[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/A0aCLDe.png[/img]
[h2]Enzio "Zed" Ferrari [/h2] 
[h3]High-Rise District, The Burbon Hotel Penthouse[/h3] 
[@Red Alice] 
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It was always fate.

Enzio always hated that word. 

Ticking away were the gears of fate that bound everyone, regardless of race, age, or class. It was an all-encompassing system. Something that could not be touched nor interacted with could determine the life of all beings. To be bound by the sins of the father and the father’s father was a concept that Enzio outright rejected within himself. It was this very “fate” that bound Enzio to his own, decrepit and failing body; it was this very “fate” that forced him to participate in this Holy Grail War. 

“Perhaps,” he thought, “here would lie the means to save myself.” 

If he could not continue, then he would perish where he was. He would not subject an heir to his Crest if it were to grant them the same fate as himself. So long as this cursed thing was attached to him, he would be bound to this fate. 

He could always give up his Crest; if he was a magi no more, he could live whatever shortened life he had left without the pain that knowledge provided him. He could exist as a normal, though likely weakened, everyday man.

But to a mage, to give up the Crest was the same as giving up the pursuit of the “truth”, and that was not something that Enzio could give up on, even at the cost of himself. 

However, if fate was absolute, there was another absolute law of humanity, and that was “hope”. To believe in a better future and to take the steps to ensure that future would materialize has the power to overturn this grand principle. If the person known as “Enzio” was destined to die anyway, he would not go out with a whimper as his Mother had but would go out with a bang. 

If his “fate” was to die, then rebel against this Enzio shall! He was mortal, but a magus, dammit! If there was no way to save himself from the sins of his family, then he would be forced to seek something that could grant him this respite: the Holy Grail. 



Opening up the book Enzio kept to his side in a leather strapped case and flipping to a random page, he spoke: 

“Is our path laid out before us, or is it something that we choose?
Are we guaranteed a victory, is success just ours to lose?.” 

It was his favorite book. Something that he was given at a young age, after all. He knew the pages by heart to the point where reading it was simply a formality, though he still continued to do so despite this. There was comfort it this book; something that he had long lost as a mage. It reminded him of something; something familiar that seemed to escape his thoughts like a fleeting ship in a foggy night, but like a scent one truly never forgets it lingered in the back of his thoughts. 

Why did he love this book so? 

“Regardless … The time is upon us. It is time for us … to begin.” 

Pausing for but a moment before continuing, Enzio made a simple wave of his cane, walking towards the “work” he had done. Into the floor of the 

“I offer upon you, o’ Demon that grants Life 
I offer upon you, o’ Angel that cedes Death
Take the offer of which I give
That Grudge I take upon my Crown 

I shall grant you life once more
I shall become the cornerstone
I shall be the anchor that grants you form 
I shall allow you to deliver me victory  

Crush together into greatness  
To our souls, we shall become as one 
Allow our roots together join 
O’ being of the Sky the end of our arrangement shall be our end 
Come from my flesh to become my weapon!” 

And thus his requiem would begin.  

And thus his requiem would end.