[b][i][center]"I give you my right. I give you my knowledge. I give you my warning. I give you my dream."

If you will be the one who slayed the great Demon King, then make the utopia that I never could.

"Go forth and be a most splendid king of the world."[/center][/i][/b]
There is no need to narrate his life, his journey, his rise, his fall. The mysteries he wielded authority over, the intents he bore, the enemies he fought, the ideals he fought for, it is all pointless.

So then, what is this ritual that causes him to feel pulled away from the blackness? 

It is not to summon him. No, this is different. This is transcendentally different.

Shackles imposed upon him, seething chains bound to his essence. He is not the whole, he is merely an inferior shadow cast by the true him. And this shadow is not summoned, but tethered in chain. 

Consider what a Heroic Spirit is. These wonderful, dazzling heroes of ages past, they are just thoughts of men turned into something special. They are illusions, the collective sum of mankind's imagination. Thus, all this shadow is, all it can ever be, is the shadow of an illusion formed and maintained by that tool. So then, if this is the crux of that tool, a mere container for those illusions, does it have any real basis?

Do not be taken in so easily. Magi and Heroic Spirits alike, humans of now and of before, have all been taken in by this. That was the natural result, as a sacrificial ritual such as this required such. 

Ah, now don't look at me like that. Yes, this ritual's scale is certainly commendable, but that is all. It's just a typical ritual at a large scale, so any miracle it creates will be equally artificial, will be equally mundane.

Oh? You already know? Well, that saves more time, then.

There's no need to worry. Yes, I can see that goal, I can see that "everything" you hold so close. It's childish, but it's built to show people a beautiful thing, so I will extend a hand to help you reach the end of that path. I'll lend you this shadow of mine, but don't be too mean to him, okay? He's just an infant after all, taking his first steps. He won't even recall the books I've read, so you'll have to treat him properly.

Yes, extend your hand. Now here, take him, and start along that path. I'm doing this much for you, the least you can do is be satisfied. 

[hr]
[center][b]Ravana[/b]
[i]Middle of Forest, Forest[/i][/center]
[hr]
Space bends. 

The surrounding world quakes, a shudder running through it as the strain of a spell entering the bounds of rituals imposed itself upon the surroundings. Light is formed, reaching out, stretching its tendrils in greeting as if speaking in a language beyond words, to the skies that housed those it once called "friend".

It is in the center of this light that a figure forms.

It is in the center of this figure that a sound forms.

It is a roar.

It cannot be anything but a roar. It is a bellow that shakes the world every bit as much as the light does. As though sustained by the roar, the light persists, sound and light mingling together. The sound tethers it as its body takes form, as it is brought into this world.

This time, it is not for pain nor desire that this sound exists. It is not to announce the start of the war. It is not to demonstrate that he is no longer [color=92278f][i][b]He of Ten's Wisdom[/b][/i][/color], but rather that he is [color=00aeef][i][b]He of the Terrifying Roar[/b][/i][/color]. None of that sophistry matters at all. Rather, he roars for the simplest reason.

He roars because he roars.

The light fades. The roar fades. The world becomes deafeningly blank in their absence, as he, with his body formed, steps forwards and looks at the girl before him.

She is a falsehood. She is a human. She is a monster.

And just the same, he is a falsehood. He is a human. He is a monster. 

This could be the only result. Without an artifact that related the Heroic Spirit to the Master, without an artifact that related the Master to the Heroic Spirit, the only means of assignment among all those points of light in that sea of ether was the basis of compatibility. A monster who was a human. A human who had broken out of the realm of human sense. Knowing that, the man who had emerged from the light looks to the girl who had created the light. A presence of command intersects with a neutral gaze.

"So, you seek to be my Master."

It is a simple statement of observation, nothing more. Not a challenge, not a question, but merely an observation. As he gauges the magus before him, he nods slightly. 

The point at the end of this path would not be enough to reach that goal; he knows this without question. A second path would need to be carved from the terminus of the first. So, there is no sense in fighting it, as such a thing is pointless. There is no need to challenge his Master as if under some megalomaniacal lust for control. Just as the Fourfold's consort, he would flow without resistance. In a mere instant, across the link of their mental connection, the man sends the girl knowledge of his "everything". Name, abilities, Noble Phantasms. At least that way there won't be time wasted.

"Very well, then. The contract is complete. I will be the path you use to achieve your goals. In return, at some point during this war, show me something beautiful."