WhiteFrenzy

Uhh... So apparently this was supposed to be a Rework-a-Sheet entry but everything happened and then this plan never came to fruition. Instead, this will be the prologue to another sheet. But don't worry! You can read them all here!
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 4.5] [Part 5]

I could say that you'd probably want to read the previous parts to truly grasp at the weight of this one, but that's bs. Ultimately this is only optional because I think one can still treat Part 5 as a standalone stories if they so wish. I'm just saying that there's more if it interests you on how we got here.

---

“Oh, if my grief were fully weighted,
And my calamity laid with it on the scales,
It would be heavier than the sand of the sea.

Oh, that I might have my request,
And that God would grant me the thing that I long for,
That He would please crush me,
Let loose His hand and cut me off...

Then I would still have comfort,
I would revel in this pain.

What strength do I have, that I should hope?
And what is my end, that I should prolong my life?
Is my strength the strength of stones? Is my flesh made of brass?
Is there no help within me?”

— Job 6

Ebbing ever so gently, the sea of her memories looked at peace in its blue sheen.

The line between consciousness and dream was a biting thing, and she walked that line. A line that was sharp as a knife’s edge—a line that was as steep as a mountain path, carrying her higher and higher, away and away. Reality cut into her heels. Dreams scattered stars behind her closed eyelids. They all stinged the same and that ache was all that she had. It was all what she was.

“All this time, I kept it safe for you.”

Even the dull, throbbing pain of a Saint Graph slowly breaking apart couldn’t keep those words away. That was a noise the fire couldn’t drown.

Amidst the sea of her memories, the sound of hope kept ringing.

It rang, rang and rang. She knew it would ring forevermore.

And in that moment, she hated him for that.






Isabel
— ON VANITY RUINS, THE PRINCESS OF SIN —



Class: Faker
Other Classes: Beast
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Origin: Historical Fact

Height: 160 cm | 5'2''
Weight: 50 kg | 110,2 lbs

Natural Enemy: Pedro II
Attribute: Human
Traits: Servant, Female, King, Humanoid, Threat to Humanity, Weak to Enuma Elish

STRENGTH: E	AGILITY: E	ENDURANCE: E
MANA: B	LUCK: C	NOBLE PHANTASM: B

CLASS SKILLS



Camouflage —

A now discarded Skill, useless as the memories that brought its construction.

“Once, I deceived my family by allowing them to believe I’d follow their steps... I deceived my country by allowing it to think I’d forgive it... I even managed to deceive myself by believing I was made of a dream. But now—now I know better. Whatever I always was, and all of what I can still be, it will always amount to mere ashes.”

Once, at the height of this ability, lied the possibility to deceive the entire world, even herself, into thinking she was someone else—someone with a proper name, a proper history, a past that never belonged to her. A transformation that was able to emulate someone else in both heart and mind, down to their emotions, but merely because she was quite familiar with their thought patterns. It was a veil of lies that shielded her heart from the ugliness of truth, a childish attempt at denying the inevitable.

The fire still consumed them, in the end.



Independent Action EX

Even in the absence of a Master, even if under extreme duress... As long as she would be made of matter, then she would strive to indefinitely stay in this world, for she would always continue her pilgrimage of gold—her last wish of freedom.

That conviction is still there, somewhere, even after all the losses. If anything, it is precisely what fuels these newest flames that tentatively burn herself to oblivion.

“To be controlled by a bond, by a thread of hope or even by the power of a Command Seal—I’ll never abide by it. No... No one will reach out to me. It has been decided.”

Incidentally, as she lost connection with the Tree which gave her the necessary edge to almost reach proper Beasthood in the past, the ability to be summoned

Independent Manifestation

anywhere in space-time

has been now lost. What happens to her at this moment is the fruit of her hard-working efforts.



Magic Resistance C

Whatever Royal magecraft still remains in her mind from her childhood with her many tutors, it was ultimately translated into merely an average resistance to spells.



Territory Creation B

A Bounded Field that denies 「Authority」 surrounds the princess of shackles, who fought to break everything that bound people to this world—and above everyone else, herself.

Against those who derive their powers from a 「status of reigning, ruling, presiding, oppressing, beneficing over something or someone, no matter how insignificant it might seem to the eyes of the beholder,」 her mere presence as the disruption of this order strips them of their every authority and all powers and abilities they derive from this.





