...weeeellllll… I'm back…. yaaaayyyy…. Please don't kill me.

yeah, It's been a while. Sorry for being so late. It was quite unprofessional of me(not that this whole thing is in any way professional to begin with but you get my meaning). I've got a lot of physical ailments that have been popping up in my life, and I so I've been dealing with some pretty nasty illnesses which left me in a real shit state both emotionally and physically, so I didn't get much writing done. (also i'm a freaking O.C.D. weirdo who tends to write something, trash it, and then rewrite it again because i hate where it is going. it is NOT good for time management.)

Thankfully I'm more or less recovered and I've come back to the keyboard. And Now with the Fate/Zero Accel Order event starting(Yeah, thats when I first finished my first draft. I take WAY too long editing), I'm really feeling that writing itch.(Besides, I burned through all my quartz trying to nab Jalter in the Counterfeit Heros event… to no avail, of course. I swear, my luck must be synced with Cu's because my luck seems to have dropped to rank E-, I don't even get Sumanai anymore. "Grumble-Grumble-Grumble." I can only hope I can pull Angra Mainyu from the friends points gacha now that I have finished the storyline, been saving those F.P. since I started, I hope 150k is enough for him and Hundred Face.)

Anyway, I'm back from all that real life hubalu that's kept me away, and as you can see, I haven't been completely idle. But before I begin this story, I am proud to announce that this story now has, and DRUMROLL PLEASE!


Over 50 reviews…. NOICE! (Well, we passed that last chapter but that was a joke chapter so I did not feel the announcement should be there) It's so awesome that you guys are giving me your feedback. I just love hearing what you guys are thinking about what I made. Whether you like it, hate it or are just plain indifferent to it(though I guess in that circumstance leaving nothing is quite appropriate), I'd love to hear your feedback. After all, how else can you improve without criticism?

Also question; Would you guys prefer smaller chapter at a faster rate or these longer chapters at a slower, but hopely not this slow(I REALLY hate my immune system), production rate? I'm good either way, least now that work seems to be slowing down.

This chapter was partially beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

"Words with Power in them"

"Saying a Spell"

"Overlapping voices"

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.

This Crossover is a completely AU.

The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.

This is my first fic, so please tell what you think, I appreciate every review and would love to know your options.


Now onto the story

A Winning Hand: Draw Lowball (Part 2)

"Uuuuuugggghhhh, can someone get the number of that truck, 'cause my head hurts like a motherfucker." our intrepid(or is it imbecilic?) 'hero' moans as he raises his head, awaking once again from his sudden burst of unconscious.

As he tries to shake the grogginess from his body and attempts to rises though, rubbing his eyes to get the sand out, he hears echoes of laughter, one all around him, and one within him, both matching each other perfectly. As he quickly shifts to look around him, he notices a young man lain out on the couch, watching something on a small boxy television, gentle snoring coming from his disheveled sleeping form.

The man looked about or maybe just a little older than him, with red hair, a fresh face and handsome, if slightly unkempt, appearance, looking like the sort of guys he knew back in his college days(Which in the most technical terms, could be considered a lifetime ago) who loved to have fun, be social and scream like morons at 3 in the morning. Also, he smelled like booze, like, a stupid amount of booze, a practical miasma of Alcohol emitting from his frame, if all the bottles lying on the floor were enough of clue as to why that was.

Actually, after taking a deeper sniff, Caito realized it was this whole house that smelled like alcohol. And judging by the Irish flag hanging over the mantelpiece, Caito got the feeling whoever had brought him here was certainly not doing much to dissuade that old belief about the Irish and their drinking habits.

Pulling himself up, Robert cracked his neck with his hands, and placed both feet on the ground, nearly falling back down as the blood rushed down into his legs for the first time in hours, sending a uncomfortable rush down his body. After a few seconds though, it faded, Robert taking a breath and then, Loudly, clearing his throat, he said, "You know, there's something to be said about waking up with a pounding headache in a booze riddled Irishman's home, but I'm too much of a gentleman to say it. Instead, I'm going to ask who the hell are you, why in the name of all that is decent did you drag me here, and….Where, is MY FUCKING JACKET!" yelled the lost and very confused 18-19 year old dimension hopper who was frantically looking around the area desperately looking for his prized piece of leather apparel, as the young, and possibly hungover, man finally seemed to notice he was awake, shocking him out of his tv, and possibly alcoholic, induced stupor and throwing him off of his crusty couch seat onto the hardwood floor.

