June 30, 2022: Lots of changes. New chapter 1 author's note.

New readers: please read this before continuing.

First of all, thank you for your interest.

Fateless is meant to be a celebration of Fate specifically, and type-moon generally. It's written as a "grand finale" scenario, a multiverse-spanning "what if?" that takes place during a key point in the Nasuverse. Over its lifespan, this story's developed a well-deserved reputation for being ~complicated~. It pulls from across the Nasuverse and from centuries of Arthurian mythology, and attempts to weave it all into a coherent, singular story about Literal Multiversal Armageddon. For better or worse, it's been known to confuse a great many people, which is honestly quite understandable given the topics covered.

I initially tried to explain to the readers that the only way to lessen their justified confusion was to familiarize themselves with Fateless' sources, namely the Fate/stay night visual novel and a bit of Arthurian lore. But as the story progressed and we continued to descend the formidable Nasuverse Lore Iceberg, I began to realize that I was asking too much. It wasn't fair to place the burden of knowledge on the readers - not when I myself knew the various sources and how they're utilized within the story. I could just as easily make that knowledge readily available within these very pages.

So I put Fateless on temporary hiatus, and set about doing just that.

This shitty little fanfic last updated on January 1st. It's been a while. Hi there! We're back, baby, with summary number four, the mother of all clarity passes, and a fresh coat of paint. At the bottom of every chapter you'll now find the Confusion Corners, which, as the name implies, are specifically designed to explain the method behind Fateless' frenzied madness. Never read the visual novel? Not a problem. Don't know your Le Morte d'Arthur's from your Historia Reggum Brittaniae's? Don't worry about it. Got questions about the moon? We've got answers.

In doing this, my hope is to make Fateless as accessible as possible to any reader regardless of their individual knowledge level. You shouldn't need a PhD in Nasuology to enjoy a damn fanfic. Though, be warned that some of them get kinda long. This franchise is too convoluted for its own good.

So please, enjoy, and feel free to ask for clarification in the reviews if you're chugging along and find that one of your burning questions has gone fifteen chapters without an answer. Later down the line I'd like to add some short Q&A/FAQ sections to a few of these.

And always remember: Salter is best girl.

"Loose!"

Bowstrings snapped. Arrows flew.

Over the wall they sailed, into the shields and bodies of the advancing men. Too few dropped; hope dimmed.

"Cornwall bastards! Do they not see that man's insanity?" Tristan snarled. "Of all the times!"

"'Tis a good strategy. They know the granaries run dry."

"Gods damn it, Palamedes! Do not compliment them! Slay them!"

Palamedes whistled into his fingers, grimacing. The wall's archers fired another volley.

"You know I'm shite with a bow, Tristan." He raised his voice. "Archers! Loose at will!"

Tristan took aim beside them, his sleepy gaze sorrowful. Palamedes' fellow guard did not enjoy using his bow in such a manner. Fancier of chivalry the man was, he thought it better to engage an enemy on horse or in melee. That went doubly for his former allies; a sad state of affairs, to be pitted against brothers.

Enjoyment and effectiveness, thankfully, were not correlated. He felled men at twice the rate of the others.

"Palamedes!" a voice cried. The guard sergeant turned to the wooden staircase leading down into the village proper.

"What news, Bedivere?" The one-armed man leaned against the stone wall, panting. "They take axes to the western gate! Sir Kay needs you there at once!"

Palamedes and Tristan shared a nod.

"I'll handle things here," the latter replied. "Be safe. You still owe me that ale."

"Aye."

Palamedes donned his helmet and left the wall. Tristan's jaw tightened.

A foul omen.

"High Spark!"
Bum bum.
"High Spark!"
Bum bum.
"High Spark!"

Rhythmic chanting returned him from the dead.

Head pounding, bullet holes bleeding, Shirou Emiya's eyes fluttered open once then twice. Breath brought with it choking dust and ash. His hoarse rasp aggravated his wounds; his hair was slick with blood.

"Ngh—!"

Nevertheless, to his side he rolled, and with a weak groan he pushed himself off the ground far enough to take stock of his surroundings.

The blade works greeted him.

"Wh... wha..."

He died, yet lived.

Firing squad.

"Hmph. Finally made it, eh?"

The voice belonged to—

"A...Ar...cher...?"

The man squatted against a shield embedded in the ground, utterly disinterested in Shirou's sorry state.

"Get up, would you?"

"T-Try...ing...! Agh—"

The ugly throbbing disrupted his concentration. Archer sighed.

"Fine. Just listen, then. Your first opponent is—"

Archer blinked from existence. Vanished, without a trace. Shirou's confusion only rose.

"H-Hey! Hey, A-Arch—ngh...!"

His arms clutched at the wounds; he shifted his weight to his knees, and with an almighty, anguished groan forced himself to his feet.

