14 If the 'weakest' O5 was summoned in the Fourth Fuyuki War...or is it? (B)
"Be prepared, 'cause this ride is wild."
-By Nameless Samsara Member
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Kariya felt a pounding pain in his head, and it wasn't due to mana depletion.
The main reason for his migraine stood before him with a proud look on his face.
"Ah, where are my manners? Please let me introduce myself: I am Dr. Jaaaaa-I mean Sam Dark, a fellow staff of the Foundation with a Clearance Level above Level 2, sadly driven to insanity by an anomaly, and thus, as of right now, summoned as a servant of class...Burger? Burglar?"
Dr. Dark scratched his chin in mild confusion before he snapped his fingers with a grin of enlightenment.
"...Berserker! Yes, that's it! Class Berserker! Any questions?"
For a brief second, nobody moved. Kariya's mind was numb before the obvious truth finally dawned upon him. The Foundation? Did the servant just utter the word he thought that he had heard wrong?
THE Foundation?
Then, before Kariya could utter a single word, Zouken's face broke into a sick, nauseous smile.
"The Foundation...!? My, oh, my...what a pleasure to make your acquaintance...I have so much I want to learn about immortality...fue, he, he, he..."
Dr. Dark, on the other hand, merely tilted his head to the side in the same way a scientist studies an unusual specimen and shrugged.
"You want immortality? Very well, I shall grant your wish."
Zouken's eyes bulged as his body nearly surged forward in excitement. Worms pulsated beneath his skin in barely contained anticipation.
Kariya tried to open his mouth to say something, anything to stop Zouken. He couldn't imagine what horrors that sick monster would be capable of if he did achieve true immortality.
Yet. When his tongue was about to spell out its first word, a tremendous, soul-shattering pain raced through his flesh and mind, shutting down his thoughts and making him scream in silent agony.
Zouken...! That despicable...!
The old mage, however, didn't even spare a single glance at his 'son'. He was too busy salivating over the sweet promise of success.
"What...!? Name it! Anything, I shall do anything!"
"Oh? Anything? Even your family?"
Zouken let out a high-pitched cackle, filled with madness.
"Of course! No price is too high! For the greater good! Anything can be sacrificed!"
The doctor nodded.
"Fair enough. My price shall be thus: your egoistic mind."
"...Hah?"
"Why? Don't you want immortality of the flesh? Your mind is but a small sacrifice, don't you agree? You said so yourself: no price is too high!"
"Wait-"
"You see, I assumed that you were an evil old worm since you didn't even bother to hide your nefarious intentions under a mask...let me rectify that for you. Rejoice, here comes your beloved immortality!"
With those words, the doctor peeled the domino mask from his face and slapped it onto Zouken's wrinkled skin without missing a beat. Zouken snarled.
"I have no time for games, Berserker...what the...? Get off, you damn mask...!"
Zouken tugged and pulled at the mask to no avail.
While that scene in itself was ridiculous enough, that wasn't what made Kariya gasp.
The mask's edges seemed to sink into Zouken's flesh, coalescing with his skin as the tissue morphed into a white, hardened, marble-like material. What was a domino mask a mere second ago had now turned into a grinning, ominous mask of Greekish design, like those worn by villains in ancient Roman theaters.
Kariya felt a cold chill run down his spine. Icy fear pooled in his gut as he looked fearfully up at the mask that was seemingly grinning in delight. He knew what it was. He knew it in his gut.
A white porcelain comedic mask, filled with mockery against the most humiliating tragedy. The mask of diabolical control.
"Allow me to introduce you to SCP-035-θ, The Possessive Mask-8.4.0! It is as it seems: a Keter-class sentient anomalous object, a manipulative entity capable of possessing its wearers and easily brainwashing people into its loyal servants, a mask whose sole purpose of its existence is to cause pure, unadulterated, suffering...for an unlimited lifespan as a black blob, rotting from the inside out!"
Dr. Dark patted the old worm-made man on the back with a jovial smack of his lips, jerking one finger between the old man's ribs as he continued his haunting sales pitch.
" A mask befitting your sheer obsession over immortality, don't you agree? I mean, you already look a hundred years younger! C'mon, you know you WANT this!"
His customer Zouken, however, seemed far too...occupied to reply.
"NNNOOOOOMMMMMAAAAAHHH, MMMAAAAAAHHH, IIIIIII, AAAAAM, MMAAAAAAKIIIIRIIIII!"
