what if, you're get summoned as a servant in Chaldea

Author: well I'm just wanted to inform you that I'm will likely to skip a day in the singularity so it's now the 4 day that Fujimaru group is in the singularity, and I'll move to skip more scenes in the game since I'm wanting to more focused in main goal of Fujimaru, and then well maybe this the end of the singularity 4 because I myself want to continue to singularity five and add Charles I and maybe other servants that I like to join Fujimaru to overcome singularity five.

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London city of mist

It's been 4 day that Fujimaru group in singularity, and now they're having a task given from Henry Jekyll to find victor Frankenstein.

The sound of their footsteps reverberated through the fog-choked streets, the group moving with careful determination.

The city had become an almost alien place, its once bustling roads now home only to the eerie hum of automata and the occasional growl of the monstrous creatures lurking in the mist.

Despite the constant battles, there was an unspoken bond that had formed among the group, a shared sense of urgency to uncover the truth behind the fog, and now, to find Victor Frankenstein.

Mash walked beside Fujimaru, her gaze lingering on Mordred.

She'd been quiet, reflecting on something for a while now. The past few days of fighting and surviving in the city had only made her more curious about the mysterious Saber.

Mordred, ever observant, caught Mash's sidelong glance and tilted her head, though she kept walking.

"Got something on your mind, Mash?"

she asked, her voice as casual as ever.

Mash hesitated before finally speaking, her tone tentative.

"I just... I don't understand. Why are you so intent on saving London, Mordred? What's really driving you?"

The question seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, Mordred remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead as the fog curled around their feet.

"Why?"

Mordred repeated softly, almost to herself.

"Because there's no way I'm letting someone else destroy it."

Her voice was firm, but there was something deeper lurking beneath her words.

"This city... this is mine to destroy, not anyone else's."

Mash blinked, confused.

"But... you don't live here. You're not from this time."

Mordred stopped for a moment, her back still turned to the group.

"It's not about the time or place. It's about something... more personal."

She shrugged, looking at Mash over her shoulder.

"I'll protect it because I want to. That's all you need to know."

Before Mash could respond, Achilles chimed in, his voice full of laughter, which broke the tension like a sudden gust of wind.

"Ha! That's rich, Mordred. You really do have a way of making things complicated, huh?"

Astolfo, walking beside Achilles, looked at Mordred with a curious expression.

"I wonder what's really going on in your head, though. There's more to this than just 'wanting to protect it,' right?"

Mordred didn't answer, but her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword, a faint, almost imperceptible tension in her posture.

The group soon arrived at Victor Frankenstein's mansion.

The building loomed in the distance, shrouded in the same thick mist that had turned the city into a deathtrap. The air was still and heavy with the smell of decay and rot. It was unsettling, like stepping into a tomb.

As they approached the door, the ominous silence was broken by a soft creaking as it slowly opened of its own accord. Fujimaru's brow furrowed as he signaled the others to be cautious.

Inside, the mansion was even more eerie. The walls were covered in strange, half-finished experiments and papers scattered about, their once-clear purpose now muddled by time and death. It didn't take long for them to find Victor Frankenstein's body, lifeless and sprawled on the cold stone floor.

Fujimaru's heart sank.

"We're too late..."

Before anyone could react, a voice emerged from the shadows, low and mocking.

"You're late, indeed."

Mephistopheles stepped into view, his face twisted with madness and malevolence. The air seemed to grow colder as he advanced, his every step exuding dark energy.

Victor's murder was revealed quickly, Mephistopheles grinning with sick satisfaction as he explained.

"He refused to join us, so he took the easy way out. Blowing himself up."

His laughter echoed through the room.

"Though, it seems you all managed to avoid my little surprise."

Mash clenched her shield tighter, her eyes narrowing at the demon before her.

"You killed him,"

she stated, her voice cold with anger.

Mephistopheles' eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Killed him? No, I gave him a choice. He made the wrong one."

He clicked his tongue.

"But it doesn't matter. You'll all be gone soon enough."

"My name is Mephistopheles, and you're all going to hell with me!"

His laughter is echoes the mansion as he active his noble phantasm.

seeing this Fujimaru didn't hesitate.

"Everyone, get ready!"

The fight erupted quickly, with the group scattering to avoid the initial blast from Mephistopheles' explosive Noble Phantasm. The demon, cackling madly, unleashed waves of dark energy, his laughter mingling with the sound of his attacks.

Achilles was the first to charge, spear at the ready.

"You're going down, demon!"

he roared, his body moving like lightning as he closed the distance.

Mash raised her shield, protecting Fujimaru from an incoming blast, her expression set in determination.

"I won't let him harm you, Master."

Astolfo dashed around the battlefield, darting in and out of Mephistopheles' range, distracting him long enough for the others to strike.

"Come on, demon! Is that all you've got?"

he taunted, his usual lightheartedness belying the deadly seriousness of the moment.

Mordred stood back, watching the others with an almost detached amusement. She was ready for anything, her eyes scanning the battlefield with the precision of a born warrior. As the others closed in on Mephistopheles, she drew her sword and charged, her footfalls echoing in time with the rhythmic beat of her heart.

She met Mephistopheles head-on, her blade clashing with his dark energy, sparks flying as they locked in a fierce struggle.

It wasn't long before they overpowered him. With one final, decisive strike, Mordred's sword cut through the demon's defenses, shattering his form and sending him to the ground in a cloud of dissipating smoke.

The group stood victorious but weary, catching their breath as the dust settled.

They wasted no time in searching the mansion for any clues to Victor's work. It wasn't long before they discovered a hidden note, Victor's last words scrawled on it.

"What's this?" Fujimaru muttered, holding up the note. The handwriting was hurried, almost frantic.

"It's about the fog,"

Mordred said after reading it, her eyes narrowing.

"A project. 'Project Demonic Fog.' And it's being run by someone— no, someones— with initials: 'P,' 'B,' and 'M.'"

Mash frowned, looking up at Mordred.

"Do you think Mephistopheles is one of them? 'M'?"

Mordred thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Could be. But there's still a lot we don't know."

Fujimaru looked at the others.

"We need to figure out who 'P' and 'B' are. This 'Project Demonic Fog' might be the key to everything happening in London."

Their investigation was interrupted by a low groan from the corner of the room. The group turned to find a large, hulking figure, lying unconscious. It was Victor Frankenstein's final creation — Frankenstein's Monster.

Mordred stepped forward, her expression unreadable as she knelt beside the creature. Despite its grotesque form and unintelligible murmurs, there was something human in its eyes.

They carefully helped Frankenstein's Monster to its feet and, after a brief exchange of glances, they decided to name it Fran. The creature seemed to respond to the name, its eyes shifting as if recognizing something.

With Fran in tow, the group made their way back to Jekyll's hideout. As they walked, the fog seemed to grow thicker around them, as if the city itself were conspiring against them. But there was no turning back now. The truth behind "Project Demonic Fog" was closer than ever, and the mysteries of London were only just beginning to unfold.

At Jekyll's apartment, the group gathered in the dimly lit main room, with Fran seated awkwardly on a sturdy wooden chair. She fidgeted slightly under the intense scrutiny of Dr. Jekyll, who examined her with a mix of scientific curiosity and genuine intrigue.

Mordred leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable as she watched the scene unfold. "You done staring yet, doc? She's not exactly enjoying this," she said with a pointed glance at Fran, whose confused grunts added to the awkwardness.

Jekyll adjusted his glasses and took a step back, nodding apologetically. "Ah, yes. My apologies." He cleared his throat. "Fascinating, truly fascinating. Despite her appearance, she's remarkably... human. More so than any homunculus I've ever seen." He paced thoughtfully. "This Fran is no mere construct. She's alive, in every sense of the word."

Astolfo clapped his hands together, beaming. "See? I told you she's special! She just needed a little understanding!" He leaned toward Fran with a cheerful grin. "Right, Fran?"

Fran tilted her head, letting out a low, curious sound. Mordred chuckled softly. "She likes you, pinkie. Guess you've got a knack for this kind of thing."

Fujimaru, standing beside Mash, furrowed his brows. "Henry, does this mean Fran is unique even among artificial beings?"

Jekyll nodded. "Indeed. Her creation defies the standard principles of alchemy or magical engineering. If Victor Frankenstein truly built her alone, then he was a genius of unparalleled vision. It's no wonder Mephistopheles and his associates wanted him on their side."

Jekyll raised a hand, drawing their attention, his tone growing more serious.

"I've received word from my network. There's been an unusual incident in Soho—something that doesn't align with the common threats we've seen in the fog."

