The Lesser Grail was responsible for collecting souls of Servants who died in the Holy Grail War, serving as the tool connecting the Greater Grail and reality's magical energy channel to activate Fuyuki City's ley line magical energy—the omnipotent wish-granter's vessel. Usually manufactured by the Einzbern family using homunculi as vessels and deployed into the Holy Grail War.
This implicit rule was basically only known to the three Fuyuki City founding families—Tohsaka, Matou, and those closely related to these three families.
Fundamentally, Fuyuki City Holy Grail War's true purpose was injecting seven Heroic Spirit Servants' souls into the Lesser Grail, using their power returning to the "Throne of Heroes" located outside the world to drill a hole in this world.
And using the Greater Grail's enormous magical energy accumulated over years to fix this hole, thereby creating a gate for walking outside the world—what magicians commonly called the "Path to the Root," the destination all magicians dreamed of, regarded as located outside the world as "the beginning and end of all things, recording everything in this world, creating everything in this world—the Seat of God." However, even the Clock Tower didn't know this truth.
Too many magical rituals named Holy Grail existed worldwide. Fuyuki City's Grail had already been numbered in double digits.
Even a certain king who'd become a homunculus Servant probably had so-called magical Holy Grails in his treasury. So in many magicians' eyes, the Holy Grail War claiming to obtain an omnipotent wish-granter was just hype.
But in reality, Fuyuki City's Grail ritual could truly reach the Root. The Grail was just a facade. Its essence was actually a gate opening a path outside the world—truly approaching Magic without limits.
Of course, even Kirei Kotomine only half-understood this, only knowing a bit from Tokiomi Tohsaka's descriptions. After all, he didn't really care about it.
"No survivors? Are you certain? No matter what, Irisviel is still your biological mother. If you want to spare her life, Assassin, I don't mind and won't object. After all, you should at least see her one final time, shouldn't you?"
In the Church's underground rest room—
Currently wiping Black Keys one by one, unhurriedly arming himself, Kirei Kotomine's lips unconsciously curved slightly. His ancient-well-calm voice carried imperceptible pleasure as he actually proposed sparing Irisviel's life.
Though already enemies, Miss Illya appeared utterly cold and heartless.
Rather, he—this Master—seemed very humane.
"As the Lesser Grail's vessel, she dies in the end anyway. Why bother with extra effort killing her? Moreover, I'm personally quite worried—what if you, Assassin, use the matter of me killing Irisviel as an excuse, then suddenly stab me in the back under the pretext of avenging your relative? I'm afraid no explanation would help then."
"If I wanted to kill Master you, I wouldn't need any excuses, would I?"
"Can't say for sure. Better safe than sorry. Besides, I'm also considering our safety. Living Irisviel can serve as a hostage. If Kiritsugu Emiya and that King of Knights survive, couldn't you and I use her as a shield?"
"Hehe..."
Bullshit shield.
What magicians' personalities were—those who understood, understood. Even alive, Irisviel couldn't serve as any hostage. Kiritsugu Emiya would definitely kill them all without hesitation. Comparatively, better to let Irisviel die quickly.
Because dead people were far easier to control than living ones. Irisviel wasn't powerless. Moreover, the Lesser Grail vessel didn't require the vessel to be alive, did it?
"Master, I don't want to argue pointlessly with you. What kind of people you and I are—we each know in our hearts. Do you care about boring things like familial affection?"
Miss Illya's girlish voice was mocking yet icy cold. You—wanting to personally kill your deeply loving beautiful wife, betraying your teaching master Tokiomi Tohsaka, deceiving your father Risei Kotomine—this thing, summoning me through compatibility, suddenly playing benevolent big-tailed wolf here.
She even had a premonition—if she said she didn't want to kill Irisviel, Kirei Kotomine would advise killing her early. If she said she wanted to kill Irisviel, he'd advise temporarily sparing her.
Her own Master seemed to really enjoy opposing her. Highlighting rebelliousness.
"Irisviel, Kiritsugu Emiya, Kayneth, Waver Velvet—any Masters I see tonight, I don't want to leave a single survivor. Leaving Irisviel a complete corpse is already for the Lesser Grail's sake. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind making her tonight's brilliant blooming firework."
If Irisviel weren't the Lesser Grail, tonight she wouldn't even leave a complete corpse.
Though still unclear about the banquet's destination, Illya already had second insurance for catching all Masters in one net. This insurance's minimum was shattered corpses becoming residue.
"But in my eyes, you're just like a tantruming little girl right now, Assassin."
Kirei Kotomine's tone also calmed down. He wasn't just because of his own pleasure. More because her strange performance in First Night's harbor battle—failing to successfully kill Kiritsugu Emiya and Irisviel—made him truly uneasy. Even though she'd already allied with Tokiomi Tohsaka to execute all Masters including Kiritsugu Emiya tonight, even he—this Master—couldn't clearly see what she was thinking.
Her initiative was extremely strong, strikes were lethal, battle record gloriously one-versus-three, proficient in both close and ranged combat. Yet assassinating Masters—her failure rate was absurdly high. Hard to believe she wasn't holding back.
"...The moment they don't withdraw from the Holy Grail War, they're my mortal enemies."
Miss Illya was too lazy to explain further. But now she didn't trust anyone withdrawing from the Holy Grail War either. Only the dead were most reliable allies:
"Kill or not, your choice. I just hope Master you don't make too disappointing a choice. I don't care about anyone's life or death—just like you don't care about my life or death at all. Fundamentally, we're the same type of people, only caring about ourselves. What are relatives? Dare you say you truly care about Risei Kotomine? We're all the same. Choices I can make are exactly choices you can make."
As her words fell, the synchronized image from Miss Illya's side cut off.
Not severing the link, but her closing her eyes. Relying on superior perception, she made Kirei Kotomine's spying ineffective—a behavior terminating the topic.
Kirei Kotomine sensibly opened his eyes, not continuing to spy.
Placing unexpanded Black Keys into his robes one by one, his expression's usual pleasure also weakened somewhat. Because now he'd finally confirmed—Irisviel was even more extreme than him. He at least only enjoyed seeing destruction and pain, feeling pleasure.
But Illyasviel was fundamentally indifferent and uncaring. She wasn't any good or evil at all.
Rather, she didn't care about order or ethics, detached from normal social creature categories.
In her eyes existed only useless and useful, alive and dead. This made him increasingly interested in Illyasviel. Like many people enjoying persuading good people to prostitution or prostitutes to virtue, this strange reverse state was quite entertaining.
"Absolute indifference, inclining toward beauty yet also toward malice. I'm increasingly anticipating seeing your expression of despair. Though probably impossible to see on your face."
Kirei Kotomine straightened his bulletproof black priest vestments, unhurriedly sitting back at the underground room's dining table, opening his mapo tofu container.
Actually, Illyasviel was wrong. They were different, because he still cared a tiny bit about his father and her own life and death. Like when his wife committed suicide before him—if these people around him were to die, he preferred killing them himself.
While Illyasviel completely didn't care who killed people, wouldn't enjoy this pleasure of destroying beauty at all. Rather, she had a strangely chilling feeling.
"However, can't see yours—can watch others'. I believe their expressions will also be quite interesting..."
Seeming to think of something, Kirei Kotomine scooped mapo tofu, his lips involuntarily curving.
Tonight would be a very pleasant night. He had a premonition—this battle's scale might even surpass the harbor battle, with more entertainment.
He couldn't judge who'd win or lose. The only certainty—Illyasviel confidence was also quite sufficient, not at all as weak and powerless as others saw her.
She just couldn't guarantee victory. Probably capable of truly engaging those two meta overlords short-term without losing. Otherwise, with Illyasviel personality, she couldn't possibly blindly meddle. She'd have long ago run back to the Church hiding under tables eating cake.
None were simple goods. Especially that Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald guy—days ago having people borrow unknown valuable items from the Clock Tower, escorted by multiple magicians, almost arriving at Fuyuki City. Though he didn't know what it was, Kayneth making such major efforts expending time and energy already demonstrated its value.
If predictions were correct, tonight would show who was the deepest-hiding old fox, who possessed critical trump cards usable at key moments to determine victory.