Opponent? What opponent? There was no one else here, what was—

her ruined path
her destined end

The loudest voice he'd ever heard, bar none. He yelped in surprised pain, ears ringing, and twisted about as much as his wounds would allow.

It came from everywhere and nowhere, billions of voices married to the silence of the void. From without and from within.

her chosen ways
you must amend

A single image seared his mind: Artoria Pendragon, Saber, pulling Caliburn from the stone.

From zero to one hundred in an instant. Rage boiled him alive. This... thing... called her path ruined? Amend Saber's chosen ways? It disrespected her values? Her ideals?

"As if!" he hissed. "I refuse!"

A tumultuous gust sent the ash aflutter; a dust cloud bloomed. Shirou covered his face and squinted through his forearms.

master and saber exist apart

An invisible force demanded his movement. One step, another, towards the glinting light shadowed in the plume. He fought every inch. Muscles flexed, body shivered, all to no avail.

their souls are frayed and tattered

The world shook, his blood dripped. The pressure against his back edged closer to the unbearable. Shirou howled his wordless rage. It was the height of treason, the denial of all he held dear.

He would find Saber, not betray her!

the denial of fate we will now start

He stood in the midst of a tornado. A horrendous galestorm tore the blade works to pieces. Its fractures fell away, the sky cracked like a pane of glass. Stars swirled beyond the veil, twinkling, enthralled to something he dared not gaze upon.

To Shirou's direct front, shadowed against the horizon, stood the Greater Grail. A spire of ether pierced the chaotic heavens, the Swirl of the Root from which all things came and went.

The dust, finally, parted.

It gleamed. It shone. Warmth caressed his withered form. The pain assailing him lessened.

Shirou Emiya could not believe his eyes.

and you will take her scabbard

"To the keep! Get to the keep!"

Breached.

Townsfolk bolted down the streets; Cornwall's forces entered with torch and axe in hand.

"Burn the child out!"

They dared set fire to her home. It would not be allowed!

One man had his back turned. Artoria swiveled out the cottage, grabbed the tip of her blade, and directed it into his neck. As he died she grabbed his torch and flung it into the approaching raiders. The act caught their attention.

"There! There, that one!"

She should've worn a helmet or hood, but no matter. It would spare her people.

"Come and get me, you dogs!"

An enemy archer pushed his way to the front of the line, leveling his bow and nocking an arrow. She put the dead man's body between her and the enemy. The projectile pierced his side.

"What are you doing?!" a voice roared. Kay grabbed her arm and dragged her away, to the retreating line of guards. Sir Ector awaited them.

"We must buy them time!" she challenged.

"Nay, you fool! We depart at once!"

But from the corner of her eye, she caught enemy soldiers setting fire to their primary means of escape. Panicked neighing bled through the flames. She wrenched her elbow from Kay's grasp.

The stables. The horses!

Her brother pursued at once; at his shout, their father followed.

"Get to the keep!" Ector bellowed to the men. "Protect the people no matter the cost! We give them nothing but stick and hay!"

"Aye, milord!"

She charged into the blaze, dismembered a man taking an axe to a door. Falling snow melted in the heat. Her family's cries followed her.

"Artoria!"

...

...

"What the..."

His copy - his exact copy - scratched his neck. Shock and disbelief claimed Shirou, but this... other Shirou... seemed to understand the situation. At least, more than he did.

"Seriously?" the man muttered. "What was the point of all that if it comes to this anyway? Thought I'd avoided this nonsense."

Same voice. Same eyes. Same hair. Same build. Same, same, same.

His head throbbed. It didn't make sense. None of this made any damn sense!

"What... what's going on? Who are you?! Why do you—"

The copy blinked. He opened his mouth to respond, paused, grimaced, started over.

"What happened in your Grail War? Still the fifth one, right? Do you know who Archer is?"

What? What the did any of that have to do with there being two of him in the same damn place?!

Shirou ran his eyes over the walls encasing them in the strange arena. No exits. He tried to fight his panic.

The copy waved at him. "Hey, focus. I'm trying to help you, here."

He didn't seem combative. Okay, maybe he could get answers. Man, how he wished Saber was here.

"Saber and I fought to the end of the war. She killed that creep Gilgamesh, I killed that asshole Kotomine. After that she destroyed the Grail and vanished."

"Kotomine?" the other muttered. "That's different. Hey - your Saber, was she this short girl with a sword? Kind of cute, blonde hair? Liked to eat?"

They had the same Saber!

"Y-Yeah! Yeah, Artoria, right? Have you seen her anywhere? I've been searching for a while."

"Eh? N-No, Tohsaka told her to destroy the Grail and... wait, her name's Artoria?"

He didn't know? Wait, Tohsaka told her?

"Why didn't you give her the order?"

"I lost her as a Servant. Caster stole my command seals, so Saber made a new pact with Tohsaka after Archer betrayed us."

Archer? The weirdo with the white hair? What the hell, but he—

"Archer died fighting Berserker!"

The copy's face curled with distressed comprehension.