Achilles perked up, spinning his spear idly in his hand.

"Unusual how? Don't tell me it's another one of those creepy killers."

Jekyll shook his head.

"Not this time. Reports speak of a large, sentient book—what I can only describe as a 'Magical Tome.' It's been spotted slipping into buildings, attacking civilians, and leaving destruction in its wake. It moves with intelligence, unlike the mindless automata or Helter Skelters we've encountered so far."

Astolfo's eyes widened, and he practically bounced on his feet.

"A book? That sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale! Can we keep it if we catch it?"

Mordred rolled her eyes.

"It's not a pet, pinkie. Sounds more like a cursed artifact than anything else."

Fujimaru exchanged a glance with Mash, who nodded.

"We need to investigate. If this Magical Tome is targeting civilians, it might be tied to 'Project Demonic Fog.' Or worse, it could be part of something bigger."

Jekyll gestured to a map on the table, marking a few locations in Soho. "The last sightings place it near these areas. Be cautious—it may seem strange, but if it's truly sentient, then it might be far more dangerous than its appearance suggests."

Mash stepped forward, her expression resolute.

"Understood. Master, please give the orders."

Fujimaru nodded, addressing the team.

"Alright, we'll head to Soho and locate this Magical Tome."

With that, they stepped back into the misty streets of London, their resolve firm as they headed toward the strange new threat in Soho.

The group made their way through the misty streets of London toward Soho, cutting down the occasional automata and Helter Skelters that emerged from the fog. Mordred took the lead, Clarent resting on her shoulder, as she regaled the group with stories from her old life.

"—and then this one time, I had to fight a whole nest of wyverns on my own. Pain in the ass, but nothing compared to the Picts. Those alien-like bastards? Now those were weird," Mordred said with a toothy grin, gesturing animatedly as they walked.

Mash tilted her head, her expression doubtful. "Alien-like Picts? Are you joking, Mordred?"

Mordred turned back to Mash with an exaggerated look of offense. "Joking? Do I look like I'm joking? Those things were real—freaky glowing eyes, sharp claws, and the weirdest battle cries you've ever heard. You don't forget something like that."

Ritsuka chuckled nervously, sharing a look with Mash.

"Sounds like a bit of an exaggeration, but hey, I wouldn't be surprised with all the stuff we've seen so far."

Achilles laughed, spinning his spear idly.

"Whether it's true or not, it sounds like quite the adventure. Fighting off Phantasmals, huh? I might've enjoyed that back in the day."

Astolfo skipped beside them, grinning.

"I think it sounds fun! Maybe we'll run into something like that here in the fog. London's got its share of mysteries, after all."

Mordred smirked, her gaze drifting to Mash, who was walking a step behind Ritsuka. The younger knight seemed deep in thought, her grip on her shield tense. Mordred's smirk faded, replaced by a calculating expression. She suddenly stopped, turning to face the group.

"Alright, that's enough chit-chat. Mash," Mordred called out, her voice firm.

Mash blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "Y-yes, Mordred?"

"You've been holding yourself back. I don't like it," Mordred said bluntly, resting Clarent against the ground. "If we're gonna survive this, you need to stop doubting yourself and start fighting like you mean it."

Mash hesitated, glancing at Ritsuka for guidance. "I… I don't understand. I'm doing my best—"

"Not good enough," Mordred interrupted, her tone sharp. "I've seen that look before. You're hesitating, second-guessing every move. That's not gonna cut it out here." She pointed Clarent at Mash. "You're dueling me. Now."

Mash's eyes widened in shock. "W-what?! Duel you? Why?"

Ritsuka stepped between them, raising a hand. "Mordred, this isn't the time—"

Mordred cut him off with a raised hand of her own. "It's exactly the time, Chaldea Master. You want her to survive, don't you?" Her eyes burned with determination as she glanced at Mash again.

"This isn't just about strength. It's about owning who you are. And I think you know what I'm talking about, Mash Kyrielight."

Mash flinched at Mordred's words, her hands tightening around her shield. She took a shaky step back.

"What… what do you mean?"

Mordred didn't answer, instead raising Clarent and stepping into a battle stance.

"You'll figure it out in the fight. Come on, shield girl. Show me what you're made of."

Achilles leaned on his spear, glancing at Astolfo.

"Looks like things just got interesting. You thinking of stepping in?"

Astolfo shook his head, his usual grin in place

"Mordred's got a point. Mash needs this. Besides, Master said not to interfere."

Ritsuka sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I can't believe I'm letting this happen, but… Mash, it's up to you. Show her what you've got."

Mash's expression shifted from shock to determination. She stepped forward, lifting her shield into a defensive position. "If this is what you think I need, Mordred, then… I'll give it everything I have!"

The two knights faced off in the foggy street, their silhouettes sharp against the eerie glow of the mist. Mordred lunged first, her strikes swift and precise, testing Mash's defenses. Mash blocked and parried, her movements steady but cautious.

"Stop thinking and move!" Mordred barked, pressing the attack. "You've got more power than this. Use it!"

Mash gritted her teeth, pushing back with her shield. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the fog as she began to fight with more confidence, her strikes gaining strength and precision.

Ritsuka watched intently, his heart pounding.

"Mash… You've got this. Just trust yourself."

As the duel continued, Mordred's grin widened.

"That's it. You're starting to get it. Stop holding back and show me what you're really made of!"

Mash let out a shout, pouring her strength into a shield bash that sent Mordred skidding back. Mordred laughed, lowering her sword slightly.

"Now that's more like it."

Breathing heavily, Mash stood her ground, her shield held high.

"I… I'll protect everyone. No matter what. That's my role!"

Mordred smirked, lowering Clarent entirely.

"Not bad, shield girl. You're finally starting to act like a knight." She turned to Ritsuka, tossing her sword over her shoulder. "She's ready. Let's move."

Ritsuka let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand on Mash's shoulder.

"Good job, Mash. You're amazing."

Mash nodded, a small smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Master. I'll do my best to keep getting stronger."

With that, the group continued their journey to Soho, Mash walking with a renewed sense of purpose as the fog thickened around them.

As the team made their way through the misty streets, the static of their comms crackled to life. Dr. Roman's voice came through, faint but urgent.

"Finally! You're still in one piece, thank goodness," Roman said, the relief evident in his tone.

"Barely," Ritsuka replied, glancing around at the group, still weary from recent fights. "What's the update, Doctor?"

Roman hesitated before continuing, his voice somber.

"It's about the Magical Tome. Jekyll's intel says it's no ordinary enemy. It attacks civilians by forcing them into an unending sleep. No one has woken up yet, and the Tome can slip through locked doors like it's a ghost. Be very careful—this thing isn't bound by normal rules."

Achilles smirked, twirling his spear. "Sounds like a pain. What else is new?"

Roman continued, ignoring the remark.

"Jekyll's informant has pinpointed its location to an antique bookshop in Soho. They're waiting for you there. Keep your guard up—the Tome is still in the building."

"Understood," Mash said, her voice steady. "We'll handle it."

The group pressed on, finally arriving at the bookshop. It was an old, creaking structure with a sign barely visible through the fog. The windows were dark save for a faint glow deeper inside. The air was unnervingly still.

Mordred kicked the door open, sword at the ready. "Let's get this over with. Where's this informant?"

The interior was dim and cluttered, with shelves crammed with books of all kinds. A small figure emerged from behind one of the shelves, glaring at the group. It was a boy—or at least, that's what he appeared to be at first glance. His demeanor was anything but childlike. His posture was rigid, and his deep voice carried a sharp edge.

"Finally. Took you long enough," he said, crossing his arms. "I don't have all day, you know."

Astolfo tilted his head, confused. "Wait, this is Jekyll's informant? You're just a kid!"

The boy scowled. "A kid? Hmph, your first mistake. I'll have you know I'm Hans Christian Andersen, one of the greatest authors of all time. Show some respect, you garish pink disaster."

Astolfo blinked, then grinned. "Wow, you're tiny and feisty!"

"Enough," Mordred cut in, rolling her eyes. "Where's the Tome?"

Andersen motioned toward the back of the shop. "It's in the study next door. Attacked the old shopkeeper. Poor guy's out cold in the back room. The Tome's just sitting there, mocking us."

Mash frowned, her grip on her shield tightening. "If it's still in the building, we need to act quickly."

"Great plan," Andersen deadpanned. "Except you can't hurt it. Not with brute force, at least. But go ahead and try—I'll enjoy watching you flail."

