Servants Summon Arc: The Davis Family's Summon

## Prologue

"Today, huh..." a young man stated under his breath to himself. He stood in a room with about nine or ten other men. Mostly likely nine with him being the tenth, breaking the ice for the group even. "And I just everso happened to have a target tournament today as well." The young man bore a green, black, and grab jacket over his white colored t-shirt with the crest of the Davis family on it.

"Michael Davis! You're on in 30." A man shouted as he entered the room of men, calling out a specific person. The young boy who'd been speaking under his breath stepped up.

Yes, it all made sense now. The crest and the name went together like white and rice. Michael Davis, youngest son of the Davis family, and profound marksman—skills good enough to even be placed professionally. "I'm good to go whenever you are all ready."

The man exited the room, and Michael followed behind him. They then entered an area that had a large sign reading; "For Contestants Only!". Reminding watchers that it wasn't advised to enter beyond said point. Michael was stopped by the man who'd called him up earlier to the sound of the loud speaker picking up. "Next up we have, one of the marksman you have all been waiting. Ranked number three in the state, and 11 wooooooooorld wide! MICHAEL, QUICK DRAW, DAVIS." Moving around the man's arm, Michael headed towards the target room. It was a large room which was open to a crowd, giving them a side view of the marksman. Michael gave off a slight look and hand wave to the crowd then after giving his full fledge attention to the set off targets and dummies in front of him. "Michael must beat a score of 990, folks. Kylie didn't miss a single target, so **if** Michael does the same he too will have a 990. Will Michael be able to pull off something miraculous. Start the count down with me people! 3.....2.... 1, FIRE AWAY!"

Quickly reaching to his back, Michael drew out a handgun. "There it is folks, Michael's famous Glock 17, Black Widow! Ain't she a beauty? The Davis only produced a single version of these babies, and their youngest son was the one who inherited it."

It was now time for Michael to shine, and to do so he blocked out the outside world. The first row of targets were five circular still boards. Simply sliding to the right and pulling his trigger five times each five continent, he shot them all down with relative ease, all bullseye giving him a score of 330. The next row was essentially the same thing. However this time, the targets were moving. He essentially preformed the same actions, but this time he added more movement literally running to the side. His score now, 450. Next we're targets with abdomens and and heads. The moved left and right, up and down, sometimes hiding behind one another. Holding his gun to his face, Michael looked *through* its standard sight and began firing. Each of the three bullets hitting one target separately for shots in the heart. The score, 560. That still left two targets, but their speed was quite difficult to follow. Holding his gun even closer focusing on one, rather than both he finally pulled the trigger once. He could feel the bullet travel down the barrel of the gun, then free itself of that chamber into the open world. The bullet followed a single path, and within a moments noticed hit the target smooth in its head. When a moving target is hit in these tournaments they stop.

"OH MY GOD PEOPLE MICHAEL HIT BOTH TARGETS WITH A SINGLE SHOT! THATS 760, MICHAEL NOW HAS SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS!!!" A door on the other side of the room and a dummy dressed in a black suit entered. "The final target has made its appearance guys. Unlike the other targets where headshots give more points, that's not the case for this one. No matter where he is shot, he will give you a for sure 130 points. That's if you hit him of course." The dummy began to run around the room doing flips, cartwheels, stretches as thought it were in the Olympics. "This guy is a crafty fella. Kylie, was the first to ever hit him, and as you all saw even then it was by sheer luck. Can Michael do the same?"

Michael had no care for what the commentator had to say. In fact, as stated earlier, he'd already entered his zone and completely blocked everyone else out. Only he and his target existed right now. Firing off a shot at the dummy, it simply dodge it. *"Well this will be annoying won't it. But i think it's the perfect target to test out something new."* Firing off another three bullets, he watched the movements of the dummy closely. *"Tch, and he's unorthodox."* Michael took off towards the dummy shooting two shots right at him, then three towards its left and right. Leaping into the air, with the upmost of athleticism spinning as he did, he empty the clip from his gun pulled another from his pocket and loaded it into his gun. Firing another couple shots from above the dummies head, he forced it into a single way of escape. With a back pedal it evaded all of the previous shots. *"I'll end this now."* Kicking off the air, Michael shot towards the dummy at a great speed, flipping over it and appearing behind it.

