Fate/Defiance
Chapter 1 [Father and Son]
By theMadLad
“Icarus! Get over here!” The voice of an older man was heard shouting from outside a small but wealthily decorated house.
“Coming!” A young boy‘s voice yelled back as he pushed himself off the ground after completing his short morning exercise, with the wipe of his hand he cleared the excess build up of sweat from his brow as the boy—Icarus—quickly scrambled to his feet before he rushed towards the house, passing by a small golem at the doorstep as he entered.
Heading inside, Icarus quickly walked to the direction of where he knew the voice’s location would be, as he headed there, he took the time to reminisce on how things in his life had taken a rather unexpected turn.
Icarus had been reincarnated into this world after a foggy death in his previous life, it had already been five years since he had regained his memories and to top it all off, he was a fictional character as well!
Icarus from Greek Mythology! The most iconic example of the saying, ‘know your own limits!’
Well, he sure as hell wasn’t getting anywhere close to the sun on a pair of wax wings! Icarus briefly lamented about the misfortune of not being reborn in some generic harem power fantasy with god-tier plot armor instead.
Thankfully, things weren’t all bad, people adapt over time and Icarus just so happened to be one of them. Helps that he also had plenty to learn from his rather eccentric—if you were being generous—father to distract himself.
Icarus headed towards his father’s workshop, located in the basement of their small home. He was careful to avoid any missteps to not risk unintentionally provoking the workshop’s outer defenses.
Luckily, he was keyed into the wards as his father had often needed his assistance with his various projects. He pitied any fool who would dare to trespass into the workshop of the future creator of the legendary labyrinth.
Icarus felt the mana of the workshop’s bounded field radiate over him as he entered inside, causing his crazy bastard of a father to turn to him with a smile on his face, “Ah! Icarus, just in time! Come quickly, I need your assistance with this!”
Icarus’s father, Daedalus, was a genius inventor. He has yet to create his famed labyrinth, but that was by no means cause to underestimate him.
He was someone who had managed to carve his name into myth after all.
Icarus was just satisfied that his father’s talent and local fame allowed them a stable income, sparing him from a more desperate lifestyle.
He suppressed a shiver running down his spine from the memories of the male brothels he had seen throughout Athens.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Icarus turned towards his father, “Father, what was it you needed me for?”
He scanned the workshop as he spoke, it was impressive. The bounded field surrounding it was very powerful, even to the point of expanding the space inside to accommodate the various tools and projects within.
One of his father’s specialties was the creation of golems and automatons, such as the one he placed at the front of the house which he had used to call for him from deep within his workshop.
The scent of parchment and the sights of a disorderly workstation signified Daedalus’ excessive engrossment into his current project. There were numerous items and papers strung about the room with some partially assembled devices on the table and floor.
While Daedalus himself was huddled beside a large pot which radiated a high temperature throughout the room.
He tilted his head to take a quick glance at Icarus as he entered, with the ladle he was holding in the pot slowly stirring, never shifting from his focus.
“See that mold by your left foot? Take it, then bring it to me.” He directed to Icarus, causing him to look towards the floor, spotting a thin mold with a small hole at the top. He bent over to grab it, noting the shape in his hands as he felt it’s thin but circular form.
“Stop dallying, hurry!” Daedalus yelled as Icarus rushed over, attempting to hand over the mold.
“No you dolt, put it on the table!” He chastised as Icarus murmured a quick apology before placing the mold on the table, with the small open hole that was intended to have whatever needed molding to be poured in facing up.
As soon as he finished setting it down, Daedalus rushed over, pulling the heavy pot out with the help of his automatons and maneuvering it over the mold’s opening before pouring the contents inside.
It sat there for a moment as they let the liquid settle into the mold enough to take shape, before eventually opening it up.
Icarus watched as it revealed a bright reddish tinted but translucent substance that slowly began to cool into a more yellowish and transparent but foggy solid form, with impurities blatant to see as tiny bubbles could be easily discerned dotted everywhere within.
It seemed to be some form of primitive glass in the shape of a circle, with a kind of scaly texture.
