A few hours later…
I found myself wandering aimlessly through the endless expanse of the desert. The sun hung high above me, scorching and unrelenting, while the sands below swallowed my every step in silence.
There was no sign of life—no trees, no shelter, no sound but the whisper of the wind. Only the golden horizon stretching endlessly in every direction.
Yet despite the stillness of my surroundings, something stirred within me.
My steps came to a halt—not because of something I saw or heard, but because of an idea that suddenly surfaced in my mind.
A simple idea. A memory.
Back during the Okeanos Singularity, I had created a map to guide my way across the fragmented seas and drifting islands. A tool to help me survive, to understand the strange new world around me. And now, standing in this unfamiliar land, I realized… perhaps I could do the same here.
Drawing upon my skills, I focused my mind and activated my ability. The air shimmered faintly around me as magical energy gathered, and before me, a glowing map began to take form—etched with the secrets of this Singular space.
This wasn't just any ordinary map.
It showed everything: the outline of cities rising in the distance, the jagged silhouettes of mountains looming on the edges of the horizon, the presence of Servants—each one marked with a distinct symbol.
Humans, enemies, unknown forces... they were all there, represented by unique signs that pulsed softly across the parchment
With the map now in hand, I no longer wandered without purpose.
I had a direction. A goal. And perhaps, finally, a chance to find Camelot—or whatever fate had woven for me in this scorched and broken land.
But as I stood there beneath the unyielding desert sun, staring at the shifting sands stretching endlessly before me, a single question echoed in my mind:
'Now what should I do?'
Yes, the map gave me a clear path toward the Holy City—Camelot, the center of this Singular existence. I could see its direction faintly traced across the magical parchment, a city of order and divine authority nestled somewhere within this vast wilderness.
And yet… going straight there felt like a mistake.
Charging headfirst into the heart of a fortress governed by the Lion King herself? That was less like a plan and more like a death wish. If I went in unprepared, unarmed with knowledge or strategy, I might not even make it past the outer gates.
With a sigh, I let the glowing map shimmer in the air for a moment longer before dispersing it with a gentle flick of my hand. The magical construct unraveled, crumbling into fine grains of dust that vanished into the wind.
I raised a finger to my chin, tapping lightly as I slipped into thought. The breeze tugged at the hem of my white dress, and the desert seemed to grow quieter, as if the world itself was waiting for my next move.
"What can I do… what should I do?"
Then my thoughts drifted—almost naturally—toward the Noble Phantasm that defined me.
"Right… I haven't used it since I arrived here."
The Act of Imitating.
That power—the core of my being as a Servant—allowed me to replicate the skills, techniques, even the essence of other Heroic Spirits. But like any tool, it demanded precision, familiarity, and choice.
And now, it felt like the right time to use it.
"Alright…" I murmured to myself, letting the words hang in the air. "Who should I imitate?"
I closed my eyes.
Images began to form in my mind. Faces I had seen. Powers I had witnessed. Heroic Spirits whose paths had once crossed mine.
But in the end, only one came to the forefront.
Artoria Pendragon.
The King of Knights. The one who bore Excalibur. Regal, resolute, and terrifyingly powerful. But more than anything, she was versatile. Swordsmanship, leadership, endurance, and combat instincts honed by countless battles—Artoria was a living legend.
And… I had once imitated her before.
That connection, that memory, made the imitation smoother. I knew the way she moved, the way she fought. I could recall the weight of her presence, the subtle tension in her stance before a swing, the brilliance in her blade when it cut through the impossible.
In this desert, in this Singular reality twisted by the Holy Grail's influence, her strength was exactly what I needed.
Yes. Artoria Pendragon was the perfect choice.
I opened my eyes again, now focused with purpose.
It was time.
The wind howled through the endless desert, carrying the scent of sand and sun-baked stone. I stood still, my shadow stretched long beneath the glaring sky, my gaze unwavering.
Slowly, I raised my right hand forward—fingers splayed as mana gathered at my fingertips, responding to the silent call of my soul. The air shimmered, space itself trembling around me as if recognizing the legend I was about to invoke...
A memory. A power. A truth borrowed from another.
"Henshin."
The word echoed like a command, and the desert held its breath.
In an instant, golden light engulfed me. Blinding. Brilliant. Pure. Mana surged from the ground, spiraling upward in a pillar of radiance. My form began to shift—muscles tightening, height adjusting, energy reshaping every part of me.
