The blinding, golden light of the Rayshift scattered like dust in the wind, leaving behind the sterile chill of Chaldea and replacing it with the warm, sun-baked breeze of the Mediterranean.
Fujimaru's boots hit solid, uneven ground. He took a steadying breath, the scent of wild grass, dry earth, and distant sea salt filling his lungs.
"Rayshift sequence complete," Mash announced, her voice crisp and professional. The heavy metallic thud of her massive cross-shield planting into the dirt echoed across the quiet landscape. "Vital signs are stable. Od levels are normal. We have successfully arrived in the year 60 AD, Senpai."
"Good work, Mash," Fujimaru said, brushing a few stray blades of grass off his Chaldea uniform. He patted his pockets, ensuring his spatial inventory was accessible, before taking in his surroundings.
They were standing near the crest of a massive, rolling grassy hill. Below them stretched a vast, beautiful landscape of ancient Italy—dense forests, winding rivers, and the faint, distant outlines of stone roads cutting through the valleys.
But the beauty of the earth was completely overshadowed by the horror in the sky.
Hanging directly above them, dominating the heavens like a watchful, burning eye, was a colossal ring of light. It was a massive halo of condensed magical energy, casting an unnatural, oppressive glow over the clouds. The anomaly of the Singularity.
Jeanne d'Arc gripped her holy standard tightly, her violet eyes staring up at the terrifying phenomenon. "The anchor of the era... It feels heavier than the one in France. It's as if the sky itself is weeping."
"It's an eyesore, is what it is," Kiyohime huffed, snapping her red folding fan open and covering her face to shield her eyes from the glare. She immediately stepped close to Fujimaru, her voice sweetening. "Such a romantic hilltop, my Anchin, ruined by that ugly ring! Shall I try to breathe fire at it? I can jump very high if I shapeshift!"
"Let's hold off on attacking the sky for now, Kiyohime," Fujimaru replied pragmatically, gently side-stepping to maintain a professional distance before Mash could intervene. "We conserve energy until we have a target."
Chevalier d'Eon stepped forward, their elegant white and blue boots gliding silently through the tall grass. The spy drew their silver rapier, their sharp, ambiguous eyes scanning the horizon with practiced, military precision.
"The immediate perimeter is secure, Master," d'Eon reported, their voice a melodious blend of calm and caution. "No immediate hostiles. However, the wind... it carries the distinct scent of smoke and ash. There is a battle taking place, not far from here."
Vlad III walked to the very edge of the hill, his heavy black cape billowing in the wind. The Lord of Wallachia looked down at the valleys below, his golden eyes cold and calculating as he analyzed the terrain.
"A solid drop point," Vlad III noted, his deep voice carrying the unshakeable authority of a veteran commander. "High ground provides an absolute tactical advantage. But the spy is correct. The air reeks of iron and spilled blood. The empire is already bleeding."
Behind them, Lancelot let out a low, vibrating growl. The towering Black Knight stood like an ominous statue of dark iron, the cursed fog curling around his greaves. His Eternal Arms Mastery was already causing his gauntleted hands to flex, sensing the distant warfare and instinctively preparing for bloodshed.
"Testing, testing! Can you hear me, Team Chaldea?" Dr. Roman's voice suddenly crackled to life through their earpieces, the static clearing up after a few seconds.
"Loud and clear, Doc," Fujimaru answered, tapping his earpiece. "We're on-site. Looks like a grassy hill, but we've got a front-row seat to that giant light show in the sky."
"Good. Trismegistus has stabilized your anchor," Roman said, his tone shifting into his serious, mission-control register. "Da Vinci is currently running a wide-area scan of the leylines. Be on your guard, Ritsuka. The historical foundation here is incredibly chaotic. We are detecting multiple massive military formations moving across the region. Entire legions are clashing."
"It's a civil war," Fujimaru reminded him, looking out over the landscape. "We need to find out who is fighting who, and more importantly, which side is being led by the resurrected ghost emperors."
"Exactly," Roman confirmed. "I'm picking up a skirmish occurring roughly two kilometers north of your current position. It looks like a Roman supply caravan is being ambushed by a much larger, organized force. If you want answers, that might be your best place to start."
"Understood." Fujimaru cut the comms. He didn't hesitate or look to his Servants for validation. He shifted seamlessly into the role of a manager delegating tasks to his most elite workers.
"Alright, team, we are officially on the clock," Fujimaru commanded, his voice clear and grounded. "We have an active combat zone two kilometers north. We are not blindly charging in. D'Eon, you have the highest agility. Take the vanguard and scout the engagement. Find out army sizes and unit types. Do not engage unless spotted."
