troublesome as ever.

Fate stirred, his body aching as he slowly regained consciousness. Blinking through the haze, his vision focused on the lone figure sitting a few feet away, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. Scathach.

His mother.

The moment their eyes met, his lips parted to speak—but before he could utter a single word, her cold, sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I'm disappointed in you."

Fate flinched.

She turned her head slightly, her crimson eyes piercing into him. "I told you to rely on your allies. And what's the first thing you do? You push them away. Look where that has gotten you."

A pause. A slow, measured breath.

"Alone. Half-dead. Stranded in a place with no way to return!"

Each word struck like a hammer, her tone growing harsher, more forceful.

"I..." He opened his mouth but hesitated. What could he even say? "I just… don't want anybody I care about to be harmed..."

His voice was quiet, uncertain, yet resolute.

Scathach's hands clenched into fists. Her jaw tightened, the muscles in her face tensing. She knew—she knew—his intentions were good. But intentions alone were meaningless if his actions hurt those around him.

This wasn't the first time.

And it wouldn't be the last.

She took a slow breath, pushing down the emotions welling within her. She had always gone easy on him before, offering guidance, training, wisdom. But it was clear now—he wouldn't learn if she kept sugarcoating things.

Her voice dropped lower, softer, but no less sharp.

"Your intentions may be noble, but your actions are foolish. You push others away because you fear they might be harmed."

She leaned forward slightly, her piercing gaze unrelenting.

"But what about you? Have you ever considered that?"

Fate blinked. "Huh? What's wrong with me?"

And there it was.

His utter lack of self-awareness. His complete disregard for his own well-being. It wasn't just that he didn't care—it was that he couldn't even see it.

Scathach's hands trembled slightly before she forced them still. She wanted to shake him, to knock some sense into him. But that wouldn't work. Not with him.

No… If he didn't realize it himself, nothing she said would ever reach him.

Her expression hardened. Then so be it.

She stood up, turning her back to him.

"You still don't understand? Then there is nothing more for us to talk about, Master."

And without another word, she vanished.

The sudden shift in tone struck him harder than any physical blow ever could.

His stomach twisted.

His hands clenched at his sides.

"M-Mom?" His voice was quiet, uncertain.

Silence.

"Mother!" He called louder this time, as if willing her to come back.

Still nothing.

His heart pounded, his breath shallow. "Tell me! What mistake!? What is wrong with wanting to keep others safe!?"

The wind rustled through the trees, the only answer he received.

"Is it wrong to want my friends and family to live!?" His voice cracked, desperate, frustrated.

But no voice answered him.

Nothing.

The silence swallowed him whole.

His heart clenched painfully. 

He reached inward, diving into his inner world—Scathach's domain. If she wouldn't answer him here, then surely, he could find her himself.

But no matter how deep he searched… no matter how much he called… she was nowhere to be found.

A pit formed in his stomach.

He was truly alone.

But he wasn't ready to accept that. Not yet.

Fate turned to his other companions. Maybe they could help. Maybe they would tell him what he did wrong.

"Nobu…" He called out hesitantly.

The cheerful, boisterous voice that usually greeted him was nowhere to be found.

"Nobu…" The small figure stood there, unmoving. But its voice lacked its usual energy, its spark.

"You too?" Fate's voice wavered.

Nobu lowered its head, nodding once.

"So… I did make a mistake?" He swallowed. "Tell me. What did I do wrong?"

No answer.

A second voice cut through the heavy silence.

"Think about that on your own," Senji said, his back turned to him. "You won't learn anything if the answer is handed to you."

Fate's teeth clenched. His fists tightened. Frustration, anger, confusion—they all tangled together inside him.

They were abandoning him.

One by one.

And none of them would tell him why.

"But why?" He whispered, his voice shaking. "What is it that I did wrong!?"

He fell to his knees, his head bowed, staring at the dirt beneath him.

"I… I did what I should have done…"

A slow, creeping presence slithered through the edges of his mind.