His screams were like someone whose throat was crammed with broken glass.
Zouken's old, broken body danced in the air as his limbs jerked up and down, left and right, in the most disturbing and erratic way possible. It was as if an enraged puppet master had decided to throw away his marionette while it was all tangled up in its strings.
Black, sticky liquid started pouring out of the mask's hollow eyes and mouth, as the mask's expression itself started to vertiginously distort between furious, jubilant, anguished, and relaxed.
The anomalous substance which poured out of the mask seemed highly acidic and extremely corrosive since it violently sizzled and bubbled when it splattered onto the reinforced concrete floor.
Seeing this horrid show, the doctor clapped his hands, thoroughly thrilled by the unusual display.
"Hmm...intriguing! A most peculiar distortion in your brainwaves! Is the corroded soul of yours the actual reason for your identity's tenacity? Or your hive mind that consists of...magically mutated familiars? Perhaps you've grown some resistance to being as putrid and rotten as you already were! Fascinating, fascinating indeed...if that's the case..."
Dr. Dark's mad rambling suddenly stopped. Zouken had stopped jerking and spasming like a possessed drug addict.
And he was staring straight at them.
Slowly, silently, the old man opened his arms. Then, he spoke.
"Hihihi...kukuku...fufu...AHAHAHA! I SHALL NOT BE DEFEATED! I, ZOLGEN MAKILI, SHALL NOT BE CONTROLLED!"
Kariya felt his stomach drop as he watched Zouken's crazed giggling in dismay. Even a servant was not enough to take this monster down? Was it too much to hope for his demise?
Dr. Dark merely rolled his eyes and shrugged.
"Yes, yes, I can 'see' that you have gotten him in your grasp, 035. It gets sort of boring after the 8'000th time. And yes, if you say no, I'll use my chains. You wouldn't like a double overwriting of personality, would you?"
"...Tch. Oh, you do break my heart, my dear Dr. Brig-"
The voice was almost alien. Deep, dark, gravelly, yet strangely musical with a most addicting touch of charisma to it.
It was the kind of majestic voice that echoes within the deepest confines of one's mind, an almost seductive voice that seemed to seep from the crevices of hell, spoken by Satan himself.
Dr. Dark, on the other hand, didn't seem the least impressed. He snapped his fingers, cutting the inhuman voice off.
Meanwhile, Kariya felt relief flood through his battered body. Could this be...could this really be...? Was he free...?
Uncaring of Kariya's dramatic mental gymnastics, the doctor wagged his finger at the masked Zouken. Or to be more precise, at Zouken's masked husk.
"AH-AH-AH! Think carefully~"
The voice sighed.
"...Dr. Dark. So...how may I be of service to you? While I do admit this Makili fellow is awfully pitiful, hilarious in fact since he is basically the antithesis of what he once strived to be, I would not dare think that this joyous experience was solely for my entertainment."
"You already know his true body, presumably hidden somewhere near?"
"Indeed. Hidden inside his adopted granddaughter. Shall I get it for you?"
"Yes please."
Kariya's mind nearly blanked out when he finally made sense of the conversation. Zouken...that slimy worm...hid his true body inside Sakura!? He...he wanted to vomit. Oh, the disgust...!
True enough, something small and fat and utterly repulsive scurried out of the darkness and to their feet. It was one of the many, many millions of Zouken's familiars. One of the many that looked like a mutated penis with sharp piranha-like teeth.
Dr. Dark -no, he shall call him Berserker from now on, the name was too ridiculous- Berserker nudged the finger-sized worm with his toe. He chuckled.
"Hello~SCP-035! How is it in Zouken's body? Cozy and snug?"
"Rather indescribable, to be honest. My consciousness within a collective entity is a most stimulating experience, and a perfect fit for me if you know what I mean."
"Yes, your hosts always decay into a blackish tar-like substance, even if it is technically 'alive'. The worms are a great substitute, I have to give the old man props for that! A 24-hour-reloading system."
Kariya cleared his throat.
His mind was still in a haze after the rollercoaster ride of emotions, buzzing with all the intense non-stop action he had experienced in that short time. However, he must set things straight.
Berserker spun on his heels and faced Kariya with a comically apologetic expression.
"Deary me! My dearest master! How rude of me to ignore your plight! Your agony! Yes, I have a proposition for you! How about I grant you a set of artificial magic circuits? 77 lines? How does that sound like?"
