Fate Apocrypha Volume 3

Chapter 1.4

Roche was perplexed.

"S-Sir...?"

He did not understand any of this at all. He did not want to.

Caster had grabbed him by the neck and thrown him roughly at the golem. The stone and earth that came in contact with Roche liquefied and sealed his movements. Steadily, with a creaking noise, he was being absorbed into the innards of the golem. He knew that much. But he did not understand at all.

"Um, sir... what, are you..."

"Do you not know, my Master? By this time, you should be able to comprehend that you are to serve as the core..."

The Caster whom he so respected spoke with indifference. If this was such a matter of fact to him, it must not be of much issue... yes, it was nothing... nothing important... nothing big... no!

"Why are you doing this? Why?! M-Me, the core? I don't want...!"

"It is because you are a fitting and sufficient magus, of course. Darnic had ordered me to make do with Gordes – but given the circumstances, there is no issue with using you."

"Wh-What are you saying?! I'm... I'm a Master! I'm your Master!"

"Correct, hence I could not make you the core, at first. However, I accepted a proposal from one of the Masters of Red earlier. So you see, I am no longer your Servant. Do you understand? I have no interest in such trivial matters as to whether Red or Black emerge as victors."

"B-But...!"

Proposal... accepted... betrayed... no interest... only... golems...

"I suppose it would be false to claim that I have no interest in the Holy Grail itself. But what is most important to me is the activation of this Noble Phantasm – and whether, at the end of all this, I could emulate the First Man, that which is so dearly desired by all my fellows. That is why I was summoned. That is why I had lived. Fortunately, by accepting a Master on the Red camp, I can employ you as the core."

Amongst modern magi, Roche had the greatest affinity with golems. After all, that was how he had managed to summoned Avicebron. It also meant he was most compatible to power his Noble Phantasm.

"N-No...! No! Stop it! I don't want...! I don't... aaaahh!"

He was being dissolved. The flesh which composed Roche Frain Yggdmillennia was melting and being fused on a cellular level – to dirtied wood, and rock, and melting, melting, melting...

Roche screamed, swinging his arms and legs in wild terror – or tried to. But he could no longer feel anything with his limbs. The entirety of his lower body, up to his elbows, had already been taken into the heart of the golem.

"Why are you doing this?! Why...?! You were everything to me! I respected you! I worshiped you! Why...?!"

Avicebron, quietly working some unknown process, suddenly turned to face him.

"I would have thought that you knew me well..."

"Huh?"

"Avicebron. Solomon ibn Gabirol. Philosopher. Poet. Cabbalist. Misanthropic... sickly... ailed in the skin. Is that about right?"

Roche silently waited for him to continue. What great secret was Caster about to reveal...?

"Unfortunately, I must betray your expectations. I was alone in my hatred of humans, and took up golemancy only to keep myself occupied. In the end, I decided to employ it in order to imitate the Lord – but even that dream was crushed before I had even been anywhere near its conclusion."