{It's your fault.}

A voice—dark, familiar, yet foreign—whispered in the back of his mind.

Fate's body stiffened.

"And yet… just about everyone still turns their back on me!"

{It's because you are weak.}

His breath hitched.

"Damn it…"

{You wish to protect those you cherish, yet you don't have the strength to back it up.}

"Damn it! Damn it!" He slammed his fist into the ground, rage bubbling up inside him.

{Might controls everything. Without it, you can't protect anything—not even yourself.}

His nails dug into his palms. His knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred.

His heart ached.

Finally, with everything in him, he threw his head back and screamed into the sky.

"WHAT IS IT!? WHAT IS IT THAT I DID WRONG!?"

Companion Unlocked: M̴̩̟̪̟̘̜̺̬̹̼͇͕̖̭̩̱̦̯̭̯͓͈͈̖͎̥̩̞̼͂͐̿̒͛̿͝͠ͅõ̵̗̰̝̼̣̝̤̦̦̫̟̫̻͈̠̱͚̝̝̙̳̩͍̘̆̋̊̋̔̋̅̏̒̉̐͐̾̋͊̆̍̀̚̕̚͜͜͝ͅȓ̵̛͇͇͛͑̾̿̏̌̄́͋̀̆̏̃̂͂̍̈́̋̈́͌͜͝g̴̛̞̞̯͇̀̋̌̈́͗̽̾͐͑̌͑͒̈̇̃̅̓͊͊a̷̡̛̬̞͇͎̩̹̞̹͗̑̀͋͑͗͊͌͒͛̋̌͆̄̀̈̒͋̆̕̚ͅn̶̢̡̨͕̩͈̲̰̰̟͖̰͇̲͖̬̤͎͙͔̬̝͖̖̺̖̞̟̮͉͚̰͒̍͆̃̀̂͆̌͐̃̀́̏̓͛̔̆́͆̉͘͘͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧͇̘͎̟̙̣̳̣̩̳̪̱̬̺̼̄̆̅͛͋̓̀̈́̐́̕̕͠L̶̢̢̻̹̙̣̙̮͉̫̼̭̭͍̆͆́̽̓͌̕͝͠͝͝e̷̡̨̛̛͈̱̼̩͍͍̮̝̪̩̼͚̹̖͈̠̦̱̬̒̀̒̀̈̀͛̿͌̒̓̾̈́̏͊̈́̇͋̑͋̓̇͂͘͘͜͝͝ͅ ̴̢̧̛̗̭͖͔̦͇͔̟̼̲̬͔͕̠͍̣̜̭͈͉̘͂̿͒̏͑͑͒̾́̈́̊͑̀̋̋̃͐̍̒̈́̓͘̚̚͝͝ͅF̶̡̡̛̹͍̙̥̬̘̱̘͕̗͇͇̳̱͉͔͖͈̠̱͑͛̏͋̚͜a̸̱̳̬͚̞͈̻͔̼̻̙͙͓͎͍͍̽̉̑͜y̵͚̗̗͓̰͂͑͒

Within the depths of Fate's inner world, the air grew heavy, thick with an unseen weight. Shadows stretched unnaturally, writhing like living things, as a slow, insidious chill crept through the void.

A whisper—soft, almost imperceptible—brushed against the edges of existence. Then, from the farthest, darkest corner, a vortex of pure blackness began to twist and churn, its presence warping the very fabric of the space around it.

A figure emerged.

Pale blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the dim, eerie glow of this forsaken realm. Her skin was almost ghostly, too smooth, too perfect—like a porcelain doll untouched by time. Yet her eyes… her eyes were pools of something unknowable, something wrong.

She stepped forward, bare feet gliding soundlessly across the nonexistent floor, her gaze sweeping across the abyss with quiet intrigue.

"This place… this soul…" she murmured, her voice carrying an unnatural resonance, layered—as if more than one voice spoke in tandem.