Kariya blinked rapidly. The things Berserker just said had caused a sensory overload in his mind...again.
"Eh, what, I, uh-"
"Oh, yes. That old man is officially dead, and the worm hidden inside that little girl upstairs is gone! You are welcome by the way. Now, what do you say? Take this chance, or keep the status quo and keep your rotting body."
Kariya opened and closed his mouth. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears.
Then, licking his dried lips, he firmly replied. An answer that would change the rest of his life.
Berserker's smile was brighter than a megawatt bulb. With a sweeping bow, he took off his cowboy hat and gestured to the empty space beside him.
"Noble Phantasm Limited Access: Here I present to you our special guest, SCP-049, The Plaaaaaaague Doctooooooor!"
A tall male, one that resembled what seemed like a 15-16th century European Plague Doctor clad in a black robe and a white-beaked mask of a bird, stepped out of the warped, lightless portal that opened up in the air.
The masked plague doctor, SCP-049 it was called, let out a weary sigh.
"Tut-tut...so much 'pestilence' in one era...the poor lambs...they need treatment."
SCP-049's golden eyes settled on Kariya. Kariya felt a great chill as he felt the doctor peer into his very soul, searching out every little nook and cranny for a possible 'illness'. He shivered.
A loud clap from Berserker caught SCP-049's attention.
"Pleasure to meet you again, doc. You see, I want you to give good ol' Kariya here some artificial magic circuits. You can create them from those worm-like familiars, no?"
SCP-049 slowly cocked his head to the side as he once more swiveled his head towards Kariya at an almost unnatural angle.
It reminded Kariya of a crow, patiently waiting for its prey to run outside of its burrow.
After a few long minutes of silence, SCP-049 finally turned away.
"Yes...but that begs the question why you are asking me to do it when you...I see. One of your antics."
The Plague Doctor let out another tired, drawn-out sigh, and nodded his head.
"Very well.", the Doctor said heavily. "As per our agreement, the Foundation won the bet, and I shall comply."
The Doctor opened his bag, from which an entire operating set emerged, tables, equipment, machinery, drugs, and all. It was as if the insides of the doctor's bag were some pocket dimension.
Sadly, Kariya wasn't given time to ponder over its mysteries.
The doctor grabbed his shoulder with surprising strength, almost ripping apart the fabric of his hard leather overcoat as he effortlessly lifted him up with one arm and strapped him onto the operating table, all in a matter of seconds.
A sharp prick on his arm was when he, at last, realized the sedatives were already injected.
"Let us begin the operation."
The voice he heard was distorted, like a whale's call from the bottom of the ocean, echoing nonstop in his skull.
Kariya could swear that the doctor gave him a most ominous smirk beneath his beaked mask, before all went black.
Nearby, SCP-035 let out a delighted chuckle. Black, sticky tears dripped out of its eye holes in joy.
It was going to be a most entertaining stay indeed.
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Meanwhile: At Chaldea, a few dimensions away
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"The Lobotomy Corporation can wait. Its roots must be pruned first. I shall 'watch', as it is my duty."
"What do you mean?"
"Worry not. I shall summon myself back here in no time."
"Oh, that's a relief-wait, what did you just say?"
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...Ironically, unseen to Gilgamesh, an anomaly occurred because of that one decision.
Or rather, it could be said that his choice was the last contributing factor. The last push for the rock of doom to start rolling.
The transdimensional multiversal roots of the empire had already found the well of nutrition that was the Greater Grail.
All that was left, was for the catastrophes to be born.
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[SINGULARITY DETECTED]
[IMPERIAL LOBOTOMY ROOT: Fuyuki Blasphemous Grail]
...If the 'weakest' O5 was summoned in the Fourth Fuyuki War Singularity (B)
Fin.
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"Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood...summoned in a foreign land...la~lala~la~...god damn fuck!"
"Tick-tick-tock-tock-tick-tock"
"Yeah, still don't know what you're saying, but thanks anyways."
"Tick-tock-tick-tick-tock"
A red hooded girl covered from head to toe in bandages cracked open a jagged, fang-filled grin, as a man dressed in an expensive black suit walked alongside her.
A man....with a clock enwrapped in stygian black flames above his shoulders instead of a head.
A metal pin with a golden Roman number engraved upon it glinted on his chest.
[XIV]
"Tick-tock."
Indeed...time was running out.