“Icarus, remember the spell I had taught you intended for purification?” Daedalus asked as he grabbed a brush already marked with black paint at it’s point.
“…Yes.” Icarus replied hesitantly, remembering the words he had been taught in order to cast the spell.
“Then cast it as I speak.” Daedalus commanded before bringing his brush over the top of the strange glass.
“αποτρέπειν!” (to ward off) Daedalus invoked as he began stroking the glass with the brush, Icarus subtly cataloged the spell in his memory as he felt the mana Daedalus directed coalesced on the brush’s tip, before migrating into the paint as it was marked onto the glass.
Icarus followed his father’s instructions while pleading with himself not to accidentally bite his tongue, invoking his own spell concurrent with his father, “καθαρίζω!” (Purify)
He felt as the World’s mana followed his Divine Words, seeping into the glass, with a sensation that sent goosebumps along his body.
It still took Icarus some time to get used to that feeling, it was like a sixth sense. Anytime someone used magic in his presence, he could feel it—even if he wasn’t touching it directly—he could still perceive that it was there, like some kind of ominous presence on the edge of his senses.
Icarus sensed as the strange presence of mana in the air infused itself into the glass, feeling as the mana in the spell dispersed within. He watched as the bubbles and fog resulting from the glass’ poor production method, slowly began to fade and clear out due to the spell’s effect as the glass’ former yellow tint altered in favor of an iridescent glow.
Daedalus also finished the painting he had added onto the glass. Icarus noted that his spell seemed to merge with his father’s. The painting was colored black from the paint and clearly formed in the shape of an eye, the center of which also seemed to strangely lack the glass’s newfound iridescence.
As it finished, Daedalus then took a step forward and thoroughly inspected the glass eye, giving it an approving nod before continuing on with his craftsmanship, blatantly ignoring Icarus before dismissing him with the wave of his hand without even an attempt at expressing gratitude.
Icarus held in a sigh at being so rudely dismissed before slowly leaving the workshop and stepping back outside.
He resumed his prior exercise routine to help clear his head from frustration.
His father having many issues was an understatement and he was getting tired of having to often feign incompetence in order not to bring about the wrath of Daedalus’ intense inferiority-superiority complexes.
While starting to do some sit-ups on the grass outside the house, he began to think of the plan he had been drafting up in his head for some time now or at the very least an ambition of some sort to motivate him.
He ran through the memories of the time he found out he was in a fictional world, or more specifically the Nasuverse—a collection of different popular anime and games like Fate Stay/Night, Tsukihime, and Fate/Grand Order, created by the company Type-Moon or particularly the author Kinoko Nasu, the verse’s namesake.
As much as Icarus ‘loved’ living in Ancient Greece, he was still homesick, ’…Or maybe timesick?’ In the beginning, when he first regained his memories, he had instantly given up any hope of returning to his time period. It wasn’t like he could build a time machine…
But then his father showed him magic.
Icarus might not be the smartest person in the world, but he was far from the dumbest. With the help of his father’s explanations of magic, he was able to piece together the various context clues and find out about where he was reborn.
He was a bit frustrated he wasn’t in any of the time periods he recognized from the series. But in the end, he decided to stay optimistic, happy to be able to recognize where he was at all—as the saying goes, better the enemy you know than the one you don’t.
But with this revelation, came a major shift in his thoughts and goals. As much as he was pants-shittingly terrified of being in the Nasuverse’s version of Greek Mythology, it wasn’t without respite.
As horrifying and dangerous this place was, with phantasmal species of legend throughout the land alongside the most prolific and debaucherous Gods in mythology roaming about, it wasn’t without opportunity.[1]
…He could become a heroic spirit.
Heroic Spirits are the spirits of heroes who achieved great deeds in life, having become objects of worship after their deaths. They reside in the Throne of Heroes, which they enter upon their deaths when their souls are removed from the cycle of reincarnation and placed outside the constraints of time.
Due to this, they can be summoned to any time period—and there it was—his way back. If he was a Heroic Spirits he could use his summoning as a proxy for time travel.
