Prompt: Noelle was the failure of a distinguished mage family, given the chance to prove everyone wrong when she was selected for the Fifth Holy Grail War. But she couldn't even manage to summon a servant from the seven conventional classes. Instead, she summoned something entirely different—something that made her heart ache.
—
They never looked at her the way they looked at Nozel. Or Nebra. Or Solid. Or her late mother Acier in those old, golden-framed portraits that loomed like ghosts over the Silva manor's halls.
Noelle was present, but never counted.
She didn't need a curse to know how they saw her—too fragile, too wild, too flawed to belong.
Wisps of Einzbern blood ran through their veins, refined and icy. But when it ran through her, it boiled.
Magic did what it wanted around her. Flickered, collapsed, or burst apart at the seams.
At first, they told her it was because she was young.
Then it was because she was stupid.
By the time she was thirteen, they'd stopped telling her anything at all.
—
The Clock Tower had rules. Harsh ones. But at least they were consistent.
Noelle learned to hold her tongue, write perfect spell formulas, cite case studies from the Age of Gods. On paper, she was brilliant.
And in practice? Worthless.
Her water magecraft refused to follow the structured paths the professors demanded. It wouldn't bind to circuits or stabilize into rituals. Every test ended in scalding mist, soaked parchment, and humiliation.
They laughed behind their gloves. She heard them.
The Silva-Einzbern heir. Chosen by blood, rejected by skill.
She hated that her hands trembled every time she set a spell circle.
Not from fear.
From rage.
—
She should've broken. Like her professors expected. Like Solid hoped.
But instead... she endured.
I just need one chance.
She told herself that so many times it became her mantra. Her anchor.
The Grail War was it.
—
The whispers started weeks ago. Rumors moving like silk threads through the Tower.
A new Holy Grail War. The Fifth. Fuyuki City.
A proper one this time—not like the false ritual in Snowfield or the mock battles orchestrated in remote villages.
The real thing.
Seven Masters. Seven Servants. One wish.
And fate—maybe—rewritten.
—
Noelle wasn't chosen.
Not at first.
She stayed up every night refreshing her crest tattoos. Meditating. Waiting for that pull.
Days passed. Then weeks. Nothing.
And then, without warning, her Command Seals bloomed across her right hand like blooming ice.
Unnatural. Sudden. Painful.
But hers.
—
She didn't hesitate.
The moment her seals formed, she knew what she had to do.
The vault beneath the Silva estate wasn't guarded by traps—just pride.
Noelle bypassed them easily.
Not because she was cunning.
Because no one thought she was worth stopping.
—
She found it in the north wing. Locked in a case of crystal and gold: a fragment of wood wrapped in runes and cloth.
The relic was said to have once belonged to Merlin himself—passed through mages, alchemists, and ritualists before ending in her family's hoard.
Even they couldn't awaken it.
But Noelle knew better.
She didn't need to awaken it.
She just needed to use it.
—
Fuyuki smelled like smoke and salt.
She arrived at night, carried by Leyline shifting and a cloak of invisibility spells. Her workshop was an abandoned teahouse in the Shinto district. It reeked of old wood and bitter incense.
She didn't care.
It was hers.
For the first time in her life, something was hers.
—
The summoning ritual had to be perfect.
She carved the runes by hand, bit her thumb for blood, and whispered each incantation with reverence.
Merlin.
The Magus of Flowers. Enchanter of legends. Seer of kings.
If she summoned him, her worth would be undeniable.
Even the Clock Tower couldn't ignore a Master with him.
—
She placed the staff shard at the center.
Her magic surged.
"Let silver and steel be the essence…"
The circle glowed.
"Let the four cardinal gates close…"
The light turned violet.
"Let the three-forked road from the crown reach the kingdom…"
The air tore.
Noelle's breath hitched. She poured in more mana.
"Let it be declared now: your body shall serve me—"
The circle cracked.
Not just cracked—shattered.
Her words cut off as her own spellwork splintered outward in chaotic, jagged runes.
Mana pulsed back into her, too fast, too wild.
The staff fragment disintegrated.
And something else came through.
—
A roar of wind.
Then silence.
Smoke.
Ash.
The floor of the workshop was gouged like something tore through it from the inside.
Noelle blinked. Her circuits ached.
And then… he stood there.
Not a Caster. Not a sage. Not a regal presence cloaked in flowers or stars.
But a boy.
Shirtless. Sword on his back. Green eyes sharp and real.
No magical pressure. No presence.
And yet—everything around him bent.
The ritual chalk hissed and vanished.
Her familiars disintegrated.
The very fabric of her magecraft... died.
—
"Yo," he said, scratching his head. "You're... Noelle, right?"
She stared at him, too stunned to speak.
"Sorry I'm late."
His grin was crooked. Not confident—fond.
Like he already knew her.
—
Noelle staggered backward, breath caught in her throat.
"You're not... Merlin. You're not even—What class are you?"
He tilted his head, then lifted the sword from his back. Its edge shimmered black, absorbing the very mana in the air.
"Foreigner," he said simply.
The word struck her like a slap.
Foreigner?
She hadn't even drawn a standard Servant.
She had summoned a glitch.
—
And the world noticed.
A ripple passed through the leylines. The workshop's wards collapsed. Her bounded fields frayed like wet paper.
A chill swept through the air.
Noelle dropped to her knees, gasping.
The circle beneath her feet twisted. Not with magic, but with something older. Something wrong.
She heard bells.
—
Far away, across the city, Jeanne d'Arc opened her eyes in the church.
"An irregularity…" she whispered.
And the Holy Grail pulsed in defiance.
—
Back in the workshop, Noelle clenched her fists, heart thundering.
This wasn't what she planned.
Not the Servant she wanted.
Not the debut she dreamed of.
But still…
The Command Seals burned on her hand. The boy with the sword waited, silent, watching her.
And for the first time in years—
No one was telling her she wasn't good enough.
—
Noelle rose to her feet.