"Browning M2HB, Type 91 portable anti-aircraft missile, L-16 81mm mortar, Toyota Gale motorized vehicle, plus three Type 90 main battle tanks, Type 89 tracked infantry fighting vehicles, even AH-64D Apache attack helicopters—these antiques... Hiss, Fuyuki City Self-Defense Force military base armament is really this mixed? Won't logistics curse them?"
A certain snow sprite in spirit form enthusiastically snuck into the heavily guarded Fuyuki City Self-Defense Force military base, beginning her grand shopping spree.
Looking around, wanting to take everything home, even wanting to directly fly away the base's fighter jets.
But unfortunately, couldn't fly them. She lacked Riding skill. Even if she could, she'd be discovered and shot down.
So she released familiars selecting some explosives, detonators, plus certain rocket launchers, high-explosive rounds, armor-piercing rounds, incendiary rounds—small items borrowed under night and magical energy's cover in batches. Though she knew these things were useless against Heroic Spirit Servants, killing Masters was more than sufficient.
This was also why she told Kirei Kotomine—if she acted, Irisviel probably wouldn't even have a complete corpse left.
Expecting Tokiomi Tohsaka? Hehe, trusting allies in the Holy Grail War was pure comedy.
Tonight she said eliminate all Masters. She never said excluding Mr. Tokiomi Tohsaka.
Moreover, she dared assert Tokiomi Tohsaka thought the same. After eliminating other Masters, he'd definitely trouble her. Everyone purely competed for who seized initiative first.
"This quantity should suffice. In pure firepower coverage area, definitely no worse than that impolite Heroic King. If I also infuse and bind magical energy..."
After two hours of grand shopping, Miss Illya wiped non-existent sweat from her forehead. Her mind suddenly had another interesting idea. As everyone knew, due to Mystery suppression, modern weapons couldn't harm Heroic Spirit Servants. But what if she equipped these explosive modern weapons with unstable hair threads infused with her abundant magical energy?
However, this idea quickly dissipated. Because it didn't seem very realistic. After all, compatibility wasn't very high. Even if truly feasible, it needed time developing. This micromanagement wasn't achievable for her—this half-baked Age of Gods magician.
But couldn't hurt trying. Considering her hair volume...
Fully covering certain objects with woven hair threads required too much time and energy...
So just crudely throw in several thousand strands to test. What if there really were miraculous effects...
"Is this quantity enough, Maiya?"
At the same time elsewhere, the brightly lit Einzbern family castle—
Kiritsugu Emiya, having also moved out industrial explosives piled mountain-high, lit a cigarette, his gaze calm and cold.
Miss Illya didn't know—when she raided the Self-Defense Force military base, Kiritsugu Emiya had also ravaged Fuyuki City's suburban major industrial and mining districts, forcibly stealing enough industrial explosives to flatten two Hyatt Hotels.
"Rough calculations—even ordinary Grand Magician magical workshops could be easily flattened. However, where should we install these explosives?"
"Install them right here, in the castle's various corners. Saber's wrist injury—already a day passed without recovery—has already demonstrated Lancer's curse hasn't disappeared. Meaning Kayneth hasn't exited. Proud as a Clock Tower Lord, he'll inevitably proactively attack for decisive battle tonight after nightfall."
"But..."
"No 'buts.' His magical attainments are very high. Without some just-in-case measures, I'm worried the situation will become completely irretrievable."
Kiritsugu Emiya's eyes carried seriousness here. He truly hadn't expected—last night's massive explosion demolishing the magical workshop together somehow didn't directly kill Kayneth. His survival methods exceeded Kiritsugu's internal estimates.
But he wasn't surprised, because he'd already prepared for plan failure.
Plus Assassin's exit news spreading, he could almost assert—tonight Kayneth would personally bring Diarmuid to assault his stronghold for battle.
Maiya Hisau hearing this only nodded, then bit by bit began installing industrial explosives.
"You just don't trust me this much—that I can defeat Lancer?" The swordswoman eating her eighth bowl of rice walked out from the dining room carrying her bowl, frowning slightly.
"If you could defeat Lancer, we'd be eating at the Hyatt Hotel now."
Kiritsugu Emiya casually glanced at the swordswoman whose small face was stuffed full.
"That night if you'd given me Command Seal support, I definitely wouldn't have been suppressed."
"Put down your chopsticks before talking."
"Can't."
"?"
"Because I haven't eaten my fill."
The swordswoman looked completely serious, continuing to shovel rice with chopsticks. Starving on battlefields was taboo. Since fighting a high-tier match, she naturally needed to maintain peak condition.
Kiritsugu Emiya just couldn't understand why Heroic Spirit Servant condition related to eating.
You're a high magical consumption big eater with huge appetite. Eating doesn't replenish magical energy anyway.
"By the way, did Illyasviel contact you? Heard last night on another side, she and Berserker also erupted in battle. How was the specific situation?"
Regarding another battlefield's battle, though many details the swordswoman didn't know, she could still glimpse remnants of magical energy reactions.
She felt somewhat regretful. That night, needing to guard against Assassin, she hadn't personally rushed to battle heartily. She felt a bit sorry toward Illyasviel—this ally. After all, everyone agreed mutual advance and retreat. Yet every time she was endangered, the other could timely arrive. When the other was caught by Berserker for a beating, she was blowing wind and doing demolition with Kiritsugu Emiya.
This action looked somewhat like betrayal no matter how viewed. If Illyasviel had been killed by Berserker last night, she estimated even eating wouldn't taste good.
"A Heroic Spirit Servant exited in that battle."
"Bastard Berserker! After finishing the duel with Lancer, I'll definitely avenge Illyasviel. The Holy Grail War's highest-attribute Berserker bullying a magician—such combat utterly lacking knightly honor is simply despicable! (▼皿▼#)"
"...It wasn't Illya who exited." Kiritsugu Emiya looked at the swordswoman filled with righteous indignation, chopsticks snapped from anger.
Her ahoge bristling upright from fury, shaking his head.
He also didn't know that battle's insider details. But he knew a corpse remained there—eaten by insects until almost only rotten flesh remained.
"Then who exited? Rider?"
The swordswoman scratched her head. In her impression, only Rider seemed weakest remaining.
"Berserker exited. Killed by Illya, along with his Master."
"...?"
"The scene only left abundant close combat battle traces, plus some hair threads losing magical energy reactions. Kariya Matou's corpse was suspected devoured by his own magecraft backlash. Not hard to deduce—a fierce battle erupted there. Illya killed Berserker, then afterward also killed Kariya Matou."
"...You're certain you said close combat? Seriously? Illyasviel close combat defeated Berserker?"
"Theoretically, more than that. Because after that night, two Heroic Spirit Servants exited. And known Rider and Lancer both lack ability detecting Assassin. We never encountered Assassin until the end. So who do you think most likely killed the elusive Assassin?"
The swordswoman blinked. She wasn't an idiot, naturally hearing Kiritsugu Emiya's implication.
But—but wasn't this a bit too absurd? Berserker's stats were visible in the harbor battle—tanking Divine Construct Noble Phantasms and still getting up to throw them back!
His martial skills absolutely surpassed hers and Diarmuid's. Stats nearly matched current Diarmuid's. Such a monster—you're telling me a magician solo killed him, in close combat form!
Meaning Illyasviel actual hard power already surpassed hers—this strongest knight-class? She could actually crush her poor-condition self in the harbor battle?
Moreover, not solo kill—double kill. Though unknown whether Assassin was killed first or after, one night or day consecutively eliminating two Heroic Spirit Servants—just how terrifying would her true strength be?!
"However, she should already be severely wounded. She and her Master weren't monitored claiming the reward for killing Ryuunosuke Uryuu at the Church—just like last time not claiming Command Seals for killing irregular Servant Gilles de Rais."
"Moreover, wounds on Kariya Matou's body also prove—after battling Berserker, her strike killing Kariya Matou didn't even reach an adult's full-force stab."
Kiritsugu Emiya didn't know if comforting the swordswoman or himself.
"Injured? Already this serious?"
The swordswoman obviously showed some worry, caring more about her safety than injury severity.
Hearing this, Kiritsugu Emiya just shook his head, then approached the swordswoman.
Using a voice only the two could hear, he said:
"Regardless whether Illya is severely wounded, if she truly comes tonight assisting us—"
"You should know what to do. Don't leave survivors. Once her injuries recover, threat rivals Lancer. I don't want in the end we face... an Illya still breathing."