Ignoring Andersen's jab, the group headed to the study. The room was lined with dusty tomes and ancient texts, but at the center of the chaos floated the Magical Tome. Its pages fluttered eerily, an unnatural light glowing from within its covers.

The moment they stepped in, the Tome reacted, its glow intensifying as it lunged at them. Mordred swung her sword, only for the blade to pass through it harmlessly.

"Damn it! What is this thing?" she growled.

"It's like it's not even solid!" Mash shouted, raising her shield to block its glowing tendrils.

"Get it outside!" Ritsuka yelled. "We need more space to fight!"

The team maneuvered the Tome out of the shop and into the open street. The fog swirled around them as they continued their assault, but nothing seemed to work.

Andersen stepped outside, watching with a look of exasperation. "Idiots. All of you."

"What's your problem?" Achilles snapped. "If you've got something to say, spit it out!"

Andersen sighed dramatically, then smirked. "Fine. Allow me to demonstrate how a real professional handles this."

With a flick of his wrist, a glowing book materialized in his hand, and a wave of magical energy surged forward. The Tome reeled back, clearly affected for the first time.

Ritsuka stared, wide-eyed. "You're a Caster?"

"Obviously," Andersen said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Did you think I was just a boy genius tagging along for fun? Honestly, the standards for Chaldea's Masters have really dropped."

Astolfo clapped his hands, delighted. "Aww, you're so cool! Can we keep you?"

Andersen ignored him, focusing on the Tome.

"This thing isn't just a magical artifact—it's an incomplete entity, like something out of a bad story. Weak to conceptual attacks, resistant to brute strength. That's where I come in."

The group exchanged glances before Ritsuka nodded. "Alright, Andersen. Show us what you've got."

With Andersen now aiding the team, they regrouped to take down the Tome once and for all.

As Andersen's magical barrage forced the Tome back, Mordred stormed over to him, her sword still drawn.

"You're insufferable, you know that? Why don't you stop yapping and just deal with it already!" she snapped, her frustration bubbling over.

Andersen didn't even flinch, adjusting his glasses with a calm yet condescending smirk. "Oh, how terrifying. A brute with a sword is yelling at me. If only words could actually hurt."

"Why you little—" Mordred began, but Ritsuka stepped between them.

"Mordred, focus! Andersen, do you know what this thing really is?"

"Of course I do," Andersen replied coolly, gesturing to the Tome. "It's not just a floating book, it's a twisted Reality Marble—a manifestation of someone's psyche given form. Except this one's gone rogue. No Master, no sense of purpose, so it's latched onto the only thing it knows how to do: invade dreams and siphon magical energy in a pathetic attempt to create a new Master."

Mash blinked, gripping her shield tightly. "So, it's trying to force people into becoming its Master through their dreams?"

"Precisely. Though calling this mess a 'Servant' would be charitable," Andersen said, folding his arms. "It's nothing more than a clump of magical energy without form or substance. You can't destroy something that doesn't truly exist. At least, not until it's forced to exist."

"And how exactly do we do that?" Ritsuka asked.

Andersen smirked, the faint glow of magical energy returning to his hands. "Simple. You give it a name. Every story needs one, after all."

The group exchanged confused glances, but before anyone could object, Andersen extended a hand toward the Tome. His voice echoed with authority, dripping with disdain.

"A Tale for Someone, Nursery Rhyme. That's what you are. Now stop hiding in your own ambiguity and show yourself!"

The Tome froze mid-air, its glowing pages flickering violently. The fog thickened, and the magical energy swirling around it began to condense. Slowly, the form of a young girl materialized before the group. She had silver hair, a frilly dress, and an eerie, doll-like appearance. Her wide, innocent eyes scanned the group with quiet curiosity.

"N-Nursery Rhyme?" Mash stammered, lowering her shield slightly.

Andersen stepped back, his smirk never faltering. "And there she is. A little girl who isn't really a girl, bound to a Master who isn't here. This is the part where you lot deal with it."

Nursery Rhyme tilted her head, her soft voice carrying a haunting undertone. "Master... where is my Master?"

"She's not here," Mordred said flatly, stepping forward. "And you're hurting people. That stops now."

Nursery Rhyme's expression twisted, her innocent facade breaking. "If there's no Master... then I'll make one!"

The air crackled as she unleashed a wave of magical energy, the streets around them distorting as her Reality Marble tried to manifest again.

Ritsuka shouted, "Everyone, prepare for battle!"

The team sprang into action. Mordred charged headfirst, her Clarent glowing with power. Achilles darted around, distracting Nursery Rhyme with swift strikes, while Mash shielded Ritsuka from her retaliatory attacks. Andersen stayed back, muttering incantations to keep Nursery Rhyme's form stable, ensuring she remained vulnerable.

Despite her small frame, Nursery Rhyme was a formidable opponent. Her attacks were surreal, summoning storybook-like illusions that threatened to trap the group in their own nightmares. However, their coordinated effort slowly wore her down.

As Mordred landed a decisive blow with her Clarent, Nursery Rhyme let out a small, mournful cry. Her form flickered, and she collapsed to the ground, the eerie glow fading from her body.

Ritsuka approached cautiously, his voice gentle. "Nursery Rhyme... it's over. You don't have to fight anymore."

The girl looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness. "I just... wanted to tell a story. For someone..."

Her form dissolved into motes of light, leaving only the faint echo of her voice behind.

Andersen adjusted his glasses, his tone surprisingly soft. "That's the tragedy of incomplete stories. They're always searching for an ending."

The group stood in silence for a moment before Ritsuka turned to Andersen. "Thank you, Andersen. We couldn't have done this without you."

"Hmph," Andersen replied, brushing off the compliment. "Don't get used to it. Now, let's get out of this miserable fog before something even worse shows up."

With their latest threat defeated, the team began their journey back to Jekyll's hideout, ready to piece together the next chapter of this unfolding mystery.

At Jekyll's apartment, the atmosphere was heavy as the group regrouped after the encounter with Nursery Rhyme. Jekyll sat at his desk, scribbling notes while the others gathered around him. Andersen leaned back in a chair, arms crossed, watching everything with his usual disinterest. Fran stood nearby, quietly observing, her expressions unreadable.

Jekyll cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. "I've just received troubling news from my network. Jack the Ripper has reappeared, and this time, it's worse. She's laid siege to Scotland Yard."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the name sinking in. Mash frowned, her grip tightening on her shield. "Jack the Ripper... That assassin Servant..."

Mordred leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Her expression darkened as memories surfaced. "I've crossed paths with her before. She's not just dangerous—she's unpredictable. That kid's got a twisted way of playing with people, even screwing with their memories."

Mash nodded in agreement. "I remember... vaguely. It's like pieces of what happened are missing. She altered our memories somehow."

Andersen snorted. "A Servant playing mind games? How quaint. Still, considering her reputation, I suppose it's fitting. The infamous murderer of Victorian London would naturally thrive in a place like this."

Jekyll interjected, his tone urgent. "She's not just toying with individuals anymore. Scotland Yard is the heart of what remains of London's defenses. If it falls, this city is done for."

Ritsuka stood up, his determination clear. "Then we have to stop her. Let's move out."

Andersen waved them off lazily. "Don't expect me to come along. Babysitting is exhausting enough, and besides, you have a sword-swinging delinquent here to keep things lively."

"Who're you calling delinquent?!" Mordred snapped, glaring at him.

Fran made a soft noise, stepping closer to Andersen as if trying to say something, but he shook his head. "Stay here, Fran. I'm not letting you run off into another mess."

With Andersen staying behind with Fran and Jekyll, the team prepared to leave. As they exited the apartment and fought their way through fog-cloaked streets, Mash carried Ritsuka on her back to speed up their travel. Achilles and Astolfo took point, effortlessly clearing out waves of Helter Skelters and automata.

During a brief lull in the fighting, Dr Roman's voice came through their comms. "Fujimaru, while you're en route, there's something you need to know."

Roman continue as he hesitated a little.

"Da Vinci has finished analyzing the Helter Skelters you've been fighting. They're not constructs of magecraft or golems like we thought. They're actual steam-powered machines. Technology far beyond what should exist in this era."

Ritsuka frowned. "Steam-powered? But how is that possible?"

Roman replied. "They're built with a level of sophistication that doesn't match anything from this timeline. Someone—or something—is introducing advanced technology into this Singularity."

Mordred grinned, her confidence returning.

"Doesn't matter what they're made of. They break just the same."

As the team neared Scotland Yard, the sound of battle grew louder, and the fog thickened, obscuring their vision. Mash steadied Ritsuka on her back as she tightened her grip on her shield.