"...There are too many differences. We'll get nowhere like this. Maybe if we—"

He froze.

"Hey, Shirou - before you got... wherever here is, did you hear a voice? Kind of creepy, spoke in riddles?"

"—Yeah. You know what that was?"

"Its 'name' is Alayashiki. Subconscious will of the species, or something like that. Represents humanity and tries to keep us from dying off. It's Archer's boss, you could say. It told me—"

He jaw clicked shut. The copy blinked.

"It told me—"

Again.

Shirou frowned.

"It's... of course, I knew it! Hey! You try! What'd it tell you?"

"It said I needed to—"

Something took control of his mouth and vocal cords. Wrenched from his control, his muscles tightened and sealed his lips.

"What the hell..." he whispered.

Copy-Shirou scowled. "We need to fight."

"What? Why?"

"Look, it'll make sense once we start. Be serious, but let's not kill each other, alright? I don't think that's the point."

Right, okay. Good thing he'd practiced over the years. Maybe one of those polearms he saw in—

His fingers curled around a familiar hilt. Caught off guard, his gaze lowered to find Caliburn readied and waiting.

Impossible. He hadn't used it in years. He couldn't, not without Saber. So how...

...

The scabbard.

"Thanks," he breathed.

The copy observed the blade.

"What is that?" he asked. "It's beautiful."

"Long story."

His doppelgänger shrugged with a short chuckle. Archer's shortswords blinked to his hands.

"Gotcha. I'm sure I'll learn soon enough."

—Eh? What did that mean?

"Remember," he continued. "Be serious, but don't kill."

"Right. Ready?"

"Yeah!"

They rushed each other. Shirou began with a vertical slice to the copy's collar, just to get a feel for how the guy moved. Their experiences clearly differed; who knew what he'd seen or learned in his weird continuity.

Rather than dodging, Copy-Shirou intentionally moved to block. He crossed the blades in an X and let Caliburn descend to the middle.

A bolt of lightning, straight through his mind. Shirou stumbled back and blinked away stars. Foreign memories not his own danced before his eyes. He held his head, wincing.

"A-Archer... Archer is...!"

"Her scabbard...?" the copy breathed, stupefied. "No way..."

Their eyes locked, they shared a nod.

Again.

Caliburn clashed against—

Clang.

—Kanshou and Bakuya. Those were their names. His weapons... maybe? Shirou's headache worsened. The copy's brow glistened with sweat; clearly, they both felt the same thing.

What was this?

"You... with Tohsaka?!"

...

Copy-Shirou backed away, face twisted in sympathetic guilt.

"I'm sorry. I... got lucky, I guess."

He grinned so he wouldn't cry. "She didn't disappear after confessing, I take it."

"On the contrary. I thought I was done with all this, personally. Tohsaka and I settled down after we got our fill. I probably would've ended up like you without her, but as we got older she convinced me to stop risking myself. So I chose to help in other ways. Projection's good for more than just weapons, right?"

"Yeah? She tried to talk me out of it, too. But I can't slow down. If anything, I've just sped up."

"Died young, huh? Like Archer."

"Bullets are faster than hanging. Doesn't matter much to me. I'm still here. Still conscious. So I can keep going."

The copy stayed silent for a long time. His eyes wandered to Shirou's sword.

"That's hers, isn't it?"

"Everything I am, I owe to her. She'd yell at me if I strayed from the path I've chosen."

His words washed over the copy. He closed his eyes, barked out a laugh.

"Man, for all our differences we're still the same idiot, huh? Fine then, let's speed up the process."

He tossed away the two swords, held his arms out wide.

"Kill me."

What? Absolutely not.

"Why would I?"

"You'll understand in a bit. You can feel it, can't ya? Alaya wants this. I want it, too. I want to help."

"Couldn't you help more by, you know, staying alive?"

"We're both dead, dumbass. And truth is... I want to see her, too. I never got to thank her. That's our biggest similarity, you know. We've never saved Saber."

...

The copy stepped forward, tilted his neck to the side for a clean slice.

"Do it for her, Shirou. Trust me."

One breath. Heart hammering, he slammed Caliburn into Shirou Emiya's throat. Decapitated.

Agonizing pain tore through his chest. Shirou's vision went white. Both bodies disintegrated into prana. His hearing faded last, drowned by the voices guiding his soul's resurrection.

shards numbered thousands
across all time and space

our Monster, Grand Saber
noblest of thy race

not power nor speed
but strength of mind

witness thy lives
and save our kind

And they began to combine.

It burned.

"Come on, come on, come on...!"

Her childhood burned.

"Artoria!"

The wood gave way; the horses bolted. Artoria stumbled from the stable's blaze, wheezing.

"I'm... okay!"

Kay's pommel strike brought a man low. Sir Ector finished him with a stab to the throat. Burning cottages and the shouts of soldiers seared Artoria's mind, and it took all the willpower she had to just stand there and take another breath.