"What is this ?! Did Michael just push off of thin air as thought it were a solid platform!?!"

After his previous stunt, the young marksman placed his fire Harm underneath his jacket into the waistline of his pants. He then pulled the top half of his pistol back, cocking it nonetheless, and fired off a shot at blinding speeds towards the dummy. *"Trace, on."* He mumbled all while this was going on, and soon after pulled a .22 from his waistline firing it at the dummy for a second time. Both bullets drilled right through the chest of the dummy. Getting a perfect landing, the entire crown went crazy.

"HE'S DONE IT FOLKS MICHAEL HAS GOTTEN A PERFECT SCORE OF 990 TIEING WITH KYLIE!!!!!" The crown went crazy all over again.

"You should reevaluate that." Michael stated lifting the dummy off the ground and showing the crowd and commentator the two bullet holes. "No matter where the dummy is shot, the points will remain the same; 130. But if the dummy is shot more than once then doesn't that count for another 130 points?"

"Wait you may be right. This isn't anywhere in the rules. 990 plus 130 is 1,120 points. Which means... MICHAEL HAS 130 MORE POINTS THAN KYLIE NAMING HIM THE WINNER !!!"

## The Servant, Summoned

After winning the tournament, Michael returned home and spent countless hours running and ramping from his room to a large den area within the house. Each time he moved from his room, he filled his hands with unique materials each time. The sun was down, and the night was at it's all time great. It was obvious that hours had passed since the tournament earlier.

"It's good I didn't use too much mana during that tournament. I preserved more than enough for my summoning." Finally stopping within the den, he stood over a large circle engraved into the floor of the room, and lots of materials standing within its boundaries. An alarm somewhere on a nearby desk went off, and instantly Michael dropped down to his knees. He reached for a nearby cup and began pouring it into a portion of the engraved symbol. The liquid was a deep red, almost the same as blood. Across from where the previous cup was, he reached for a glass filled with a green liquid and poured it on the other side of the engraved symbol. He began to do more tedious work, but towards a person just watching and not knowing what was going on, it looked like sidewalk chalk. Lastly he lifted a gemstone from the ground, "This is the final touch."

With the gemstone in hand he turned it and began evaluating it. With a closer look it was a no-brainer of which gemstone it was in particular; the Ruby. It's illustrious red shine, stood out from the other ruby gemstones in the world. Standing within the center of the symbol, he placed the down by his feet and stepped from within the engravement.

"Twenty minutes until midnight. Tch, all of this just to summon a servant. I always looked at it like we'd be going to the church to see the servants. Even if not my old man has been on me none stop about getting this ceremony right, and he ain't even here. 'Me being there would be a distraction', my ass." Michael turned around and began walking towards a nearby door. "I should eat before midnight hits I have about a quick twenty minutes."

Reaching what was the kitchen of the large house, he sat at a table that had a planet prepared on the table already. *"Shouts out Miss Lana, always comin' through with the food."* Pulling the seat from the table to sit down he began to think back. The table was extremely large and could seat up to six people. Two at the ends and two on each side. "Nell, heh, this is supposed to be you taking place in the Holy Grail War not me." Michael spoke out loud as though there were someone at the table with him. "We agreed in no way would you lose in the previous Grail War. But I swear, if Tokugawa or anyone within the Tokugawa partake in this war, I'll kill them," the young mage balled his fist up squeezing it as tight as he could. His silk brown hair draped done over his face covering it from view, and dangled over his food plate. "without the help of my servant, I'll kill them with my own hands." Lifting his hand from the table he brought it down as though he were about to smash the table, but seconds before making actual contact he stopped.