Shaking.
Sore.
But unbroken.
So what if he wasn't Merlin? So what if the ritual failed?
This was her war.
She would win it.
And no one—not even fate—was going to stop her now.
—
The boy didn't move.
He just stood there, sword resting against his back, watching her.
Like he'd done this before.
Like he knew her.
Noelle hated the way her heart stumbled.
Not out of fear.
Out of recognition.
But that was impossible.
She'd never seen him before.
—
The silence dragged.
Her mind raced, trying to identify him.
No crest.
No magical signature.
No Noble Phantasm gleam.
Just pressure. Heavy and wrong.
Like the air itself rejected him.
—
"You're... my Servant?" she asked finally.
He nodded, casual.
"Looks like it."
Her eye twitched.
"No offense, but you look more like a delinquent than a legendary hero."
He scratched his cheek.
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
—
She stepped forward, arms crossed, voice sharp.
"You said your class is Foreigner."
"Yep."
"That shouldn't be possible."
He tilted his head.
"I don't really do 'possible.'"
Noelle groaned.
Great.
Just her luck.
She begged the Grail for the Magus of Flowers and got a smart-mouthed gym rat with no shirt and no aura.
—
"I followed the summoning ritual to the letter," she muttered, pacing. "The incantation, the catalyst—"
"Merlin's staff, right?"
Her head snapped up.
He grinned. "Yeah. That thing wouldn't have worked anyway."
Her blood ran cold.
"What?"
"I mean, even if you had summoned him, he wouldn't have helped."
Noelle stepped back. "You know things you shouldn't."
"I know you."
—
She froze.
Not just at the words.
But the way he said them.
Quiet. Steady. Almost gentle.
As if it hurt him to admit it.
—
Her circuits buzzed.
The summoning had gone wrong.
But not accidentally.
The Grail had rejected her intent.
The circle hadn't broken—it had been rewritten.
By something else.
Something smarter.
Something older.
And this boy—this Foreigner—
He was the result.
—
A low pulse rippled through the air.
Noelle snapped her head to the window.
Her wards, though weak, still flared when disturbed.
Something was coming.
Multiple presences.
Fast.
—
"Servants?" she hissed, forming a glyph.
"No," Asta said, sword already in hand. "Just one. But she's strong."
Noelle looked out over the city.
And saw a girl standing on the roof of a temple.
Silver armor. Blue tabard. Banner raised high.
Eyes like morning light.
Ruler.
Jeanne d'Arc.
—
"She's not supposed to be here yet," Noelle whispered.
"She's here because of me," Asta muttered. Probably.
—
Another signal flared—this time inside the church.
The leyline groaned under the strain.
Noelle felt it like a claw in her chest.
Someone else had just been given Command Seals.
A seventh Master.
A name whispered across her mind like poison.
Kirei Kotomine.
—
She turned to Asta. "Why is the Grail reacting like this?"
He looked down at his sword.
Then up at her.
And said nothing.
—
The knock came thirty seconds later.
Not on the door.
But on her mind.
A projection. Holy magic. She allowed it.
Jeanne's voice echoed in her thoughts.
"You've summoned an anomaly. By the laws of the Grail, I am here to observe."
"The war has shifted."
"Balance must be restored."
—
Noelle's breath caught.
Asta stood beside her, relaxed.
Like he wasn't even listening.
Or maybe—like he already knew.
—
"Why you?" she asked.
He looked at her.
That same look.
Warm. Pained. Familiar.
"I don't know."
A pause.
"Or maybe I do, but I can't say."
She glared.
"That's not helpful."
He shrugged.
"Sorry."
—
Another pulse from the city.
Another Servant summoned.
The war had truly begun.
And already—
It was broken.
—
Noelle sank to the floor, hand over her mouth.
Everything was spiraling too fast.
The Grail had responded to something inside her.
A hidden wish?
A buried emotion?
Was it even her fault?
Or had this boy… this Asta... been meant for her all along?
—
She looked up at him again.
The lines of his face were sharp. Clean.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
Just watching her.
Quiet.
Steady.
Like he was waiting.
—
"I'm not going to fail," she said softly.
"I know."
"I can't."
"I know."
She swallowed hard.
"Will you help me win?"
Asta stepped forward.
And knelt.
Not as a knight.
Not as a servant.
But as himself.
"For you?" he said.
"I'll fight everything."
—
Outside, the stars twisted slightly.
Jeanne turned her eyes toward the distant workshop.
And felt something stir.
Not evil.
Not divine.
Just... wrong.
She touched the hilt of her sword.
And whispered, "Foreigner…"
—
Back in the teahouse, Noelle stood beside Asta.
The summoning was a failure.
A catastrophe.
A divine glitch.
But somehow—
It felt like the right kind of wrong.
And her war—
Their war—
Had only just begun.
—
Noelle hated how quiet the city was at night.
Fuyuki had too many shadows.
Too many thoughts she didn't want to have.
And one very confusing Servant walking ahead of her, twirling his oversized sword like it was nothing.
—
"Would you stop that?" she hissed.
Asta glanced over his shoulder. "What? I'm being careful."
"You're swinging that thing around like we're in a parade."
He laughed.
Loud. Carefree.
Noelle flinched.
They'll hear us.
Noelle clenched her fists. "Switch your spiritual body. I'll call for you when I need you."
Asta shook his head in response, and Noelle fumed.
"As your master, I order you—"
"It's not that." Asta cut her off, turning to face her calmly.
Noelle paused and raised a brow.
"What do you mean—"
"Switch bodies?" Asta cut her off once more with a sheepish smile, and scratched the back of his head.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, seeing as I have only a material body."
Noelle blinked, and then she had a realization.
Not only is my servant a glitch, he's defective as well.
Noelle sighed in resignation and wordlessly fell in line with Asta as they continued their walk.
She wore her displeasure and disappointment clear as day on her face, yet Asta didn't seem to care.
He just hummed a soft tune and smiled as they walked.