"There are far more than we expected," Ector growled. "We must leave at once."

Unacceptable. Absolutely not.

"Our duty is to the townsfolk! We cannot abandon them!"

Her adoptive father approached her, put his hands on her shoulders.

"They are not after the people, lass, they are after you. I know Gorlois. He is a man, not a beast. They will keep the townsfolk alive for the information they carry, but you they'll execute." He looked to Kay. "Come, both of you. We head for the tunnels."

"I've no word from Bedivere or the others," Kay said. "I fear for them."

They quickened to jogs. Artoria barely heard Sir Ector over the clashing steel and roaring flames.

"The men know their duties. They will protect the people and buy us time. Kay, the scroll."

Her brother grimaced. From a pouch he pulled a worn parchment tied by faded crimson cloth - a sinister, eldritch thing Artoria knew nothing about and loathed all the same for what it represented. Long ago it'd fascinated her, but she knew better now; her heart skipped a beat. Sir Ector had long since drilled into both of them the scroll's purpose: should the worst befall her, she was to read its contents and hope for a miracle.

Miracles saved no one. A blade did.

"Here."

Artoria pocketed it without another thought. Useless trinket.

"Let me go, Cornwall bastard! I'll kill ya!"

"P-Please! Please, she's not the child you—agh!"

She whirled in the commotion's direction. A Cornwall soldier dragged away a peasant girl of eight or nine years. The feisty child kicked and punched at the offending arm, to no avail. Another man kept his knee on a struggling elder, who Artoria recognized as the town's tanner.

The kid had blonde hair. She readied her blade and charged.

"Gods damn it!" Kay seethed.

Honor be damned, she wouldn't let the bastards separate yet another family. The girl was innocent. The Mad Duke wanted Uther's spawn? Fine.

The second warrior saw her coming, but he had not the time to warn his ally. A sword pierced his neck, cleaved out its side. His body dropped, the head attached by a sliver of flesh. Out of shock the kidnapper released the girl; Artoria ran through his exposed back. She tried to ignore the sickening squelch of metal on meat, pushed the man to the ground and took stock of the situation.

"L-Lady Artoria!" the girl sniffled. She wiped her tears on her sleeve in much the same way Artoria wiped her sword's blood against her trousers. It'd stain, but she'd rather that than using the soldier's and offending the dead. She looked to the warrior responsible for the second man's death.

"Palamedes."

His helmed visage calmed her little. If Palamedes had donned his helmet, the situation was grim.

"Milady. Are you injured?"

"I'm fine. How are you faring?"

"A few bruises, milady, but nothing that won't heal with a warm meal and some sleep."

Kay and Sir Ector caught up. She ignored her father's disapproving glower and instead helped the elder to his feet.

"And the men?"

"Gathering what people they can and making for the keep. We plan to hold there. Tristan and Bedivere are fine, as is Bors. We've lost some, but we expected it to be hard fought. We've instructed the men to surrender if cornered and stall with conflicting answers."

Kay crouched before the peasant girl. He ruffled her golden locks - the source of Cornwall's fury.

"You should be in the keep with the others, young one."

The child pouted in response. "I ain't afraid o' them! They can kick rocks!"

Her guardian, the tanner, put his hand on her shoulder. "We'll make our way there at once."

"Palamedes, escort them there," Sir Ector ordered. "We make for the tunnels as planned. Expect us in two day's time, and try to save what you can."

"At once, milord. I urge you tread carefully - some men have brought reports of overheard conversations. Cornwall suspects she's here. They grow desperate."

"Aye, we'll remain cautious. Gods watch over you, lad."

...

Uh...

"Damn, the hell happened to you?"

The other Shirou's lips quivered into an exasperated grin. His brow twitched.

"It's... a long story..."

What was it with him and long stories? They weren't copies of each other, not really. Merging with his—

Ow, ow, headache. Okay, breathe.

Merging with his other self taught Shirou quite a bit about himself. Namely, that he lived multiple lives. Each differed something fierce. Things got whacky, he died a bunch, but with each new experience he learned a bit more. In that life Archer went off the deep end and tried to murder him one too many times, and from the chaos he got quite a few unique additions to the blade works. Far more than Caliburn and Avalon, at least.

"I could guess that, if Archer went so far as to graft his arm onto you. Want to talk about it?"

"N-Not particularly. Hey, is Sakura alright?"

Eh? "Yeah? I mean, she's always been a bit of a space cadet but she's doing alright, last I checked. In both my lives. That I know of, I mean. Tohsaka and I dismantled the Grail after the war and that seemed to calm her down a bit. Never pried though."

Some tension left his shoulders. "Good, good. If you ever find your way back there, say hi to her, will you? She'd like that."

...

"So you got with her, eh?"

Other-Shirou rubbed his neck, adjusted at the ashen cuirass covering his chest.

"She needed my help. Like, a lot."