My clothes dissolved into golden dust and reformed into something regal. A dark blue dress lined with white and gold appeared around me, layered beneath a suit of silver armor that gleamed under the sun. The metal felt cool yet familiar, heavy with responsibility, light with resolve. The chestplate bore the elegant design of a blue dragon lily—her symbol.
My hair turned golden blonde, flowing to my shoulders, styled neatly into twin braids and crowned with a singular, unmistakable ahoge—standing proud like a blade raised to the sky.
And my eyes... There's no difference. As always they shone with a fierce golden hue, like twin suns.
I lowered my hand. The fain golden light faded. Silence returned.
In the mirror of my power, I stood no longer as myself… but as her.
Artoria Pendragon. The King of Knights.
Or at least, an echo of her strength—carved into my being through imitation.
I took a step forward, the sand crunching beneath my armored boots.
The weight of the armor felt strange yet oddly comforting—as though I had worn it a thousand times before.
The heat of the desert still beat down upon my shoulders, but the silver plates of armor bore it well, shielding me like a second skin.
I slowly raised my right hand toward the top of my head, brushing against the soft strands of golden hair that now crowned it. My fingers found the one strand that defiantly stood above the rest—curving upward like a small blade of wheat caught in the wind.
"Hehe... it feels ticklish."
A soft chuckle escaped my lips before I even realized it.
The sensation was light, playful—almost absurd in the midst of such a barren, unforgiving place. And yet, it was real. Tangible.
The ahoge, ever defiant, swayed with even the faintest touch, as if alive on its own.
I looked down at my armored hands, the gauntlets reflecting the sun's glare.
I stood there quietly, my hand still resting against the ahoge, and allowed myself one more second to just feel the moment. In this form, I wasn't just stronger—I was braver. Like her, I could face the coming storm not with hesitation, but with dignity. With steel in my spine and fire in my soul.
And yet… I was still me.
This wasn't an escape. It was a reminder.
A reminder that I had chosen this path.
That I had stepped into this desolate land not to survive, but to change its fate.
I lowered my hand slowly, letting it fall to my side, and exhaled—long and slow. The desert wind stirred once more, curling around me like a living thing. Sand brushed against my armor in waves, but I barely noticed it.
"All right..." I murmured under my breath, my golden eyes narrowing with quiet determination. "Maybe now's the time to check my character profiles... See what I'm working with."
I raised my hand again, but this time with a different intent. A whisper escaped my lips, firm and clear.
"
With that invocation, a faint chime echoed through the air—digital and otherworldly, yet strangely familiar. A ripple shimmered in front of me, as if reality itself were being rewritten. And then, a translucent blue screen materialized in the empty air before me, floating at eye level.
The screen flashed for a second before several lines of data loaded:
---
[Character profiles]
Name: Kurohiko Yuki
TItle: unknown
Gender: Female
Age: ??? (True Age:16)
Height: ??? (True Height:160cm)
Weight: ??? (True Weight:44kg)
Class: Saber (True class:Caster)
Alignment: Chaotic-Neutral
Parameters:
- Strength: B
- Agility: B-
- Endurance: C+
- Mana: A-
- Luck: A++
- Noble Phantasm: A-
Class Skills:
- Item Construction: (A)
- Territory Creation: (E-)
- Magic Resistance: (B)
- Riding: (C)
Personal Skill:
- The Chameleon: (A)
- False Object/Weapon of Legends Creation:(A)
- Falsification: (A)
- Mana Burst: (B)
- Instinct: (B+)
- Charisma: (C-)
Noble Phantasms:
The Act of Imitating
- Rank: A+
- Type: Anti-Unit / Anti-Self
- Description:
This Noble Phantasm allows the user to imitate the attributes, abilities, and even the Noble Phantasm of other Servants that have been thoroughly observed by the user. However, the power of these imitations is not equal to the original.
The False Sword of Promised Victory
- Rank: B+
- Type: Anti-Army / Anti-Fortress
- Description:
A replica of Artoria's Excalibur. This sword has an identical appearance to the original but possesses far less power.
Invisible Air
- Rank: C+
- Type: ???
- Description:
The very ability to conceal Excalibur appearance, makings it looks invisible.
---
I stared at the glowing holographic text floating in front of me, my golden eyes narrowing with mild confusion. My brows furrowed as I leaned slightly closer, scanning the data carefully.