Like they were out on a picnic.
Like they were out on a stroll.
Like they were out on a date.
Noelle was very close to exploding.
—
The church bells chimed.
Another Servant had been summoned.
Asta didn't react.
Noelle did.
She felt it in her nerves.
A presence.
Sharp. Refined.
Beautiful.
And unfriendly.
—
They turned the corner.
A flash of red.
Three shots.
Noelle's instincts screamed— Gandr.
She threw up a water screen.
Too slow.
The projectiles never reached her.
Asta had caught them.
With his bare hand.
—
"…You have got to be kidding me," said a voice.
Noelle recognized it immediately.
Rin Tohsaka.
A prodigy of the Clock Tower.
A girl she was never allowed to compete with.
Rin stepped from the alley, Archer beside her.
Scarlet coat. Legs crossed. White hair flawless.
She looked annoyed.
—
"Did you seriously block Gandr with your hand?" Rin asked.
Asta shrugged.
"It tickled."
Archer raised an eyebrow.
"That shouldn't be possible."
"Yeah," Asta said, "I get that a lot."
—
Noelle stepped forward.
Tohsaka met her eyes.
There was no recognition.
Just disdain.
That same aristocratic look she'd grown up drowning in.
"You must be new," Rin said, tone clipped. "And stupid."
Noelle's lips twitched.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
"I'm Silva," she said.
Rin paused. Barely.
"Didn't know that branch still existed."
Asta's hand twitched.
He was already irritated.
Good.
So was she.
—
"Should I handle this?" he asked.
"No," Noelle said. "Let me try first."
She turned to Rin. "We don't want a fight."
"You summoned a Foreigner."
"That wasn't intentional."
"You glitched the Grail."
"I said—"
Archer fired.
Asta moved once.
Just once.
And the arrow shattered against his blade like it was glass.
Noelle didn't even see him draw it.
"You're fast," Archer said, actually sounding impressed.
"I'm better than fast," Asta replied.
"I'm annoying."
—
Tohsaka's expression changed.
Not confusion.
Calculation.
She wasn't trying to kill them.
She was testing them.
"Back off," Noelle warned, mana flaring around her hands.
Mist crept across the pavement, dense and freezing.
"I won't warn you again."
Rin narrowed her eyes.
But she didn't cast.
She studied.
Measured.
Then turned.
"Come on, Archer."
"…You sure?"
"Yes."
They vanished into the night.
—
The tension dissolved instantly.
Noelle dropped her spell, arms trembling.
Asta caught her before she fell.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she lied.
"You were amazing," he said.
She scoffed.
"I didn't do anything."
"You stood your ground. That's enough."
—
They returned to the safehouse.
The old workshop groaned under the weight of new barriers.
She collapsed onto the floor, palms still tingling from the magecraft.
Asta sat beside her.
Quiet.
Not breathing heavy.
Not tired.
It wasn't fair.
—
"What are you?" she asked.
He glanced at her.
"Shouldn't the Grail tell you?"
"It won't."
"Guess I'm special."
She rolled her eyes.
He smiled anyway.
"I'm serious," she said, frustrated. "You shouldn't exist."
"Nope."
"You're not a hero, you're not a wraith, you're not anything."
"Wrong again."
He tapped her forehead gently.
"I'm me."
She didn't slap his hand away.
She should've.
But she didn't.
—
Later that night, Jeanne's projection returned.
Her voice felt like a hymn.
"This Foreigner will destabilize the war."
"If he poses a threat to humanity, I will intervene."
"Take care, Noelle Silva."
Noelle didn't respond.
But Asta did.
"Hey," he said toward the open air.
"Come try it."
The projection faded.
The room was dark again.
Noelle leaned back against the wall.
—
"He's not human," Jeanne had said.
But Asta felt real.
Louder than life.
Brighter than anyone else.
And when he smiled at her, it wasn't a lie.
It wasn't pity.
It was like he knew what it meant to be worthless.
And loved her anyway.
That terrified her.
—
"I don't trust you," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "Okay."
"But I need you."
He nodded.
"And if you ever betray me—"
"I won't."
She stared at him.
Searching.
Prying.
He didn't flinch.
"Fine," she said, pulling her coat tighter.
"Then let's win this war."
—
Outside, the streetlights flickered.
Far above, a golden portal shimmered open for just a second.
Something ancient looked down.
And smiled.
—
Noelle didn't sleep.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she refused to.
Too many thoughts.
Too many questions.
None of them had answers.
She stood in the middle of the workshop, arms crossed, eyes locked on the boy pretending to stretch.
Asta.
Her Foreigner-class Servant.
Her walking contradiction.
—
"You said you're you," she began.
"Yep."
"That's not helpful."
He grinned. "Wasn't trying to be."
She threw a book at his head.
He dodged it without even blinking.
The smile stayed.
Somehow that annoyed her more.
"Why doesn't the Grail recognize you?"
"Maybe I'm not dead."
"That's not funny."
He shrugged.
"I don't know how else to explain it."
But she could see it.
In his eyes.
He did know.
He just wasn't telling her.
—
Noelle clenched her fist.
"I could use a Command Spell."
"You could."
"To make you talk."
Asta leaned forward, expression unreadable.
"Do it, then."
She didn't.
And he knew she wouldn't.
Instead, she went back to the table.
Scrolls. Books. Dusty old texts.
Everything she'd swiped from the Einzbern-Silva archive.
Most of it she hadn't dared read before.
Now she devoured it.
—
There were no mentions of Asta.
No record of a hero like him.
Not in this world.
Not in any timeline she could trace.
But there was something.
A footnote in a forbidden volume.
Barely a sentence.
"Some souls do not belong to this world. They are lost between realms, called by desires too pure—or too selfish—for the system to reject."
—
She stared at those words for a long time.
Then at Asta.
He was sleeping now.
Face relaxed.
Like nothing about this war could shake him.
She hated that.
She wanted to scream at him.
