"So thou art certain none may see nor hear us, aye?" Nursery asked as she leaned over the edge of a wall. Peering beside her, Zvezdnyy looked on as well, trying to take in what Nursery was seeing.
"Yes. I have shrouded us in the embrace of the unseen—no mortal gaze shall pierce this veil! To them, we are but passing specters, a stray thought slipping through their minds like sand through grasping fingers, forgotten before it even takes form."
Nursery looked thoughtful for a moment as if debating something. Then her gaze moved to a large warehouse-like structure that had half a dozen chimneys on top. Those chimneys were silent, their tops devoid of smoke. It was completely unlike the other chimneys belonging to other factories that spewed smoke into the clouded sky, the eternally clouded sky.
Zvezdnyy was tense, her eyes darted all over to fully take in this industrial hellscape. She couldn't relax as she could in the Church, not when this place resembled so closely to the immediate aftermath of the sun returning to normal. The sterile world— a place where the color green is something only found in picture books.
Yet this place, this environment devoid of life other than humans, was entirely artificial. It wasn't the result of a disaster, it was intentional. Only now did Zvezdnyy realize Nursery Rhyme wasn't next to her anymore.
Where is…?
Nursery Rhyme strode forward, leaving Zvezdnyy behind. She neared a factory worker out for a drink. The worker leaned on the wall as he took small sips of the silver flask in his hands. He looked tired even as the day had just begun.
Nursery Rhyme stood right in front of him. The man looked at her— looked past her, as if she really wasn't there, his eyes squinting as if he was trying to figure out the identity of a distant thing residing so far away the human eye could not recognize it.
In truth, humans live in the past. The present is but a simple illusion the brain constructs from memories that are printed from one's senses. As such, when encountering an anti-memetic effect, the senses are constantly trying to print out Nursery's form inside the man's mind, yet the brain is simply forgetting to use these memories, letting it slip away, letting it slip out of one's mind.
The man's senses are telling him that something is there, yet the brain is refusing to recognize it.
"I think I've had too much." The man said after a few seconds. He capped his flask and was about to walk away before Nursery Rhyme reared her leg back and kicked.
"ARGH!"
"Nursery Rhyme!"
The man collapsed, face-planting into the dirt, "My nuts!"
Nursery Rhyme looked on with a satisfied smile. Up until Zvezdnyy placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to face the blonde girl, "What was that for???"
Zvezdnyy dropped her usual way of speaking in favor of frankness. Her face was a web of distraught as she looked at the fallen man. Quickly, the distraught disappeared before with a simple thought, Zvezdnyy wished away the man's pain and his injuries. Then it returned, full of guilt, "Ahh… I healed him without permission…!"
"What the hell…?"
The man got up and looked into his pants in a hurry. He twisted his body so he could examine the precious jewels at different angles.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Zvezdnyy asked with a pair of crossed arms. She looked furious with Nursery's unprovoked attack.
Nursery Rhyme appeared unfazed by Zvezdnyy's anger. She simply shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head nonchalantly, and said, "What better way to test than by harm? Pain bringeth the keenest clarity. Besides, canst thou not always undo the deeds I have wrought?"
"That's not how it works!" Zvezdnyy exclaimed, "I'm not just going to reverse every change! There's meaning in the Original World, in all of its untouched, organic beauty!"
"Thou hast the power to reshape the world… yet thou dost hold reverence for its flawed form? The means to perfect it lie within thy grasp, to smooth away every flaw in this crude design, and yet thou dost forbear—out of mere preference?" Nursery Rhyme's face turned into an ugly snarl, and her hands tightened into fists. "How unfathomably naive art thou! What folly, what squandered might! Thou couldst save them all, yet thou dost choose to do… naught?"
"That's it! I'm making you intangible as well, so you can't harm anyone else anymore."
Nursery Rhyme didn't feel any difference. To test Zvezdnyy's words, Nursery walked towards the factory and bumped her head against the bricked walls— or at least that's what was supposed to happen.
Her eyes peered into the darkness within matter, where no light existed since the space was already occupied. Quickly, light came to her vision once more as she came out of the other side.
Amazed, Nursery turned back at the wall she went through. It was completely solid, with no evidence of any entrance or exit upon the bare surface— just a solid thing.
Her hands reached out to touch the wall, yet her sense of touch felt nothing when the tips of her gloved hand went into the bricks as if they were water. No, not water. Water would at least give you a feeling, be it hot or cold, or just general wetness. Nursery is feeling absolutely nothing from her fingers, none of the solidness that comes with touching a physical object. It's more like the wall turned into a vacuum.