"…Huh. That's strange," I murmured, voice tinged with curiosity. "There's a Noble Phantasm listed here... Invisible Air?"
The words shimmered softly, pulsing with light on the blue interface. I tilted my head slightly, eyes narrowing further as I tried to process what I was seeing.
"I could've sworn... When I first imitated Artoria, there was no mention of that Noble Phantasm. Excalibur, yes. Her stats, her skills, even her combat style—I could recall all of that. But Invisible Air? That wasn't part of the package."
It wasn't as if I didn't know about Invisible Air. On the contrary, I was well aware of its existence. Invisible Air: Barrier of the Wind King—a sheath of compressed air that conceals the holy sword, disguising its identity and disrupting the enemy's vision and accuracy.
A useful technique, both strategically and symbolically. It was Artoria's means of walking the battlefield without revealing her legend too soon.
No, the issue wasn't ignorance—it was the timing.
Why now?
My eyes flicked over the information again, lips pressing into a thin line. There was no error in the system.
The text was clear, the Noble Phantasm's name confirmed, its effects accurately listed.
But that only deepened the mystery. This ability hadn't been present the last time I assumed this form. Back then, when I first invoked The Act of Imitating and took on the guise of the King of Knights, Invisible Air had simply... not existed for me.
So what changed?
Was it… the contract? My thoughts immediately turned to the moment I renewed my bond with Alaya. Ever since that connection was reinforced—deeper, more complete—I could feel subtle differences in my imitation process.
The transformations were more refined, more stable. The flow of mana was clearer. And now, it seemed, even abilities I once lacked were slowly being granted.
"Could this be the result of the new contract with Alaya?" I muttered aloud, thoughtfully. "A deeper link to the heroes I mimic... or perhaps access to abilities once locked away due to spiritual incompatibility?"
I took a step back and crossed my arms, gaze still fixed on the flickering screen.
"It's possible," I continued. "If my bond with the Throne has evolved, then maybe I'm no longer just borrowing the surface of a legend... Maybe I'm starting to access something deeper. The essence behind the name."
The idea was both exhilarating and perilous.
If it was true—if even Invisible Air had become accessible to me—then what else might be waiting, hidden deeper within the legends I could now imitate?
The very thought sent a chill of anticipation down my spine. With every step forward, I wasn't just copying heroes—I was becoming more like them.
The boundary between imitation and embodiment was beginning to blur.
But as thrilling as that sounded, I couldn't afford to let it cloud my judgment.
My gaze shifted downward as I took a moment to compose myself. The warm desert breeze tugged at my armored tunic, the sand crunching softly underfoot. This was still hostile territory—no matter how powerful I became, it didn't change the fact that I was vulnerable if recognized by the wrong person.
And I could think of a few in particular.
"Ah, right…" I muttered to myself, frowning thoughtfully. "It's best not to draw attention right now. If any of the Knights of the Round Table are nearby… especially the ones loyal to her… I'd rather not be discovered."
The Lion King.
The title alone was enough to bring a weight of caution to my chest. That version of Artoria—cold, divine, unshaken—would likely see me as an anomaly, maybe even a threat. If she sensed my presence, things could spiral out of control fast. I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
"I shouldn't be reckless. Better to move with subtlety and blend in."
Raising my right hand once more, I focused my mana. My fingertips shimmered with prismatic energy before releasing a silent pulse of power. With practiced ease, I summoned one of my favored utility skills—an outfit manifestation spell.
In response, tendrils of shadow and spirit cloth began to weave themselves around me. A dark, flowing cloak materialized over my shoulders, the fabric lightweight yet sturdy, its interior lined with spell-thread for enhanced concealment. The hood pulled itself up, casting a shadow over my face, allowing only a faint gleam of golden light from my eyes to peek through.
I let out a small breath as I tightened the cloak around me.
There. Much better.
With this, my armored appearance was almost entirely hidden. I looked less like a knight from legend, and more like a wandering traveler—someone not worth giving a second glance. And more importantly, someone the Lion King's watchful eyes might overlook.
I gave the cloak a gentle tug, making sure it was secure, then nodded to myself.
"Let's play it safe... until I know what I'm dealing with."
And with that, I turned away from the holographic display, letting it flicker out of existence behind me. The wind continued to blow across the dunes, carrying the faint scent of ancient magic and distant conflict.
My journey was far from over. But now, I was ready to face it… from the shadows..