Shake the truth out of his lungs.
But when she looked at him like that…
Her heart ached.
—
She left the workshop before dawn.
Needed answers.
Real ones.
The Clock Tower wouldn't help her.
They'd exile her on the spot if they found her in Fuyuki.
But someone else might.
Someone who understood anomalies.
That meant one thing.
Jeanne.
—
She found her by the river.
Ruler was waiting like she knew Noelle would come.
"Curiosity is a dangerous thing," she said gently.
Noelle didn't care.
"What is he?"
Jeanne stared at the water.
Then at her.
"Irregular."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I'm allowed to give."
"Allowed?"
Jeanne nodded.
"I serve the Grail. But the Grail is no longer what it once was."
Noelle's blood ran cold.
"Is that why it summoned him?"
Jeanne didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it either.
She just whispered, "Your wish was powerful."
I didn't wish for him.
Noelle wanted to say that.
But the words wouldn't leave her lips.
—
She returned to the workshop in a daze.
Asta was already awake.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms behind his head.
"Went for a walk?" he asked.
"Something like that."
He looked at her like he already knew.
That smile again.
Softer this time.
Less teasing.
More… lonely.
—
"I remember things sometimes," he said.
She blinked.
"What?"
"Pieces."
She stepped closer.
"Tell me."
Asta closed his eyes.
"I see a silver-haired girl. Same voice. Same anger. Same pride."
Noelle's throat tightened.
"She calls me idiot a lot."
"Sounds like her."
"She looks like you."
She didn't breathe.
"I think she is you."
—
Silence.
Heavy. Fragile.
Then:
"Is this a joke?"
He shook his head.
"I wish it was."
"Then why can't I see it?" she snapped. "Why don't I remember you?"
"Because you're not her."
"Then who am I?"
He didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
They stood like that.
Two broken pieces of two broken puzzles.
From different worlds.
Trying to fit.
—
Later that night, lightning cracked across the sky.
Not natural.
Mana.
Kirei was making his move.
He always struck from the shadows.
Noelle's barrier shattered first.
A familiar presence slipped inside.
Hassan.
The Assassin.
—
Asta stood, calm as ever.
Sword already drawn.
"I'll be quick."
"Don't let him touch you," Noelle warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
The fight didn't last long.
Asta didn't swing like a warrior.
He fought like a force.
Hassan tried to phase through shadows—
But anti-magic didn't allow shadows.
Noelle didn't even cast.
Didn't need to.
She just watched.
And wondered if she'd summoned something worse than a monster.
—
After the body vanished, Asta turned.
No wounds.
No strain.
Just that same strange sadness in his eyes.
"I was right," he said softly.
"About what?"
"You are stubborn."
Noelle's heart twisted.
"I don't understand you."
"I don't want you to."
—
That night, she didn't sleep either.
She sat by the window, staring into the void.
And tried not to feel anything when she whispered to the night:
"Who are you really, Asta?"
And from the other side of the room, he whispered back:
"I wish I knew."
—
Noelle couldn't stop shaking.
She wasn't cold.
Wasn't afraid.
At least, that's what she told herself.
But the truth?
The truth was standing across from her.
A blue saber.
Golden armor.
King Artoria Pendragon.
Saber.
Of all the Servants, she was the most iconic.
The most terrifying.
And Noelle had just pissed her off.
—
It wasn't supposed to be a fight.
Just recon.
She and Asta had been tracking residual mana signatures.
A flicker here, a spark there.
They followed them into the cemetery.
And straight into a confrontation.
Rin stood at Saber's side.
Her stance was arrogant, as always.
Confident.
Shirou was behind her.
Watching Noelle too closely.
Not with suspicion.
With concern.
That pissed her off more than Saber's sword.
—
"We're not here to start a war," Noelle said, arms raised.
Rin smirked. "You summoned a war."
She tilted her head at Asta.
"That thing is breaking the rules just by breathing."
Asta stepped in front of Noelle.
No weapon drawn.
Just standing there.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"I'd appreciate it if you stopped calling me thing," he said.
—
Saber moved first.
So fast she barely left a sound.
Mana burst flaring like wildfire.
Noelle flinched.
Even if she'd seen it coming—she couldn't block it.
Not with her own magecraft.
Not against that much pressure.
But Asta?
Asta didn't flinch.
He intercepted her.
Blade met no resistance.
Because he didn't raise his own.
He raised his arm.
Bare.
Unguarded.
Saber's invisible sword clashed against raw anti-magic.
The air ripped apart.
Noelle staggered.
Rin shielded her face.
Shirou shouted Saber's name.
And in that moment, Noelle saw it again.
The crack in the system.
The flaw the Grail refused to admit.
Asta didn't block magecraft.
He devoured it.
Nullified it completely.
Like it didn't even exist.
—
"Impossible," Rin whispered.
Saber backed off, eyes narrowing.
Noelle finally found her voice.
"You don't get to judge him."
Rin snorted.
"Then what is he?"
Noelle didn't know.
But she felt herself step forward anyway.
"I trust him."
They didn't fight again.
Not then.
Too many questions.
Too much fear.
Even Saber looked… uncertain.
They retreated.
Rin still glaring.
Saber still watching.
Shirou still quiet.
—
Back at the workshop, Noelle collapsed onto the floor.
Her hands wouldn't stop trembling.
She hated it.
Hated feeling weak.
Asta dropped beside her, cross-legged.
He didn't say anything.
Just watched her.
Patient.
Calm.
—
"What's wrong with me?" she whispered.
"You're human."
"I was supposed to be better."
He tilted his head.
"Says who?"
"My family."
"My professors."
"My own damn bloodline."
Asta sighed.
Then, carefully, reached over and touched her shoulder.
Just a light grip.
No pressure.
No command.
"Do you want to be like them?"
She didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
"I was born without magic," he said.
"As in, zero. Nothing. A freak."
Noelle looked up.
Met his eyes.
They were soft this time.
No teasing.
No riddles.
