-------

Haqim had been right about one thing. Despite the devastation, the city was back to normal when the night fell. The people were going to work just like normal, and it didn’t seem that anything had happened. It was fascinating to watch, as this time they could freely observe the process. It wasn’t like one moment the city was devastated and the next moment everything was back. No, it looked as if time was slowly wound back for the city and its inhabitants. The Servants and Masters that had died didn’t come back though.

As Luthien slept, Seraphiel had for once assumed the invisible and intangible mode of being that all the Servants were capable of to regain more Mana. Just materializing was a drain on the Servants Mana, not to mention doing anything, although so far, she had managed to go easy on the mana her Master had provided. It was, after all, the most important resource in a Grail War like this. In a simpler seven Servant Grail War things often resolved quickly enough that it didn’t become such a huge problem, but this was turning into a battle of attrition.

That was also one of the reasons some of the other major Servants had not made too many overt moves. They were hoping the lower-strength Servants would sort each other out while they stood by and saved their Mana. It wasn't a bad plan even if everyone knew about it. Just because a plan was simple didn't mean it couldn't work. Most Servants were hungry for battle by nature and didn't want to just sit on the sidelines while other heroes fought. And it was very natural to try to avoid the most powerful enemies at the start. Assuming you even knew how to find them.

“The Warlock you wanted dealt with is dead.” Haqim appeared inside their base and just announced his success.

Seraphiel had sensed his arrival and materialized fully to greet his arrival. “Good. Any trouble?”

“Not really. Their Assassin tried to stop me, but she wasn’t really a problem. Might have been able to deal with Masters and some weak Servants, but…” The Vampire left the rest unsaid.

“True enough. Well, you did what I requested, so you shall have your alliance, for now.” They’d discussed the matter while Haqim had been gone and decided to accept the offer.

“And I already feel the alliance bearing fruit with what happened to the Ruler. We can make this work.” Haqim replied with a grin that might have been appreciative on a less hardened man. He nodded towards Seraphiel. “I can sense you’re among the Servants that have a life outside the war. I believe we will see each other again.”

“Do excuse me if I’d rather not. I’ve had enough dealings with the Banu Haqim before.” She grimaced behind the mask.

Haqim barked a laugh. “That settles it. I knew I recognized you somewhere.” He lowered his voice to a level where even she barely heard it. “Are the others aware of your multiple lives? I figured it out before when The Goddess showed up, but I have more experience with such things than most.”

“Not really, although I’m not really hiding it or anything. And what makes you think you recognize me?” She asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Come now, Selessa. You were aware of the fact that they used both mine and Caine’s blood in creating your body for that life. You didn’t think they would’ve gotten either without our approval? The Tremere think they got it from a spy that snuck in and stole the blood from Alamut, but Caine handed it to the Tremere himself, while I sent my clan to rescue you afterwards.” He grinned. “Then we just watched the fireworks go off.”

“You are aware that before I regained any power, I wasn’t exactly treated well while in the custody of the Tremere, and the girl, Haydee, whose body I took, suffered even worse before she was turned?” The fact that she’d quite enjoyed the experience due to her Predator Type in that life was not something that needed to be said.

“So, the rescue was a little late. I couldn’t take a personal hand, and the newbloods had a bit of trouble finding the right place.” Haqim shrugged. “We kept tabs afterwards. You had quite a lot of fun in that life, don’t bother denying it. Maybe not one of your finest moments, but ours was not a world of pretty ideals and happy destinies. And you certainly didn’t need happiness to have fun. Which you did. Aplenty.”

She gave a sigh. "That's impossible to deny.” She had to agree on that front. She’d had a little bit too much fun in fact.

“See, I knew we could get along. You hate Tremere, I hate Tremere. Caine fucked with your life, as he did with mine. We’ve both seen some of the darkest the Creation has to offer. And now we can both get some benefits from this war.” He seemed to be in a jolly mood.

“You do know I’ll stab you in the back the first chance I get, right?” She stated honestly.