"Master, we're almost there," she said, her voice filled with resolve. "Whatever Jack has planned, we'll stop her."

Mordred glanced over her shoulder, her grin widening. "You better be ready, Chaldea Master. Things are about to get messy."

With their goal in sight and the weight of the Singularity's mysteries pressing down on them, the team prepared to face one of their deadliest challenges yet.

The eerie silence of Scotland Yard was broken only by the crunch of rubble beneath their feet. Fog clung to the air like a living entity, muffling every sound. The group moved cautiously, weapons ready, the tension palpable.

Achilles spun his spear casually as he walked, trying to break the heavy mood.

"You know, for all this talk about fog and mystery, this is feeling more like one of those crime dramas back home in chaldea. All we're missing is a good chase scene."

Astolfo, walking slightly ahead, chimed in cheerfully, "Ooh! I love a good chase scene! Think we could get a horse involved? I'm great at those!" He patted his lance, grinning ear to ear.

Mordred shot them both an exasperated glance.

"Could you two shut up? You're killing the vibe. This place should feel terrifying, not like some damn comedy show."

Achilles smirked, leaning on his spear.

"Heh, maybe you're scared, but I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Astolfo giggled.

"Don't worry, Mordred, if it gets too spooky, you can hold my hand!"

Mordred growled.

"I'll hold your hand, all right—right before I break it."

Ritsuka sighed, shaking his head. "Focus, guys. We're here for Jack the Ripper."

Mash, keeping close to Ritsuka, added softly, "Master's right. Stay alert—this place feels... wrong."

As if on cue, a soft giggle echoed through the fog.

"Mama... is that you?"

The group froze, weapons raised. From the mist, Jack the Ripper emerged, her childlike appearance juxtaposed against the bloodied knives she wielded.

Behind her, a tall, cloaked figure stepped forward, his voice calm and authoritative. "Ah, welcome. You're just in time to see the fruits of our labor."

Astolfo tilted his head. "Fruits? What are you, a gardener? Or maybe you're just a creep hanging out in the fog."

"P," as the man introduced himself, chuckled darkly. "Quite the lively bunch. A shame it won't last. I'm one of the architects of Project Demonic Fog, and unfortunately for you, our work here is almost complete."

Achilles raised an eyebrow, twirling his spear.

"So, what? You're just another bad guy with a monologue? Hate to break it to you, but we've taken down plenty like you."

P sighed, clearly unimpressed.

"Another simple-minded brute. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Jack, would you kindly deal with our guests? One of them might even be your 'mother.'"

Jack's expression shifted to one of manic excitement. "Mama... if you're here, come out. Let me cut you open to make sure!"

Jack darted forward with lightning speed, her knives aiming for Ritsuka. Mash intercepted her, raising her shield just in time. "Master, stay close to me!"

Mordred charged in, clashing with Jack. Sparks flew as Clarent met Jack's knives. "You're fast, kid, but you're not faster than me."

Achilles joined the fray, his spear striking with precision. "Careful, Mordred. If you lose to a kid, I'll never let you live it down."

"Shut up, Achilles!" Mordred snapped, pushing Jack back with a powerful swing.

Astolfo circled the battlefield, using his lance to disrupt Jack's movements. "I feel kinda bad fighting a kid, even if she's, like, super creepy. Should we maybe... I don't know, talk to her?"

"Talking's not an option!" Mordred shouted. "Focus on taking her down before she guts someone!"

Achilles grinned, leaping into the air and hurling his spear at Jack. "You're quick, but can you dodge this?"

Jack evaded the spear with ease, giggling. "Mama's friends are funny!"

Ritsuka called out, "Everyone, focus! We need to stop her now!"

---

As the battle is near the end and jack has been defeated.

Jack's Spirit Origin unraveled, she let out a final, desperate whisper. "Mama... where are you?" Then, she vanished, leaving only silence in her wake.

The group turned to P, who stood watching impassively.

Astolfo pointed his lance at him, his cheerful demeanor gone. "Your turn, 'P.' What's your deal, anyway? Why all this destruction?"

P looked at him with mild amusement.

"Why? Because humanity is doomed, and I've simply accepted the inevitable. You should too."

Achilles stepped forward, his spear at the ready.

"We're not interested in your doomsday philosophy. If you want a fight, we're right here."

P smiled faintly. "A fight, yes. But not today. My role isn't over yet."

Before anyone could react, a golden light enveloped him. Roman's voice crackled through the comms. "That's... That's the Holy Grail's power! He's teleporting!"

Mordred growled, gripping Clarent. "Coward! Stand and fight!"

P's voice echoed as he vanished. "Until next time, heroes. Prepare yourselves—our story is far from over."

As the golden light faded, the group stood in the ruins of Scotland Yard, the weight of their battle settling over them.

Astolfo sighed, slumping against his lance. "Well, that was anticlimactic. I was hoping for a dramatic finish."

Achilles shrugged. "He's just buying time. Next time we see him, he's not getting away."

Mordred sheathed her sword with a scowl. "Damn right he's not. I'll make sure of it."

Mash turned to Ritsuka, her voice soft but steady. "Master, are you okay?"

Ritsuka nodded. "I'm fine... but we need to regroup and figure out our next move."

Roman's voice came through again. "Good work, everyone. But this isn't over. P's escape confirms the Grail's involvement, and we need to stop him before it's too late."

The group exchanged determined looks before heading back into the fog, the battle far from over.

---

In a dimly lit chamber shrouded in an eerie mist, "P" arrived, his figure materializing in a swirl of golden energy. The air hummed with power, the oppressive atmosphere hinting at the presence of others. He stepped forward, his voice calm but tinged with frustration.

"I've returned," he announced.

Two figures emerged from the shadows. The first, "B," was tall and imposing, draped in a scholar's robe with an air of detached intellect. His piercing gaze reflected both curiosity and disdain. The second, "M," was smaller in stature but exuded an unsettling aura. Their expression was calm but calculating, their movements precise and deliberate.

"B," the scholar began, "I trust your little excursion went as poorly as we predicted, P."

P sighed, his composure unbroken. "Jack has been defeated, as expected. And Mephistopheles... well, his recklessness was bound to lead to his end sooner rather than later. They served their purpose."

M, leaning casually against a nearby pillar, smirked. "You always were the realist, P. Though I must admit, losing two assets in such rapid succession is inconvenient."

P folded his arms. "It changes nothing. The project continues as planned. The fools from Chaldea are merely a temporary nuisance. We are bound not by their actions, but by the inevitability of our cause."

M chuckled softly, their tone mocking. "Inevitability, you say? Bold words for someone who just fled from them."

B raised a hand, silencing the exchange. "Enough. We waste time bickering. Jack and Mephistopheles were tools, nothing more. Tools can be replaced."

P nodded. "Precisely. The fog continues to spread. The city's collapse is inevitable. And with the Grail's power, our work will reach completion."

M tilted their head, their expression unreadable. "The Grail... such a peculiar device. So many wish upon it, yet none understand its true potential. Tell me, P, does it bother you? That we, as Servants, are still bound by our Master's words, even in this state?"

P's eyes darkened. "It is a reminder of what we are. But it is also a tool—one we will wield to reshape this world."

B adjusted his glasses, his voice cold and precise. "As scholars, it was once our duty to pave the way for civilization, to guide humanity toward progress. But with civilization incinerated, that responsibility no longer binds us. We are free to act according to our will, free of the constraints of morality or purpose."

M's smirk widened. "Freedom... such a delightful word. And yet, here we are, still playing at being rulers of a broken world."

P stepped forward, his voice firm. "Enough. We have a duty—not to humanity, but to ourselves. The project must reach its conclusion. We owe it to the truth we seek."

B nodded slowly. "Agreed. Let us proceed. The fog will reveal all, and our enemies will crumble before its might."

M turned away, their cloak billowing as they began to leave. "Very well. But remember, P, if you falter again, I won't be as forgiving as our scholarly friend here."

P watched them go, his expression unreadable. "I will not falter," he muttered. "None of us will."

The three figures faded into the shadows, their resolve unwavering as the wheels of their plan continued to turn, the city of London trapped in their sinister grasp.

---

Back at Jekyll's apartment, the group found themselves greeted by Andersen, who had settled into the space with a strange ease. The room felt oddly peaceful, the chaos of the outside world momentarily forgotten as the Servants and Ritsuka sat down, catching their breath.

Andersen, with his signature smirk, eyed Mordred. "So, how was your little adventure? Defeated another one of those... enemies, I assume?"

Mordred shot him a pointed glance. "Don't get too comfortable. We're just getting started."