As night fell, the bustling city of Fuyuki gradually quieted down. Each faction's Heroic Spirits prepared for the decisive battle, seeking to add a few more points to their chances of ultimate victory.
Everyone understood that after tonight, whether it was Lancer or Saber who remained, the final victor would emerge. There was no longer any need to hide trump cards—victory required staking everything.
Whether through alliances, seeking external assistance, or directly enhancing the Heroic Spirits' power...
To win, one must use every means available. Either return laden with spoils or leave with nothing. Yet amid this tense atmosphere, there was one exception—a fierce-looking red-haired man who seemed unconcerned about whether Lancer or Saber survived. He sat atop Fuyuki's grand bridge connecting the new district, hoisting a discounted keg from some tavern, gnawing on a chicken leg and exhaling deeply.
This was the magnificent bridge linking Fuyuki's new district. Not far away lay the harbor and docks, destroyed in a single night and still not fully repaired.
"Counting from the first night, it's already been five days. Thinking back to when we launched that campaign against that golden flashy fellow, it feels like it was just yesterday."
The fierce red giant sat on the bridge's iron framework, sighing. To his right was a cheap-looking wine barrel, and on his other side sat Waver Velvet, whose eyes were tearing up from the cold wind. Too terrified of heights to look down, he trembled.
"This is bad, truly bad. Saber and Lancer have suddenly become the strongest, Caster keeps getting stronger too, but this king has only weakened compared to the first night. If I want to pass tonight peacefully, I can only join forces with that little girl from the Age of Gods and resist Lancer together to gain her favor. Otherwise, the final situation will be a two-versus-two battle."
"Wh-what's so bad about that? Temporarily teaming up to eliminate the powerful Lancer would actually benefit us, wouldn't it?"
Waver Velvet, nearly blown off by the evening wind, barely opened his eyes to look at the seemingly troubled Iskandar. He didn't quite understand tactical arrangements.
But given the current unchangeable situation, surely it was good to eliminate one of the strongest first? At worst, afterward they could huddle together with that mage from the Age of Gods and fight the swordswoman to the death together.
Moreover, though he didn't know what trump card his Servant held, from yesterday afternoon's conversation with that mage from the Age of Gods, he could tell his Servant possessed extraordinary confidence. So even if the current situation was dire, by teaming up with that mage from the Age of Gods against one of the Knight classes, they could establish a significant advantage through this information gap.
"Fool, what are you talking about? Setting aside how the injury of that little King of Knights will heal after Lancer exits, making her even stronger—just that mage from the Age of Gods' ambiguous attitude alone makes it impossible to figure out what she's thinking."
Iskandar, wearing a modern oversized shirt, mercilessly took another bite of his chicken leg.
The current situation wasn't so simple. The battlefield changed in an instant. This wasn't like when Gilgamesh single-handedly suppressed six people through absolute strength disparity—this was a balance between two parties. Eliminating either side would cause the other to rapidly rise.
Of course, most importantly...
"Most importantly, this king's thunder has been completely stolen! They're all blood-pumping heroes. In five days, this king hasn't had a single chance to display the way of conquest. Ending things with such a predetermined path would be too regrettable."
Yes, what troubled Iskandar wasn't the other Heroic Spirits' current strength.
Rather, he was troubled that if things continued this way, wouldn't he just be reaping fisherman's benefits without any chance to shine? Such a victory wasn't the victory he wanted.
As the King of Conquerors, others should be challenging him—how did he end up like some unknown challenger?
"If not this way, what do you want to do?! The Holy Grail War is about killing each other!"
Waver Velvet couldn't understand. Joining the siege against others to secure victory—wasn't that enough?
Whether helping the swordswoman or the spearman, the end result would still be one Knight class survivor. The current situation was that clear and fixed.
Thwack!
"Ow ow ow! What was that for?!"
A crisp flick to the head nearly sent Waver tumbling from the elevated bridge.
"To win without destroying, to conquer without humiliating—that is true conquest."
Iskandar crossed his arms and shook his head with hearty laughter. He wanted victory, but not this kind of opportunistic win. In the battle against that golden flashy king, the opponent was too crude and actively provocative, lacking the dignity of a heroic figure.
But now, those remaining were true heroes. What he wanted was true conquest victory, not a weak-defeating-strong dragon-slaying triumph.
Besides, he was no weakling. Truly speaking, he could rank among this Holy Grail War's strongest, even with his chariot down to a single bull.
"The radiant Lancer fears no one-versus-three, the King of Knights doesn't worry about others uniting even with her injured wrist. Does this king not possess the ability to challenge them simultaneously? What fixed factions and situations—rules are meant to be broken! What this king wants tonight is to conquer all challengers—not for me to challenge them, but for them to challenge me and my allies!"
To practice his way of kingship, to display his way of conquest—that was his intent!
Since whichever Knight class remained would be troublesome, then conquer and defeat them all!
Both the King of Conquerors and Miss Illya could see it—by the end of this Holy Grail War, whichever of those two survived would be a formidable existence. He might not fear them, but the problem was his lack of magical energy. With only two Command Seals remaining, he simply couldn't fight for long. So tonight, both he and she were thinking of sending away both the spearman and the swordswoman together!
"Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot! Challenging two Knight classes simultaneously is too reckless!"
Hearing Iskandar's implication, Waver Velvet lay on the iron framework with teary eyes. The opponent himself said that mage from the Age of Gods had a very ambiguous attitude. If they weren't careful, their final situation would be a tragic three-versus-one siege—a certain defeat!
"Hahahaha! My little Master, this king is no challenger."
"Those heroes are the challengers. If you don't like it, stay here tonight. With Assassin dead, you have no need to follow this king into the final battlefield's vortex."
Whoosh!
The great sword at his waist was drawn, its slash splitting the heavens. The clouds parted as thunder roared and exploded!
The Gordius Wheel descended from the sky wrapped in surging lightning, emanating fierce magical energy. The King of Conquerors bathed majestically in the electricity, hoisting the wine barrel beside him, knowing the feast's time had come.
Fuyuki City had completely quieted, returned to the epic mythological battlefield of the Holy Grail War participants.
"Idiot! Ahhh! You're such an idiot! Take me with you, idiot!"
The thin man's tears and snot flowed freely, yet he still had no intention of staying behind as suggested.
"Good, that's my Master! Hahaha!" The thunderous chariot streaked across the heavens. Iskandar laughed heartily, one hand hoisting the barrel, the other grabbing Waver Velvet as he leaped from the bridge onto the racing chariot.
Outwardly, Lancer and Saber's combat power had already separated from the rest, but in reality, who among the remaining Heroic Spirits was stronger remained uncertain. Those who survived until today without elimination all held trump cards.
This was the war the King of Conquerors anticipated—a war whose outcome couldn't be foreseen.
Everyone had a chance at victory, variables beyond counting, a war of conquering enemies where none could secure the title of strongest.
Of course, he probably didn't know that not only him, but everyone tonight had already prepared to eliminate everyone except themselves.
This was a contest of the Heroic Spirits' hidden strengths, and even more, a contest of their Masters' capabilities.
"...So why are you here?"
In Fuyuki's residential district, having just finished her zero-yen shopping spree at Fuyuki's Self-Defense Force military base and preparing to mooch one last meal from a certain red-haired boy, Miss Illya entered the residence only to see two children holding rice balls and watching TV.
She first rubbed her eyes to confirm she wasn't mistaken, then walked directly into the living room and grabbed the collar of an awkwardly cute little girl, demanding answers.
Wait, why are you still here?
Did Tokiomi Tohsaka lose his mind and send you back to me again?
To serve as a messenger between him and me?
"Caster-sama, I-I-I didn't want to come back either! This afternoon when it was getting dark, I tried to deliver your letter home as you instructed, but I didn't know which street the place you mentioned was. Then I remembered I had some pocket change, so I ran to the post office to fill out the address you gave me. Then I hid outside preparing to secretly follow the postman uncle to find Father (っ╥╯﹏╰╥c)."
Grabbed by her collar, Rin Tohsaka burst into tears upon seeing Miss Illya's unfriendly expression, frantically explaining.
As a local, she shouldn't have been unable to find her way. She completely remembered how to get home, but after so much happened last night, her memory had gaps. She'd never been to the address Caster gave her, so she could only choose this opportunistic method of finding the way.
"And then?"
"Then I lost him. It was too dark and I got lost. I couldn't find which road the postman uncle took QAQ."