But, there were a few issues with this plan. Any version of him summoned would not actually be him, just some strange rendition of him, as souls don’t leave the Throne of Heroes when summoned, they are instead copied and then deposited into a suitable servant class.
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He would have to find some kind of workaround.
Well, for Holy Grail wars at least, and he doesn’t believe any situation where the Counter Force would summon his actual self would be one worth enjoying.
Although it was only the bare bones of a plan, that was still enough for him. He needed a goal to drive himself towards anyway and this seemed to fit better than any other.
At the very least, he’d make sure no one could say he didn’t aim high or give it his all, as he really didn’t want to die, especially from drowning to death……and that’s only if he survives hitting the water at terminal velocity.
He pulled his body up for one last sit-up, panting as it ended while sitting back onto the grass with heavy breaths. He lifted open part of his toga in order to catch a glimpse of his body, shaking his head from the appearance of dense muscle definition prevalent on his small body. He was no longer surprised by it after becoming desensitized over the years.
His body in this life was much stronger than his previous one, even though he was only eight years old, he estimated his current strength to be about the level of a very athletic full-grown adult from his past life.
He could even feel the faint shimmer of mana entrenched within his physique.
He remembered that humans of this time period were different from their future counterparts. One of these differences was that humans of this era were accustomed to the sheer density of the Mana contained in the atmosphere; if someone of the modern era traveled back in time without specialized protection, their bodies would be destroyed from being exposed to such highly saturated mana.
It was the Age of the Gods after all, and humanity had not fully separated from the ‘World’ or Gaia, as they had still yet to become the Planet’s dominant species and have their collective unconsciousness fully form into Alaya.
With the way that the ‘World’ functioned, the laws of reality follow the beliefs of the planet’s dominant species. This causes the current ‘texture’ of reality—which currently contains Gods and many other different supernatural species—to obey the laws of mystery instead of the laws of physics as it is in the future, during the Age of Man.
Due to this, the way everything functions doesn’t really make sense, things that are a firm ‘fact’ in the future are irrelevant in this age.
Icarus thought of such an example from what he heard while overhearing some of Athen’s physicians, how instead of the brain being the organ that dictates everything about how we perceive the outside world, currently something like emotion would be widely considered to originate from the liver, and that would technically be correct.
Because the human body was not something definitively known, this allowed it to be steeped in ’mystery.’
Mystery is a sliver of power that comes in many different types that originates straight from The Root, it is what all supernatural abilities are sourced from.
The reason magic is so powerful in this era is because of how ‘mysterious’ it is. Icarus simplified this in his mind by thinking of a spell here as the personal masterpiece created by a renowned artisan, the masterpiece is so valuable because of how rare and difficult it is to create. While in contrast, something similar made during the modern era could be easily mass-produced and obtained anywhere, causing it to lose that value.
This not only gives the magic of this time a large boost in strength, but it applies to everything currently in existence, elevating them with the value of their ‘mystery.’
This ‘mystery’ and its power displayed from a lack of understanding and definite ‘fact’ are what create the current laws of the world, a whimsical fantasy land filled with gods and monsters.
The sliver of conceptual power not only grants humans of this age greater power and strength but also things such as resistance to those with a lower form of mystery, causing the magecraft of the future to have a diminished effect on humans and beings of the past.
All of these variables together allowed Icarus a much larger opportunity for growth, with the potential to even elevate himself to the position of a God.
While it would be difficult to actually do such a thing, he would still have a much easier time pursuing his goal and gathering power during this era in comparison to other ones.
He was mostly just glad he was not born even earlier, when the Age of the Gods had not even begun to stagnate yet and the influence of human belief was negligible, so much so that even ‘laws’ such as gravity were undeterminable.
As his muscles started to ache too much to continue, Icarus finished his workout and started to busy himself until eventually, the day started to come to an end. This led to his father finally deciding to leave the workshop.
As he saw his father, Icarus’ curiosity had gotten the best of him and he decided to ask a question that had been on his mind, “Father, what was it that you made earlier? It seemed to be another great invention! What was it?” subtly stroking his ego, something Icarus had come to know would appeal to Daedalus’ pride and heighten the chances of an explanation.