Andersen chuckled, crossing his arms. "Ah, such fire in you, Mordred. It seems you and I have something in common."

Mordred raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

The fairy-tale author shrugged, the playful glint in his eyes giving way to something more serious. "I think you'll find you're not the only one who came into being without a Master or a summoning ritual. The Demonic Fog itself created us—me, Nursery Rhyme, and... well, you, for example."

Mash looked confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Andersen smirked again. "It's not hard to figure out. The fog, the Grail, they're all connected. Servants like us—spontaneously summoned, unbound by traditional rituals or contracts. We're merely echoes of something else. You could say we're products of the Grail's influence."

Mordred narrowed her eyes. "So, you're saying this fog... it's the Grail's doing?"

"Not just the fog," Andersen replied, his tone taking on a more cryptic edge. "Whatever is at the center of this fog... it has ties to the Grail. Maybe even something created by it. And you're not the only one who's appeared because of it."

Ritsuka exchanged a glance with Mash, uncertainty creeping into his mind. "If that's true, then the fog must have a purpose... and it's probably tied to whoever's behind it."

Andersen nodded, his face becoming more serious. "Exactly. That's why we have to stop it before it spreads even further. Which, conveniently, is where you come in, Mordred."

Mordred shifted, clearly intrigued but still wary. "What do you mean?"

Andersen's eyes twinkled. "Well, I think it's time you did something proactive for once. Why don't you take Ritsuka and Mash and scout the outskirts of the city? Find out what's out there. Perhaps, you'll encounter more than just your usual foes."

Mordred frowned, her pride pricked by Andersen's suggestion. "Fine. I'll go. But I'm not doing this for you."

"Of course not," Andersen said, waving a hand dismissively. "You're doing this for yourself, for the truth."

---

Later that night, the team set out on patrol, heading for the city's outer limits. As they moved through the foggy streets, they encountered small groups of homunculi—creatures that had become mindless drones under the fog's influence. Mordred, clearly growing impatient, gripped her sword tightly.

"This is nothing," she muttered, cutting down the homunculi with swift, practiced strikes. "I want a real challenge."

Mash kept pace, her shield raised defensively. "Stay focused, Mordred. We can't afford to get reckless."

"I'm not reckless," Mordred retorted. "I just want something worthy to fight."

Achilles, walking beside Astolfo, heard the exchange and grinned. "Well, well, sounds like someone's got a little too much energy to burn."

Astolfo laughed, bouncing slightly as he walked. "I think it's more like she's got a certain need for a good fight. Don't you, Mordred? I've seen that fire in your eyes before."

Mordred shot them both a glare but said nothing, focusing on the path ahead. She could feel the tension in her muscles, the anticipation for something bigger than the mindless creatures they were cutting down.

Achilles, still grinning, nudged Astolfo with his elbow. "You know, it's funny. All this talk about needing a good fight, but you're the one who's been itching for a scrap since we left the apartment."

Astolfo shrugged, his usual carefree attitude back in full force. "What can I say? A little excitement never hurt anyone. Besides, I don't mind letting Mordred take the lead in this one."

"You're right to," Mordred muttered. "I want to fight something real."

Astolfo hummed, noticing the change in her tone. "I know, I know. I get it. You want to face the big challenge. Just make sure you don't overestimate them, yeah?"

Achilles chuckled. "Astolfo's right. You might be strong, but let's not go breaking yourself before we find out what's really waiting out there."

Mordred glanced at both of them. "I don't need you two to babysit me," she snapped, though her words lacked the usual bite.

Astolfo smiled brightly, not the least bit offended. "Oh, come on, Mordred! We're just here to back you up. After all, what's a hero without their companions?"

"I suppose that's true," Mordred replied, a smirk creeping onto her face. "Fine, let's just see who gets the better fight first."

"That's the spirit!" Astolfo cheered, raising his fist triumphantly.

As they approached the edge of the city, the fog grew denser, wrapping around them like a suffocating blanket. The group came to a halt as a figure emerged from the mist.

It was a man, dressed in the finery of an old-world playwright—tattered, but with an air of both grandeur and madness about him. His eyes locked on the group, his lips curling into a twisted smile.

"So, more brave souls wandering through this cursed city," the man said, his voice heavy with mockery. "I am Caster, William Shakespeare, and I must admit, I've grown quite fond of this fog."

Ritsuka, ever the tactician, took a step forward. "Shakespeare... But you were one of those created by the fog, weren't you?"

The playwright nodded, his grin widening. "Indeed. I was summoned by the fog—created from the depths of its malicious power. And now, I find myself with a purpose: to bring about a new era of theater, where even the stars can be rewritten."

Before they could respond, a sudden burst of magical energy sent shockwaves through the air. The ground beneath them trembled as a familiar, menacing presence appeared.

"Did you think you could go on without me?"

P's voice boomed from the mist, cold and mocking. He stepped forward, the fog swirling around him like an extension of his will.

"I knew you would be here, Shakespeare," P continued, eyes glinting with malice. "But you will be mine. The fog requires its Servants, and you are the next to be claimed."

Shakespeare's eyes narrowed. "So you're the one behind all of this? Pathetic. You think you can control the fog, but it's already beyond you."

P chuckled darkly. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

Without warning, P summoned forth a massive Helter Skelter—a monstrous mechanical creation—along with a blast of magical energy.

The battle was fierce. Shakespeare fought valiantly, his magical words causing illusions to warp the battlefield around them, but it was clear his power was no match for P's alchemy and the Helter Skelter. However, with Mordred leading the charge, their team quickly adapted, using their strengths to outmaneuver the overwhelming odds.

Achilles, seeing an opportunity, dashed forward, launching himself at the mechanical behemoth with surprising agility. "Well, looks like I'll get my own action after all!" He grinned, his excitement palpable as he took on the Helter Skelter.

Astolfo, not far behind, shot Mordred a playful wink. "Hey, just don't get too distracted by all the fun, okay? We've got a villain to deal with here."

Mordred shot Astolfo a side-eyed glance. "I don't need distractions. But I'll take the help."

Finally, after a long, grueling struggle, P was cornered. With a final, defiant scream, he summoned all his strength, but it wasn't enough. He crumbled to the ground as the team pressed their advantage.

As he fell, P's eyes locked with Ritsuka's. "Good luck... heroes... the future is... yours," he rasped, before vanishing into the mist.

With his departure, the Helter Skelter crumbled as well, its mechanical gears grinding to a halt. Shakespeare, who had been caught in the fray, staggered to his feet.

"You... you won," he said, his voice both astonished and begrudgingly respectful. "Well, I suppose I owe you my life."

Ritsuka smiled, offering a hand. "We're just glad to have you on our side."

Shakespeare glanced at the group and smirked. "I suppose I'm in your debt. Alright then, I'll join you. But only if I can be a part of this *story* of yours."

Mordred's eyes glinted. "The more the merrier. Now, let's take down the rest of these fools."

With P defeated and Shakespeare joining their ranks, the team stood at the edge of the city, the mist swirling around them. There was still much to do, but with each victory, they were one step closer to uncovering the truth behind the Demonic Fog.

Achilles grinned. "Now that's what I call a proper fight."

Astolfo chuckled, his eyes bright. "I'm just glad we made it through. And I'm sure there's more fun to come!"

Early the next morning, after Paracelsus's defeat, the team—Mordred, Mash, Achilles, Astolfo, and a sleepy Ritsuka—set out once again on patrol. The fog still clung to the streets of London, but the air was thick with tension as the group moved through the eerie quiet.

Mordred, eyes narrowed, gripped her sword tightly as she led the charge. "Something's off," she muttered under her breath, cutting down a group of automata that approached them with mechanical precision. "This feels like the calm before a storm. They're sending more of these things after us."

Achilles, looking around with a wary eye, cracked his knuckles. "The enemy's getting serious. After losing Paracelsus, they must be ramping up their forces."

Astolfo, ever the optimist, grinned as he took down a Helter Skelter with a well-placed strike. "Or maybe it's just our awesomeness that's making them act up! Either way, we're ready for whatever they throw at us!"

Mash held her shield tightly, her face grim as she nodded. "I agree. They've definitely escalated. But we'll handle it like we always do."

Ritsuka, still groggy but determined, kept pace, his focus unwavering despite his sleepiness. "Let's finish this quickly. We still need to find out more about the fog."

The group fought their way through wave after wave of automata and Helter Skelters. Mordred's sword cut through the enemy ranks, while Achilles and Astolfo used their agility to avoid the attacks and strike back with precision. Mash stood as the pillar of defense, protecting the team with her shield. Despite the heavy numbers, they made quick work of the enemies, but Mordred's concerns lingered.