The action focused Shirou's attention on the gauntlets covering his hands and forearms. The armor appeared with the merge; it shared its colors with Archer's garb. He tried not to think about it too hard, but if Other-Shirou had a piece, too, it wouldn't be that much of a stretch to assume he wasn't a single life, either.

"And did you help her?"

"Yeah. I had to sacrifice a lot, but... it was worth it."

"Good. Lose anything important?"

Other-Shirou glanced at Caliburn. Something sinister crept down Shirou's back.

"I've never seen that sword before. Miyu's Shirou - I mean, we - we always use Kanshou and Bakuya. Is it yours?"

"It's Saber's."

Like the guy'd been punched in the gut. Other-Shirou clutched at Archer's arm.

"I-I see..."

...

"What'd you do, Shirou?"

The twin swords came to his hands.

"Listen."

He lifted them to a ready position. Shirou did the same.

"You're... you're gonna see some things you won't like. I just... I did what was necessary. That's all."

a sword deployed
reforged once more

so many things
learned from that war

Clang. Clang. Clang.

...

"Y-You..."

A woman in black. A girl consumed.

"I had no choice. I needed to save Sakura."

Never before had he felt such pain. Visceral, infinite, like drowning in quicksand made of knives.

"That... that doesn't mean..."

mistakes made
lessons learned

Shirou charged.

"...I have to like it!"

A swipe, a dodge. Prana swirled up his arms, into the sword hissing vengeance. He needed to vent.

Other-Shirou's wince deepened every time their blades connected.

"If I was stronger... if I had another projection, I would've—!"

"That's why! That's why I'm pissed! We're zero for four, now, asshole! We have never saved her! Does she not deserve it?! Huh?!"

bonds forged
and friendships burned

"I never said that! I had priorities! In both lives!"

"And she is mine! Tohsaka won! Sakura won! Miyu won! Saber lost! Saber has always lost! She is my Sakura! She is my priority!"

Angry tears stung Shirou's cheeks. Other-Shirou grit his teeth and pushed into the clash. Their feet dug into the surrounding wasteland.

"How far are you willing to go, then?" he urged. "Tell me! How much would you give? Would you walk away like I did?!"

"She told me to follow my ideals! The path I chose is not a mistake! I'll fight the world if I have to! I'll save as many as I can!"

hope embodied
follow thy road

Caliburn glowed. His hands burned. He powered through nevertheless.

"And one day, I will find her again! Even if it kills me!"

Other-Shirou grinned his approval.

"We really are the same, aren't we?"

Prana merged. Bodies dissolved. Lives and memories coalesced.

The blade works grew stronger.

with every rebirth
power bestowed

And then Shirou came back, gasping, wheezing.

"Haa... haa...!"

He grabbed at his temples, willed away the tortured pain riding lifetimes won and lost. Caliburn clattered to the ground, vomit colored the dust. The soot cuirass wrapped around his torso, hidden away by a tabard of crimson; red fabric wrapped around his left gauntlet. A keepsake, a memory made material.

Shirou reached for the sword. He stabbed its tip into the dirt and climbed to his feet, shaking all the while.

The walls of the arena fell away. An army of his alternatives warred amongst themselves. The Greater Grail burned upon the horizon.

four fragments fused
ten thousand remain

So continued the Heaven's Feel.

The manifestation of one single soul.

trek forth, Shirou Emiya
reclaim thy domain

Fire spread from roof to roof, the glow ominous against the setting sun. Artoria shivered despite the heat; whether her chill came from the continued snowfall or something else, she didn't know. The muscles in her legs spasmed from exhaustion. Kay shouldered a Cornwall pursuer into the keep's wooden wall.

"Keep going!" Sir Ector shouted. "We'll—"

He cut off far too suddenly. Panic pricked at her mind, and she looked over her shoulder to find a deep gash in the side of his leg.

"Sir Ector!"

He paid the blow in full; his attackers decapitated corpse fell to the floor. Two more men took his place. Ector turned and met her eye, for perhaps the final time.

"RUN!"

A sob died on her lips, for she wasn't yet ready to lose them.

"The gods bless you, Artoria!" shouted Kay over the chaos. "The gods bless you!"

Metal to metal, sword to sword. Limbs removed, entrails eviscerated. Blood splashed her cheek, its source unknown. She bolted down the stairs, into the cellar, a dozen men on her tail. They broke past her family's stalwart defense; their shouts spurred her desperation.

"That's the one! That blonde there! After him!" their frenzied leader ordered.

Yes, indeed: her childhood burned. Set ablaze by a destiny she never sought, a fate she never wanted.

"For Lady Igraine's honor! For Duke Gorlois! Kill the Pendragon!"

The scroll in her pouch began to glow.

"I'm surprised you made it this far."

Caliburn supported his exhausted form. Blood coated him head to toe. All of it was his.

Literally.

"Are you really?"