A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

"How interesting."

Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, she turned, stepping back into the swirling vortex.

On Nobbu's part, the Chibi servant was running around until it tripped over something causing it to fall, but before it could even try to get back up, dark magic began to wrap around its small body.

"Nobbu!? Nobu!!!" 

The Chibi Servant let out a cry, realizing this wasn't Fate's magic, before being completely pulled away, the Chibi Servant dropped its Class Card on the ground, as the black magic swallowed it whole.

The vortex shrank, collapsing into itself, leaving nothing but silence.

It has been some days since Fate came to this world. He fell into isolation, left alone, and completely cut off from his other companion.

Sighing, Fate moved his hand over his hair before pulling out his Archer Card with a distressed look.

After that day, he has lost contact with all of his companions, even Igneel disappears from him, just like how he disappears from Natsu. 

He had been trying to look for them but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't, the only clue left was Nobbu's Class Card, meaning the Chibi Servant had left its power for him.

Still, he couldn't understand the meaning of this action.

His skill [Realm Walker] has a 30-day cool down meaning when he travels to another world, he would most likely be stuck there for a month.

"Where the hell could they have gone?" He asks himself, before kneeling down and taking Clarent of the hand of an already dead knight, along with the spear Rhongomyniad from their body.

The knight's face looked familiar but he currently couldn't care less about who this knight is. 

Day 5 – Fate had stopped searching for his companions. He followed the voice now—the one that whispered, that understood. Power. He needed more power.

Day 9 – He hadn't eaten. Hadn't slept. Hadn't even felt thirst. Avalon inside him made those needs obsolete. He wandered endlessly, gathering the abandoned Noble Phantasms left behind at Camlann, throwing them into his Reality Marble without a second thought.

Day 10 – The blood dripped from Scarlet and Redgrave as he wiped them clean. His eyes, hollow, locked onto the lifeless body of the griffin beneath him. Hunting Phantasmal Species had become routine—one more means to collect SP.

Day 15 – Another corpse. A woman clad in knight's armor, her tattered blue dress torn by time and battle. Blonde hair framed her lifeless face. Something about her... stirred something inside him. A distant memory? A lost connection?

The moment he tried to recall, pain shot through his skull—like a bullet tearing through his mind.

With a sigh, he stripped the armor and dress, storing them in his Reality Marble. Then, without a word, he buried her beneath the tree where she lay.

Day 17 – More bodies. More familiar faces. But the more he saw, the more he realized—he was forgetting them.

Names that should come easily were buried beneath a fog of blood and time. Their voices were distant echoes, fading with each passing day. It was frustrating. Infuriating.

Day 19 – His once-white hair was stained pink from the constant bloodshed. His body was soaked in the ichor of fallen Phantasmal Species. And yet... he felt nothing.

Day 22 – His mind was unraveling.

The Age of Gods was ending, and he was hastening its demise. He hunted without pause, without restraint. Creatures that had survived millennia were driven to extinction by his hand.

Day 29 – ...

Three Black Keys formed a sacred barrier, trapping the fleeing vampire within its glowing walls.

She turned back, terror written across her face. The holy energy surrounded them, crackling with divine wrath.

"W-Wait! Please! I swear, I'll never drink blood again!" Her voice trembled, raw with desperation.

A Black Key tore through her shoulder.

She screamed.

Another pierced her thigh, searing her flesh as holy light devoured her from within.

She writhed, her cries filling the empty night.

The final Black Key struck her heart.

Kyrie Eleison

The vampire dissolved into ash, erased by the purity of divinity.

Fate stood motionless, watching the last remnants of her existence scatter into the wind.

Ironic.

A devil, wielding holy magic, purging other demons.

He dismissed the Black Keys, his gaze shifting to the countdown on [Realm Walker]. The timer was almost up.

There was nothing left for him here.

The moment the counter hit zero, he activated the skill without hesitation. Light engulfed him.

And just like that, Fate was gone.