"..."
Miss Illya fell silent, scrutinizing this unreliable cute little girl. So this was why Tokiomi Tohsaka dared to demand such an outrageous price.
So he never received Rin at all, never got her greatest gesture of sincerity.
But this didn't make sense. It should have been around 5 PM then. Even accounting for time wasted at the post office, it shouldn't have been so dark that she'd lose the delivery person. Fuyuki wasn't some mountain village—there were streetlights, and she could ask passersby for directions at worst. Just how incredibly dense must Rin be to get lost?
"If you didn't know the way, how did you get back here?"
This was the strangest part of the whole thing.
"Um, Caster-sama, would you believe me if I said I could remember how I left so I could return the same way, but couldn't remember how to get home?"
Rin wiped her tears and blinked. She was actually quite clever.
Even walking a route only once left an impression. Even after it got dark, she could easily return. But Miss Illya clearly didn't believe this explanation, instead looking her over carefully, sensing whether she carried any magical bombs.
With Kiritsugu Emiya's precedent, she couldn't rule out the possibility that Kiritsugu had caught Rin and turned her into a human bomb to kill either her or Tokiomi.
However, after examining her and finding no magical reactions or gunpowder smell, Miss Illya casually released her and picked up a rice ball from the table as a snack:
"Tomorrow morning, go to the police yourself and report that you're lost. I don't have time to take you."
Having formed an alliance with Tokiomi and with tonight being the final battle, Rin's usefulness had diminished. After all, her greatest use was being killed to blackmail Tokiomi. And tonight, barring accidents, Tokiomi and the other Masters would die. There was no longer any need to exploit her.
And if accidents did occur, she'd be even more useless, because by then she herself would be dead. Killing anyone would be meaningless. Better to ignore her existence.
"Eh eh eh? Is Caster-sama going to battle? So you can't personally take me home? Who's the enemy? Which Heroic Spirit? Have your injuries from last night healed?"
Rin sidled closer curiously: "Oh right, was that letter about Caster-sama forming an alliance with my Father? So now we're allies? Partners, right?"
"It's a declaration of war. I'm going to eliminate your Father's entire family."
"Σ(°△°|||)︴"
Rin stepped back several paces in shock and fear, looking at Miss Illya in disbelief, protecting her chest like she'd just encountered Ryuunosuke Uryuu.
"But-but I clearly remember that letter said..."
Noticing Rin's reaction, Miss Illya glanced at her with displeasure:
"So you deliberately came back after all, didn't you?"
"No-no way, how could that be? Caster-sama, you know me. After bringing you here, our debt was settled. How could I put myself in danger again..."
"How much did you read?"
"..."
"Three seconds. Don't answer, and I'll suppress you in Fuyuki's public toilet septic tank for three days."
"...I only read a little bit, really! There were lots of words I didn't recognize. Caster-sama, you have to believe me, this is the one thing I'm telling the truth about ?·°(???﹏???)°·?!"
Hearing the threat of being suppressed in a septic tank for three days, Rin was genuinely frightened. Crying and kneeling before Miss Illya, she honestly confessed that she had indeed peeked at the letter and understood that the snow spirit before her wanted to ally with her Father. Figuring that since they were on the same side now there was no danger, and considering what proper student actually liked school, she came back wanting to continue this epic adventure.
Of course, the main reason was she really couldn't find her way clearly. Fuyuki's nights were quite cold, and hungry as she was, even returning to her Mother would take considerable time. Better to come back for another night.
It wasn't a big deal anyway, and the food here really was quite good.
"Weren't you afraid your Father would refuse the alliance and I'd come back angry tonight and dump your body in Tokyo Bay?"
Miss Illya felt somewhat speechless.
"Not afraid! Caster-sama is a hero! The great hero who drove away the bad guy kidnapping children and saved my life!"
Rin clenched her small fists before her chest, hurriedly shaking her head in denial!
Her fondness for Miss Illya stemmed from this—both admiration for heroes from historical myths and dependence on someone who brought her light from a villain's clutches. Though this meant nothing to Miss Illya!
But for a six-year-old girl like her, Miss Illya's actions and style were undoubtedly the brave, beautiful, just magical girl that many little girls dreamed of!
Little girls idolized magical girls, mages idolized those with profound magical achievements, and the Tohsaka family creed was to repay kindness whenever possible!
Miss Illya claimed to be a mage from the Age of Gods—a cute girl with profound magic who saved her. She met every criterion!
"Turn off the filter. Move aside. Your hero is eating. No talking during meals."
Seeing Rin's eyes sparkling like she'd met her idol and was about to pounce for affection, Miss Illya mercilessly pushed her away and turned her back.
She just casually eliminated Ryuunosuke and pulled her out. Was it really worth this much? Why did it feel like Rin's filter for her included crediting Lancelot's defeat to her as well, thinking her battle with Lancelot was also an act of justice?
Everyone really did see her through rose-colored glasses. Could they all just be normal?
Besides, she really was just acting on a whim, not being kind. Her initial purpose wasn't even to save her. After saving her, she'd planned to turn her into a human bomb to blow up Tokiomi. She valued her remaining usefulness.
"Medea-sama, please eat slowly. I made plenty of rice balls."
The red-haired boy returned from the kitchen with another plate of rice balls, glancing at Rin who'd already retreated to the corner wall to draw circles in dejection.
He then placed the food before the dining Miss Illya.
"This might be the last meal. Finish early, and either hit the road early or send others on their way~"
Miss Illya chuckled, chewing her rice ball and patting the gentle boy's head. Honestly, she quite liked this child named Shirou.
Not in a romantic sense, just that compared to Rin, he was more likeable.
"Last meal? Is Medea-neechan leaving Fuyuki with friends?"
Not quite understanding the latter phrases, the red-haired boy just blinked in confusion.
"Something like that. I came this time to say goodbye and thank you for your care these past days, Shirou. It's rare that I got to rest properly."
Sensing the faint fighting spirit deliberately emanating from the horizon, Miss Illya picked up two rice balls while eating and looking outside. Of course, the main reason was mooching a meal. Kirei Kotomine had gone out to meet with Tokiomi. At this hour, this was her only place to fill her stomach.
The King of Conquerors had moved. Her familiars stationed throughout Fuyuki had relayed information. So not wanting to fight on an empty stomach, she stuffed her mouth full like a hamster.
Tonight, if all went as expected, would be the final battle. Even if she might die, she'd eat her fill first.
"It's fine. Neechan is a magical girl saving the world. Helping you makes me happy too..."
But before the red-haired boy could finish, a sudden chill at his neck cut his words short!
It was a dagger formed of silver threads—a blade that hadn't existed moments ago!
"Fooling Rin is one thing, but don't fool yourself. She might think you'd believe such strange reasons, but I don't believe children lack the ability to distinguish right from wrong. I should say I trust no one—I've always been rather suspicious."
Miss Illya stood with a cold expression colder than ice, leaning close to the now-frozen red-haired boy's ear, her ruby eyes revealing a hint of killing intent:
"I've never believed in kindness or malice without cause. Even parental love stems from blood relation and affection. So, little brother Shirou, why did you open the door to save me last night? You and I are strangers with no connection. What made you dare to let in a heavily injured little girl covered in blood? You must know that initially, Rin made no mention of magical girls. As a six or seven-year-old child whose adults weren't home, what reason did you have not to fear a stranger like me?"
Rin was foolish; that didn't mean she was. From the start, she never trusted this boy named Shirou. Because thinking it through logically, late at night with adults away, what would a normal child think seeing a blood-covered figure?
Forget opening the door to help carry them inside—being scared to tears or running away would be normal. Those with good psychological fortitude would call the police.
How could he be so calm and composed, not only providing food and drink but never reporting to family?
"I..."
The red-haired boy immediately tensed in fear, unable to speak. He could feel the knife at his neck was real, sharper than kitchen knives.
At that time, Miss Illya's external injuries had mostly healed, but many wounds remained clearly visible. His opening the door and hosting her was obviously inexplicable behavior. He'd thought she didn't care about this either.
After all, they'd gotten along fairly well these past days. He never expected it wasn't that she didn't know, but that she hadn't bothered confronting him about it before.
"Because... I felt Medea-neechan was a good person. Mom and Dad said to help good people who need help..."