"AHCK! What the Fackn' hell did you do that for? Was just gettin' to the good part as well, da' lass was certainly worth it, hehehe-ow." mumbled the young redhead, nursing his head as his bloodshot eyes begin to fix on his guest, who was now ransacking his place. Overturning baskets of overflowing laundry and tossing cushions around, desperately looking for something of what had to be vital importance if going by the frantic look on his face.

As the host began to rise from his stupor, Caito's eyes widen in joy as he sees a slip of brown underneath a white sheet. Throwing the loose cloth to the side, he is overjoyed to see his beloved jacket just as he knew it to be, though even more beaten up and weathered than before, no doubt due to his reckless dive into the sea and being hauled from the sandy beaches to this dump. Throwing the thing on, Robert felt the familiar warmth and weight of the jacket on him, some of the tension flowing out of him as some sense of stability and familiarity came back to him.

Turning to meet his…. Captor? Rescuer? To be honest, he wasn't sure which was the appropriate term, he saw that the VERY hungover man(boy?) had more or less pulled himself up off the ground and was clearing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, you're awake now? You must of had a real Bad Dose(*1) to have been out cold for a Donkey's Year(*2). I saw yah wash up on the shore and in real Hames(*3), so I figured I'd drag yah back to mi Gaff(*4), what with it being free for the week. I mus-" and so he rambled on, spouting phrases and other slang that Robert could not even begin to follow, nor did he particularly care to learn, because once the pressing need to find his comfort blank-I mean-favorite jacket, was satisfied, another pressing need was finally acknowledged…. Hunger and thirst.

Removing himself from the one sided conversation, Robert walked off to what looked to be a small mini-fridge. Popping it open, he pushed through lots of glass bottle until he saw the familiar sight of a regular plastic water bottle, yanking it out and downing it within seconds. He drank it so fast he began to choke at one point as he breathed in some water, so desperate to quench what had to be days of no water.

The sound of choking brought the still unnamed(at least to our protagonist) Irishman out of his monologue, having noticed his guest had wandered off and was rummaging through his fridge.

"Oi! I know you must be shattered(*5) and all, but I don't want yah gettin' ossified(6*) as soon as yah wake up." he said as he moved to close his fridge's door, noticing his guest giving him a dirty and unfriendly look as he wiped away a little water from his mouth.

"I asked you once and I'll ask again. Who are you, where am I, and by god can you speak some proper English? I can barely understand you, what with that thick O'IRISH accent." Robert hostile spits out, his confusion and fear rabidly turning into frustration and anger at having AGAIN been thrown into a foreign land with not a clue on what to do.

The Irishman's eyes lock on and harden to his impromptu house guest, spitting out his own retort, "Ah, an American are we? Shouldn't you be sat on your ass in front of a screen, chomping away at burgers and pleasuring yourself to sound of guns?"

"Shouldn't you be in a Pub, eating potatoes and fucking sheep?"

"You're thinking the Welsh jackass. May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat."

"You have more dick in your personality than you do in your pants."

"Holy Joe(*7)"




"Gammy(*8) Gombeen(*9)!"

"Inbred Mick"

"Ceann na Caca(*10)"

"Fottuto stronzo(*11)"

And so the insult match continued, the two shooting more and more insults, degrading names and such vile terms that you'd never be able to kiss your mother again if you even knew such words.

After a few minutes of this, the two eventually stopped, each one so riled up that they could blow at any second, their fists clenched and their eyes nearly popping out of their heads in rage.

"...heh...Ha. HehHahahahahahahahahahaha!"

"KekKukhahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha!" before both of them suddenly started laughing themselves into a frenzy, each nearly doubling over as all the tension was drained from the room and replaced by a light, jovial feel.