"Hmph. If you must know, I placed my bets on the Superhero." The man in red smirked. "Well? Feeling hypocritical yet, Saber?"

Shirou clenched and unclenched his armored hand. No more shattered bones, thank god. The soreness wore off a bit. With more merging came more armor. Sabatons, greaves, rerebraces and cuisses, so on and so forth. Mail and gambeson filled the gaps. Just shy of a full suit. He felt like some reenactor at a renaissance faire.

"Can I ask you some things?"

"If you win, you'll get the answer anyway. But by all means."

"First: what exactly am I wearing? I'm not a knight, why am I dressed like one?"

"Just another manifestation of our Mystic Code. Sabers are often knights, and their armor is what people remember best. It'd be different if you were, say, an Assassin, but I believe the point is moot. For us, it is Saber and Archer. Anything else?"

Now that he compared the two outfits, he saw the similarities. He felt like something was still missing, however. A helmet?

"I get that the realities aren't infinite, and that they can only vary so much before being pruned. But why is it that you influence me in so many of them? It seems like you're always there in some form, even if it isn't directly."

Archer put a hand on his hip. "What, I'm forbidden from looking after my various shards?"

"Shards?"

"My, Saber, you really are clueless. All that knowledge and experience you've gained, and you still don't get it."

"And you're still an asshole. Just a question, jackass, jeez..."

"I'm sure at some point it mentioned being a multiversal constant."

"Not directly, but the implications were there. Does it always talk in riddles and poems?"

"It rarely talks at all. But we digress."

Eternal fire surrounded them in a blistering ring. This would be their arena.

"The fragmented pieces of Shirou Emiya function as a part of the Counter Force's alarm system, a sort of detection network that passively watches over humanity. You call it being a hero of justice."

...

He should've been surprised, but he wasn't. Not after what he'd seen in the memories of his various selves.

"There exists a positive correlation between a timeline's overall health and that particular Emiya's heroic desire," Archer explained. "It is an easy metric humanity's subconscious uses to judge the state of the world. On one end, you have the paradise universes, where your existence and views simply aren't threatened. The Carnival, for example, or that strange place where we exist in a perpetual cooking show. As the timeline's prospects worsen, you begin to stray from your ideal self, until Shirou Emiya ceases to exist. Sakura. Miyu. Grand Order. Notice any similarities?"

Seriously? "They're all terrible."

Archer shook his head, exasperated. "Heh. Putting it mildly, I see."

"And where do you fit into all this, Archer?"

"When I am not being deployed, my own fragments are inserted into the timelines in various forms - whether that be as a Heroic Spirit, a class card, or something else entirely - in order to maintain the health and well-being of Shirou Emiya. I offer support when needed. I reign you in if needed. Of course, none of this is ever revealed to us outside these select occasions. My memories and personality are always tampered with to suit the purpose. That is my role, as Shirou Emiya's purest version."

"Purest version?"

Kanshou and Bakuya materialized in his hands. He swung them into a reverse grip.

"Yes. I am what Shirou Emiya becomes without any intervening variables or outside influences altering his development. You could call me the core of your soul, your true self."

"And... you're okay with this? Okay with me being the dominant personality, when it should be you?"

"You misunderstand, Saber. When two pieces interact, the result is usually catastrophic. It depends on where their personalities align in relation to each other. That is why your shards were initially paired in such a manner - they were compatible. But when all pieces are put together, we function as a completed puzzle. There is no dominance or submission. We become one soul. I, too, am Saber. We all are."

He tightened his grip on Caliburn's hilt.

"You seem oddly eager to participate. I expected you to show more distaste at the potential of recombining with your younger variants."

"Unlike you, I see only an opportunity. I'm more than willing to play along if it gets me what I want."

...

What a screwed up existence. Saber took up a stance.

"I see. So the contract itself exists outside time, huh? We truly are a Monster."

Counter Guardian EMIYA's smirk never faded. The twin blades swung to his front, in their classic readied positions.

"Hmph. Of course. That is what it means to be a hero."

The fires roared. The Grail's spire of light shone bright in the distance.

"I am-"

"-the bone-"

"-of-" "-my-"

"-sword." "-sword."

"Leander! Caius! Take four! With haste! The rest of you, guard the entrance!"

"Aye milord!"

"Aye ser!"

Six men chased her into the tunnel. Its far end's light grew evermore distant and hollow. Distant echoes whispered through the walls, sent from the men above as they struggled to buy her time. She fumbled for the scroll in the pouch.

"To hell with this!" she gasped aloud. "To hell with this, to hell with this, to hell with this!"

Energy swirled within her, inaccessible, its mere presence taunting. She longed to release it; she didn't know how. Omnipresent darkness prevented the scroll's usage. The footsteps behind her kept her moving.

With a gasp Artoria barreled through the snow-covered exit, stumbled, tumbled. She rolled to her feet and pushed through the frost, into the forest. The men emerged a moment later.

"Caius!"

