In the midst of an endless desert, where the horizon seemed to swallow both sky and earth into one, a lone man walked forward.
The hot wind stirred the sand, creating a silent whisper that blanketed the stillness.
The man had long white hair, neatly tied back. He wore a gray cloak that fluttered gently in the desert breeze. Beneath the cloak, glimmers of metal could be seen—a knight's armor, solid and time-worn, tested by countless battles.
At his waist hung a sword, sheathed tightly, yet its sharp aura could be felt even while at rest.
His steps were steady, each footprint left behind on the burning sand.
His gaze fixed straight ahead, unwavering, as though he knew exactly where he needed to go—even if all that surrounded him was a sea of sand and an unending silence.
He kept walking, accompanied only by the desert wind tugging at his cloak and the soft grind of sand beneath his armored boots.
There was no sign of life as far as the eye could see—only the hazy horizon blurred by the scorching heat, and the cloudless sky above, hanging high and merciless.
But after who knows how long he had walked, his eyes caught sight of something in the distance.
A silhouette—faint, but undeniable. A woman stood alone in the middle of the desert, like a mirage born from the heat waves.
The man stopped. His feet came to a halt, as if hesitating.
His brows furrowed slightly—not from the heat, but from the sudden confusion that gripped him. What was a woman—especially a woman like that—doing in a place as impossible as this?
She stood still, unmoving, only her long dark cloak fluttering gently in the desert wind. The cloak was thick and heavy, trailing down to the ground and covering nearly her entire figure.
A large hood shaded her head and most of her face, revealing only a few loose strands of blonde hair that drifted gently in the wind. Her face remained hidden in shadow, and the man could only catch a glimpse of pale skin and a faint glint from sharp eyes—cold and calm.
There was no way to discern what she truly looked like.
The long cloak and hood concealed almost everything. Even her body's form was obscured, hidden behind layers of cloth—and possibly, armor underneath.
Only the soft sound of metal plates brushing together as the wind blew against the bottom of her cloak hinted that beneath that fabric, the armor of a knight was hidden.
Before the man could open his mouth to speak, the girl slowly turned her head.
Her movements were gentle, nearly graceful, yet filled with a quiet sense of vigilance. Her gaze met his—sharp and unflinching, as if she had been aware of his presence all along. There was no surprise, no sense of unfamiliarity.
Only calm… and a distance not defined by space, as if the very shadow of night itself stood before him.
***
A while ago.
This has been a few days since the agreement with Alaya.
Within the Throne of Heroes—a place with no time, no boundaries of space or direction.
I stood alone atop a surface that could not be described in ordinary words.
A ground that wasn't truly ground, but rather a translucent shadow reflecting the sky above—a sky with no sun, yet filled with stars that never faded. Their light was eternal, hanging still as though time itself had frozen.
There was no wind. No sound. Only a deep silence, and an eternity that cloaked everything.
I stood in the middle of that void. Motionless. Waiting.
Not because I didn't want to move, but because there was nothing else I could do.
Here, I could not use my skills. I could not activate my Noble Phantasm, or even summon the power I once wielded on the battlefield.
All my abilities were like empty echoes clinging to my body, waiting to be awakened again when the world called upon them.
And so, I could only gaze up at the unchanging sky. Waiting in silence.
Hoping… that one day, Alaya—the collective will of mankind—would call for me once more. Ask me to descend into a real battlefield. To fight once again. To save a history that was beginning to unravel.
And as my thoughts drifted toward that hope…
Something began to happen.
Without warning, a circle of light appeared beneath my feet. A summoning circle—intricate, glowing, brimming with ancient magical power—encircled me in an instant. I recognized its form. I knew what it meant.
Summoning.
Six points of blue light flared along the edges of the circle, like newborn stars. They began to spin, faster and faster, creating a vortex of blinding light. The brilliance pierced my vision, consuming the world around me.
The sky above shattered into fragments of light. The ground below vanished.
The world changed in the blink of an eye.
.
.
.
After what felt like being dragged through a void without direction, I finally began to feel my body again. A presence that had drifted aimlessly in a whirlpool of light was now slowly grounding itself onto something tangible.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Sunlight struck my retinas, still accustomed to darkness, making me squint for a moment.
Hot, dry air touched my skin, and a gentle breeze carried specks of sand that danced in the air. The scent of scorched earth and burning heat filled my senses.
Before me stretched an endless desert, a vast expanse with no end in sight.
Dunes rose and fell like frozen waves, swallowing everything in their golden silence. There were no signs of life. No trees, no water, no buildings—only stillness, and a heat that mercilessly scorched the world.
I looked down, gazing at my body.
These hands… they were brown, just like before. My fingers—were still intact.
I reached out, grasping the edge of the white dress that wrapped around my body—still the same one I wore the last time.
The light fabric fluttered gently in the desert wind, though the sand quickly dirtied it.
"Still the same…" I murmured quietly.
I then lifted my gaze, seeing the shadow of my hair partially obscuring my vision. Black. Short. A little messy from the wind. I touched it with my hand, feeling the heat trapped in each strand.