"HAhahahaha-, oh boy, I have not had a good match like that in years. Where'd you even learn those?" the Irishman said, all the vile previous in his voice gone, now a lighthearted amusement taking its place.

"Keh-, You'd be surprised to learn how nasty a bunch of Italians who grew up in Queens can be once they've maybe just had a bit too much wine and are surrounded by family and good food." Robert laughed as he pulled himself up, a smile across his face as he recalled old memories of a world long left behind.

"'Hm, well, now that all that Shite is out of the way, My name's Rory Dugan, and this here is my house, well, it's my dad's, but since he's out, I'm dah man in charge. What's your's?"

"Mmmh, Robert Caito, at your service. Now if you don't mind, I haven't eaten in days, and right now I could go for something to fill the void that is my stomach." Robert sheepishly let out, as the sound of a growling stomach echoed across the room.

After a little bit of a chuckle, Rory responded, "well what kind of a host would I be if I let yah starve. I've got some Ham in the fridge, it's not much, but better than nothin' I suppose." walking off to fetch it from the proper fridge in the kitchen, walking out of his room into the main hall, Robert following along.

Letting out a little sigh, Robert mumbled to himself, "At least it's not just milk and bread. Fucking allergies."

Meanwhile, about to 80 miles away, near a lake with a very special island in it, a land marked by a prolific event which hold great significance to one soon to be important individual in particular.

A shadow covered figure walks through the woods, branches snapping against his skin, but he cares not. He has only one goal in mind, one goal which BURNS through his very Soul, an obsession that has kept him going for so long, so very long.

A shrieking laughter begins to echo through the forest.

"Oh-ho-oh! You sure are dedicated aren't you Comhpháirtí? You'd think after a few centuries of doing nothing but pondering and reflecting on your life you'd think maybe you'd have, I don't know, considered maybe, just maybe, You're the asshole?"

The Figure moved on, a animalistic grunt being the only acknowledgement it had even heard the otherworldly presence.

"Eheh-He! I mean, don't get me wrong. That whole mess when you finally found her was Hilarious. You were such a Comhpháirtí, yah hadn't even though to bring any ammo with yah when you wanted to kill her. And what does he do, does he rush her and choke her out, push her down beneath the water and go just plain and brutal with your fists. NOPE! He pulls out a piece of Cáis. Cáis I say! And then CHUCKS that thing right at the back of her skull. OH how I wish I could have been there to see it. Brutal, and hilarious, the perfect joke. HEHEHEHE-HAHAH-KAHA!" The Laughter echoing across land, dogs barking at the night sky and townspeople shivering in fright from the unpleasant energy seeping into the area.

"Mock me all you want, as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain, I care not what you do with me or my reputation. Can you say you are still a man of your word, or have you forgotten that too?" The Figure bites back as he finally reaches the lake, Lough Ree's waters clear and untouched by the malice clinging to the air around the cloaked figure.

The Laughter abruptly stops, the dark merriment seeming to shrivel up and curled into resentment, anger and a deep feeling of loss.

"... I've learned it's best to make sure you know what you're getting into when you made a deal. I didn't at first, and after that, never again. I'll fulfill my end of the Bargain." a road of frost begins to form over the lake, moving slowly but surely towards an island inside, "You comin'?"

The figure doesn't reply, merely choosing to walk forward, his footsteps not even making a the slightest impression on the fragile ice as the he edged closer and closer to a place he had wished to return to for as long as he could clearly remember.

When he sets foot on the isle, the ice path turns to steam, fall away into the lake. The Figure grunts as his form too begins to seemingly simmer a bit, "Damn those Men of Christ, moving into land which was never theirs. Take care of these blasted shrines for me while I finish my business." he grumbles, the air shimmering as his not-so-silent partner moves off, cackling as all over the isle of Inchcleraun, 6 old churches, lying in ruins, are set aflame, the smoke visible for miles, relics of the past lost forever.

The only thing that mattered to the figure though was the fact that the feeling of rejection he flt from the isle was all but gone, nothing stopping him from reaching his goal.