"At once, Master," d'Eon bowed gracefully, and with a blur of motion, the Chevalier darted down the hill, disappearing into the tall grass like a phantom.
Fujimaru turned to the Lord of Wallachia. "Vlad, organize the marching order. You and Lancelot are the heavy frontline. Mash and Jeanne, you two form the defensive core around me. Kiyohime, stay close to the center, prepare your flames, and wait for my signal to clear their ranks."
"A sound strategy," Vlad III smirked, lowering his black lance. "A sovereign who knows how to utilize his pieces. Wallachia shall pave your road in blood, Master."
"I will burn your enemies to cinders, Anchin!" Kiyohime cheered, her fan sparking with eager embers.
"Arrrrrr..." Lancelot rumbled, stepping heavily into position alongside the vampire king.
Mash raised her shield, offering Fujimaru a confident, determined nod, while Jeanne took her place at the rear guard, her holy flag snapping in the Mediterranean wind.
"Let's move out," Fujimaru said, leading his legendary crew down the hill. The Roman Empire was tearing itself apart, but the practical worker from another world had brought more than enough firepower to fix it.
D'Eon returned mere minutes later, cresting the hill without making a single sound. The Chevalier gracefully dropped to one knee before Fujimaru.
"Master," d'Eon reported, their expression serious. "The situation is far more severe than a simple skirmish. The engagement I detected is merely the rear guard. The true battle is happening at the very gates of the capital. Rome is under siege, and the numbers are overwhelmingly imbalanced."
"Show us," Fujimaru ordered.
The team quickly advanced across the ridge, keeping low until they reached a high vantage point overlooking the grand, white-marbled walls of the Roman capital.
Below them, a scene of absolute, chaotic warfare unfolded.
The attacking faction was a massive, sprawling sea of soldiers, siege engines, and grotesque beasts that stretched as far as the eye could see. Leading this terrifying armada, tearing through the defensive lines like a force of nature, was a towering, heavily muscled man. He possessed wild blue hair, and his eyes were terrifying—pitch-black sclera with glowing, blood-red pupils that radiated pure, unadulterated madness. He wore striking black-and-gold iron armor, a tattered red cape billowing behind him as he crushed Roman shields with his bare hands.
But what caught Fujimaru's attention wasn't the monster. It was the person holding the line against him.
Commanding the desperately outnumbered defenders was a young girl. She had a short, distinctly curvy stature with pale, flawless skin. Her bright blonde hair was tied up into an elaborate, elegant bun, and her bright lime-green eyes blazed with a stubborn, undeniable fiery pride.
Her attire was completely impractical for a warzone, yet she wore it with absolute authority—a revealing, poofy-sleeved red and white dress with a transparent front, over a red leotard, paired with heavy, knee-high gold armored boots. Armed with an intricate, crimson-bladed broadsword, she was clashing directly with the towering madman. Every strike pushed her back, her boots skidding across the dirt, but somehow, against all logic, the human girl was surviving the onslaught of a Berserker.
Name: Caligula
Class: Berserker
Attribute: Human
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Class Skills:
Mad Enhancement (A+ Rank): Rank up for all Parameters, but snatches away most of one's reason. If an ally approaches him citing Rome, a Luck Check occurs, and if successful, he restrains his rampage. If the ally has ties with Rome, the check will be easier, meaning it will be easier for him to restrain himself. However, such restraint only stops his rampage and does not make it possible for properly communicate with him.
Personal Skills:
Imperial Privilege (A Rank): Skills for Riding, Swordsmaship, Arts, Charisma, Tactics, and many others. Because this is not lower than Rank A, those that are a burden to the body (such as Divinity) can even be acquired.
Sadistic Constitution (A Rank): A Skill that applies a plus modifier to one's aggression in battle. Their sadistic nature will continue to grow to some degree should the battle drag on. As it is close in nature to the Mad Enhancement Skill, Caligula cannot demonstrate this Skill to the fullest.
Glory of Past Days (B Rank): Plus modifier to his resistance against mental interference and the like, and he raises his Strength parameter temporarily if fighting unarmed, but every time Caligula uses this Skill, he also suffers damage. The rampaging madness makes his spiritual core grate.[1]
Stats:
Strength A+ | Endurance B+ | Agility B+ | Mana D+ | Luck D+ | NP C+
Noble Phantasm:
Flucticulus Diana: Moonlight, Devour My Soul (Anti-Army C+)
Wide range Mental Pollution attack that diffuses Caligula's own insanity through the moonlight projected through the sky. This Noble Phantasm's effects do not apply to those that are related to the Goddess Artemis. Contrary to its regular use, the Noble Phantasm can protect allies from an enemy's mental pollution attacks. The two different mental attacks cancel each other out.