Nursery Rhyme leaned through the walls of the factory at Zvezdnyy, gesturing with her hands a 'come here', "Come now, dost thou not wish to behold the true visage of mankind?"
Zvezdnyy followed, her strides wide as she returned to her Path of Drama. A passive look graced her face, sarcastically speaking, "Yes, let's–Let us proceed! Unveil before me the hidden truth—the wretched, unfeeling core of mankind that turns its back on those in need. Show me the proof that benevolence is but a fleeting illusion!"
Nursery Rhyme raised a gloved finger.
"My sole decree is this: do naught. No matter what doth befall, remain as a wraith and meddle not. Thus shalt thou behold mankind as it truly is, unshaped by any outside hand."
Zvezdnyy cupped her chin as her face showed puzzlement.
"Very well. I shall heed your command and set fate into motion as you desire!"
Nursery Rhyme turned around and walked through the factory. It was quiet as workers stood next to gigantic machines that made no sense to Zvezdnyy. She didn't know what they were for with those gears, tracks, and levers all over the chaotic thing. The workers didn't work, and the machines weren't active.
Just like a ghost, Nursery Rhyme went through people and machines that blocked her path. None of the workers noticed, for their brains couldn't notice how there were two little girls in this place.
The purple girl stopped by a machine that had a large cylinder resting atop a bed of metal rails and clamps. From one end of the cylinder jut out several smaller, concentric ones, narrowing like a pyramid. A worker dressed in long sleeves loomed over that bed, fiddling around with the clamps and parts of the machine, using something that resembled a wrench to tighten several screws.
"Jordan." A separate worker called out as he neared.
Hearing that name, the worker fiddling with the machine stood up, careful to ensure his head didn't hit any clamps that jut out of the machine. The man had a rough and unshaven beard, brown hair, and brown eyes.
"What is it?"
"George wants the lathe up and running an hour ago. What's taking so long?"
Jordan narrowed his eyes. "The lathe is powerful. I have to tighten certain screws—"
"George says unless the lathe is up and running in five minutes, you're out of a job." The man thumbed at a space behind him.
Jordan spoke through gritted teeth, "Fine."
The young man dropped the wrench nearby and began turning this wheel on the side of the bed of metal. The distance between a stretch of steel and the large cylinder closed, the steel moving down the rails and inserted into a hole in the middle of the cylinder. Nex,t Jordan took out a large 'key'. With this key, he slotted into the sides of a smaller cylinder that surrounded the long stretch of steel, twisting it and apparently locking it in place. The man then used the stretch of metal as leverage to rotate the cylinder.
It didn't budge, so Jordan kept on pushing and pushing until—
"Oof!"
The man's head slammed into the stretch of steel meant to be cut by the lathe. The cylinder turned as Jordan stopped in the space between the rails and the stretch of steel.
What happened next took everyone by surprise. The wheel whirled to life, valves on the sides of the large cylinder releasing gases as Jordan let out sounds of panic.
The wheel turned, dragging Jordan's sleeves along with the rest of his body.
Zvezdnyy raised a hand and was about to stop this before Nursery Rhyme stood in front of her suddenly.
"What did I say?" A purple abyss greeted worried shades of green-grey.
"...To… not interfere…" Zvezdnyy's voice was barely above a whisper. Nursery Rhyme tilted her head and smirked.
While Nursery Rhyme's form blocked out much of what was happening to Jordan, it didn't block out the loudness of the spinning machine, nor did it block out how that same loudness was intersected by the sounds of screams and rhythmic metal ringing. Flesh and bones went flying all over, blood sprayed like water from a high-powered jet, so violent they were mist-like, dying everything except Nursery Rhyme and Zvezdnyy in a coat of dripping crimson.
The worker moved to stop the machine, yet only fumbled around with the levers and buttons on the cylinder. Uncertainty filled his frame as more sprays of blood went everywhere. By now, the screams were silenced, replaced by other screams, yells, and just general loudness coming from other workers and the still-rotating lathe.
Soon, there weren't any more sprays of blood, nor did flesh and bones fly anymore. Nursery Rhyme moved to the side, revealing what used to be clothing binding the steel meant to be cut like a mummy. There were slices of the steel that were unbound by cloth. They were pristine. Hauntingly so, being the only pristine thing in a radius of several meters.
The rotating part of the lathe was spinning so quickly that blood and viscera found no purchase. Everything that used to make up Jordan was thrown all over the place. Pieces of viscera appeared everywhere from the ceiling to other workers, to the floor— everywhere.