When he opened the door then, his brain had crashed. He didn't know what he was thinking.
He just instinctively, fearfully and worriedly helped Rin bring Medea-neechan back to the room, then listened to the still-conscious Rin's rambling explanations. Maybe because he was too scared with his mind blank, he convinced himself using her explanations. So that night, he didn't call the police.
The next day, when he fearfully came to his senses and found many of her wounds had healed, he thought the injuries he'd seen were hallucinations from overthinking. He convinced himself these two sisters were just running away from home doing roleplay, and things muddled through after that.
But now it seemed these two strange sisters, especially this white-haired one, weren't what he'd imagined. Her aura inexplicably made him tremble.
"A good person? Just because you felt I was a good person? Are you an idiot? Just because you feel someone's good, you let them freeload and bring them into your home?"
"At school, the teachers teach us the same thing."
"Heh~ So do you think I seem like a good person now? I could slit your throat anytime, you know?"
"Yes. In my eyes, Medea-neechan is a good person, just like a good older sister."
"..."
The red-haired boy's fearful, trembling yet sincere words made Miss Illya fall silent for several seconds.
Perhaps...
Only children in this world would be this naively foolish?
The silver dagger left Shirou's neck, then transformed before his widening eyes into a delicate butterfly specimen, landing on his shoulder as an ornament.
She didn't like owing favors—even to fools—when they weren't enemies.
"Th-this is magic? Neechan, are you really a magical girl? Ah? Was everything Rin-neechan said true?"
"I'm not. Don't listen to her nonsense, and don't tell her I gave you anything. Stay away from her."
Pinching the completely stunned red-haired boy's cheek.
Based on familiar reconnaissance, having roughly determined the thunderous magical energy's destination and preparing to depart, Miss Illya gave him one final warning to stay away from creatures called mages.
Consider it payment for the meals and lodging these past days.
Finally, she grabbed two rice balls and waved dismissively with slight impatience.
"Remember—next time, don't open the door for any strangers."
"And I'm not a magical girl. Don't call me 'neechan' either. I don't have... a little brother as foolish as you, Shirou."
Deep into the night, Fuyuki City had completely fallen silent. Due to frequent gas leak incidents recently, Fuyuki's nightlife had essentially ground to a halt.
The bright moon illuminating the night sky cast its light into the mist-shrouded Einzbern forest. The cold night wind blew, making people shiver. Occasionally, thunder could be heard roaring in the sky and forest, causing the weakened white girl in Einzbern Castle to collapse on the floor, looking toward the bright, eerie view outside the castle windows.
The magical detection barrier had been breached. An unknown powerful presence, not concealing its magical reaction, was rapidly approaching through the Einzbern family's forest territory.
"So they've come..."
The somewhat exhausted white girl felt the barrier's tremors, leaning against the wall and gazing outside while murmuring.
Thunder rumbled from the distance into the castle. The intruder made no attempt to hide their approach.
Or rather, hiding was pointless. Every mage's stronghold—like Tokiomi Tohsaka's simple magical workshop—had detection barriers deployed. Unless the master actively opened the door, even an Assassin with Presence Concealment could hardly enter silently without destroying the barrier's core. This was precisely why almost all participating mages refused to leave their lairs before Assassin's elimination. Only within their own magical workshops could they prevent ambush-style preemptive strikes.
"Are you alright, Iri?" Having finished checking the industrial explosives placed throughout the castle.
Kiritsugu Emiya heard the commotion and immediately came to the castle's main entrance on the second floor.
Supporting the weakened white girl, he observed the misty forest outside with night-vision goggles.
"Planning to break through the castle's front openly? That does fit Lancer and his Master Kenneth's style. Maiya, you protect Iri and leave through the back door first..."
"It's not Lancer. This completely unrestrained attitude—the approaching enemy is Rider."
Irisviel waved her hand as if fine. As an Einzbern homunculus, her control and perception of the castle's barrier was unquestionably the highest authority. Even though many magical defenses were destroyed in the battle with the black mage, she could still identify tonight's visitor.
Hearing this, Kiritsugu didn't doubt her, only frowning slightly in confusion.
"Rider? Has he allied with Kenneth?"
Neither he nor the swordswoman knew about the Heroes' Banquet, so tonight they'd only prepared for the spearman. At most, they'd anticipated Illyasviel might join the battle. Thus, Rider's visit was quite puzzling.
After all, given the current situation, Rider was undoubtedly the weakest. His Noble Phantasm mount was greatly damaged, and he had barely two Command Seals remaining.
With such strength, the best choice was clearly continued observation. Coming to this high-level battlefield risked elimination from aftershocks alone.
"If it's only Rider, there's no need to worry. He might be seeing the situation and coming to ally with us, planning to eliminate Kenneth first. According to collected intelligence, his Master Waver Velvet doesn't have a good relationship with Kenneth. Even the holy relic for this Holy Grail War was stolen by Waver from Kenneth's office."
Maiya Hisau touched her chin expressionlessly, stating her thoughts. Plus, Rider was approaching openly and publicly—how could that indicate malicious intent?
"That possibility can't be ruled out. Iri, you and Saber go greet him at the gate."
"Maiya and I will hide in the shadows. If anything seems wrong, I'll guard against Kenneth's assault or shoot Waver Velvet."
Irisviel nodded while worriedly instructing her husband to be careful.
She headed toward the swordswoman frowning slightly at the staircase entrance, following her down to the first floor.
Rider's arrival disrupted some of their original deployment. No one expected the first to enter Einzbern territory would be someone seemingly unrelated to everyone. But the Holy Grail War was like this.
No one knew whether tomorrow or accidents would arrive first, so Kiritsugu didn't worry excessively. He just glanced at the four crimson Command Seals on his hand, checked his prepared firearms, and quickly entered the castle's shadows with Maiya.
Rumble rumble rumble rumble rumble!
Whinny!
The iron chariot charged straight through the opened castle gates. The King of Conquerors moved quickly, reaching his destination within minutes of detection and driving his chariot into this magnificent castle's front hall!
"Yo! Saber, I heard you have a castle, so I specifically came to see it. But what a lifeless place—so huge yet harboring barely a soul."
The Gordius Wheel stopped in the hall. Seeing the white girl and armored swordswoman descending from the second floor, the King of Conquerors enthusiastically waved in greeting.
The swordswoman protected Irisviel behind her, watching the domineering, fierce giant king with suspicious and unfriendly expression.
"Rider, what are you doing here? Tonight is when Lancer and I settle our grudge. I'm not planning to fight you for now..."
"Huh? Why are you still wearing that mood-killing armor? Didn't that mage girl from the Age of Gods inform you? Tonight at the very least you should change into fashionable modern clothing. Otherwise it'll be as stiff and boring as drinking in ancient times."
"?"
Watching the King of Conquerors pat his broad white modern shirt, the swordswoman's ahoge nearly turned into a question mark. What did he mean by Illyasviel not informing them?
Wait, what happened now? Why did it feel like they were isolating her?
The Holy Grail War was such a serious matter, and it was late at night—why wear modern clothing?
Just because she hadn't fought with them for one day, they'd already expelled her from this Holy Grail War's Heroic Spirit social circle?
"King of Conquerors, what are you talking about? Since defeating that rule-breaker, I haven't seen Caster at all. How could she have informed me you'd visit tonight?"
"Oh~ So it seems that girl from the Age of Gods really was severely injured, not even having time to notify you, her ally."
Iskandar stroked his chin, seemingly confirming his judgment that Miss Illya's injuries were worse than imagined. Even with her terrifying magical reserves, after a full day and night of rest she showed no signs of recovery.
Otherwise, given her noble and reliable character, there was no way she wouldn't coordinate with the swordswoman.
"Il... Caster is injured? What happened? Is she badly hurt?"
Hearing this, Irisviel immediately tensed, her face shifting from weakness to obvious worry. This was clearly her first time hearing about Miss Illya's injury.
"Winning a gorgeous close-combat battle against that Berserker of unparalleled martial prowess at the pinnacle of his era—being injured is natural. Too bad you didn't come watch that night, Saber, or you'd probably have your jaw drop at that mage from the Age of Gods' technique."
Without revealing information suggesting Miss Illya might use some advanced spirit-channeling technique.
Iskandar just looked meaningfully at the worried Irisviel, then swept his gaze over the surprised but seemingly already-aware swordswoman.