Fujimaru's eyes narrowed, his practical mind rapidly processing the tactical layout and the historical implications. He stepped forward, raising his hand to halt his team's advance so he could lay out the strategy.
"That Servant is Caligula, a former Emperor of Rome," Fujimaru explained, his voice calm, analytical, and authoritative. He pointed down at the desperate clash. "And that girl holding the line against him... she's just a regular human, yet she's successfully surviving a direct engagement with a Berserker. She has to be a critical for this era."
Vlad III stepped up beside him, his golden eyes observing the girl's stubborn swordplay. "To stand against a mad beast of the Throne with mortal flesh... she possesses the disposition of a true sovereign. She will break soon, however."
"Not on my watch, she won't," Fujimaru said firmly. He looked back at his assembled legends. "If she dies here, the foundation of this era crumbles, and human history goes with it. Our objective is set. For now, we prevent anything from harming that girl. We're clocking in."
Lancelot's horned helmet twitched, the red slit glowing intensely as the heavy, cursed fog began to bleed from his armor. "Arrrrrr..."
"Vlad, Lancelot," Fujimaru ordered, shifting into his managerial element. "You are our heavy breach. Drop directly into the center of the attacker's formation. Draw Caligula's aggro and relieve the pressure on their front line."
Vlad III smirked, raising his black lance. "Consider his army impaled, Master."
"Kiyohime," Fujimaru continued, looking at the eager Berserker. "Take the right flank. The enemy has a massive cluster of archers forming up on that ridge. Burn them to ashes, but keep the fire away from the city walls."
"Yes, my Anchin!" Kiyohime giggled, her fan igniting into a roaring green flame. "I will sweep the trash away so you can walk comfortably!"
"D'Eon, you're with me, Mash, and Jeanne," Fujimaru finished, pulling up a holographic projection from his Chaldea bracer. "We are going to cut straight through the left flank and establish a defensive perimeter around the girl. Jeanne, have your flag ready to block any stray Noble Phantasms."
"My shield is yours, Master," Jeanne nodded gently, her expression hardening into holy resolve.
"I shall clear the path, Master," d'Eon said, raising their rapier.
Mash slammed her shield into the dirt, her lavender eyes locking onto the battlefield below. "Demi-Servant Mash Kyrielight, ready to engage!"
"Alright team," Fujimaru said, his blue eyes locking onto the mad Emperor below. "Let's show this ghost that his empire is under new management. Go!"
Like a dam breaking, the elite vanguard of Chaldea surged down the hill.
Lancelot was the first to strike. The Black Knight didn't run; he leapt off the high ridge, crashing into the center of Caligula's army like a dark meteor. The impact shattered the earth, sending dozens of enemy soldiers flying. Before the dust could even settle, Lancelot grabbed a discarded Roman spear from the ground. The moment his gauntlet touched the wood, his Knight of Owner: A Knight Does Not Die with Empty Hands (Anti-Unit A+) activated. The weapon blackened, corrupting into a deadly Noble Phantasm, and he immediately swung it in a devastating, horizontal arc that cleaved through a dozen armored men at once.
A split second later, a forest of cruel, black iron stakes erupted from the ground beneath the enemy's vanguard. Using Noble Phantasm Kazıklı Bey: The Lord of Execution (Anti-Army B), Vlad III descended the hill with terrifying elegance, his cape billowing as he effortlessly impaled an entire squadron of Caligula's soldiers without breaking his stride.
On the far ridge, a pillar of emerald fire roared into the sky. Kiyohime's terrifying, obsessive devotion manifested as a localized inferno, completely engulfing the enemy archers in a wave of draconic heat before they could even notch their arrows.
Down at the city gates, Nero Claudius blocked another heavy, maddened strike from Caligula, her arms trembling under the sheer, impossible weight of the Berserker. She gritted her teeth, her lime-green eyes refusing to yield.
But before the mad Emperor could raise his fists to deliver a crushing blow, a blur of white, blue, and silver intercepted him.
Chevalier d'Eon darted into the fray, their rapier striking Caligula's gauntlet with a precise, echoing clang, forcing the massive Berserker to step back.