"They're pulling out all the stops. This must be because of Paracelsus's loss," she muttered, wiping her brow as they reached the edge of the city. "They're getting desperate."

Returning to Jekyll's apartment, the team regrouped, exchanging looks of exhaustion but also determination. They relayed their findings to Jekyll, who listened carefully, his expression darkening as they spoke of the increased threats.

"It's just as I feared," Jekyll said, looking over his shoulder at the others. "They're not just fighting to win—they're fighting to destroy everything in their path. If they're pushing so hard now, it could mean they're preparing something much bigger."

With Andersen now comfortably settled in, along with Shakespeare, the air inside the apartment was filled with the quiet murmurs of strategy and analysis. Andersen, deep in thought, was scribbling furiously in a notebook. When Ritsuka explained their past encounters in the Singularities, Andersen's sharp eyes narrowed as he listened.

"Hmm," he said quietly, tapping his pen against his chin. "You mentioned the Holy Grail War… There's something about it that's been bothering me. The ritual itself. It doesn't align with the records I've read. But perhaps there's something more to it than I expected."

Mordred leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean? The Holy Grail War is just a bloody contest for a wish, right?"

"That's what the records say," Andersen agreed, "but I believe there's something else—a deeper layer to the war. A different method of summoning, a hidden agenda that isn't fully documented. I need more data to confirm my suspicions."

Before anyone could respond, Andersen's eyes flashed with sudden determination. "And that's where you come in, Ritsuka."

The team looked at each other, not entirely sure where this conversation was leading.

"I need you to run an errand for me," Andersen continued. "There's a place beneath London that holds critical information—the Mage's Association's Clock Tower. It's a hub of magical knowledge, and I believe their records may hold answers. Will you help me gather data on the Holy Grail War ritual from their archives?"

Ritsuka blinked. "The Clock Tower? I've heard of it, but I didn't realize it was in London."

"It's a labyrinth beneath the city," Andersen confirmed, his voice calm. "I know it's risky, but this information could be key in understanding what's going on with the fog and the Servants summoned by it."

Mordred folded her arms, her expression turning serious. "Wait, you want us to go *down there*? The Mage's Association? That place's gotta be crawling with more than just records. It's practically a fortress."

Andersen nodded gravely. "That's why I'm asking for your help. There's a much more urgent reason for us to investigate, and I need you to get in there, no matter what. This city is on the brink, and this information could be the key to stopping it."

"But the British Museum's underground entrance to the Clock Tower has already been sealed off and destroyed," Mordred interrupted. "We tried to get in before. The leaders of the Demonic Fog must've been the ones to crush any resistance, if that's true."

Jekyll, having been quiet up until this point, looked at Andersen thoughtfully. "That's right. We've seen the signs. The Museum was decimated. If they've already destroyed the path, what makes you think we can get in now?"

Andersen met Jekyll's gaze with quiet certainty. "I'm aware of that, but the records I'm after are old—some of them might have been left behind, tucked away in the deepest recesses of the Clock Tower. Even if they've sealed off the entrance, they can't have wiped everything."

Mordred exchanged a glance with Ritsuka, Mash, Achilles, and Astolfo. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was no doubt that they had no other choice.

"We're in," Mordred said after a beat, her tone firm. "We'll help you gather your data, Andersen. But you better be right about this."

"Good," Andersen said, a smirk returning to his face. "Now, I won't make this journey alone. Shakespeare, I trust you'll join us?"

Shakespeare, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly looked up. "I have my own reasons for investigating this fog, Andersen. I'll help."

"And I'll join too," Jekyll added unexpectedly. "I may not be a mage, but I know enough to keep up with you all."

Ritsuka nodded, turning to the others. "Then it's settled. We head out for the Clock Tower. Together."

The group settled down to prepare for the mission ahead. With Fran staying behind to watch the apartment, the team readied themselves for a journey into the heart of London's magical secrets—a journey that would reveal more about the fog, the Holy Grail War, and the dangerous forces working behind the scenes.

As the team made their final preparations, Andersen turned to them with a faint smile. "Let's find out what's really behind this fog, shall we?"

---

As the party made their way through Regent Park, the atmosphere was tense. The fog was thick, and the distant sounds of battle echoed in the air. Mordred, her hand tightly gripping her sword, glanced over at Jekyll, who was walking alongside them.

"Are you sure it's safe for you to come along, Jekyll?" Mordred asked, her voice laced with concern. "This isn't exactly a friendly neighborhood, especially with the way things are escalating."

Jekyll, despite his usual unflappable demeanor, smiled reassuringly. "You needn't worry about me, Mordred. I've got an ace up my sleeve," he said cryptically, though his words did little to calm the knight's apprehension. She wasn't convinced, but trusted his determination.

They continued their journey through the streets, their path occasionally obstructed by Helter Skelters and other strange entities created by the fog. The air was heavy with danger, but the team pressed on, dispatching the enemies with precision.

Roman, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly speak within th communicator. "So, Jekyll," he began, his tone casual but inquisitive, "you've never been to the Clock Tower, right? What can you tell us about the Mage's Association? You've been involved with them in some way, haven't you?"

Jekyll let out a soft chuckle. "I've worked with them in the past, but my expertise lies elsewhere. The Clock Tower is a hub of knowledge, yes, but it's also a political minefield. Everyone there has their own agenda. I've never had the chance to delve into the heart of it."

Mordred raised an eyebrow. "So, you're telling me we're heading into a den of snakes without knowing the full layout?"

"That's about the gist of it," Jekyll replied with a grin. "But we'll manage."

As they neared the British Museum, the landscape around them changed dramatically. The ruins of the building loomed in front of them, a reminder of the destruction that had been deliberately wrought upon this place. The once-grand structure was reduced to rubble, its once pristine walls and columns now crumbling and twisted.

Andersen, ever the pragmatist, didn't hesitate. He looked at the group, his sharp eyes scanning the wreckage. "This is the place," he said. "The Mage's Association facilities lie underground here. We'll need to dig to access the entrance."

Without waiting for a response, Andersen started moving toward the ruins. The rest of the group followed, but before they could begin their work, the ground suddenly rumbled beneath them.

A low, unsettling growl filled the air, and out of the debris, sentient spellbooks began to emerge—grimoires that had been twisted by the Demonic Fog. The books hovered menacingly in the air, their pages fluttering as though alive, much like the Tome they had fought in Soho.

Mordred immediately drew her sword, eyes narrowing. "More of these things?" she muttered under her breath. "Guess they're not letting us dig in peace."

Shakespeare, with a dramatic flair, stepped forward. "Do not worry, my friends. Let me handle this. These books may be enchanted, but they are no match for the written word!" He drew a quill from his coat and, with a flourish, began to weave his own brand of magic into the air.

Jekyll, meanwhile, assessed the situation quickly. "These aren't just any spellbooks," he said, his voice calm despite the danger. "They were once kept in the Mage's Association—stored away as grimoires. The Demonic Fog must have transformed them, turning them into sentient, aggressive entities."

Mordred was already in the thick of the battle, her sword cutting through the flying grimoires with swift, precise strikes. "Well, whatever they are, they're getting in the way!" she grunted, dispatching another book.

Astolfo, laughing as he dashed around, added, "Guess we've got a new genre of enemies! Literary book, if you will!"

Achilles, always quick to support his teammates, cleaved through the books with his spear. "Keep focused! We've got bigger things to deal with once these are gone."

After a fierce battle, the last of the grimoires was defeated, their pages fluttering to the ground in a heap of discarded parchment. Jekyll stood tall, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

"Good work," he said. "But this battle has shown us something important. With these grimoires defeated, it seems we've uncovered the path leading underground."

With the path revealed, the group carefully descended into the darkened corridors of the Mage's Association. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and dust, and the deeper they went, the more it felt as though the very walls were watching them.

"This is it," Andersen said, his voice reverberating in the silence. "The heart of the Mage's Association lies ahead. Let's see if we can find the answers we've been searching for."

Mordred took one last glance back at the ruins of the British Museum before stepping further into the darkness. "Let's just hope what we find is worth the trouble."

As the group descended deeper into the Mage's Association, the atmosphere grew more oppressive, the silence of the underground only interrupted by the occasional clatter of combat. Books and Helter Skelters emerged from every shadow, their movements deliberate and coordinated, as if they were guided by an unseen hand.

The team fought tirelessly, their weapons flashing in the dim light, but despite their efforts, the enemies kept coming. Mordred cleaved through one book with a single swipe of her sword, only to be immediately confronted by another wave. "They just don't stop, do they?" she muttered under her breath, her exhaustion starting to show.