As he wandered closer and closer, the rising flames began to shine light onto his dark covered form. He seemed to be no more than 30, dress in a fashion more reminiscent of the Age of heroes than the modern day, his armor and sword battered and ragged, seeming to have been witness to more battles than any could guess. He had what once was vibrant and handsome pale skin, red hair and green eyes, now twisted and gnarled with rage. His skin was a mess of scars, deep lines and flaking skin, his hair unkempt and disheveled, flying away with the wind. His eyes were cold, not seeming to move in the slightest, focused squarely in one direction, further in the island.

As his unseen partner move back alongside, the Man knew he was closer, Oh so very close, a small smile beginning to cut into his visage, the very air around the man seeming to warp from the sheer malice emanating from his form.

Eventually they reached it, a small pool of water, pleasant and calm, not unlike it was all those years ago, when the figure had first come here, for a very similar but very different reason.

The man reaches into armor, pulling out a small leather sling, still seeming in good condition unlike all of the man's other gear.

The Man looks to an entity unseen by all but himself and uttered the words, "Cuir isteach Spiorad, agus comhlánaigh do pháirt." his resolve and eagerness seeping from each letter.

And as the Air began to fill with otherworldly cackling, the man felt his body go light, his mind filling with air as everything seemed to go, fuzzy, and soon, his own laughter joined the ominous cacophony.

From his mouth came words he could not understand, but at this point, he could not even care, all that mattered is that he knew what this meant.

And just as he was promised, a gust of ashes flowed from the north, moving under the power of a dark ritual. In front of him he was amazed as the ashes began to form, the ash reassembling into a skeleton, the gray color fading as soon the cold bones began to color, flesh forming over the being. Like a reverse skinning, first the inner organs, the heart, lungs, stomach and later the OH SO FAMILIAR EYES, dead and lifeless as they were for now. Then came a layer of muscle and fats, eventually covered by raw pink skin, hair growing from the head, pits and under-area.

And as the final detail was finished, as the last bit of this ancient legend was restored, life returned to this person's eyes, falling to the ground gasping for air as if they had breathed in a millennium, which in this case, is very true.

Ecstatic to see her, the man, his smile still carved into his face, helped the woman up, making sure to be ease her up carefully, nothing to bruise her new skin.

As she flustered around, her mind not seeming to fully understand her return to life, the man uttered in voice somehow filled with honesty sincerity and a smoldering venomous hatred, "Its okay, its okay. There's no reason to worry."

Slowly but surely, the woman began to calm, her green eyes looking all around her as her reddish pink hair fluttered in the night winds.

"Now, I have two questions to ask you. Don't worry, they are quite easy; First, who are you?" Expectation and eagerness seeping from his tongue.

"Ahhh- I-uhm-I am…" she clutched her head for a moment, before suddenly her whole posture changed, becoming confident, self assured and undoubtedly ready to use her good looks to her advantage, "I am the Eternal Lady, Mother of Soldiers, Queen of Connacht, I am Queen Medb, and what reward can I give to a man such as you for bringing me back to mortal plain in such as restored body?" her voice slightly cutesy but undoubtedly seductive, her charisma being so strong it would overpower and dominate most men in an instant, if only because she was doing all of this completely naked.

Unfortunately for her, the man in front of her was not such a man to fall for any seduction, especially her's "Oh no miss, there is no need to thank me for my deed, you being here is reward enough. But I must ask you my final question,... what is my name?" making sure she got a look at his face, him knowing his form was just as he wanted it to be, it's previous wear and tear restored to his ideal state, the time when he had last been with HER!

Curious at such an odd question, she decided to indulge in both their curiosity and surly look into her "savior's face. For a few moments she pondered about, trying to place why that red hair, those cheekbones, the little scar across his nose, those eyes,... those eyes….. THOSE EYES!





nonononononononoNONONONONONONONONONONONNONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!" she screamed into the night, collapsing to ground as her legs gave out in fright as tears began to fall from her eyes, finding she could not move her body, forced to be at the mercy at the ONE person she knew she could never be safe from.

"Ah, I see you DO recognize me." the man states in a patronizing tone, his hand going down towards her throat, pull her up as she sputtered from the lack of air and rapidly beating heart. "I was afraid it might have been so long that my face may have slipped your mind. I mean, you knew with, slept with, KILLED, So many people in your life, why would little old me even be an afterthought" One of his hands from her neck dropped down, then in a nanoseconds slammed into her stomach, spittle flying from her barely open throat.