Nero blinked in shock, momentarily stunned by the sudden, elegant intervention. Before she could process the shifting tides of the battle, a massive, cross-shaped shield slammed into the earth right in front of her, forming an impenetrable wall of steel.
"Perimeter secured!" Mash called out, standing firm behind Lord Chaldeas.
Behind the shield, Fujimaru walked onto the battlefield with a calm, unbothered stride. He stopped beside the exhausted, beautifully dressed girl, looking over the chaotic warzone his team was currently dismantling.
"Looks like you're short on staff," Fujimaru said casually, offering the stunned girl a polite, practical smile. "Mind if we step in?"
The young blonde girl blinked, her bright lime-green eyes wide as she looked at the massive, impenetrable shield that had suddenly manifested between her and certain death. She then looked at the teenager standing casually beside her, completely unfazed by the apocalyptic warzone.
"Short on staff?" the girl repeated, her voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and absolute, unshakable pride. She planted her crimson broadsword into the dirt, leaning on it slightly but refusing to let her posture droop. "You speak with brazen familiarity to the absolute ruler of this world! But... Umu! Your timing is nothing short of flawless! This Emperor shall gracefully accept your assistance!"
"NEROOOOOOO!"
A deafening, blood-curdling roar shattered the brief moment of respite. Caligula slammed his massive, iron-clad fists against Mash's shield. The sheer kinetic force of the Berserker's strike created a shockwave that kicked up a cloud of dust, but Lord Chaldeas did not yield an inch.
Mash gritted her teeth, her boots sliding back half an inch in the dirt. "His physical strength is monstrous, Senpai! It surpasses standard Servant parameters!"
"He's a Berserker fueled by an obsession with her," Fujimaru analyzed calmly, stepping back just enough to stay out of the splash zone. He looked to his left. "D'Eon. Jeanne."
"Leave it to me!" d'Eon dashed out from behind the shield, moving with blinding, aristocratic speed. The Chevalier's rapier became a flurry of silver flashes, striking precisely at the joints of Caligula's black-and-gold armor. The strikes weren't meant to kill; they were meant to annoy and redirect.
Caligula howled, swiping blindly at the agile spy. As his massive fist swung, Jeanne d'Arc stepped in, her holy standard glowing with a radiant, protective light.
"You shall not pass!" Jeanne declared, planting the flagpole. A localized barrier flared, effortlessly deflecting Caligula's massive arm and throwing him completely off balance.
Down the hill, the rest of Caligula's army was faring much worse. The united front of the attackers was rapidly disintegrating into a chaotic rout. Vlad III was methodically turning the battlefield into a gruesome forest of black stakes, his unyielding march pushing the enemy lines back by the second. Kiyohime's emerald flames created an impassable wall of fire, completely cutting off the enemy's archer support.
And then there was Lancelot.
The Black Knight tore through the Roman infantry like a natural disaster, wielding a corrupted spear in one hand and a stolen Roman gladius in the other. Sensing the clash between his Master and the enemy Berserker, Lancelot let out a furious roar of his own. He discarded his broken weapons, grabbed an entire abandoned siege ballista, weaponized it with his dark mana, and hurled it across the battlefield directly at Caligula.
The massive wooden construct slammed into Caligula's side, sending the towering madman skidding several dozen meters away from the city gates.
Caligula tore the shattered ballista off his body, his red eyes burning with absolute madness. He prepared to charge again, screaming his niece's name.
But suddenly, a deep, resonant horn echoed across the hills. It was the signal to retreat from the rear guard of the United Roman Empire.
Caligula froze. His Mad Enhancement constantly warred with whatever strange command seal was forcing his obedience to the united emperors. He clutched his head, howling in agony, the muscles in his arms bulging as he fought the order.
"Nero! My beloved Nero! Sadness... such sadness!" Caligula screamed to the heavens. But the unnatural command was absolute. With one final, agonizing look at the blonde girl, the mad Emperor turned and bounded away with monstrous leaps, retreating alongside the shattered remnants of his army.
The battlefield slowly fell quiet, save for the crackling of Kiyohime's dying flames and the groans of the retreating soldiers.
"They're falling back," Mash reported, lowering her shield with a relieved sigh.
"Let them go. Do not pursue," Fujimaru commanded over the comms, ensuring Vlad, Lancelot, and Kiyohime heard him. "We've established the perimeter. Fall back to the gate and regroup."