How strange. Logically, this news wasn't some great secret. Anyone spending time investigating the site could learn it. Why would someone in the same faction—Irisviel—not know that mage from the Age of Gods fought Berserker to the death, while the swordswoman knew? Were these two not sharing intelligence?
"Caster's strength is astonishing. I even suspect she didn't use full power against me at the harbor battle."
The swordswoman gently patted Irisviel's back, her expression unchanged. Though she'd already learned this shocking intelligence from Kiritsugu and had it personally confirmed tonight by another Heroic Spirit, it stirred unusual thoughts in her heart.
A sense of wariness.
Wariness of Illyasviel.
She couldn't confidently say she'd definitely defeat Berserker, yet Illyasviel had won.
As fellow Heroic Spirits seeking the omnipotent wish-granting device, not feeling crisis awareness and vigilance was impossible. This was normal human psychology.
"However, you still haven't explained your reason for coming. If you continue evading the question..."
"Well, noble King of Knights, didn't you see this King of Conquerors' wine barrel? If we're not here tonight to invite you to drink together, are we here to fight you?"
"!!!"
"Of course, fighting isn't impossible either. Only, last night I already made an appointment with that snow-white little kitten. Breaking the appointment wouldn't befit a knight's honor."
Unrestrained, carefree laughter echoed from outside the distant doorway—magically amplified.
As the magical barrier was completely destroyed, this Holy Grail War's most accomplished mage and currently strongest Heroic Spirit followed the King of Conquerors' footsteps in arrival. That was a handsome man in an expensive modern black formal suit, whose mere distant glance would entrance countless women with his elegance and charm.
His shoes and black trousers were Fuyuki brand names, his suit custom-tailored by London professional tailors. This outfit alone could purchase a modest property in Fuyuki.
The blonde man walking ahead was even more so. Though his clothing appeared the same as previous days, it had clearly undergone various magical modifications.
Not quite reaching Mystic Code level, but fully capable of letting this blonde man withstand non-fatal attacks from third-rate Heroic Spirits.
This was an elegant, refined master-servant pair. Rather than participating in the Holy Grail War, they seemed more like nobles touring the countryside. Not a trace of killing intent, only admirable nobility.
"Lancer...!"
The swordswoman's heart rang alarm bells, especially seeing Kenneth casually and unhurriedly destroy the magical defenses around Einzbern Castle. She immediately manifested her wind-shrouded invisible sword with vigilant wariness.
Not that she lacked manners, but her instincts gave warning!
Diarmuid had grown stronger again—and not through simple magical enhancement!
His strength had risen another level. That inexplicable danger now approached Gilgamesh from the harbor battle!
But how was this possible? What was going on? Did everyone actually keep getting stronger while only she couldn't wrap her head around it and just knew how to eat?
This wasn't scientific or magical. Logically, once Heroic Spirits were summoned, their combat power was basically fixed by their Spirit Origin. So why did Illyasviel and Diarmuid have different strength levels daily like updating game patches?
"Don't be nervous, Saber. Before the banquet ends, neither my liege nor I wish conflict with you."
"Though Kiritsugu Emiya has entered mine and my liege's must-kill list, since this is an invitation from that noble little kitten and the King of Conquerors, my liege is willing to show respect and face to a mage from the Age of Gods' pinnacle."
Following behind the proud blonde mage, Diarmuid helplessly spread his hands, serving as his Master's mouthpiece. After all, Kiritsugu and the swordswoman's dignity could be ignored—the Magus Killer didn't deserve courtesies.
But whether the King of Conquerors Iskandar or that mage from the Age of Gods—
Both he and his Master would show appropriate respect, especially his Master as a modern genius mage, who especially didn't want to leave a petty impression before a mage from the Age of Gods.
"Banquet? Caster? What happened last night? Why haven't I heard a single whisper?"
The swordswoman frowned slightly in incomprehension. Even Kiritsugu hidden in shadows was confused, like they'd fallen out of sync with the current meta.
"Alright, stop standing there. Lead the way. Isn't there a suitable courtyard for drinking? This broken castle—how long since anyone cleaned? Dust everywhere and so stuffy. How can we drink heartily? That girl from the Age of Gods not informing you is quite unexpected. The grand banquet between heroes without even preparing food—how melancholic~"
He surveyed the lifeless surroundings. Such a huge castle housing only two or three people was truly wasteful.
And the swordswoman still wearing armor was too stiff. Even without buying clothes, manifesting a new dress with magical energy shouldn't be difficult.
Kenneth, entering the doorway, pulled out a handkerchief to cover his nose as if disgusted. He'd give face to the mage from the Age of Gods, not to others.
"The castle is decent, though flashy without substance. The so-proud homunculus family founded by the Third Magic user's disciple has truly declined over these years..."
Kenneth glanced at the thin, impoverished man hiding behind the King of Conquerors, seemingly too afraid to appear before him.
He truly couldn't understand what this fellow feared. As his student, couldn't he show some backbone? Bringing out the masculine courage from that harbor battle night wouldn't kill him. Being so frail and timid was utterly disgraceful.
"After this Holy Grail War ends, prepare to file leave paperwork at the Clock Tower."
"I... Instructor, I believe I haven't..."
"Stealing holy relics, defying instructors—return afterward for six months' suspension to clear your head before reporting to me. Speaking to me now just wastes my time."
The blonde man turned his head disdainfully, not even bothering to look at the thin man again.
With even a mage from the Age of Gods participating in this occasion, he was too lazy to lecture this disappointing student further. Six months' suspension to think things through—if still clueless, continue the suspension.
Damn, daring to publish a paper on "Bloodline Irrelevance in Magecraft" at the Clock Tower—he truly couldn't fathom what filled that brain.
Forget whether he as Archibald family head would acknowledge such nonsense from a mere student—even if a Crown mage wrote such a paper, any Clock Tower Lord would smash it in their face and curse them out thoroughly.
Irisviel and the swordswoman exchanged glances. Not quite understanding the conflict between them, they could only observe. Both could see the blonde man's disdainful dissatisfaction toward the thin man.
But... what did "suspension" mean?
This was the Holy Grail War, right?
What did "file suspension paperwork after returning" mean? Weren't they supposed to fight to the death?
They couldn't quite grasp this master-student relationship, because the blonde man's words implied Waver Velvet could...
"Does Lord Kenneth believe he can leave this Holy Grail War with his student unscathed?"
"?"
A playful girl's voice just fell!
The next moment, the entire sky outside the gate filled with white transparent knight-bird flocks! Hundreds upon thousands of familiar legions manifested from the night sky, like a princess's traveling escort opening a path!
They gathered and circled, forming a gorgeous beautiful bridge in the night sky. Surging magical power faintly revealed—a terrifying, limitless magical reaction surpassing everyone present, including Diarmuid!
"Illya..." Irisviel descended the steps, seeing the spirit walking upon the beautiful night sky outside the hall window, murmuring audibly only to herself.
"The Holy Grail War has no rule requiring fighting to the death. It's merely a rural magical ritual. Every mage qualified to study at my Clock Tower is Clock Tower property. If possible, I naturally hope Clock Tower assets don't suffer losses in some backwater magical ceremony."
Kenneth snorted coldly, also raising his head slightly to see the beautiful, pure white girl descending from the bridge in the night sky.
That was a girl in white gold-trimmed dress and white thigh-high boots, beautiful as a snowy night princess, stealing all the night sky's splendor—a captivating, holy maiden.
She was beautiful, like a gentle princess, both mischievously charming and tenderly kind.
Though she probably truly was a princess. Medea, the mage of highest magical achievement from the Age of Gods.
The princess of Colchis in Greek mythology, disciple of the goddess Hecate.
This was his deduced information. Though unclear why she might have some connection to the Einzbern family, she closely matched that legendary Witch of Betrayal based on certain Church information.
This was intelligence rewards from the Church after defeating the black mage.
After all, insufficient merit only earned minor intelligence. This information was something he'd only recently exchanged from the Church to ensure absolute certainty—about this afternoon. Combined with her proficiency in spirit-channeling and apparent knowledge of Jason, even seeming aware of Jason's unseemly past—
He was eighty percent certain she was Medea, probably from before meeting that legendary Jason, when her personality hadn't twisted excessively.
"Hahahaha! You're too late! We almost started drinking already. And your procession and new outfit are way too grand, Caster."