"Now, my partner will soon be taking over this operation, but he did promise me as Much time as I needed for us to work this all out." He pull her closer, her eyes being less than an inch from his own, the pure malice and madness in them being so powerful she felt a stinging pain in her soul from gazing in.

"Now, let us begin this little family reunion, Aunty."

The sounds of a maiden screaming in terror and pain would echo across the land for days to come, but by the time anyone had thought to investigate it, the whole of Ireland, no, the whole world, had a MUCH more serious issue to deal with.

Meanwhile, in a much less terrifying and monstrous location(for now at least) we have two teenagers do what they do best… shoot the shit while watching television.

"OH COME ON! YOU SHOULD HAVE HAD THAT FUCKIN' THING! ALL YAH HAD TO DO WAS RUN OUT THE DOOR, AND AH BE HOME FREE! But NOOOOOOOO, YEH just HAD TO go back and look, and take a Machete to the face for your trouble, stupid Mother-'grumble grumble grumble'" Rory shouted at the screen as the Hockey masked (TRADEMARKED) figure brutally desiccated his victim's body, before wandering off to kill some teenagers having sex in a camping tent.

"'Munchmunch', I told you man, if people could think intelligently in a slasher movie, none of these fuckheads would have gone to get high at a known murder hot-spot. 'Gulp, gulp, gulp' ah, I am so glad you had some soda around here, I was dying for some caffeine." Robert yelled from kitchen, quickly devouring something while gulping down another drink.

"Yeah yeah yeah, eat and drink me out of house and home you will. I know yah haven't had anything for days but seriously, what the hell is your bladder made of? That's your 6'th freaking can, don't yah have to take a piss by now?" Rory mumbled in mild disbelief, watching his guest chug soda one after another drinks, devouring a whole ham and still having enough room to start digging through the pantry.

"When you hitch a ride across the Channel after a chase with the French police, after waking up in the middle of nowhere with barely a buck to your name, then you can bitch at me for being hungry. For now, 'munch' shut up, and let's see how else these morons will get butchered." Robert slammed back, hopping the back of the couch and landing beside Rory, a bag of chips in both hands and smile on his face.

He liked Rory, for as much of an ass he could be, he was a fun kind of ass(Oi, don't go there you pervert). He was the kind of guy who would be the life of a party, getting everyone up and dancing, meeting everyone and handing out drinks, aka, the guy he normally never once talked to. But it seems that while the young man wasn't the best with words, he seems to have some sort of indomitable charisma that just made you want to be his friend, a solid E rank maybe. The guy had, after quite a bit of prodding, been able to squeeze out a (Very much edited) story of how some loudmouth American boy had somehow wound up floating in the ocean blue with not a person knowing who the hell he was.

After sweeping him up in his unfortunate tale, Rory had offered him the chance to stay the night as a proper guest before he would help me get in contact with the American Embassy. Robert didn't like lying to him, but he knew that by the time Rory would wake, he'd already have skipped town. Not like there was a home for him to go to anyway. If a version of himself was alive in the universe then he was not about to start some warp level shenanigans. If he was dead then he'd probably be locked up and torn apart by men in black. to find out how he was here. And if he never existed, then that's just a headache for everyone.

But right now, parallel universes, demons, blood sacrifice, government conspiracies, were all the furthest thing from Robert's mind, as he stared haply into the t.v., watching the (COPYRIGHT) killer waddle after another teen, who would trip over nothing as he merely inched closer and closer.

'Man is it good to have some normalcy after all that crazy. Just sitting here, on a proper worn out couch, eating some chips(or whatever these people call them) and watching a stupid B movie. God I did not realize how long its been since I've done this.

'Technically Master, It's has not even been too weeks yet since... leaving, your previous life." a very familiar and Morse voice rings out from his head, breaking the illusion that he was just a normal kid doing normal kid things in a normal world, instead of being a freak with God knows('Please do not take the Lord's name in vain sir')... who the hell knows many mythical figures crashing in his mind and soul while he desperately tries to not go insane, and find out what the Hell he's even doing here. Nothing in life is without purpose, at least when magic and inter-dimensional wizards and all other literary shenanigans begin to appear.