Fujimaru turned his attention back to the blonde girl. Now that the immediate danger had passed, the adrenaline was clearly leaving her body. Her knees buckled slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she stubbornly used her ornate sword to keep herself upright.
"An Emperor, huh?" Fujimaru said, his tone casual but respectful. He didn't bow, but he offered her a nod of genuine acknowledgement. "You held the line against a monster with just a sword and sheer willpower. That's some serious overtime. Good work."
With a quick swipe of his hand, Fujimaru opened a small rift to his Pocket Dimension. He pulled out a glowing, crystal-clear vial filled with a faint blue liquid and held it out to her.
"Here. Drink this," Fujimaru offered. "It's a high-grade stamina potion. It tastes a bit like mint, but it'll clear up that muscle fatigue immediately. You can't run an empire if you pass out in the dirt."
The girl blinked, looking from the magical rift to the glowing vial, and finally up to Fujimaru's practical, honest face. She didn't sense any deceit, only the reliable pragmatism of someone who knew the value of hard work.
She took the vial, popping the cork and drinking it in one swift gulp. Almost instantly, the color returned to her pale cheeks, and her breathing steadied. Her lime-green eyes widened in absolute delight.
"Umu! What a miraculous elixir!" she cheered, her bombastic energy returning in full force. She tossed her blonde hair, standing tall and proud. "To possess such loyal and capable warriors, and to carry miracles in your very pockets... you are no mere citizens! Tell me, stranger! Who are you, and to which province do you belong?!"
Fujimaru slipped his hands into his pockets. "My name is Fujimaru Ritsuka. These are my employees... well, my Servants. We're from an organization called Chaldea. We're not from a province; we're from the future. We're here to fix whatever is breaking your empire."
"The future?" The girl placed a hand on her hip, examining Fujimaru and the legendary heroes gathering around him. "Hah! A fantastical claim! But this Emperor is a patron of the arts and the extraordinary! Anyone who fights with such magnificent splendor is a welcome guest in my Rome!"
She placed a hand gracefully over her chest, puffing out her chest with absolute, undeniable regal pride.
"I am the Fifth Emperor of the Roman Empire!" she declared, her voice ringing out clear and beautiful across the battered gates. "The supreme ruler of the world, the artist unparalleled, Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus! You have my royal gratitude, Fujimaru of Chaldea! Come, let us enter the capital! We have much to discuss!"
The heavy, iron-reinforced gates of the Roman capital groaned open, pulled by dozens of exhausted, soot-stained legionaries. As Nero marched through the entrance, her crimson dress catching the Mediterranean sun, the battered soldiers immediately stood at attention, slamming their fists against their breastplates in a unified salute.
"The Emperor returns!" a centurion shouted, his voice hoarse but filled with absolute devotion. "Hail Nero!"
"Hail!" the legion echoed, the sound bouncing off the white marble buildings.
Nero raised her hand, offering her people a bright, undeterred smile that seemed to instantly lift the morale of the entire plaza. "Umu! Rest your swords, my brave citizens! Rome still stands, and your Emperor is unharmed! We have secured powerful new allies from... beyond our borders!"
The soldiers' eyes shifted from their beloved Emperor to the bizarre, legendary entourage following her.
Chevalier d'Eon and Jeanne d'Arc walked with approachable, noble grace, but the rest of the vanguard was a different story entirely. Vlad III's imposing, blood-soaked aura made veteran centurions instinctively step back. Kiyohime's fan was still smoking, her golden eyes scanning the crowd for any potential threats to her "husband." And Lancelot—towering, armored in pitch-black, and leaking cursed fog—had to duck slightly just to fit through the outer archway.
"Don't mind the giant," Fujimaru told a particularly terrified-looking guard as they passed. "He's just on our security detail. Harmless to the locals."
Lancelot let out a low, vibrating "Arrrr..." that did absolutely nothing to reassure the guard.
Nero led them through the winding, cobbled streets of the capital, heading directly toward the grand palace at the center of the city. Along the way, the blonde Emperor couldn't stop looking back at Fujimaru's team, her artistic soul practically vibrating with fascination.
"Such magnificent presence!" Nero praised, walking backward for a moment just to admire them. "A knight of shadowed iron! A sovereign whose gaze commands the very earth! A maiden of pure, untainted light! And you, Master of Chaldea—you possess no imperial aura, yet they follow your lead without question. It is an utterly fascinating dynamic! A masterpiece of a military unit!"
Fujimaru replied pragmatically, his hands in his pockets as he took in the architecture. "They do the heavy lifting."
"Humility! How refreshing!" Nero beamed.