Just truth.
"People called me worthless."
He smiled faintly.
"But I screamed louder."
That made her laugh.
Barely.
But it was something.
"You're not alone," he said.
"No one gets to decide your worth but you."
—
She didn't cry.
Not fully.
Just let herself lean forward.
Forehead against his shoulder.
Not for long.
Just for a moment.
Jeanne didn't interrupt.
But she saw.
She always saw.
Later, Jeanne pulled Noelle aside.
"You're syncing with him."
Noelle rolled her eyes.
"I'm fighting with him."
"That's not what I mean."
Ruler's gaze was heavy.
Tired.
Like she'd seen this pattern before.
Master and Servant.
Hearts drifting too close.
—
"The Grail doesn't like this," Jeanne said.
"It called him as a fix. A patch for something broken."
"If you care too much…"
She didn't finish.
Didn't have to.
Noelle knew what she was warning against.
But she didn't care.
Not anymore.
—
The next battle came fast.
Illya made her move.
Sent Berserker barreling through an entire street.
No subtlety.
No finesse.
Just raw destruction.
—
Noelle had to act.
Even if it meant casting in public.
Even if it meant exposing herself.
She whispered the aria under her breath.
Water swirled at her feet.
Mist condensed around them.
A concealment field.
Illusion magic.
She'd failed it in every Clock Tower practical.
But this time?
It worked.
—
Berserker swung wildly into fog.
Missed them by inches.
Asta surged forward.
Demon-Slayer in hand.
Not to kill.
To shield.
Noelle directed the mist like a conductor.
Every flick of her hand layered confusion.
Berserker roared.
But he couldn't see.
Couldn't track.
—
Asta struck from the side.
Then again.
Not enough to kill Heracles.
But enough to drive him back.
Noelle's body shook with strain.
So much mana.
Too much.
Her circuits burned.
But she didn't stop.
Not this time.
"I won't be weak!" she screamed.
Asta glanced back at her.
Pride in his eyes.
Pure. Honest.
And something else.
Something that made her chest twist.
—
When the fight ended, Berserker vanished into retreat.
Illya laughed as she disappeared with him.
A cruel little fairy.
Mocking them from the rooftops.
Noelle collapsed.
Asta caught her.
This time, she didn't argue.
"See?" he whispered. "You're strong."
—
Later that night, she sat by the window again.
But she wasn't alone.
Asta leaned beside her.
Quiet.
Still.
Noelle glanced at him.
"Do you think we can win?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then:
"I think we already are."
She didn't get it.
But somehow, she believed him.
—
Noelle couldn't sleep.
Not even with the silence.
Not even with Asta nearby.
Something had changed since the last fight.
Something in her.
It wasn't fear.
Not exactly.
It was weight.
Not physical.
Heavier than that.
Like the Grail was sitting on her chest.
She sat at the workshop table, flipping through pages.
Old texts.
Silva documents.
Einzbern documents.
Clock Tower reports.
Some so old the ink was cracking.
All of them useless.
There's no record of him.
Not even a trace.
Not in the databases.
Not in the bloodline charts.
Not even as a footnote in failed experiments.
Except one.
One line in a redacted file:
"Subject: Dimensionally displaced anomaly. Antimagic-based. No stable summoning pattern. Rejected by standard systems. Status: Lost."
—
She stared at that word.
Lost.
Then she looked at Asta, sleeping by the window.
Who are you?
She wanted to ask.
She'd asked before.
But he only ever gave pieces.
Half-truths.
Smiles instead of answers.
Tonight she was going to get one.
—
She walked over.
Sat beside him.
Close.
Close enough to feel the heat of him.
Even without mana, he radiated something… alive.
"Asta."
His eyes opened immediately.
Always alert.
Even in rest.
He didn't speak.
Just waited.
She asked quietly.
"Why did the Grail summon you?"
He looked away.
She almost thought he wouldn't answer.
But then:
"…Because of you."
That wasn't enough.
She waited.
Stared.
Refused to let the silence win.
Asta ran a hand through his hair.
Almost like he was stalling.
Then he sighed.
Deep.
Like it hurt to speak.
"It's not just about power."
He met her eyes.
"It's about the wish."
"What wish?"
"Yours."
Noelle blinked.
"I never made one."
"Not out loud."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"The Grail doesn't need words. It needs truth."
—
She felt her stomach twist.
"What did I wish for?"
"You wanted to be accepted."
His voice was soft.
"To be seen as you—not your magecraft. Not your name. Just Noelle."
She froze.
She hadn't told anyone that.
Not even herself.
"I don't even remember thinking that."
Asta nodded.
"But you felt it. Deep down."
He tapped his chest.
"And the Grail heard it."
She swallowed.
"So it summoned you?"
"Because I don't have magic."
The room went quiet again.
Noelle felt like the air had gone thin.
Everything made sense.
And didn't.
All at once.
—
She stood up.
Paced.
"Then this whole war—this fight—none of it is real?"
"No, it's real."
He was serious now.
Solemn.
"The war is happening. People are dying. The Grail is corrupt, but it's still functioning."
"Then what is the truth?"
Asta looked at her.
Looked through her.
"The Grail didn't just want to grant your wish."
"It used it."
"Used me."
Noelle sat back down.
Her heart pounding.
"So you're not supposed to be here."
"Nope."
"And you're okay with that?"
He smiled again.
Wider this time.
"Are you?"
Before she could answer, the workshop shook.
A crack ran up the far wall.
"Mana surge," Asta said, standing up.
"They found us."
—
She grabbed her staff.
Didn't even think.
Just moved.
Outside, the sky was red.
Not from the sun.
From fire.
From curses.
From rage.
Kirei was waiting.
So was Lancer.
And Assassin.
And Rin.
And Shirou.
"Traitors," Noelle whispered.
But part of her wasn't surprised.
Shirou stepped forward.
"Saber isn't with us."
That, at least, seemed honest.
"She wouldn't agree with this."