The flattering had paid off as Daedalus’ eyes lit up as an explanation quickly spewed from his mouth, “That was an Apotropaic artifact, a kind of protective amulet created to ward off evil spirits and curses such as the ‘evil eye’ the amulet can defend against these dangers.”
As he listened to the explanation, Icarus had to admit that he was pretty impressed. The ‘evil eye’ is a common superstition in Greece that a malevolent glare, usually given to a person when one is unaware, can cause things such as sickness, injury, or misfortune.
While Icarus initially wanted to subconsciously dismiss the idea of something so superstitious, he was quick to correct himself, as something like superstition which had accumulated the belief of many people, was definitely going to be real here.
“Could you explain the process of you creating it and what was that material it was made from, along with the eye?” Icarus rapidly questioned with the guise of a son idolizing his father.
Daedalus chuckled before replying, “The material was something referred to as Isinglass, a type of transparent substance obtained after being processed from the dried bladder of a fish. By heating it into a more liquified substance and pouring it into a mold, we get what you saw.”
Icarus was actually pretty enamored with his explanation, watching with rampant attention as Daedalus continued, “As for the eye, it is a symbol painted onto the Insinglass attributed with what we wish to ward off.”
“What about the spell you used? I know the one I used is meant to purify things, but what about yours? Also, why had the Isinglass glowed like that after I had used the spell?” Icarus continued to ask, determined to absorb as much information as possible.
Daedalus smirked at his son’s questions as he responded, “That iridescent glow on the Isinglass was a result of the fish that it had originated from, which I had purchased the unused bladder of through a fisherman.”
“What was so special about the fish?” Icarus asked.
“The fish was part of a batch obtained through the blessing of Poseidon. Although made from a blessed fish, the Isinglass still originated from the bladder, which is why I needed you to purify it. This helped bring out the latent properties within the Isinglass while also clearing it of it’s material impurities along with those made during the production process.” Daedalus explained.
“Why make it from a blessed fish, does it change anything? And what about the eye you painted, what spell had you used there?” Icarus continued pressing questions as Daedalus smiled from his son’s passion for his projects.
“Because of quality. Don’t forget son, I am Daedalus, not some no name inventor, but the greatest in Athens. While other’s Apotropaic items can indeed ward off curses, mine are not only more powerful but can even reflect these curses back to those who had inflicted them. This is due to the blessed bladder which when purified, gives the Isinglass it’s iridescent glow and reflective properties.” Daedalus explained as he held his head high with a voice full of pride.
“…Although, the reason I called for your assistance was because when you use the spell to help purify the Isinglass, it’s reflective properties become much greater, even in comparison to my own renditions.” Daedalus spoke towards Icarus with a voice of pride, but Icarus had noticed the faint twitch of his facial muscles that hid dissatisfaction.
Icarus did not want an envious Daedalus bearing any kind of dissatisfaction towards him, and was quick to remove any future repercussions. He puffed his chest in pride before speaking in a haughty tone, “That’s because I’m your son, father! I could only dream of becoming someone as great as you!”
Daedalus chuckled in response, “Haha, that’s true.” as he reassured himself that Icarus could never truly surpass him and that this was only a one time exception, which he even subconsciously took credit for, ‘…He is my son after all, he must’ve gotten that talent from me!’
Icarus almost sighed from relief when he heard his father’s laugh and noticed the subtly tense muscles on Daedalus’ relax as he began to explain once more.
“…As for the brush, it used paint that I had blessed from the Rich One after an offering of black animals. The paint blessed from the Lord of the Underworld is crucial in the creation of Apotropaic artifacts, these protections must be imbued with the essence of the underworld as it brings these curses and dark spirits great aversion.” Daedalus spoke before he shifted to the subject of what he painted, “As for the eye, it not only expresses what we wish to bring aversion to, but also signifies that these malevolent things are being watched out for, which can prevent their presence in the first place.”
“…Wow.” Icarus murmured and truly meant it. It was really fascinating to see how strange the world worked and the ways people have adjusted to it.
Everything was just so alien to him who had grown up in the modern age of science…although, on the other hand, it was also so exciting and full of wonder.