I took a deep breath, letting the heat merge with my body.
"Alright… looks like I'm still whole."
The words escaped reflexively, a way to reassure myself. My body felt a bit heavy, but there were no wounds. No pain. My mind was still clear.
I've been summoned back into this world. A world cracked and tainted by something that shouldn't be.
A world crying out to be saved, though no one knows how long it can withstand the slow decay consuming its foundation.
The desert wind still blows, carrying with it the scent of heat and rough dust. In the midst of this near-sacred silence, I stand, touching my chin, lost in thought.
"Alright…" I whispered, letting my voice blend into the sound of the wind. "Now… what's the first thing I should do?"
The most logical first step is figuring out where I am. I can't act without understanding the nature of this Singularity—how it came to be, and who lies behind it.
I scanned my surroundings once more. The golden sands were the same as moments before. The landscape stretched on infinitely, like an ocean that had lost its water and replaced it with frozen time.
No signs of civilization, only dunes and a sky ablaze with scorching sunlight.
"Hmmm… a desert, huh? Hot, dry… and quiet. I think I know this place."
I exhaled softly, allowing the memories of my past as a Servant to flow through me like a stream in a parched riverbed.
"This is… Camelot."
More precisely—the Sixth Singularity.
An era formed from the fractured rift of time. The year is 1273 AD, in a place once called the Holy Land, around the region of Jerusalem. A land that stood as a silent witness to the endless bloodshed spilled in the name of God, honor, and power.
This Singularity has deep and dark roots. It all began when someone who should have perished during the Ninth Crusade instead received the Holy Grail. A miracle? Or a curse? No one knows. What's certain is that the Grail granted a power no human should possess.
With that power, the expeditionary army pressed on. They reached the Holy Land and, without mercy, scorched the earth, slaughtering all who did not share their beliefs. A brutality veiled in sacred words.
But, as with all greed, destruction followed.
In their arrogance and gluttony, they ended up awakening someone—Ozymandias, King of Kings. The Sun King emerged and swiftly seized the Holy Grail from their grasp. He then began to rebuild his kingdom, not in Egypt, but here… in this desert, amid conflict and devastation.
Without the Grail's power, the expeditionary forces weakened. The territories they had conquered soon fell back into the hands of the native people. Outnumbered and demoralized, they were cornered.
Yet hope came to them in a form far more terrifying—a Servant who called himself Richard the Lionheart. But his appearance was different. So was his demeanor. He was a different kind of lion—wild and unpredictable.
With overwhelming power, Richard summoned his own Crusaders—soldiers no longer human, but phantoms of the past molded from desire and madness.
These Crusaders swept through all resistance, captured the remnants of the expedition, and ultimately seized control of the entire Holy Land.
Secondly, Bedivere never returned Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. As a result, Artoria Pendragon was unable to die when she was destined to perish after the Battle of Camlann, and she became a wandering wraith.
With Rhongomyniad still in her possession, she eventually transformed into a Divine Spirit, later known as the Lion King.
The Lion King became aware of the incineration of humanity and devised a plan to preserve humanity by storing a select number of human souls within Rhongomyniad.
Upon arriving in the Singularity, the Lion King summoned the Knights of the Round Table (excluding Bedivere and Galahad) and informed them of her intentions.
Realizing that not all of them would follow her, she gave them until sunset to decide where they stood.
In the battle that followed, the Knights who chose to follow the Lion King slaughtered their fellow knights who chose to oppose her. The Lion King then bestowed her blessing upon the surviving knights—with the exception of Agravain.
The Lion King's knights then eradicated the Crusaders, and the remaining expeditionary forces were also wiped out.
During the battle against the man claiming to be Richard the Lionheart, Gareth sacrificed herself to give the others a chance to kill him, unable to bear the guilt of killing her fellow knights.
Her brother, Gawain, was the one who struck down both her and Richard.
Afterward, the Lion King and her knights established the Holy City of Camelot in the Holy Land. These events took place about half a year before Chaldea's arrival.
And thus that was the initial story. Actually, even though I know all this, I myself don't have my way to find out where I am.
That is the beginning of the story as I know it—history wrapped in myth, passed down like a whisper through the silence of this desolate land. And yet, despite knowing all of this, I find myself stranded in uncertainty.
Where am I, exactly?
Am I close to Camelot? Could the sacred towers and walls of the Holy City be just over the next dune, hidden by the shifting sands? Or am I wandering in a land far removed from it, a speck lost in the endless vastness of the desert?
I don't know. I have no answers.
All I do know is this—if I stand still, I will learn nothing. If I give in to doubt and fear, I will never uncover the truth of this place.
So I suppose... there's only one thing left to do.
To walk. To wander.
To let my feet carry me forward, wherever this broken land may lead.
Perhaps, in time, I will find Camelot.
***
Author note:
Sorry, I won't be able to respond to your comments for a while. If you have any questions, I'll try to answer them in the author's note of the next chapter.