"Dad said there was only one other Mage family in America and it's pretty down on its ass. So our competition will most definitely be coming from outside of America. Not all rituals are done at the same time, I wonder who's gotten who and who's still out and up for grabs. Pops didn't even tell me which spirit he'd preferred. For Nell it was Berserker or Lancer—even then he got Berserker. But this time, he didn't say a single thing. In fact he gave me incantation that was nothing like the one Donnell chanted. He doesn't expect me to connect with a Berserker, he's told me that while I have larger domes of mana than your average Holy Grail Mage, I wouldn't be able to control a Berserker." To anyone with common sense, it was obvious that Michael had began to grow irritated with all the unanswered questions he had.

"All Tokugawa are to be taken down." Those were his, Michael's fathers" only words. "But I know that already he didn't have to tell me that. I'll kill everyone with the last name until I find the one who bears Donnell's blood on his hands."

He then lobbed his head into his palm, "I gotta calm down... I should eat, I'm sure it's something that replenishes mana. I don't have too much time left either." He glanced at the clock on the wall next to him. "11:50, dammit. I gotta eat quickly." Michael began to eat swiftly, but at a pace that he knew he could handle and not over exert himself.

Five minutes had passed and he finished the entire plate. Pushing away from the table he took off towards the area he stood at earlier. "11:59... it's time." Michael removed the glove on his left hand revealing some sort of symbol resting on his hand. To those familiar with the Holy Grail War, they knew these weren't just symbols but instead something known as a Command Seal. He then threw his left thumb in his mouth. A loud bang coming from the grandfather clock near him rang, and he knew exactly what time it was. He nipped his finger ripping through his skin forcing blood to leak from it. Holding his hand over the engravement that had found itself filled with the liquids he placed into it, he allowed some of his blood to fall into the carving of the remaining unoccupied parts of the design. By now it was obvious exactly what this engravement truly was, it was the magic circle used to summon servants.

"Let silver and steel be the essence." A tear of blood dropped from his finger and landed within carving of the magic circle, as he continued on, "Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation." The magic circle began to light up bright illusive and painful white. "Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate. Let it be filled, let it be filled, let it be filled, let it be filled, let it be filled. Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling. Once filled," With the start of his next sentence Michael's tone changed to a more deeper vocal.

He held his right hand around his left wrist and forced even more blood to drop from his finger. "Let your blade protect me from all evil." The magic circle transitioned from its bright white hue, to a bright red one. "Let it be used to protect the good in silence, and stand over the Kingdom in awe." The magic circle swiftly transitioned to a bright yellow color. "As the day shines bright, I call upon the clouds. Cover the sun from shining, and roar over the heavens!" A roar of thunder surrounded the house, and a bolt of lightning struck against the magic circle.

The electricity from the bolt gave a charge to everything that ran off of electricity. The clock's arms began to spin rapidly, causing the clock's time to change with every second that passed. A second in the real world, would force the clock to move an hour ahead. The bulb in the ceiling above Michael turned on by itself bringing light to the room. This was not the average light it would emit from what Michael had remembered. In fact, as time passed the light grew brighter and bright and it soon enveloped the entire room. "This light!" Quickly bringing his arms to cover his face to block the light, Michael could hear a voice.

"Hm..." The voice let out a sigh and with it the light disappeared. "You, boy, where am I?" Removing his arms from his face, that appearance of the person whom spoke came whole. It was a brown skinned man, a tone that matched Michael's perfectly, even the brown silky hair. At a quick glance you would think that these two were related, had you not known even Michael didn't know who he was. The only thing that set them apart would be the eyes, their nose, and minor clothing differences. The man wore a long sleeved, but rolled up medium black jackets colored red on the inside portions of it. For lower body he was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a purple belt, and red and black gold trimmed kusazuri around his waist.

"Mongrel, I asked a question. Do not stare at me in awe. Where am I? Was it you who summoned me here?" He threw one question after another, not even giving Michael enough time to answer either of them.