"But you did?" Noelle snapped.
"You picked him?"
Shirou didn't flinch.
"I believe in people. Not rules."
"Kirei's giving me a chance to protect everyone."
Asta's sword slammed into the dirt.
"You're protecting no one by siding with him."
—
Kirei laughed.
"Such passion."
He motioned to Lancer.
Cu Chulainn cracked his neck and rolled his eyes.
"Just point me."
Noelle cast immediately.
Water lashing like spears.
Mist curling at her feet.
Asta surged forward, sword drawn.
Lancer met him in a blur.
Blue mana vs black anti-magic.
The ground exploded.
Noelle kept Rin back with illusions.
Made her think the ground was shifting.
Pulled her attention with decoys.
Assassin tried to flank—
But Jeanne appeared.
Holy light erupted as her flag met the dagger.
The real Ruler had arrived.
Eyes blazing.
"You've broken the balance," Jeanne said.
"To save the world," Kirei said, calm as ever.
"To remake it."
—
"No," Noelle whispered.
Not this time.
She turned to Asta.
Her voice shook.
But only for a second.
"If they want war…"
He met her gaze.
"…then we'll give them hell."
The fight raged.
Magic against anti-magic.
Ideals against truth.
Faith against fury.
But when it ended, it was with retreat.
Not victory.
Kirei escaped.
So did Lancer.
And Shirou?
He looked back at Noelle like he wanted to say something.
But didn't.
—
The next morning, the workshop was a ruin.
Noelle stood in the doorway.
Burnt pages around her feet.
The sky gray.
Asta sat on the roof, sword balanced on his shoulder.
She climbed up beside him.
Didn't say anything for a long time.
Then, softly:
"I don't know what I want anymore."
He looked at her.
"You don't want the Grail?"
She hesitated.
"…I thought I did."
"But now I think it wants something from me."
Asta nodded.
"I think it always did."
—
She turned to him.
"I summoned you."
"I know."
"Because I wanted someone who didn't care about magic."
He grinned.
"I noticed."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I'm scared."
"I'm not."
"…Why?"
"Because I'm here."
And for the first time since coming to Fuyuki…
She believed that was enough.
—
The next battle didn't come with a warning.
It came with a scream.
And a shockwave that shattered the sky.
Noelle barely had time to raise a barrier.
Asta grabbed her by the waist and launched them backward—straight through a stone wall.
The building collapsed behind them.
She didn't even flinch.
She knew that mana signature.
Berserker.
And that voice.
Illya.
—
They'd been cornered.
Forced into the open.
No time to plan.
No time to breathe.
Just fight.
Heracles landed like a meteor.
The ground cracked under him.
His red eyes locked on Asta.
Then on her.
Then back again.
—
He's targeting me first.
Noelle launched herself sideways.
Water burst from her palms.
Not to attack—just to survive.
She slid through the mud like a blade of current.
Berserker roared.
Asta met him.
Sword to club.
Flesh to mana.
He didn't dodge.
Didn't hesitate.
The blow should have split him in half.
It didn't.
It nearly did.
—
Noelle screamed.
"Asta!"
He skidded across the ground, carving a trench.
Blood dripped from his side.
But he stood.
"Not done yet."
Illya was watching from the hill.
Smiling.
A little girl with a demi-god under her control.
Noelle hated her in that moment.
Not because she was cruel.
But because she reminded her of her own family.
Which wasn't wrong.
The Silvas branched off from the Einzberns after all.
It's only natural they share the same cruelty and inhumanity.
—
"End them, Berserker!"
Noelle knew what came next.
The twelve lives.
The regeneration.
The unrelenting force.
She didn't hesitate.
She raised her wand.
The water thickened, sharpened.
Mist spiraled into needles.
Her eyes glowed.
I will not lose here.
Berserker charged.
She braced.
Asta intercepted.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Every hit cost him.
Every moment he fought—it was his body on the line.
His existence.
Noelle shouted for him to stop.
He wouldn't.
"I'm not letting you die!"
She screamed it.
Felt her Command Spell burn.
But she didn't use it.
—
He looked back.
Smiled.
That same stupid smile.
"You're the reason I'm here."
The world slowed.
Just for a second.
Long enough for Berserker to move.
Noelle saw it.
Saw the club rise.
Saw Asta turn.
Saw the attack—
And then nothing.
She was under him.
Pinned.
Dust choked her throat.
Blood hit her lips.
Asta was on top of her.
Shielding her.
Bleeding everywhere.
He wasn't moving.
—
"No."
Her voice was small.
"No—Asta—get up."
He opened one eye.
Half-lidded.
Strained.
"Still here."
She choked on a sob.
Then she was furious.
She stood.
Whirled.
Threw everything she had at Heracles.
Screamed with her whole soul.
The sky cracked.
The water turned black.
Mist turned to blades.
Berserker was pushed back.
Actually pushed.
Illya blinked.
Confused.
Then angry.
"You're not supposed to be strong."
Noelle stepped forward.
Her mana wild.
Unstable.
She didn't care.
"You don't get to decide what I am."
—
Behind her, Asta stood too.
Shaking.
But smiling.
"I told you."
He coughed.
"That stubbornness."
Together, they struck.
Water and steel.
Magecraft and anti-magic.
And for the first time—
Berserker died.
A true death.
—
Illya screamed.
Ran.
Disappeared into the woods.
They didn't chase.
Couldn't.
Not tonight.
Asta collapsed.
Noelle caught him.
Fell with him.
Cradled him.
Blood soaked through her cloak.
She didn't care.
He was fading.
She felt it.
Felt the way his presence flickered.
Like a candle in wind.
"No."
She shook him.
Held his face.
"Asta, don't you dare."
He tried to smile.
Didn't have the strength.
"I can't—Noelle, I…"
She grabbed his wrist.
Her Command Spells glowed.
But she didn't use them.
Not yet.
"I'm not ready."
She said it through tears.
"You can't leave. Not now."