Iskandar patted the stunned Waver's head.
Laughing heartily in welcome while feeling somewhat surprised and amazed that she could simultaneously control nearly a thousand familiars with such terrifying magical power and manipulation.
This wasn't merely dozens or hundreds—but nearly a thousand familiar legions.
Such numbers used for combat conquest could drown even ordinary third-rate Heroic Spirits under fire coverage rivaling certain Noble Phantasms.
Yet she merely used them to pave a path. This was undoubtedly a declaration.
Also a military deterrent warning others not to underestimate her or target her first.
"Banquet, banquet—how can it be called a banquet without food?"
Over a dozen knight familiars carrying pudding and cakes freshly looted from supermarkets slowly descended.
Miss Illya faced the people with varied expressions, performing an elegant curtsy.
"Good evening, Uncle King of Conquerors, very handsome weapon-rack big brother, amazing King of Knights big sister, Mr. Waver Velvet, Lord Kenneth... and the annoyingly presumptuous overfamiliar shrimp-head Mrs. Irisviel."
In the garden atop Einzbern Castle, the azure glow of magecraft illuminated the night.
Four heroic spirits arrived one by one and took their seats—though "seats" wasn't quite accurate. The two kings, Iskandar and the knight girl, sat facing each other on the ground, while Diarmuid and Miss Illya, the knight and princess, positioned themselves at the garden's edges, keeping their distance from the others. They naturally divided into two factions based on status and personality.
One side consisted of ancient kings, the other of legendary heroes. While they weren't completely incompatible, maintaining some separation seemed prudent.
Miss Illya especially didn't trust this group. With her mediocre stats and severe injuries, sitting together with three Knight-class Servants would be suicide.
Her injuries were too serious—that afternoon, she could barely walk, and even using cards still hindered her. It was like a Kamen Rider changing belts; the transformation doesn't erase the user's wounds.
If the situation hadn't become so critical that a victor needed to be decided, if her injuries wouldn't heal before the war's end, if Berserker's elimination hadn't disrupted her plans, she wouldn't have come at all. She'd prefer staying behind the scenes, watching the show and beating up other Servants' Masters.
Of course, assassinating Masters was basically pointless now. Jack the Ripper's card had shattered, and her Assassin-class Presence Concealment wasn't even B-rank.
Plus, the Masters who'd survived this long were all cunning. Waver Velvet never strayed more than five meters from the King of Conquerors. Attempting assassination at this stage would just be asking for a beating.
Early setbacks had created late-game problems. Her only options were gambling on an opportunity or slowly dying.
Either lose everything or win it all.
"They say the Holy Grail is destined for the most worthy, and the conflict in Fuyuki City is a magical ritual to select that person. If it's just a selection process, there's no need for bloodshed—the heroes need only understand each other's character to find the answer."
Glug glug glug. A ladle of wine went down smoothly as Iskandar, sitting in the garden's center, casually grabbed a plate of cookies.
He opened the banquet with familiar ease, his gaze sweeping over the heroes with their varying attitudes.
"So you still intend to persuade us to give up the Grail and hand you victory, King of Conquerors?" The handsome man in a suit chuckled as he picked up the conversation, livening the atmosphere.
He had little desire for an omnipotent wish-granter. The moment his lord Kenneth successfully summoned him, his wish had already come true—fighting alongside his lord, facing difficulties together. Whether he died in battle or won in the end no longer mattered.
That said, he naturally wanted to present his lord with victory. As long as his lord hadn't given up, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne would stake his life and use every last ounce of strength to deliver the omnipotent wish-granter.
"No, just questions. Since we're all heroes celebrated by history, we should decide through wisdom as well as might—to determine who truly deserves the Grail as a far-sighted king."
Iskandar scooped another ladle of wine, shook his head with a smile, and casually tossed it toward the handsome man.
The ladle traced a graceful arc through the air. The handsome man merely extended his hand and caught it steadily, not spilling a single drop.
His sharp gaze locked onto the King of Conquerors as he boldly downed the wine in one gulp.
"Shall we question with wine?"
"Question with wine."
The two heroes exchanged smiles as the ladle traced another arc through the air, landing precisely back in the wine barrel.
"Eat and drink as you please. Conqueror Uncle brought wine, King of Knights Big Sister provided the venue, but Weapon Rack Big Brother, coming empty-handed really makes you look like a freeloader."
Sitting on the flower bed steps, swinging her white boots, Miss Illya savored a convenience store pudding while offering commentary. As the saying goes, you shouldn't visit empty-handed.
She'd come prepared for a feast, but Diarmuid brought nothing but himself, which disappointed her immensely. The Clock Tower's Lord couldn't possibly be short on money.
At minimum, he should've brought some premium food—like one of those robust oxen pulling the divine chariot. If he'd brought something similar for them to butcher and make hotpot, she couldn't even imagine how delicious it would be.
"Hahaha! If the venue had been decided in advance, my lord and I wouldn't have been stingy with wealth. But I didn't expect the banquet's location to be Einzbern territory. Just keeping up with the Conqueror's chariot exhausted me—where would I find time to shop for drinking snacks along the way?"
Diarmuid spread his hands with a helpless smile, detecting the Age of Gods magus's dissatisfaction. He hadn't expected this opponent to be not just a kitten who knew magic, but a very gluttonous kitten at that.
This was the truth. Neither he nor his opponent likely received notice of the venue—both simply followed the King of Conquerors' deliberately released magical energy. While the opponent had a familiar army for shopping, he and his lord had pushed themselves to their limit just keeping up with the Conqueror's chariot. One moment's inattention could mean losing their target and missing the appointment.
"More like, your familiar army is quite convenient—keeping pace with Rider's chariot while having time to raid a 24-hour convenience store."
"Watch your words, Weapon Rack Big Brother—I paid!"
That's borderline slander! What do you mean "raid"? I paid, okay!
On the way here, Miss Illya's familiars had discovered some thugs led by someone calling himself "Fujimura" or something, collecting protection money and bullying people. Out of justice, she'd robbed their wallets and then happily went shopping at the supermarket.
She could've not paid, but to maintain the Mystery of magecraft, she couldn't have her familiars openly rob a convenience store with so many people around.
"Well, little kitten, you really can't take a joke~" Diarmuid chuckled again.
"My hostility toward the wealthy is quite high right now, especially seeing that designer suit you're wearing, Weapon Rack Big Brother. Makes me want to knock you down and steal your bank card."
Miss Illya could tell the clothing Diarmuid wore wasn't simply spirit dress materialized from magical energy.
Her smile carried a hint of malice. Comparisons really were odious—it had been almost five days since the Grail War started, and her Master Kirei Kotomine hadn't given her a single cent, treating her purely as a free-range Servant.
"Looks like little kitten has made her choice. Though that's understandable."
"This isn't making a choice—I never had one to begin with, did I? From my perspective, they're all the same anyway, so why not join the weaker side?"
"...Little kitten, what makes you think that? Just from the battle against the rogue Servant?"
"Not at all. It's because you and Mr. Kenneth predicted the final battle would be two-on-one, even three-on-one, yet still dared to come. That makes it hard not to guess that you, Weapon Rack Big Brother, have enough confidence and capital to become the second dragon, like that rude Golden Sparkle Big Brother at the harbor battle."
"Well then, little kitten certainly thinks highly of me..."
Diarmuid and Miss Illya both smiled. Their banter was merely confirming allegiances, confirming they stood on opposite sides.
"Little kitten, aren't you afraid that after defeating the second dragon, a third will appear?"
"At least before that dragon is born, she's still harmless."
Their conversation—both vague and clear—left the knight girl confused.
Weren't they just joking about why the lancer didn't bring food?
How did it suddenly jump to choosing sides and Diarmuid being a second dragon and a third dragon appearing?
Taking a bite of pastry, the knight girl frowned slightly at the two with their odd attitudes. Regardless, Illyasviel should still be an ally, so if battle broke out next, she would join forces against Diarmuid...
Actually, she didn't think it necessary. With four Command Seals, she believed she could match Diarmuid. If possible, she'd prefer a one-on-one knight's duel rather than ganging up on him...
"Hahaha! As it should be! So Lancer, your wish is to fight to the end alongside the lord you serve?"
Having listened to their exchange, Iskandar laughed heartily and scooped another ladle of wine, glimpsing that absolute sincerity in the lancer's resolute and desireless will—the contentment of a fulfilled wish.