"I, Michael of the Davis family, summoned you as my servant for the upcoming Holy Grail War. I gotta ask though, which class are you from?" Some silence filled the room for a moment, and then the man began to head for a nearby chair, sitting in it and throwing his leg up so that his food could rest politely on his knee.

Looking around the room they were in, the man kept a close eye out for everything around the two. "Tch, servant? I am "servant" only by claims of the great Grail. A mongrel could never refer to me as such. I am of the Assassin class and it will be the only thing you refer to me as. Instead of 'This is my servant', there will only be 'This is Assassin.', got it?"

"Don't call me a mongrel, and we may just have a deal here. Anyway, you said you were of the Assassin class." Michael headed towards a nearby couch and sat on it. "Tell me, what time period are you from? Who are you exactly? What do you intend on wishing for if you were to get your hands on the Grail?"

Assassin let out a deep sigh, "Kid, listen up. 'If you get you hands on the Grail', is not an option. I will get my hands on the Grail, and wish for my Empire to be come whole again. With my Mystic Eyes of Distortion I will emerge victorious. I have no identity, neither do I have a time period. Anything else, if not I'd like to be fed the finest meal in this country."

*"An Empire? Looks like I'm not gonna get any information through sheer talking."* Michael stood up from the couch and began to head towards the kitchen area again. "You're quite arrogant, Assassin. I like it, if you feel as though we will win. Then I'll put all of my faith into your arrogance under one condition. Those named "Tokugawa"-family, are all to be dealt by my hands."

"Oh, a personal beef? Well listen, kid. Personal beef in something like the Holy Grail War won't get you anywhere but dead. What's a dead "master", to me? What can a human do in a battle against people of legends. And a kid at that, sounds like suicide to me." Assassin was then approached by Michael with a glass of something to drink. Grabbing the glass he began to closely evaluate it and spin it so that the drink would circle around it. He took a sip of it, and then another slight one. "Mhmm. You said to leave these people of the Tokugawa to you. Isn't that a feudal family? You plan to take the japs on alone, a feudal family at that?"

"You think I give a damn about any of that extra garbage you stated? You made your request, and I've made mine. Take it, or you can always become and known as my servant." A slight smirk formed, as he peeked at Assassin from the corner of his eye. His smirk would soon switch to confusion, as he quickly dropped to his knees.

A burst of laughter filled the room. Michael turned his head to fully face Assassin, while he still remained on one knee. "Oh, I didn't expect you to even be on your knees after being effected by my mystic eyes. Maybe you are worthy of being my master. But I gave you my warning, next time I won't be so fragile."

Sweat began to fall from Michael's face. His dark blue hair hung over his face covering his eyes. *"What was that?"* He thought to himself, *"The entire room blurred and was flipped upside down."* Holding his hand up to where he could see it, he vision was blurry. *"The Mystic Eyes of Distortion."* Slowly standing to his feet. *"What a crazy technique."*

## Attack at the Manor

"If you're done almost dying, we have company." As the words slipped from Assassin's lips, the wall to the right of them was crashed into. "Well, you didn't tell me you were expecting guests. How rude of you, Master." Behind the uplift of debris caused from the crashing wall, skeletal beings made their full appearance. "Then they are nothing more than mongrels, if even that." Assassin stood from his seat and began to eye the intruders down.

Finally being able to fully regathering himself, Michael stood side by side with Assassin. "Funny you call me master but I ain't allowed to call you, my servant." Reaching underneath his jacket, he drew a pistol and fired off a couple of shots. "Familiars, huh? Assassin, since they felt like offering their presence tonight, show them and whoever sent 'em what you can do. You're free to do whatever ya' want, in exchange show me exactly what you're capable of. Don't hold back."

"Don't hold back, even in the house? So you wanna see the power of Amatsu Tenrairyū." Assassin began to walk towards the familiars and while opening the palm of his hand golden particles generated and soon formed into a blade.