“Despite whatever else you are now or have been, you’re Banu Haqim. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He took the threat in stride before vanishing again.

-------

It was only a couple of hours later that the Trambelio heir finally managed to return. He was still severely injured, both of his arms practically unusable, and with severe burns on his legs. Arjuna, who was keeping watch had alerted those at the base to his arrival, so it didn’t come as a surprise as he stumbled and almost fell through the door. There was very little left of his previous fancy and expensive clothing and equipment, though some of his items had likely worked to help heal the worst of his injuries.

Seraphiel took enough pity on the man to telekinetically float him onto one of the nearby sofas. "How good of you to finally show up," Barthomeloi stated coldly. "Although I'm surprised you didn't seek sanctuary at the church. They could offer asylum in return for giving up the war."

“You…left me. I know…you could’ve come for me.” He complained instead of answering, having trouble speaking properly. Damage to his lungs from hot air most likely.

“We could’ve. Why would we though? We know you threw away your Servant to save yourself.” Barthomeloi personally wouldn’t have minded if the young man had passed away. Although he was pretty good as a mage, his cocky nature and disdain for those of ‘lower’ upbringing spoiled any true potential he might’ve had.

"I can…still be useful." He ground out, hatred and vengeance in his eyes.

“How?” She asked coldly.

“I still…have my command seals. Can take…orphaned Servant. Or be a better Master…instead of…someone else.” They all knew he was referring to Luthien.

“That someone else you’re referring to has managed to eliminate an entire team’s worth of Servants. Just for your information.” Luviagelita interjected. “So, I think we’ll keep her, thanks.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Barthomeloi picked up there. “That said, we have allied ourselves with an orphaned Servant…” She left the rest unsaid, allowing Haqim, if present to decide the rest.

The Assassin Vampire didn't disappoint, appearing out of thin air. "I'll manage without, thanks. I think I'll last longer as I am, than with a Master who will throw me away at the first sign of trouble. Besides, he clearly doesn't know how to utilize an Assassin." He disappeared again. Not that he could be used in the same way. He could likely resist the Command Seals unless multiple were used, and Trambelio could only really use one.

"Well, there goes that possibility," Barthomeloi stated coldly. "Still, you might still be useful." She turned to Seraphiel. "Lady Exile, I seem to recall hearing your Goddess call you Paladin and High Priestess. Would I be correct in assuming you can heal his injuries?" Barthomeloi had been more polite, clearly understanding she’d overstepped after her previous outburst.

She had access to her abilities from the vessel in this universe, although they were hopelessly outmatched by most of what was shown in this Grail War. Healing one guy though? That was easy. “Yes. It is within my power.” Her mask turned towards Luthien.

Luthien chewed on her lip in thought. Trambelio represented everything she hated about the Clock Tower, the disdain of the noble families, and the way everyone overlooked her. The hereditary nature of their magic and resources meant that someone like Trambelio would always stand above those like her in the Tower hierarchy. It would be so sweet to let him suffer. Though if she did, how was she any better?

Finally, she nodded, and the golden light of healing fell on Trambelio, slowly fixing the damage done to him. He could now breathe easily, and no longer had to suffer the pain from his wounds. At last, being able to relax, he fell asleep almost immediately. "A noble decision, even if one I fear may come to haunt you in the future." Seraphiel said to Luthien.

“Would you have refused him?” Luthien asked in turn.

“Hmm, the answer to that would change, depending on when in my life you asked it. In the past, I would’ve saved him, no questions asked. Nowadays…” She shrugged. “I’m not as noble as I was in the past. Or as naïve.”

"Sorry to break the moment, but we have a lot of movement," Arjuna reported, jumping down to them. "Many of the teams are moving in our direction. Or to be more precise, the Black team is moving towards us, and the others are moving towards the Black team. Who reaches who first, I do not know.”