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Warm.
Barely.
"I wasn't supposed to last this long anyway."
She shook her head.
No.
No no no.
"You will."
She leaned close.
So close their foreheads touched.
"I won't let the Grail take you."
—
He whispered something.
Barely audible.
"What?"
She leaned closer.
"…You saved me."
And then he passed out.
—
She held him all night.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe right.
Just held.
The Grail pulsed in the distance.
It felt angry.
Alive.
Twisting.
Watching.
Jeanne came at dawn.
Saw the blood.
Saw the spellwork.
Said nothing.
Just knelt.
And whispered:
"The Grail is wrong."
Noelle looked up.
Eyes red.
Voice broken.
"I know."
Jeanne hesitated.
Then added:
"It summoned him for you. But not to win. To make you choose."
Noelle closed her eyes.
Her arms tightened around Asta.
"I already have."
—
They made it to the safehouse just before dusk.
Barely.
Noelle had to drag him through the door.
Asta was breathing, but weak.
Fading.
Not from wounds anymore.
From the war.
From the Grail.
She slammed the door shut.
Activated every ward she knew.
The air inside shimmered with protection.
Silence fell.
She didn't speak at first.
She couldn't.
Her hands trembled as she cleaned the blood off him.
Water magecraft wrapped around his injuries—gentle, careful.
She didn't dare heal too fast.
—
His eyes opened halfway.
"You're crying again."
She didn't answer.
Didn't deny it.
"You almost died."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"You keep doing that."
He gave a small, tired laugh.
"I promised I wouldn't."
She looked at him.
Really looked.
The circles under his eyes.
The new scars.
The way he looked at her like she was everything.
"You're a terrible liar."
—
She helped him sit.
His body leaned into hers, warm and heavy.
The couch creaked beneath their weight.
Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him there.
For a long time, neither of them said anything.
Just listened.
To the wind.
To the crackle of residual mana.
To each other breathing.
Then he spoke.
Soft.
Quiet.
"If the war ends…"
He paused.
"…do I disappear?"
She didn't answer.
Couldn't.
He turned his face toward her.
Eyes dark.
Shadowed.
"I don't want to go."
—
Something in her snapped.
She surged forward and kissed him.
Fierce.
Desperate.
Like she was trying to anchor him to this world.
To her.
His hands found her waist.
Hesitant.
Warm.
Then surer.
He pulled her into his lap like he needed her there.
She broke the kiss.
Just long enough to breathe.
Their foreheads touched.
"This is wrong."
He nodded.
But didn't let her go.
"I don't care."
She kissed him again.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Letting herself feel every second.
Every shiver of his breath.
Every brush of skin.
Their clothes became obstacles.
They removed them slowly.
Quietly.
Not rushed.
Not frantic.
Not lust.
Need.
When she lay back, it wasn't submission.
It was trust.
His hand cupped her cheek.
His voice shook.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate.
"Even if the whole world says this is wrong… I choose this."
He kissed her like she was sacred.
Like she was a prayer he wasn't worthy to finish.
And when they came together, there was no pain.
Only warmth.
Only truth.
—
They didn't speak for a long time afterward.
Just held each other beneath the dim light of a fading mana lamp.
Her fingers traced the line of his shoulder.
His scars.
His breathing.
Still here.
Still hers.
She finally broke the silence.
"You didn't answer my questions."
He was quiet.
Then said, "I don't know how to."
"Try."
He looked away.
His voice was low.
Broken.
"I know you, Noelle."
"That's not an answer."
"In another life… in another world… I think I loved you."
—
Her breath caught.
She didn't ask if he meant it.
She didn't want to ruin it.
But she kissed him again.
Soft.
Certain.
"I love you in this one."
He didn't say it back.
Not yet.
But his arms around her tightened.
She felt it anyway.
—
Later, when they finally drifted off, the Grail pulsed in the distance.
Hungry.
Watching.
Waiting.
Noelle didn't care.
She had her answer.
Her purpose.
Her reason.
She had him.
And she wasn't letting go.
—
They didn't get much time.
By dawn, the wards shattered.
Rin was at the door.
Face pale. Clothes bloody. Hands trembling. Saber at her side, blade already drawn.
"We have to move. Now."
Noelle didn't hesitate.
Noelle didn't voice any of the questions pressing on her mind.
Why suddenly on our side?
Where's Shirou?
Where's Archer?
How have you become Saber's master?
What happened?
She didn't ask any of them.
Not a single one.
She simply looked at Asta once.
He nodded.
Already armored. Already ready.
Like he never stopped fighting.
—
Rin led them through the back streets.
The city was wrong.
The sky burned red, like veins had burst through the clouds.
The ground pulsed with mana. Wrong mana.
The Grail was active.
Archer met them halfway across the river.
He was limping.
Still smirking.
He seemed like Archer but at the same time someone else…
For a moment Noelle saw Shirou in him.
Just for a moment.
He offered Noelle a nod.
"You don't look like a failure anymore."
She didn't smile.
Didn't thank him.
Just kept walking.
—
Jeanne was already waiting.
Her banner planted in the ground like a grave marker.
She didn't smile either.
Just looked at Noelle and Asta.
"I tried to stop this."
Noelle stepped forward.
"So did we."
—
The battlefield was an abandoned chapel.
Of course it was.
Poetic.
Kirei stood at the altar.
Hands outstretched.
Cloak torn.
Smiling like a man who knew he was damned.
Beside him stood Lancer.
Noelle's heart twisted.
Cu Chulainn looked exhausted.
Not angry.
Just done.
Assassin crouched in the rafters.
Hassan, unmoving.
Watching.
Waiting.
Asta was confused. He thought he killed that guy.
Ilya stood near the altar.
Berserker behind her.
Towering.
Breathing like a furnace.
Eyes wild.
Burning with the desire for vengeance.
Asta was further confused.
He definitely killed that guy.
And Gilgamesh.
Because of course he was here.
Golden.
Grinning.
Bored.