"You could say that. I seek nothing from the Grail. My only wish is to dedicate everything to my lord, regardless of the final outcome."
Diarmuid openly acknowledged his wish. Precisely because of this, he would never hand over the omnipotent wish-granter unless his lord commanded him to surrender victory. Otherwise, this life existed solely for Lord Kenneth.
The blonde man standing in one corner of the garden couldn't help but snort.
Just pretty words. Though as his Servant, at least this mindset didn't disgrace him as a Clock Tower Lord.
After all, this so-called Holy Grail was just a boring magical ritual from the Far East countryside. Such things? He could have as many as he wanted.
Ultimately, it was just an accumulation of magical energy, a large mana block. Given time, he could even craft one by hand. Risking life and death for such a thing just showed the level of magi in this backwater.
Since becoming a Clock Tower Lord, he'd heard of or personally witnessed at least eight or ten Holy Grail magical rituals. Its value couldn't compare to a mana furnace—a worthless product. Bluntly put, Fuyuki's Grail claiming to be an omnipotent wish-granter was purely laughable. Those in the Clock Tower who knew of it treated it as a joke. Otherwise, he wouldn't have initially paid no attention to this ritual, treating it merely as academic credential-building.
"An omnipotent wish-granter—ridiculous! If I wished to reach the Root, could a mere Grail accomplish it?"
"If I wished to become a Magician, what would this so-called omnipotent wish-granter do?"
"There's no such thing as an omnipotent Holy Grail—just countryside magi's self-delusion. If I wanted, with just a bit of time, I could construct a Holy Grail War system at the Clock Tower, even spend years creating a Grail myself. But even then, I wouldn't dare call my creation an omnipotent wish-granter. Some absurd magi are truly arrogant."
Kenneth crossed his arms and sneered in a certain direction—a gaze from the shadows in the distance, undoubtedly Kiritsugu Emiya.
Honestly, while he was angry at Kiritsugu's dirty tactics, he felt more mockery toward these countryside magi. The Einzbern family was once a great house, yet now they'd fallen to hiring a Magus Killer as reinforcement.
Truly, mixing too long with countryside magi had made them forget their original ideals.
However, he didn't notice that after his words, Irisviel's complexion paled imperceptibly.
"Disdaining the omnipotent wish-granter yet wanting victory—truly an arrogant Master and Servant~"
Iskandar couldn't help but sigh, then smiled with helpless understanding, tossing the wine-filled ladle toward Miss Illya, who was savoring her third pudding and seemed indifferent to the conversation.
He grabbed another plate of cookies, crunch crunch, tossing them into his mouth:
"So what about you, Caster? Still yearning for happiness, wanting to use the Grail to realize a happy life? If so, you really could join my army—making subjects happy is a king's duty."
"?"
"?"
"?"
Diarmuid, the knight girl, and Irisviel all turned to look.
The knight girl and Diarmuid were surprised that Miss Illya had such an ordinary wish, and even more surprised that Iskandar knew her wish—apparently the two had private negotiations others didn't know about.
Irisviel, however, was completely stunned, staring blankly at Illyasviel, her eyes flashing with regret, sadness, and overwhelming guilt.
"Why are you all looking at me? Everyone's the same—we all have desires and regrets from life that we plan to fulfill in the Grail War, right?"
Catching the tossed ladle, Miss Illya was unconcerned about revealing her lifelong wish.
She wanted happiness. Survival was the process, and to survive, she had to kill all enemies in sight—because these Servants also wanted to kill her to activate the omnipotent wish-granter. Everyone had been mortal enemies from the start.
"Conqueror Uncle wants a human body to freely operate in the present world, to challenge heaven and earth with his own flesh, pursuing his conquest and executing his way of hegemony. That wish is equally ordinary and common—following his heart based on his era and life. I lived unhappily in life, so wanting happiness through the Grail War is perfectly normal."
"Ill...Caster..."
Irisviel listened with heartache to Miss Illya's indifferent, flat explanation.
She didn't dare imagine what hardships the girl had suffered in life to make her cling to such a simple wish even in death. Servants answered summons not just through catalysts and compatibility, but primarily because the Servant was willing to respond and had a wish to fulfill.
This was the same principle as the Greater Grail selecting Masters for the Grail War—those without strong obsessions weren't chosen. The same applied to Servants.
In other words, Illyasviel's desire for happiness had become a deep-rooted obsession, causing her to accept the Grail system's summons because of that obsession.
"Irisviel Big Sister, please leave me alone. You're really too familiar and really annoying—just like your husband, that Magus Killer."
Miss Illya frowned slightly, using a finger to dip into the high-proof alcohol in the ladle and taste it.
Spicy. She really couldn't understand why these heroes liked drinking, especially without proper drinking snacks. Drinking hard liquor with just small pastries seemed impossible to stomach.
"I'm sorry, Caster. What I meant was, you're still young and shouldn't drink this kind of alcohol..."
"Can you shut up? Who do you think you are? Are you taking my apparent age as my actual age? We're allies with an equal relationship. It's not your place to control me, Irisviel Big Sister."
Glug, glug, glug.
Before Irisviel finished speaking, Miss Illya defiantly downed all the liquor in the ladle. With the atmosphere built up to this point, how could she not drink?
It was just alcohol. A Servant's body was composed of magical energy and spirit origin—she could drink a thousand or ten thousand cups without issue. How could she refuse here like a child?
"You've already chosen whether I'm enemy or friend. Kiritsugu Emiya and I are the same, aren't we?"
Ignoring Irisviel, who seemed internally shattered and dazed, Miss Illya calmly wiped her mouth and tossed the ladle back to Iskandar, who seemed puzzled yet interested.
Her face suddenly felt hot. While her consciousness and thoughts remained clear, her body inexplicably developed a burning sensation.
"Caster, you're going too far."
"Iri heard you like sweets, so she bought several boxes of snacks and desserts to stack in the castle, waiting for you to come taste them."
The knight girl also frowned slightly, experiencing a sense of déjà vu from when Mordred used to defy her—that rebellious feeling. Only now she was the conflict's observer.
"Am I too much, King of Knights Big Sister? Aren't the people who have to manage everything more excessive? We're equals in an allied relationship, not me being so scared that I've sold myself out. I can't accept this kind of mid-war concern—in my view, it's just an excuse for self-comfort."
Toward the knight girl, Miss Illya's attitude remained decent—after all, the girl still had plenty of utility value, while Irisviel had little remaining value.
She curved her lips into a kind smile, formally and politely apologizing to Irisviel, though the apology looked perfunctory no matter how you viewed it.
But given their alliance and her status, the knight girl could only take a deep breath.
She consoled herself that at least compared to Mordred, Illyasviel would acknowledge her mistakes rather than stubbornly fighting her parents to the bitter end.
"Seems like you, little girl from the Age of Gods, have quite a complicated relationship with that Einzbern lady? Could you have lived from the Age of Gods until the Einzbern family was established, then been assassinated by them, which is why you're hostile toward that lady?"
Iskandar stroked his chin curiously.
He was increasingly curious about her true name—she seemed like an unfortunate witch from the Age of Gods, yet had a strange connection to the Einzbern family that was neither clearly good nor bad.
Miss Illya blinked, tilting her head, a teasing beautiful smile appearing on her flushed face: "Actually, Irisviel Big Sister is my very, very best mother. A child being rebellious and dissatisfied with her parent is quite reasonable, right~"
Iskandar paused, then realized she was joking again: "Hahaha! Little girl from the Age of Gods, did one cup of wine get you drunk? You're starting to tell cold jokes that disgrace your own honor."
"A little bit, since I rarely drank in life. This alcohol content is somewhat beyond my tolerance."
The red-faced Miss Illya laughed cheerfully, realizing her statement was problematic and might escalate conflicts prematurely.
So she playfully walked to the dazed Irisviel, leaned down with hands behind her back, and grinned.
"Come on, come on, just joking. Don't take it seriously—crying would make you less pretty."
Miss Illya shook Irisviel's arm as if coaxing a child, standing on tiptoes to touch her cold forehead.
"We're the best of allies. How could I dislike you, right?"
"Be good, pretty Big Sister. I promise, after tonight, I'll never tease you again. I swear on my name as Caster—I like you, I like you so, so much, Big Sister~