“Can you bring down the Dragon if necessary?” Seraphiel asked directly. Deathwing, or Neltharion depending on which one had been summoned, was the most likely to become a problem for them.

“With enough time, I can bring down anyone or anything. At a cost. If I unleash my full power, I will also disappear.” The modest Archer revealed.

"Then let's try to avoid that, shall we," Luvia said firmly, Arjuna being her Servant.

Seraphiel secretly agreed. Having even one reliable ally was better than nothing, and it wasn’t in Arjuna’s nature to stab her in the back. Hell, of the two of them, it was more likely that she was the one to betray him. “I believe the direction of this Grail War will be decided tonight. Everyone be ready for anything.”

They, aside from the still-sleeping Trambelio, stepped outside and prepared for battle. They didn't have to wait long, as the first one to arrive was a giant, green-skinned Orc with red-glowing eyes, holding a wicked-looking axe. "Mak'gora." The Orc growled and pointed at Seraphiel with a thick finger.

"I believe he's challenging you," Saber whispered helpfully. She seemed eager to fight as well.

“Yes, I got that. Not my first time.” She obligingly stepped forward, the Cronesword appearing in her hand. As she stepped forward, she unclipped the Wraithbone chest armor, and allowed it to fall on the ground, while also making the Harlequin's Kiss on her arm disappear. The rules of Mak'gora only allowed a single weapon, and for this fight, she had to choose the strongest one. A truly traditional Mak’gora only allowed the wearing of a loincloth as well, but she wasn't feeling quite that obliging.

"Grommash Hellscream. It's been a while." She said as the two started circling each other.

“Butcher of Shattrah. I’ve waited for this opportunity.” The Orc retorted, his axe suddenly swinging at her with speed and ferocity that none of the Human Heroic Spirits could match. She matched him blow for blow but had to push herself significantly more than before. Despite everything that happened to him, Grom was a Blademaster, a title not given lightly among a race practically designed and bred for battle. Someone like Siegfried would’ve been defeated in moments, and this was just the beginning.

“Funny. Your mangy kind came to exterminate mine at Shattrah city, and I’m called a butcher for making an effective defense.” Her [Graceful] Skill came in handy as she danced around the heavy blows of the famous axe Gorehowl. Her weapon didn’t miss its mark though, as small cuts appeared on the Orc’s hide.

“That was not an honorable battle. That was a slaughter.” The Orc accused her while striking an overhand blow that even she had to struggle a bit to stop. This version of Grom was all hopped up on the blood of Mannoroth, and thus even more powerful than usual. He made a good Berserker, though barely retaining what was left of his sanity. Just not enough to notice some of the power in him slowly ebbing away.

She could sense things escalating around her, other Servants arriving, but she couldn’t afford to lose her concentration. Grom was not an opponent to take lightly, especially when fighting on his terms. As she was moving to block another blow from the Orc, a shadow-infused arrow flashed right by her as she barely managed to dodge, largely thanks to her [Precognition].

“Sylvanas! Do not interfere!” Grom growled.

Suddenly it seemed like attacks from the Gorehowl were coming from all directions, and she knew Grom had used his trump card, the ability known as Bladestorm. Her entire focus was forced on defense, but it worked. Every blow from the axe was met by a block or dodge, and the storm of blows couldn’t last forever. She knew she only had to weather the storm. The rain of blows started slowing down, and the Orc stumbled to a stop, panting heavily. She felt a little bad for defeating the Orc just because of a difference in equipment, but not bad enough to not use the blade.

“And here we are again.” She stated walking over to the Orc’s kneeling form. “No matter how many times you try, your axe won’t reach me. It was a valiant effort though.” She rammed the blade through the Orc’s chest.

“B—Butcher…I did reach this time.” The Orc managed to growl out before his body scattered in a shower of sparks.

She noticed the slight wound on her arm, one of the attacks having grazed her. Likely the one where she had to dodge the arrow as well. Still, it was a wound. “So you did.” She whispered. She had to admit that Grom had really pushed her, even if the fight was short. You should never underestimate the ferocity of his kind.