"I'm on it!"

The man named Caius readied his bow. His aim was true; a piercing, unholy pain carved its way through Artoria's left tricep. The scroll dropped to the ground, and her panicked form followed. Her escape slowed to a crawl.

"'Tis useless, Pendragon!" one of the men barked. "Come now, on your feet! We'll give you a noble's death, as thy rotten bloodline demands!"

Powdered white obscured the scroll meant to save her. Artoria cursed her luck and cursed her death. She turned to face them and readied her sword, left arm limp at her side.

"My life was saved!" she hissed. "My life was saved, so I won't die that easily!"

Cornwall's men approached. A faint shimmer swirled beneath the snow. The girl grit her teeth, backed away to gain distance.

"I need to live, to fulfill my duties, and I cannot do that if I am dead!"

Her enemies only readied their weapons in reply. Their formation widened into a semi-circle around her; Artoria put her back against a tree.

Howling gusts fueled her words. A dull, throbbing ache took hold of her right hand. Heart pounding, adrenaline surging, she hollered aloud the denial of her fate.

The men charged.

"I will not be killed in a place like this, for no good reason, by men like you, who kill people like it is nothing!"

But the World saw no denial.

Tornadic energy whipped the snow aloft, covered her doomed last stand in the frenzied haze brought by chilled turmoil and a storm of blades.

Unbeknownst to all, upon the scroll was etched a summoning circle. A ritual from a time not yet reached, created by people not yet born. Its maddened activation threw Artoria into the tree and to the ground. Men shouted. Men died. A decapitated head dropped to the bloody snow by her feet.

Indeed: the World did not see denial.

Through the fog - a lone figure's shadow. Six bodies and the frost before her, embedded with swords.

The World, instead, saw acceptance.

Clouds parted. The gale became a breeze. Snowfall dotted her vision.

"Found you."

A muffled whisper dispersed the haze. Time stopped.

An armored warrior of soot and crimson gazed upon Artoria, his hands empty and idle. He stood within that graveyard of steel. Arcana's winds churned about him.

"Ah!" he spoke. "Forgive me, I mean you no disrespect. Let me start over. This should be done properly."

This scene - but a second in length - would stay with her for an eternity.

The figure smoothed the cloth covering his armor. He adjusted his helmet. Squared his shoulders. Collected himself, cleared his throat.

For though insanity had descended upon Artoria Pendragon's world...

...

"I ask of you."

...here, in the silence of this man's arrival, she found naught but peace, and a chance to catch her breath.

Fate/ess

The blades glinted in the moonlight.

Prologue - 1

"Are you my Master?"

THE LAST SABER

Confusion Corner

a very needed disclaimer
Fateless uses sources. Y'know, like Wikipedia, or a college essay. For the Nasuverse, I organize sources into three tiers, with the first tier being the things I pay most attention to:

- Tier 1: the written word; this is the text itself, whether that be Fate/stay night, lines of dialogue from FGO, or anything else.
- Tier 2: Side materials; these are essentially glossary entries that elaborate on core concepts initially found in the written story. We'll be referencing side material entries often, as they're the easiest way to discuss canon lore in a concise way. Every entry is pulled from either TMDict itself or the referenced footnotes on the wiki. I do not use the wiki's actual text to inform my decisions, as much of it is, bluntly speaking, unsourced fanon garbage.
- Tier 3: Word of God; these are Nasu's interviews.

There are times where Nasu - ugh - contradicts things he's previously written or said. Some of these contradictions are bad enough to be considered retcons, while others simply distort clarity and cause needless confusion among the fandom. Fateless will often "walk the tightrope" - it attempts to both find loopholes and abuse logic to reconcile contradictory sources into a unified whole, to both have the cake and eat it too. The vast majority of Fateless' custom fanon was created for this reason, with the rest filling various narrative functions to connect disparate parts of the multiverse.

For Arthurian canon:

- Tier 1: the written word; same as above.
- Tier 2: Wikipedia; always checked against the written word where possible to ensure accuracy.

You'll see me often quote Wikipedia when discussing Arthurian lore, especially Le Morte d'Arthur. Why? Because I'm not evil. I'm not gonna ask you to read this:

So when the duke and his wife were come unto the king, by the means of great lords they were accorded both. The king liked and loved this lady well, and he made them great cheer out of measure, and desired to have lain by her. But she was a passing good woman, and would not assent unto the king. And then she told the duke her husband, and said, I suppose that we were sent for that I should be dishonoured; wherefore, husband, I counsel you, that we depart from hence suddenly, that we may ride all night unto our own castle. And in like wise as she said so they departed, that neither the king nor none of his council were ware of their departing. All so soon as King Uther knew of their departing so suddenly, he was wonderly wroth. Then he called to him his privy council, and told them of the sudden departing of the duke and his wife.

That's the second paragraph of Le Morte. It's a very hard read. Fuck's sake, it doesn't even use quotation marks to denote dialogue! Agh!