Pedro II, the last emperor of Brazil, with a benevolent reign that lasted 50 years. Beloved and seen as perfect by his subjects, he was born with the duty to save his homeland—a destiny he did not choose, but embraced nevertheless. His dreams cautioned him of a great tragedy, an engulfing fire that would drown his nation in conflagration, and he dedicated his life to avert such fate.

However, that was a self-fulfilling prophecy... For in his fervent battle against a fate that was to pass, those efforts created the very thing that would bring about his empire’s end.

The birth of Isabel, his eldest daughter and crowned Imperial Princess of Brazil, was a deceitfully festive occasion for the empire. A compassionate and bright child, she was the jewel of her household... And soon of her entire country, when her two brothers passed away, leaving the emperor with no other choice but to declare her heiress presumptive to the throne. And if any of them could look at the past with eyes unclouded by guilt, perhaps they could come to the realization that that was merely the improbability of life—a sad coincidence that could have brought their family together, should they were anyone else. As they were, however, what other choice they had but to believe those were the first instances of nascent embers? For there was no other way the future could have happened, that could be just called 「fate.」

Pedro II fought his entire life against a future set in stone, and in his desperation he sealed his fate. The crystallization of the dying embers of their royal authority—branches of a sacred tree named

Pau-Brasil

Andurá

—were implanted in his daughter’s body.

The Burning Tree

Pau-Brasil

Andurá

, which bore the name of their country before the country itself, served as the cornerstone of the 「authority of Portugal over the New World.」 An authority gifted by the collective will of the people to the Brazilian royalty, it has always been held by a member of the Imperial Family... However, its authority was never shared. If a child was born under its influence, they would surely covet the whole thing. In order to protect his people, Pedro II wagered that such a dangerous future wouldn’t come to pass. He believed in his daughter’s heart, just as much as he believed in his subjects. And that was his mistake—

—For she felt that day, amidst those pale flames, the purpose of her life touching her soul with feathery-light fingers. A fire that would never die.

The Origin of her self.

Downfall.

A fading memory that became a foundation—the embers of a dying tree safe within her chest, the mission to continue her family’s legacy.

A blooming resentment that became groundwork—a man that entrusted to her his most precious treasure, but never trusted her to hold it safely.

And as she grew, so grew her rage.

The birth of a self-made monster was all too obvious for those who could see the brewing tragedy from outside—but for the ones trapped in the eye of the storm, there was not a single tune out of note. The princess was an obedient little thing that did as she was told, a precocious young woman full of gentleness who loved everyone just as indiscriminately as her father did. Even her small moments of rebellion—a charity event that ignored social protocols, a favoritism for those of low birth, a loving marriage to an outsider—seemed easy to forgive. And that’s how empires are toppled down.

The princess was a creature overflowing with love—but did she really love and wish for the salvation of those people that came to her everyday just to marvel at her presence? Or every action that took, every feeling she presented to the world, was her walking down a destined path which would lead to destruction?

And was that destruction something she couldn’t foresee? Or that future was exactly what she wanted, in order to free herself and her family from the shackles of majesty?

Have she looked at her parents—trapped in a marriage of convenience and a kingdom of isolation—and noticed their gilded cage? Or has she glanced at a mirror first?

Have she noticed the very moment in which that seething rage started to boil, a rage that engulfed her entire being in the flames of resentment? Or it was so natural and so simple that it never crossed her mind to ask herself when exactly was the moment she started to see the ones she was tasked to guide with rage? And does one even have the presence of mind to ask themselves when their own subjects have become their enemies?

That was simply downfall.

And so she burned brightly like a candlelight and took her empire with her. But it wasn’t enough, the fire was still hungry... The entire world would have to be reduced to cinders as well. However, before that light could consume all life, in the moonlit shores of an illusionary world, it slightly trembled one last time, this time taking her father with them.

With eyes finally unclouded from lies, there stood Isabel—fallen beastling, coals of a flame at last extinguished—awakened from her delusions with the ashes of her pilgrimage, a mission to consume the world anew, in her hands.

She destroyed her entire world, but still stood there. She won, but met nothing but loss.

And

her heart was still beating

the fire was still hungry

...

—Ahh, so her mission to

die once for all

consume the world anew

still wasn’t over...




PERSONAL SKILLS



Self-Realized Monstrosity EX

If the Innocent Monster Skill is the quality of a Servant whose true history and existence have been distorted by the monstrous reputations and gossips they accrued across the course of their life, without concern for the actual person’s will or appearance, then what would one call when such transformation comes from within?