The King of Heroes, in all his glory.
—
Noelle stepped into the circle first.
Asta by her side.
Saber flanked them.
Archer and Rin took opposite positions.
Jeanne moved last.
Six against five.
It still felt unfair.
But not in their favor.
Kirei raised his voice.
"Shall we begin the end?"
And everything exploded.
—
Asta vanished.
Faster than light.
He clashed with Berserker head-on.
Anti-magic sheared through stone and steel.
Heracles roared.
Didn't fall.
Not yet.
Saber met Gilgamesh.
Blades against arrogance.
He laughed.
Unimpressed.
Rin fired Gandr after Gandr.
Blocked by cursed smoke.
Assassin descended like a shadow.
Archer caught him mid-air.
Blades against blades.
—
Noelle didn't hesitate.
She ran straight for Kirei.
He moved too fast.
His fists were weapons.
Reinforced. Rotten. Blessed and blasphemous.
She blocked them with water and will.
"You don't belong here," he spat.
"You're a child playing god."
She snarled.
"You're a priest who prays to rot."
—
Then Cu Chulainn flinched.
Grabbed his head.
Eyes wide.
A scream tore through him.
And Asta appeared behind him.
Sword against his back.
Not striking.
Just there.
The Grail's tether snapped.
Noelle felt it.
A pulse. A severance.
And Lancer looked up.
Clear-eyed.
Alive.
He looked at her. Then at Kirei.
"You took my will."
He drove his spear through the altar.
"You don't get to take it again."
—
Kirei stumbled.
Stared at him like a ghost had risen.
Jeanne stepped forward.
"A miracle," she whispered.
Then Berserker broke the earth.
Asta screamed her name.
Noelle turned just in time.
A blur of red and black.
A mountain of rage.
Heracles charged.
She raised her water barrier.
It cracked.
It shattered.
Asta dove between them.
The sword met fist.
Anti-magic met brute force.
The world howled.
Asta bled.
He didn't fall.
Not yet.
Noelle's hands moved before she could think.
Water swirled around her.
Not a shield.
A weapon.
A current.
Asta's presence surged.
He met her spell mid-air.
Anti-magic entwined with magecraft.
Impossible.
Unnatural.
Perfect.
They struck as one.
A spiral of black and blue.
It tore through Berserker like judgment.
Heracles screamed.
And fell.
Silence.
Ilya was on her knees.
Crying.
Not angry.
Just broken.
—
Gilgamesh frowned.
Raised his hand.
"Annoying."
A dozen portals opened.
Swords hovered.
Magic hummed.
Noelle stepped forward.
Not afraid.
—
Then Rin shouted.
"Now!"
Archer fired a single shot.
Not at Gilgamesh.
At the sky.
At the Grail.
Jeanne's banner lit.
Holy fire rained.
Kirei screamed.
Gilgamesh vanished into the storm.
The Grail wailed.
—
Asta clutched his chest.
And began to fade.
Noelle reached for him.
"No."
He smiled.
"It's time."
She held him.
Tight.
Fierce.
"I haven't used my last Command Spell."
A red glow lit her hand.
Asta looked at her in shock.
"Don't waste it—"
"I'm not."
She pressed her lips to his.
The spell burned.
Bright.
Final.
"I use this Command Spell… to say thank you."
He was already turning to light.
Already gone.
"I love you," she whispered.
To nothing.
The war ended.
Not with a wish.
But with freedom.
—
The wind was cold.
It carried no sound.
Fuyuki was empty now.
The war was over.
Noelle stood at the edge of the ruined city, her hand resting against the stone wall.
Her fingers brushed the cracks.
The scars. They were like hers. Like everything she was, and everything she had fought for.
The Grail was gone. Burned away in flames of divine fire.
Gone.
But he was gone, too.
—
She hadn't spoken to anyone since.
Not Rin. Not Jeanne who for someone stuck around.
Not even Shirou, who was back, who had looked at her with those quiet, knowing eyes.
They hadn't asked her to say goodbye.
The truth was, she wasn't sure how to say it.
She couldn't explain it.
She walked.
And with each step, she left pieces of herself behind.
—
A few days later, she returned to the Clock Tower.
The doors felt heavier than they ever had before.
The silence was different.
The walls didn't mock her anymore.
They welcomed her back.
She didn't feel like a failure anymore.
But she also didn't feel like she belonged.
There were no accolades. No congratulations.
Just a cold, indifferent return to the world that had rejected her.
But it didn't matter.
—
She found herself in her room, staring out the window at the endless night.
Her fingers brushed her neck.
A single, faded scar.
A mark he had left.
Not the only one.
But the one she would never forget.
Her thoughts wandered.
To the wish she hadn't voiced.
To the promise he had made.
"I'll find you again—even across worlds."
It felt like it had been years since those words.
Yet, she knew.
She couldn't erase them.
Not now. Not ever.
She had his last smile.
His warmth.
His trust.
She had herself.
—
The door creaked open.
Rin stepped inside.
A tired smile on her face.
"You've been quiet."
Noelle didn't look at her.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
Noelle turned, just enough to meet her gaze. "I don't know what to do with all of this."
Rin's eyes softened. "Then just live. Live for the both of you."
Noelle swallowed hard, clenching her fists. "How do I do that?"
Rin stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to know. Not yet."
"I miss him," Noelle whispered.
Rin didn't say anything. She couldn't.
She almost lost Shirou.
Merely almost, and nearly fell apart.
She couldn't imagine just how Noelle, who actually lost her beloved, was feeling.
—
They didn't speak again as Noelle watched the night sky, filled with stars.
Somewhere, far beyond the veil of time and space, Asta was still out there.
Waiting.
Just like she was.
The war was over. The world had moved on.
But she wasn't done yet.
Not by a long shot.
There was a place in her heart now, a small corner, where she would hold on to that promise.
And the wish she had never spoken.
A wish to meet him again.
In another world. Another life.
Maybe then, they could be free.