Astolfo, ever the optimist, grinned. "Well, at least we're not bored! Let's keep going, we're almost there!" His voice was light, but the strain was evident in his eyes.

Achilles was equally focused, his spear cutting through the creatures with ease. "Stay sharp, everyone. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

At last, they reached their destination: a large, imposing door sealed with magical wards. Andersen, his eyes alight with purpose, pointed toward it. "This is what we've been searching for," he said. "The library lies beyond this door. Once inside, we can begin to understand the origins of the Holy Grail system."

He turned to the group, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "Guard this door. Jekyll and I will handle the library. If anything comes through, it's your job to hold it off."

With a nod from the others, the team took up positions, preparing for another wave of attackers. Mordred, her sword ready, glanced at Jekyll. "Don't take too long in there," she said with a grunt. "We can't keep this up forever."

Inside the library, the atmosphere was far quieter, though no less tense. Andersen began working immediately, flipping through ancient texts and scribbling notes, but something was wrong. The bookshelves seemed to shift and sway unnaturally, and the walls glowed faintly with a strange, protective energy.

"These wards..." Jekyll muttered under his breath. "They're preventing us from leaving until we find the information Andersen needs. We're stuck here until then."

Outside, the team was fighting for their lives, their energy waning with each passing minute. Waves of books and Helter Skelters surged at them relentlessly, and Shakespeare, despite his flair for dramatic magic, was beginning to show signs of exhaustion.

"I can't keep this up much longer!" Shakespeare exclaimed, panting as he conjured another magical barrier. "These things are endless!"

Mordred was on the front lines, her strikes fast and lethal. "Just hold on, Shakespeare! We're not giving up that easily!" But her voice betrayed the growing fatigue in her body.

Suddenly, the pressure of the assault became overwhelming. The enemies were coming faster and in greater numbers. Despite their best efforts, it was becoming clear they couldn't last much longer. Jekyll, noticing the shift in the battle outside, made a decision.

"I'll join the fray," he said suddenly, stepping toward the door.

Mordred turned, her eyes widening. "Henry, no—"

But Jekyll was already injecting a strange, glowing elixir into his arm. His body began to change, his features warping as he let out a low, guttural growl. Within moments, he was no longer the calm, collected Jekyll they knew. Instead, he transformed into Mr. Hyde, his appearance monstrous and filled with an insane fury.

"Leave the fighting to me now," Hyde growled, his voice filled with madness. "I'll carve a path through them!"

With his newfound strength, Hyde barreled into the waves of enemies, tearing through them with brutal force. His movements were chaotic, driven by madness and power, and he shattered Helter Skelters with ease. The team, though shocked at the transformation, quickly adapted and fought alongside him, their combined efforts turning the tide of battle.

Back in the library, Andersen continued his work, undeterred by the chaos outside. "Come on, come on..." he muttered as he rifled through ancient texts, searching for the answers they needed.

Hyde's rampage outside was buying them time, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andersen closed the last book with a satisfied snap. "It's done. I have what I need."

The group, battered but victorious, gathered back together as Hyde began to calm, his monstrous form slowly reverting to Jekyll. The transformation left him breathless, but his eyes were clear once again.

"We've got what we came for," Jekyll said, his voice returning to its usual calm. "Now, let's get out of here."

With the knowledge they had obtained, the group quickly made their way back out of the Mage's Association, but their reprieve was short-lived. They couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Back at the apartment, Andersen wasted no time in explaining his findings. "The Holy Grail War ritual, as we know it, was not always the same. It evolved from an older, original ritual—a Heroic Spirit Summon. This earlier ritual was designed to pit seven of humanity's strongest Heroic Spirits against a single, powerful enemy, but it was later distorted into the war we now recognize. The Holy Grail itself seems to have played a key role in this transformation."

He paused, letting the weight of the information sink in. "The Grail, or something tied to it, is the force behind all of this. And the more I think about it... we weren't the first ones to come for this knowledge."

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Andersen's eyes narrowed. "Someone was here before us. They anticipated our arrival and organized the data we needed, possibly before we even set foot in the Mage's Association. Whoever they are, they are well-informed... too well-informed."

The group exchanged glances, concern etched on their faces. "A Mage? Or A Servant?" Mordred asked.

"Who knows," Andersen said, his tone dark. "We don't know for sure. But we need to be ready for anything."

The weight of Andersen's revelation hung in the air. Whatever forces were behind the fog, they were more calculating than anyone had realized. The road ahead would be even more dangerous than they thought.

Before Andersen could continue explaining the findings about the Holy Grail War, they were interrupted by Roman's voice crackling through the comms. His tone was urgent. "I've detected a large group of Helter Skelters gathering around the apartment. You need to move now!"

Mordred, already on her feet, quickly turned to the others. "Let's go, team. We can't let them get too close." She could sense the rising tension in the air, knowing that another battle awaited them.

With that, Mordred, Mash, Achilles, Astolfo, and Ritsuka made their way out of the apartment. The Helter Skelters, those strange, mechanical entities, were swarming outside, moving with alarming speed and precision. It didn't take long for the group to engage them in battle, their weapons flashing in the air as they sliced through the machines.

Astolfo was grinning wildly as usual, charging into the fray with his usual flair. "Come on! Let's show them what we're made of!" He slashed through a Helter Skelter with a dramatic flourish, a wide grin plastered across his face.

Achilles was more serious, his spear cutting down enemies with deadly efficiency. "Keep your focus. These things aren't going down easily."

Ritsuka, in the midst of the chaos, tried to keep up with the rest, though he was still somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies. "They just keep coming! We can't let them swarm us!"

With their combined efforts, the group was able to clear the immediate threat, sending the remaining Helter Skelters retreating. They returned to the apartment, exhausted but victorious, where Roman immediately gave them an update.

"It's not just their mechanical nature," Roman said, his voice thoughtful. "They're infused with magical energy. It's as if they were made using a Servant's Noble Phantasm. That means someone is controlling them from a distance."

Mordred's eyes narrowed. "So, defeating the machines won't be enough. We have to find the one pulling the strings."

Roman nodded gravely. "Exactly. Unfortunately, the Demonic Fog makes it nearly impossible to track the controller's location."

The room fell into silence as the team contemplated their next move, until Fran suddenly entered, her small form moving silently across the room. She looked up at Mordred, her golden eyes glinting with determination.

"Fran?" Mordred said, surprised by the sudden interruption. "What is it?"

Fran seemed to almost hum in response, and Mordred's eyes widened as she translated the strange movements Fran was making. "Wait... Fran can sense the magical traces left by the controller?" She looked at the others, eyes alight with newfound hope. "She can find the location of the one controlling these Helter Skelters!"

Roman's eyes narrowed as he processed the new information. "That's a breakthrough. If we can track the controller, we can stop the machines for good."

Mordred turned to Fran, giving her a respectful nod. "Well done, Fran. Let's move quickly. We don't know how much time we have."

As the group prepared to head out, Mordred couldn't help but notice that Mash seemed quieter than usual. Her usual energy was somewhat subdued. Mordred approached her, concern creeping into her expression. "You alright, Mash?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.

Mash looked up, a forced smile on her face. "Yeah, just... thinking," she murmured.

Ritsuka, noticing the shift in Mash's demeanor, joined in, gently pressing for an explanation. "Is something bothering you, Mash?"

Mash hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I... I'm just frustrated," she admitted. "Hearing that the Helter Skelters are a Noble Phantasm really got to me. I've always wondered what my Noble Phantasm is capable of, and now I can't help but feel... inadequate."

Mordred, ever the blunt one, placed a reassuring hand on Mash's shoulder. "Listen, Mash," she said firmly, "you might not have unlocked your full potential yet, and maybe you never will. But don't think for a second that you're weak. You're already stronger than the Heroic Spirit inside you—" She paused, grinning wryly. "That Shield bastard, as I like to call him."

Mash chuckled softly at Mordred's teasing, the tension lifting from her shoulders just a bit.

"And hey," Mordred continued, her grin widening, "it's Ritsuka's job to figure out how to make you stronger. He's the Master, after all, and he's got his work cut out for him. You just have to trust him, like we trust you."

Ritsuka, surprised by the encouragement, nodded with a smile. "I'll always be there to help you, Mash. We're a team, after all."

Mash's eyes softened, a quiet gratitude filling her gaze. "Thank you, both of you. I'll do my best."