After about a minute, the lathe finally stopped.
Zvezdnyy stared on in muted horror, her face a mask of stillness, her eyes locked onto the scene. She was in a daze, her mind blank as she was unable to comprehend the scene.
So she turned elsewhere.
Nursery Rhyme approached the bloody mess, her feet moved to nudge a piece of shredded flesh coming from who knows where on Jordan. It's all unrecognizable after what the lathe did to the man. Her feet phased right through.
"His name is Jordan, bearing no surname. The eldest of a brood of nine, he was taken to labor for the feminine nature of his hands—hands for which he had been scorned in youth, yet hands of which he grew proud, for they did earn the bread that fed his younger kin. Each morn would he set the cheap lathes aright, readying them for the toil of the day."
Nursery Rhyme leaned close to the machine, still dripping with blood. The aroma of copper deniable only to those bereft of the sense of smell. She examined the gruesome scene. A finger traced itself across the dented metal rails.
One can only wonder how many times Jordan's bones crashed into these metal rails to dent them.
"Yet time's cruel touch did gnaw at the aged machine, its faltering form demanding ever more tending. The delay grew long, too long for the master's liking, for each moment lost was a coin unmade. Impatient, the master pressed him on, and thus Jordan, harried by command, did forsake the safety steps—steps that would have been needless, had the lathe been new."
Nursery Rhyme turned around to look at Zvezdnyy. All this time, the blonde-haired girl was silent, her eyes never leaving the lathe as a rictus of shock froze her still.
"Fate was swift. His sleeve caught in the whirling wheels, and the great machine, heedless of flesh and bone, seized him as a cart-horse takes the reins. Though brutal was his end, at the least, death came quick."
Just then, a well-dressed man came down and looked at the scene. The 'master' Nursery Rhyme spoke of. Only now, long after the commotion had ended, did he come.
The man looked passively at the present scene. The same passivity found in the eyes of an observer who was looking at a serene pond in a forest, rather than a scene that caused many nearby workers to look queasy at best, or fainting at worst.
With well-practiced experience, the 'master' barked out orders, "I want this cleaned up in the next half hour. Ugh, at least the compensation is cheaper than getting a new machine."
Nursery strode back, her hands came up Zvezdnyy's cheeks and guided the blonde girl's head away from the lathe and towards her. Green-grayish eyes were swallowed by a purple abyss that seemed to be without end.
"This is the true visage of mankind—greed, selfishness, and all. None ascend to dominion o'er the earth without unbridled desire. To be human is to be selfish; to be selfless is to be divine."
_____
As it turns out, Willas decided to return to work. So did Ritsuka. Neither spoke of what happened, and it seemed Willas wanted to forget all about it.
Later on, the teen had to explain to Mary why he didn't get any wages. He tried to explain the Willas situation and how the factory had shut down for half the day. Fortunately, Willas was there to back him up, so Mary wasn't too angry with him. Seeing how tonight wasn't one for the Vermin Tide, Ritsuka took off to the church.
William wasn't happy at all.
Walking through the slums at night would've been dangerous if it weren't for Mash's heavy shield that she hauled around, intimidating would-be muggers to search for easier targets.
When he walked in, the teen found that the Church was full of noise. He saw a head of blonde hair with numerous well-dressed women around the head of the blonde. They were chatting amongst each other, gossiping about something way above his station.
Though, that voice… Something he hasn't heard of in over a week.
"Artoria?"
Artoria snapped back, her gaze locking onto Ritsuka with a ferocity that belonged to long-lost friends meeting up again for the first time. She smiled, and the women around Artoria swooned, "Ritsuka! Mash!"
"Who is this oriental, Miss Pendragon?" The admiration on the face of the red-haired woman faded into dismissiveness when she saw Ritsuka.
"This is Ritsuka Fujimaru. My… good friend, Lady Aurora," Artoria introduced as she got up.
Artoria was dressed rather simply compared to the other noblewomen around her. Simple and sharp. Whereas others wore dresses full of frills and sparkled with jewelry, distractions in other words, the simpleness of Artoria's dress seemed to only emphasize her beauty, as if to concentrate one's attention solely upon her face.
Her golden hair, those eyes that were cut from the freshest of emeralds.
Artoria navigated through the gaggle of women who sat next to her and hugged Ritsuka.
"You would… touch an oriental?" Aurora looked stunned. "But don't you know they're lower than you? Only Jews are lower, Miss Pendragon."
Several of the women nodded.
Artoria and Mash narrowed their eyes as Aurora froze. The full hostility of the King of Knights and the Shielder Demi-servant was directed at the redhead, causing her to feel almost like she was about to faint. The women around her stilled as well, being on the periphery of their hostility.