Things I do not use as sources:

- Anything not included in the above.

This includes any unsourced comments regardless of forum, whether that be Beast Lair, Reddit, Space Battles, et cetera. The purpose of this story-wide disclaimer is to tell you that the interpretations and fanon you will see in Fateless come from my noggin and no one else's. I lay claim to the utter Charlie-from-Sunny-tier insanity found within these pages, tyvm! You're welcome to agree or disagree with any of it at your leisure, and are entitled to your opinions and enjoyment. I secretly hope you like it, though; I've worked quite hard on it.

In medias res
Latin for "in the midst of things", a story starting in medias res opens as the plot is already happening. Key exposition is often bypassed and filled in over time through things such as flashbacks, dialogue or references to past events. Fateless' first chapter occurs at the narrative's exact halfway point, though using chronological measurements like "halfway point" for this story might be inappropriate; Fateless' plot is, in essence, a massive temporal paradox, and part of the mystery is uncovering what's going on and why it's happening. I can't really say there's a "beginning" here, and you'll see quite a bit of jumping around in these early chapters especially.

Regarding the spastic jumps and cuts: while the plot's overall temporal organization is initially convoluted, individual chapters themselves are written in rough chronological order. So if the narrative is constantly cutting between several points of view, it means those two scenes are happening at roughly the same "time", even if they're in completely separate timelines. To use this chapter as an example: while Artoria is fighting for her life, Shirou is undergoing his little merger, and vice versa.

We ain't in Kansas no more
In classic Arthurian lore, Uther Pendragon (Arthur's father) falls in love with a woman named Igraine. But there's an issue - Igraine already taken. She's married to Duke Gorlois of Cornwall, grandfather of the Orkney siblings: Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, Gaheris, and sometimes Mordred. So what does Uther do? Well, he kills Gorlois and takes Igraine once she's been widowed. Fateless twists this. Both Gorlois and Artoria are still alive, and that means exactly one thing: Uther impregnated Igraine, and Gorlois lived to see it happen.

There's a blood feud. More on this later.

What the hell is a Confusion Corner? (IMPORTANT)
I'll explain why this is a thing through the use of an analogy:

Imagine for a moment that Kinoko Nasu, the creator of Fate, took Jon Snow, made him a woman, and then pitted Jonna Snow against Iron Man, the Green Lantern, and Jack Sparrow. You know who Jonna Snow is, you know which mythology he's from, you know he's supposed to be a guy. But if Fate was your first real exposure to Jonna Snow, would you know anything about what he's done or who he's fought, outside of the barest basics?

Probably not, right?

Nevertheless, you really like Jonna Snow. The author did a fantastic job psychoanalyzing her, and you're a big fan of the relationship she developed with the battle royale's protagonist. You wanna read more about them, but there's not much official content out there, so you turn to fan works. You see this fanfic about a premise you've considered often, about a role reversal where the formerly weak protagonist is now the strong one, and Jonna Snow is his support.

But there's an issue: this story has all these crazy fucking plot points that you've never even heard of. It's going on and on about political conflicts and side character motivations - side characters you've maybe heard of offhand, but have never really thought about. It's super confusing in general, and it's written like it's all stupidly obvious, like you should know about all of this already.

At the time of this writing, the above situation is what the poor Fateless reader base has endured for thirty chapters. And if you ask any of these valiant readers why they continue to suffer my rampant insanity, I guarantee you they'll respond with some variation of:

"I couldn't tell you anything about the plot lol but that Shirou/Saber fluff is A+ hell yeah!"

And what I eventually realized is: they're confused because, in keeping with the analogy, it's highly likely that quite a few of them have never read a sentence from A Song of Ice and Fire. There's a non-zero chance they simply don't know anything about the stories Jonna Snow hails from. And that isn't their fault - it's my fault for expecting them to have that knowledge.

See, Fateless is a story about actual, real life Arthurian mythology, told through the lens of Fate and the Nasuverse. It's sourced, it references mythological events ranging from the earliest Celtic oral traditions, all the way up to Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur (Nasu's primary source). If you haven't read those referenced stories, vast swaths of Fateless are going to make zero sense whatsoever, and that's before a core plot twist brings relatively unknown parts of the broader Nasuverse into play, too.

The purpose of these Confusion Corners is to introduce you to the Arthurian mythos you might not know, to the Nasuverse stories you maybe haven't heard about. I'm going to break things down, give you the context you might not have, analyze how both Fate and Fateless do things differently, and then elaborate on how Fateless attempts to marry everything together in a way that respects and maintains both Fate's and Arthurian canon's source materials.

If none of that sounds like your cup of tea, no worries! I hope you find a story you enjoy. But if you're willing to press on and read a shitty fanfic about a thousand years of mythology merging together with the Nasuverse into a massive apocalyptic finale of everything, then I suggest you brace yourself.

cause this shit is confusing for a reason lmao