'It's certainly felt a whole lot longer than 2 week. Seems like it's been like, 5 months or something. Anyway, I'm guessing if you're talking to me, our new resident to 'Robert's Head de blanka', has stopped banging at the door and you've stopped soiling yourself in fright.' Robert shot back, a fair bit of annoyance at life in general slipped into his tone as he tried to sink into the couch.

'... Berserker Diable has adjusted to his madness enhancement now, though I would suggest we still give him some time to settle in.' Sanson stated as if his master wasn't treating him with far less respect than he should.

'We're calling him that are we? Hm, I guess if you're giving him a title I was right after all. I've got an entire deck of your guys rooming in my head. Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, Berserker….' Robert trialed off as he didn't want to think of the potential of having one of THOSE servants running around in his head, looking through his eyes, his memories.

'Look, I know you are trying to keep quiet for all the other servants so they can make their own entrances, but please, tell me now, do you think any of them are dangerous… to me, of course all of your servants are like magical W.M.D.'s to everyone else.' Robert asked, trying to sneak a little humor in at the end.

'... enjoy your movie master.' and with that Sanson had, metaphorically, left the line. His silence more damning than any amount of words he could have conjured.

Feeling a little betrayed by his servant giving him the cold shoulder, Robert nearly sunk further into the oh so comfy couch, feeling his eyes grow heavy as the movie came to a close."

"'Yawn', thanks for the entertainment Rory, but I got to say I don't think my eyes can take it anymore, I'm crashing."

"Hmm, well I suppose I should sleep too, my head's been killing me lately, and a I know it isn't a hangover, that been over for hours. Might have finally caught a cold, so I'll just head to my room" and as he was about to shut the door to his room, Rory shouted, "And watch out for Stingy Jack, he's a nasty sort." before slamming the door.

"... who the hell is Jack?" Robert ideally mumbled as he passed once again into the the Realm of Dreams.

In another part of the Island of Inchcleraun, now a host to all sorts of horrid screams and other monstrous sounds.

At the center of a freshly cut tree, lay a lantern, burning a haunting autumn orange even if the harsh gusts should have snuffed it out.

And then, a voice rang out across the wind, a haunting summoning of sorts.

"Gather round boys and girls, it's story time!"

And like the pied piper, something did come. Wraiths of all shapes and sizes, of ages long pasts and of the all too recent. Some were small and frail, others withered and shaking in the wind. All though had a connection to the lantern though. They had all seen it, once, twice? How or why they do not remember, all they know is that now they come, why does not matter, they must.

Around the Lantern a twist form begins to grow and shift, stretched thin and pale, like butter over too much bread.

"Eugh, I haven't had a crowd this dead since… uuhm…. 1641! YES! I saw you twitch, that's where you saw me huh? Oh man, that was some party, I got SSSSSSOOOOOOOO many guests then, but eugh, still wasn't enough. Honestly, I was never going to have enough. If all those greenbacks hadn't left in the famine I could have done it but oh well, what's two hundred years to a fellow like me?" the Spirit cackled, a ghostly hand picking up the lantern as it seemed to grin, though without a head that was hard to tell.

"Well, I suppose if any of you had a brain to go around" pointing at the ghost of what was probably a young child, "you'd all be wondering,

'Wasn't Halloween like, 4-5 months ago?' and well normally I would even so much as had enough juice to poop out and yell Boo on most other days beyond Hallow's Eve, now that I got that Mook's power added to mine, from now on, The Season's feelings never stop so long as I'm around" and with that the lantern warped and shifted, losing it's metallic ting, replaced by an fleshy orange, the light changing shape as the spirit lifted it above himself, before resting it atop his stump like you would a crown, fire bursting from the holes, as the final transformation was complete.