"Enough, Lady Aurora. I will not have you slander my good friend. Apologize, or be gone."
"I…" Aurora struggled to find words. "Fine, I'm sorry, oriental."
"His name, Lady Aurora. Full name."
Aurora bit her lips, her eyes glistening as if apologizing would be the highest of humiliation, "I'm sorry… Re-su-ka Fuji-maru"
"Ritsuka."
Ritsuka placed a hand on Artoria's shoulder, his eyes understanding and his face showing the barest of discomfort, "It's fine, Artoria. Just let it go."
Aurora 'hmph'-ed and swung her head to the side, crossing her arms along the way. "I think it's about time that I leave for home. My husband should be returning. The same for you all?"
Aurora looked at the gaggle of women that used to surround Artoria. "I assume the same for you all?"
The women all looked reluctant before the first one nodded their head and mumbled in agreement. Steadily, one by one, the rest all agreed with Aurora's statement. "I shall take my leave now," Aurora stated to Artoria. "I suggest you do not mingle with those of your lessers. Brr, just being here in the slums makes me feel sick."
Aurora shivered near the end. Artoria's hands balled into fists as she prepared to strike the insolent woman down.
"Artoria, it's fine."
Artoria's lips thinned before shifting to the side to let the others pass. "Sycophants all." Returning to meet Ritsuka's gaze, blue met emerald as she frowned, "I'm sorry, I failed as a Servant. My strength sapped away. I tried to find you during the first few days, but Londinium has grown greatly since my time. I thought that I'd get more success after finding Iskander but… no luck."
"You found Iskander?"
Artoria nodded, "Yes. We were summoned close together around the Palace of Westminister. He went off on his own while I was offered a job by this eccentric fashion designer."
Artoria glanced down at her dress before returning to Ritsuka, "We made a deal: I will serve as his model, and he shall go out to find you, as well as give me rumors of anything strange. Earlier today, he told me rumors of an angel resting at the church on the edge of the slums, healing all who enter those doors. I came here as soon as possible, finding it empty except for the presence of one Father Benedict."
As if hearing his name, Father Benedict walked out of the kitchen with a tea set placed atop a wooden tray.
"I hope I didn't keep you all waiting. Oh, they all left," Benedict said. Upon seeing Ritsuka, the gentle old man's smile grew even wider. "Well, hello, Ritsuka! How nice of you to join us. I'm afraid Kukulkan isn't here right now. She went out for some 'cleansing' business. Zvezdnyy came back earlier. She seems tired and is resting in her room."
Cleansing? Oh, she must've gone out to deal with the Rat King. The teen felt a weight lifted from his shoulder since with her on the case, the Rat King was as good as dead. Better to have that thing of myth and horror forgotten to the sands of time.
"Greetings again, Father Benedict," Artoria said.
"Please, Artoria, Ritsuka, and Mash, would you kindly join me for some tea?"
Ritsuka scratched his head. "This late?"
"It's Chamomile," Benedict said as he set the tray down, laid out the tea cups, and started pouring.
"Chamomile helps with sleep, Senpai."
"Well, I guess I'll have some then," Ritsuka said.
Benedict handed Ritsuka a cup. Smelling the aroma drifting from the hot liquid, Ritsuka found it reminded him of flowers and sweetness. Ritsuka was about to take a small sip before Mash called out, "Careful Senpai, it's hot."
"'Senpai', what word is that?" Benedict asked as he sat down on a bench nearby, the tightness around his wrinkled face loosening as if his old bones were crying in joy at the rest.
"It's a title used to refer to a senior colleague in Japanese," Mash answered.
"Japanese hmm? The island in the Far East. My, you all must've traveled so far, and so young as well!" He chuckled, "I wished I could travel so much back when I was younger. I would've liked to see the Forbidden Palace of China. Soldiers returning from the Opium Wars say it's a walled-off city made only for the Emperor, of such size it can engulf every estate owned by the Royal Family."
Every head turned to face the creaking, opening door, seeing Kuku entering.
Father Benedict was the first to greet. He got up and bowed reverently, "Your Angelic Holiness."
Kuku appeared annoyed. "Just sit down. Every time— Oh, Artoria, good to see you here. Hmm, I'm surprised Zvezdnyy isn't here to greet you. Do you happen to know where Iskander and Archer are?"
"It's good to see you as well, Kukulkan. Iskander was summoned close to me. Last I checked, he took over a local gang."
"Zvezdnyy is resting after a long day, o' Holy Angel."