A Skill that denounces a delusion of abnormality or, in other words, a self-made monster.

Perhaps the real Isabel has never been a malicious creature, a phantom made of regrets. Perhaps the memories of those around her are the 「real」 her: a humble girl who simply knew how to make others feel wanted. Or perhaps, she had always harbored such darkness somewhere deep inside of her and this Skill merely amplified that negativity.

It matters not, when the end result is just one.

A monster that walks undisturbed.



Calamity Egg B

The flap of a butterfly’s wings can cause typhoons, a small ripple in a lake becomes a wave.

In other words, the potential of disaster accompanies even the smallest of beings.

By inviting tragedy by merely existing, every act of misfortune is meant to fall over both enemies and allies, for as long as they are close to her. An ability that is beyond her control, something tied very deeply to her very being—an agent of chaos, of possibility, of rebirth. Fire destroys, but fire also rebirths anew, and such is the same with her.

Isabel’s mere existence prefaces adversity, she is the prologue of calamity. But it could not be any other way—if she wasn’t a herald of chaotic possibility, she also could not be the vector of absolute freedom. She cannot stop downfall to follow her.

After all, she once was an egg, a caterpillar that couldn’t evolve into a butterfly. An Evil of Humanity that never hatched. Still, that small ripple remained, and it will always be a part of her.



Nega-Authority —

Sealed away after the embers of her Beasthood were finally extinguished by Pedro II’s suicidal attack, she relinquished this ability and is unable to access it further.

However, it will always be a part of her—something which she accepts grimly.



Blessings of the Sacred Tree E

A Skill which determines one’s connection to the Sacred Tree Andurá, the Pau-Brasil which represents the authority to rule over the land known as 「Brazil.」 Its flames were to never be shared, for such authority could break any spirit, but she once tried.

The flames ebbed and died by her own hands, and so did her kingdom. However, she still retains the possibility to connect to the tree of fire by merely being born as a member of the Brazilian Imperial family.

Isabel was aware of it. And precisely because there was still that small part of her——



NOBLE PHANTASM

—

The Nightingale who Sings the End’s Lyric Lex Aurea

—

On May 13, a simple line sentenced the fate of her nation.

From the date of this law, slavery is declared extinct in Brazil.

However, from the beginning, no one belongs only to themselves—not a single being in existence is able to belong to themselves alone, slave or not. Whenever one makes a connection, there is always something shared. Which is why humans will never be completely free.

—But she declared, “I will never abide by this.”

And thus her crusade had started.

If nursing a heart is meant to only bring pain—if having a life prevents all beings from achieving the ultimate freedom, even from their own selves—then she would fight against that to her last breath. It started as an innocent wish, but as all things in life, nothing can remain unchanged, and then even her love was depraved: because she only knows how to burn, that is the answer she reached as well.

There was only one way to free everyone. She would have to burn the entire world herself.

With an ability that consumes the flesh and mind of those inside of its domains—or that is to say, a Noble Phantasm that is the ultimate instrument of salvation that frees every living being—she fought against a predetermined destiny with the might of the desperate. Disregarding personal wishes, disregarding future consequences, merely consuming and imposing——

And then one day, in moonlit-bathed shores that pricked her feet like glass, it all became ashes in her hands. She had won, but it still tasted like a defeat.

In her loneliness, the princess looked back, at the beginning—at the time when the fire was a warm light in her chest.

Downfall, one last time.

Now, for herself.





Every nerve in her body is trembling from the force of contact, fire coursing through her veins, her body, her entire being, as her senses winking in and out of use. It hurts, but it makes her smile.

Sparing but a thought at the ones she would leave behind in a bustling Chaldea, the princess of sin tries one last time to connect with the Tree which eluded her for her entire existence. It denies her entry once again, but this time the rejection has a bitter tinge to it—it tastes like sand, it reeks of brim, it has the shape of her father’s smile as he says goodbye. She won’t allow this thing to deny her birthright any further, and by thinking that, she is perishing in searing pain.

If only she could die and leave no memory behind—if only she could drown out that voice—

Then, she wouldn’t hear that familiar ring...

“How will he give it back to you, princess, if you die here?”

The pain dulls enough for confusion to turn into irritation—if the end must come, if she must truly be destined to destroy everything she touches, then let it be over quickly. Let her forget about them all.

Her wishes, even with a Grail, are but an unheard whisper.

—Instead, what she sees is light.

---

Stranger
— IN WINDLESS LANDS, THE ADAMANT GALE —

---