With the new resolve in Mash's heart, the group set out with Fran, determined to find the controller behind the Helter Skelters and end their threat once and for all. As they moved forward, Mordred couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on them all. But with her team at her side, she was confident they could overcome whatever lay ahead.

As the team fought their way through more swarming Helter Skelters towards the Westminster area, Mordred kept a keen eye on Fran, who was following closely behind. She had reminded the others earlier, her tone serious, that she wouldn't be able to support them as effectively due to the responsibility of protecting Fran.

"Stay sharp, everyone," Mordred called over her shoulder, her voice firm. "I won't be able to cover for you as much as I usually do. Fran's safety comes first, so watch each other's backs."

Ritsuka, Mash, Astolfo, and Achilles nodded in understanding, the group falling into their usual battle rhythm as they made their way closer to the Houses of Parliament. It was a tense, quiet march, broken only by the occasional clash of weapons against the Helter Skelters and the faint hum of magical energy.

When they finally reached the Houses of Parliament, a towering, monstrous figure loomed in front of them — a giant Helter Skelter. Its mechanical limbs clanked ominously as it swung massive, steam-powered fists in the air, causing the ground beneath their feet to tremble.

Astolfo, ever the optimist, grinned and cracked his whip. "Well, this is a bit more exciting, huh?"

Achilles gave him a wry look, adjusting his spear. "Don't get cocky. This thing's bigger than anything we've faced so far."

With a nod from Mordred, the group rushed in to face the enormous foe. Despite the size difference, the team's coordination and strength prevailed. After a grueling battle of dodging its powerful strikes and counterattacking when the giant robot left openings, they finally destroyed it. The massive Helter Skelter crumpled to the ground, sparks flying as it collapsed in a heap.

Ritsuka, still catching his breath, fished out his communicator. "I'll send the images of the remains to Roman for further analysis. Let's see if he can make sense of any of this."

As Ritsuka snapped a few pictures and transmitted them, Mash was examining the robot's remains as well. She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of the giant machine. Then, her gaze locked onto something strange.

"Wait, hold on," Mash murmured, her fingers tracing a set of letters and numbers etched into the machine's body. "This name... Charles Babbage, AD 1888."

Fran, who had been quietly observing, suddenly froze, her eyes wide with recognition.

"Charles Babbage," Mash repeated, brows furrowing. "But he passed away decades ago. Why would his name be on this machine?"

Mordred, overhearing the conversation, walked over with a concerned expression. "You okay, Fran? What's the significance?"

Fran hesitated for a moment, her usual self-assured demeanor wavering.

They made their way back to the apartment, the weight of the discovery hanging heavy in the air. As they entered, they were met with the sight of Andersen and Shakespeare still at work, hunched over their respective writing desks. The two authors had not stopped writing since materializing into this world, and their quills scratched across paper incessantly, their focus completely absorbed by their craft.

Ritsuka gave a tired but amused sigh. "I think they've forgotten about the rest of us at this point," he muttered as he dropped down onto one of the chairs, rubbing his eyes.

"Not that I mind," Mordred added with a grin, settling herself in a chair next to Fran. "They're good company. But I'd like a bit of peace and quiet."

As the group settled down, Mash spoke up again, trying to make sense of the discovery. "Charles Babbage... He was a renowned mathematician, known for his work on the difference engine. He passed away long before 1888, though. So how could a machine from that era bear his name?"

Jekyll, who had been listening intently, looked up from his notes with a knowing expression. "Actually, Babbage should be alive in this era," he said, his voice calm. "I've read recent newspapers, and they all corroborate that Babbage has somehow survived into the current era. He is still active and operating."

The statement caught everyone off guard. Mash blinked in surprise, unable to mask her confusion. "What? How can that be possible? Babbage should have died long ago."

"I know it's hard to believe," Jekyll said, standing up and pacing slightly. "But it appears he's found a way to extend his life. Perhaps with the same kind of mechanical ingenuity that went into his machines. The Demonic Fog… the changes it's caused to this world might be the reason for this anomaly. And if Babbage is still active, then his involvement in all of this is likely far greater than we realized."

Fran, still caught up in the confusion, shifted in her seat, clearly deep in thought.

"Agreed," Mordred said, her expression hardening with determination. "We're going after Babbage. The more we know about him, the closer we get to unraveling all of this."

The team exchanged knowing looks. The pieces were starting to come together, but they still had so many questions. Babbage, a name that seemed so far removed from their world, had now become a key player in the strange happenings surrounding the Demonic Fog.

As the team discussed their next steps, the quiet scratching of quills continued, as Andersen and Shakespeare seemed to write in a world of their own. They had no idea how crucial their current findings were. But for Mordred and the rest of the team, it was just another step on their path to uncovering the truth.

As the group settled in after their exhausting encounters with the Helter Skelters, Roman's voice crackled through their communicators, bringing with it a troubling analysis. "I've been thinking. There are two possible explanations for what we're seeing. First, it's possible that historical records themselves are being distorted. This could explain the oddities we've encountered — like Babbage's survival, and the presence of Jekyll and Fran. Alternatively, this might be another case where the Singularity itself is warping historical events, as we've seen in the previous Singularities. Whatever the cause, it's clear that things aren't as they should be."

Before anyone could respond, Jekyll's voice came through the comm. His tone was grave. "There's more bad news, I'm afraid. The Helter Skelters... they've suddenly reactivated. They're more active than before, and we can't waste any time. We need to find that second remote control — fast."

Mordred's face hardened at the news. "Understood. We'll head out right away."

Without hesitation, she gave the signal, and the team — Mordred, Ritsuka, Mash, Achilles, Astolfo, and Fran — geared up and set out once more, determined to find the source of the Helter Skelters' reactivation. Fran, as usual, led the way, following the traces of magical energy that seemed to pulse through the air.

As the team advances toward the source of the traces in the City area, Astolfo and Achilles, ever playful, lighten the mood despite the mounting tension.

Astolfo, looking around with a grin, says to Achilles, "It's almost like we're on an adventure straight out of a storybook, huh? I mean, steam-powered machines, mages, and magical fog—this could be our big break!"

Achilles chuckles, his usual calm demeanor making his voice smooth as velvet. "You always manage to make things sound like a game, Astolfo. Though I suppose it's a bit of a mystery we're untangling here."

Astolfo winks at him. "Every good mystery needs a bit of excitement, right?"

Mordred, marching ahead, rolls her eyes but can't help but smile. "You two are going to be the death of me... Let's just get this over with."

As they approach their destination, Fran gestures more urgently, her hands moving with sharp intent to draw attention. She points toward her own chest, then extends her arm in a sweeping motion toward the city. Her brow furrows, a silent expression of uncertainty as she glances between Mordred and Ritsuka.

Ritsuka watches closely, translating with an understanding look. "Fran says... she feels something is off. Maybe it's a warning."

Mordred, looking at Fran with a thoughtful expression, nods. "I get it. She's leading us right where Babbage is, but something doesn't sit right. Still, we need to follow through."

Fran gestures again, this time her hands moving cautiously, mimicking the action of hesitation before gesturing towards the mechanical structures in the distance, her fingers hovering in the air as if questioning their stability.

Achilles, picking up on the tension in the air, leans toward Astolfo and mutters with a teasing smile, "Seems like Fran's not so sure about this place either."

Astolfo nods seriously, though a hint of his usual playful demeanor shines through. "I'm sure Fran can handle whatever's ahead—she's got a sharp sense for things, even when she doesn't speak."

Mordred looks back at them, "Keep it together, you two. We're about to meet Babbage."

The team reaches the central area, where Babbage stands in his mechanical armor. His voice is stern and commanding as he reveals himself as "B," the second mastermind behind Project Demonic Fog. His mechanical suit clanks as he steps forward, the steam billowing from it as he speaks of his vision of a steam-powered future.

Fran steps back slightly, her gestures growing more erratic as she watches Babbage. She clutches her chest and then points at Babbage, her fingers shaking in dismay, before turning toward Mordred and Ritsuka. Her hands form the shape of a heart, then suddenly cut sharply to mimic the action of something breaking.

Ritsuka frowns, understanding the gesture. "She's upset... Babbage was someone she knew. She's confused by what he's become."

Mordred places a hand on Fran's shoulder, speaking in a calming tone. "We know, Fran. But we've got to do what's necessary. It's not your fault. Let's just keep moving forward."

---

Author: I'm may be skipping a small detail and maybe the pace of the story itself is clearly Soo faster since I'm wanting to end the singularity 4 but my phone is lagging and I'm likely just create the part 3 since this chapter is lagging because too much word.

Unfortunately I'm can't end the singularity 4 within two part.

Sorry if the pace of story is so fast.