Ritsuka felt like his heart was in his throat. There was an overwhelming eagerness to ask Kuku about the Rat King's destruction so that he could untangle this bundle of anxiety and lay to rest the worries of that thing existing in the same world as him.
"D—Did you deal with the Rat King?"
"Though I could not fly, I could still run really quickly. I traversed all the miles upon miles of the London sewers and…" Kuku brought a hand and let it comb through her hair, "Well, I found nothing."
One could hear the drop of a pin in this silence. A pit opened up, and Ritsuka felt his world spinning as the teen's legs felt weak. He felt like he was falling. Mash spilled her tea as she hurriedly got up to catch her falling Master, he could only mumble, "Wh—what? What do you mean nothing?"
"There's just sewage down there—"
"No blood? No flesh? No bones?" No, of course, there isn't any of those; those got burnt up by that methane explosion. "...No charred flesh?"
"There is evidence of an explosion imprinted on the walls, but I don't see any evidence of burnt flesh. Some of the sewer tunnels did collapse, but I dug through them and still found nothing."
For a brief moment, Ritsuka thought Kuku was lying. His thoughts went with the worst possible answer: that Kuku is protecting this Rat King— then he silenced it. The teen took a deep breath and calmed down, "Did you see any rats?"
"None. It's all just sewage down there."
How could this be? How… where… what? Ritsuka's mind was thrown into incoherency; the absurd possibility that something as horrific as the Rat King disappearing as if it never existed made Ritsuka question his own sanity, and if the past really did happen.
"Are you certain you found nothing, Kukulkan?" Mash asked, a concerned look on her face.
"Yes. I ran through miles upon miles— every stretch of the London sewer system: I've checked it all."
"But how?" Ritsuka muttered out absentmindedly. He was trying to think of a way for the Rat King to just up and disappear, leaving not a single trace anywhere.
How is this possible? How can something like that abomination just up and disappear? In the middle of London no less?
"This 'Rat King', what is it exactly? I've never heard the fashion designer speak of it." Artoria asked.
Ritsuka grimaced as he dredged up the memories of that nightmare, a memory that's forever seared into his mind, "It's a creature made from multiple childrens. During each Vermin Tide, it abducts the unwanted, those children left behind by their parents, and lures them with… some kind of hypnosis. It lures them down to the deepest part of the sewers, and it…"
Ritsuka struggled to put into words what happened to them. Calling it 'eating' wasn't fully accurate. "...It subsumes them. Making their existence as one."
Ritsuka's voice sounded like it belonged to someone who had seen Hell.
"Oh dear," Father Benedict said as he set his tea aside. "Childrens are a blessed gift from the Lord. To have squandered it… it seems the Devil's perversion is at hand."
Whereas both the Father and Kuku had a disturbed look, Artoria's instead hardened like a bunker. She wasn't showing any fear like Ritsuka, as befitting of a Heroic Spirit: even when faced with something as horrific as the Rat King, Ritsuka liked to imagine Artoria to be unyielding. A bulwark.
"It is not cowardice to be afraid," Artoria said as she placed a comforting hand upon Ritsuka's shoulder, "But it is if you let that fear consume you."
"You don't understand!" Ritsuka snapped, "That thing!!! It— it— it—!" Ritsuka struggled to get the words out. So many words wanted to exit at once, yet none did— all stuck by the door frame called 'mouth'.
"Senpai…"
"I'm… I'm fine, Mash. Just…"
"You can stay here if you want, Ritsuka. We have more beds, right, Father Benedict?" Kuku looked at the head of this church. "No, even if we don't have any more, you can take mine. Rest for today, tomorrow we'll get Iskander."
Ritsuka's eyes gazed at Kuku as he seemed to realize something. "Wait, but I have work tomorrow."
It was almost funny how Ritsuka's immediate worry was about work tomorrow. The Industrial Revolution scheduled the daily human life, and all progressed with the hand of a clock. Such a rigid schedule crushes the human spirit, entangling it and polluting each joyous break with the knowledge that work is coming soon.
"Ritsuka, our priority is to get the Holy Grail. Why are you worrying about work?"
Ritsuka blinked before nodding, "Right… right. I should still tell Mary before I go. She'll be worried if I don't."
________
AN: And so begins Zvezdnyy's character arc: something that will harshly break her delusions.
For the Lathe scene, I was heavily inspired by the Russian Lathe Accident. Don't go searching for it, not because of its content but because I don't think it exists anymore. All you'll find are viruses.
Anyway, your comments give me motivation. I need a lot of motivation.