"Eh, ehehe, eheheHE, EHEHEHEHEHEHEH! JACK IS BACK! AND I SWEAR AIN'T NO DEVIL, NO ANGEL GONNA STOP ME TILL I GET WHAT I WANT!" raising his arms theatrically, Jack Screamed, "All those spirits who saw me Hallow's eve. All those trapped in their graves this night, RISE! RISE I SAY, FOR THE LANDS OF THE LIVING MUST BE PLUNDERED AND RANSACKED! BURNED AND RAZED! I DON'T CARE WHO YOU KILL OR WHY, JUST RAISE HELL TONIGHT, ENOUGH SO THAT EVEN THOSE DAMNED OLD FARTS, HIDING IN THEIR CRUMBLING PALACES, WILL HAVE TO TAKE US ON! IN THE NAME OF JACK!- NO… Stingy Jack, Lets PARTY!" magical power erupting from his palms as all around Ireland, graves were busted open, cadavers lost to sea began to swim, and the the dead rose to meet their master's demands, their bodies puppets for the spirit that trapped them all with a single wink.

"Ehe… oooohhh boy that took a lot out of me. Gonna need to recharge. Hmm, maybe my partner won't mind if I nibble on his prey. Hehehehehe"

Welp, now that THAT is finally finished, let's get to the after story notes

Since this chapter used a LOT of slang, this part might be a bit long.

For those little numbers I left those were little notes:

*1: Slang for being very sick

*2: A Long time

*3: Complete Mess

*4: Home

*5: Tired/Exhausted

*6: Drunk

7: Self Righteous person

*8: Odd looking

*9: Very rude Person

*10: Shithead

*11:(this one is actually italian): F***ing Asshole


King of Savages: He's a marked man, that he is.

"You're a marked man, brother, you're a marked man, hey Get right down on your knees and pray And thank the Lord I don't have my way"

Empty Boundaries: Thanks for the compliment Senpai. Don't worry, I work to my own pace. That Aprils chapter just wouldn't leave me until I got down to type it all up.

Merlin Pranks101: Yes, I did say that, and no, that wasn't just a stupid reference to that Skyrim Meme. And no, that Living weapon of the Gods is not a servant, I want to TRY and balance some of the servants, though some of the things later down the line…. Well, then things get REAL crazy.

The Indominator: THOT Status (?#?% ?$ !*$).

Anyway Glad to see I got you laughing man, and really, it's fine, not like it's your fault or anything… right? RIGHT!?

Nemesis Jedi: Uggggh, we both really do know the depths of Gacha Hell don't we? :(

Davycrockett100: Thank you, thank you, I'll be here…. For an indeterminate amount of time. But really, glad to see I've entertained you pal.

Holix25: Glad to hear my ramblings amused you. Poor Issei… though to be honest, I'd have more pity for him if he didn't deserve it, kekekek.

Remzal Von Enili: You, one of my best friends and a Shocking amount of people on /a/ and /d/.

Soggy Biscuits: Yup, and thanks for favoriting and following.

This Chapter's Story Recommendations:

The Sword Which Ruptures Illusions: I still don't know what Touho is, but it has Gilgamesh, it has insanity, and fun so, I dig it so far.

Fate of Black and Crimson: A mixing of Regular stay night, Grand order and apocrypha, with Shirou instead of receiving the King of knights, receives the greatest, and sickest, swords'man' japan has ever seen.

Wearing Grey: A Look of how the newest Avenger would react to taking Giles place in Fate/Zero

Inaccurate Legends: Fuyuki is such a silly place

Man off the Moon: A Nameless hero goes on a journey to the Red Planet.

Next time, on Dragon-, Ah this jokes getting old.

Anyway, here's the preview(Its actually a continuation on the other line from last time's previews, didn't think this chapter would be so long). Enjoy




"... if you keep staring into my eyes kid, Either pucker up or get your butt ready for a decent whipping."

"... that's sounded wrong on so many levels. Soooo many levels"

"Look," he tossed the boy his spear, taller than he was by at least two feet, 'If you keep hanging up on every little detail, your head's just gonna burst."

"Sorry if I don't often have to say, 'So Son, what did you do all day' 'oh you know, talk to myself and get smacked in the head with a big pulsing rod."

"Heh, there might be some hope for you yet kid." a mass of screams began to push down on their position, "Least if your survive the night of Course"