A boom, like a thunder striking, sounded from the skies as a flash of light flew past the form of the Black Dragon flying above the city. It seemed they were dealing with Neltharion and not Deathwing. “Huh, Rider is back.” The chariot ridden by the Greek hero moved with blinding speed as it harried the Dragon. It wasn’t managing to do any damage, but it was keeping the Dragon busy for now.

Artoria was engaging another female knight, which Seraphiel assumed to be her ‘son’ Mordred. The Arthurian mythos of that world was weird. The two seemed to be fairly equal for now, emotions likely holding Artoria back. Arjuna was exchanging fire with Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen, while Illidan Stormrage, the half-demon half-Kaldorei Demonhunter with his twin Glaives stood over the quickly disappearing bodies of what she assumed were the last members of the Green team, the Caster and the Rider with the hammer and lightning.

Arthas Menethil was engaged with two Berserkers, Heracles, and a knight in black armor that looked quite ominous. And by everything she could see, Arthas was winning, as Heracles was on his last legs. Three Elven servants seemed to be engaging the giant monstrous form of Medusa, and she could sense the presence of Four extremely powerful Servants just outside the biggest fracas just starting their fight. Those were likely the big hitters of both the Gold and Purple teams. Well, except for the one that was coming for her.

The Caster of Gold, a man with long white hair was calmly walking towards her. The man was wearing fancy red and black clothing and didn’t seem the least bit worried about the chaos surrounding them. She could sense the man was significantly powerful. Before she managed to say something witty, the man lifted his finger for quiet and uttered a single phrase. “Ars Paulina.”

Suddenly she found herself and the man inside a reality marble. She was inside a glorious temple with 72 tall artistic pillars, and she seemed to be standing on top of an infinite stairway made of white stone. Rocks floated around her, and the only thing alongside herself and the man at the top of the stairs was a throne with ten rings placed on top.

"And what's this about?" She asked.

“I am Solomon, and this is my temple. An Anti-World Noble Phantasm that holds the power of all magecraft of Humanity. It is my pitiful attempt to keep you away from the battle raging outside.” The man, whose name seemed to be Solomon, revealed with an apologetic smile.

“Solomon, as in King Solomon?” She asked in confirmation.

“The one and only. And with you having introduced The Goddess, I know the futility of fighting against you. However, I am rather confident in keeping you here.” The man’s tone was almost sad and gentle.

“You of all people should know better than doubt the wrath of Father and Mother.” She nodded, freely removing the mask on her face because it felt somehow impolite in the face of a man who was important in her own mythos as well.

“And yet, here, I am immortal, and as long as the temple stands, you will not be able to leave. And the 72 pillars will only regenerate from any damage you do.” The man revealed.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here then?” She asked.

“While fighting you is impossible, it is not impossible to work around you. Unlike you, your Master can be defeated, and without a Master, you cannot win.” His plan was simple and rather obvious. Normally she would be able to protect her Master. However, while she was stuck here? Luthien was on her own.

Ah. They didn’t know about her choice of becoming the Grand Ruler. Still…

”This is rather annoying. I would really prefer that my Master did not die. And it would be rather embarrassing to lose after dedicating this war to Mother.”

"A thousand apologies. My Master had to use two Command Seals to even get me to fight you, and to reinforce my powers so it would work for certain." Solomon seemed honestly regretful. Yet, here they were, and she could sense this reality marble’s power.

“I do wonder. There were three servants missing in the battle earlier. Their decision can make quite a difference.” She pointed out.

"And who would they be? I thought everyone was accounted for." Solomon asked.

“The Green Assassin, Cú Chulainn, and our newest ally, Haqim. That last one should concern you most of all since he carries a bit of a grudge after you all annihilated the rest of his team." Even as she said that she felt the connection with Luthien break. Whether that was because her Master was dead, or for another reason, she didn’t know. It looked like Solomon’s plan had worked to some extent at least.