[color=00a99d][b]Prof. Sosthenes Antaeoi Kanakaris[/b][/color]
Ryuudou Temple, 10:44AM
Interacting with: A Cute Dog [@Eklispe]
[hr]
The Greek professor sat at the top of the temple steps, admiring the view of Fuyuki’s Miyama district from on high. Somewhere down there, his apprentice was reuniting with his mother and preparing for the war to come. That was good; family was important, almost as much as preparation was. He was up here, doing preparations of his own, but for now he would relax.

Of course, this was not the first time he’d experienced this sunrise view and breathed the air of this far eastern city, nor did he want it to be his last. But a magus walks with death, and there was always the looming possibility he would never see the waves of the Aegean or the streets of London again. 

If there was any consolation, there would be no family conflict over the crest should his untimely demise come to pass - which itself was a problem, but one he was here to rectify with a little help from a friend, and a bound ghost liner. Yet for the moment, he sat here, his circuits cooling down from the exertion of ritual slicing. Unfortunately, in his failure to rapidly acquire a catalyst for a certain hero, all roles of this irregular war had been claimed by “fools and outcasts” as the rumor mill had told him. 

Sosthenes plucked the unlit cigarette - he hadn’t legitimately smoked since his daughter had been born and he wouldn’t be starting anytime soon - from his mouth and tapped off nonexistent ashes. 

[color=00a99d]“Best get started then,”[/color] he groaned before standing up from the seat, patting his coat pocket to make sure that small wooden box was still there, and crossing the temple’s anti-spirit Bounded Field. Once inside the temple, the monks paid the peculiar foreigner no mind. Not because of any particular innocuity, but rather due to the hypnotic magecraft they’d been afflicted by. Nothing as uncouth as binding them to his control - simply a basic suggestion to ignore his presence, his actions, and the patch of courtyard containing the particularly vulgar-looking magic circle.

It was an inelegant thing, warped far beyond its original structure; it was a work that should’ve taken an hour or two, extended far beyond its due in order to compensate for shortcomings. The recent death of Lancer, then, was a convenience among conveniences for the Grecian gentleman. Usurping the ritual by affecting the fallen leylines that served as its basis had become [i]that[/i] much easier. 

He removed the small case from his pocket, and cast the metal into the center of the circle. 

In Fuyuki City, there were four locations suitable for this process: the Church (Out of the question for obvious reasons), the estate of the Second Owner (No doubt protected by magical security systems, the likes of which he’d rather not deal with after such a long and uncomfortable flight. Also, encroaching upon a magus’ domain was bad form.) Fuyuki Central Park (Full of too many people and pervaded by a cursed aura), and here. The keystone of Fuyuki’s confluence of leylines. The heart of this oriental town’s spiritual ground. And below it… Well, if there was anywhere this jury-rigged ritual was to work, it would be here. 

Sosthenes took off his glove, revealing the dark bruise still emblazoned on it, and began chanting:

[color=00a99d]"Silver and iron to the origin.
Gem and the archduke of pacts to the foundation.
Let the descending winds become a wall.
Let the gates in four directions close, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom rotate.”[/color]

The professor steeled his gaze, watching the circle for response. He could feel the prana slowly draining from his circuits. There had to be something going on with the magical formula- ‘There,’ he thought, catching the glow in the waking light.

[color=00a99d]“Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).
Five perfections for each repetition.
And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead!”[/color]

With renewed vigor, Sosthenes continued. The eldritch rings burned with power, casting arcs of pure, unstable energy everywhere and creating a whirlwind that threatened to overtake everything. It was in this time the Professor hoped his Bounded Field of Censure would be maintained. But if it could handle the duel between two magi, it could handle this. 

[color=00a99d]“—————Set.
Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate (doom) rest in thy blade.
If thou submittest to the call of the Holy Grail and if thou wilt obey this will and reason, then answer my summoning!”[/color]

That was it! He could feel the mystic pass transferring energy from himself to the gathering ethereal existence. This was the final stretch. Success - or failure - all rode on the next few lines. 

[color=00a99d]“—————I make my oath here.
I am the person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades.”[/color]

Those words were not lost on him; they echoed through his very being. For a moment, determination was replaced by pangs of regret, and a profound and bitter longing. But like a cold-hearted magus, they were cast aside. There was still work to be done.

[color=00a99d]
“Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words,
come past thy restraining rings,
O keeper of the balance—————!”[/color]

Even by the light of the sun the flaring ritual overtook everything, casting the world into a moment of pure white.