Sky cracked like glass, gradually shattering into fragments. The King of Conquerors had been defeated.
Hundreds upon thousands of Heroic Spirit army leaped into the scorching deep crater. At this moment, the entire Ionioi Hetairoi's tens of thousands—all stopped besieging Miss Illya and the knight girl's steps.
Without looking back, trying to reach their king's side, wanting to protect their king—this king who'd first discovered Diarmuid's great killer weapon yet made soldiers retreat, alone facing that nearly anti-fortress rank large-scale destructive Divine Construct Noble Phantasm.
Some had thighs broken by aftershock winds, some were burned unrecognizable by scorching magical energy, some even had only one breath left, could only crawl forward.
Diarmuid couldn't stop them. Because Noble Phantasm bombardment also brought him brief vacuum period. Iskandar had no remaining strength, severely wounded, even Gordius Wheel destroyed in this battle. Though not as bad as losing Noble Phantasms like the opponent, stamina and endurance aspects still showed some weakness.
Swinging his magic spear several times, Diarmuid turned, looking at that distant fallen king.
Looking up at the sky—cracking and falling like shattering, earth's dust also fracturing with magical energy cutoff. The opponent completely lost possibility of competing for the omnipotent wish-granter, about to die on the road pursuing men's dreams.
"Rider, what joke is this? How can you..."
This battle's duration wasn't long. From the two great Heroic Spirits' Noble Phantasm deployment collision lasted mere dozens of seconds. Even from Ionioi Hetairoi's deployment until now—barely under half an hour passed.
But in Waver Velvet's eyes, this battle was abnormally heavy and long. Dozens of minutes' epic mythological intensity made him seem to witness the Age of Gods' reenactment.
Every minute, every second's scene deeply carved into his soul.
Iskandar one-versus-three opened the banquet's war, facing three each super first-rate heroes. That king could clearly have hidden, continuing to muddy waters, yet stood forth using the most magnificent stage to practice his way of kingship.
Seemingly in his eyes, compared to the omnipotent wish-granter, conquering alongside comrade subjects was superior.
"Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot! You said you'd conquer the world—how can you fall here?! You're the King of Conquerors—you should conquer all enemies!"
Tears fell from Waver Velvet's eyes. Perhaps days ago, Iskandar could have won. Perhaps days ago, Diarmuid wouldn't have this near anti-fortress rank magical release light cannon Noble Phantasm. Perhaps then Diarmuid's will hadn't surpassed his life-recorded mythology.
But there were no ifs. No one anticipated his teacher Kenneth would give Diarmuid so much support. Even less could anyone imagine Diarmuid would surpass mythological epics. This was the gap between Masters, the gap in intelligence.
He desperately ran toward that battlefield's great crater. He knew he'd already lost, would die here. But more than that—self-blame.
If following original trajectory, Iskandar was summoned by Kenneth...
Then the opponent definitely wouldn't stop here, definitely could win victoriously, completing the dream of conquering the world.
All his fault...
All because he didn't listen to Instructor Kenneth...
Everything...
"Listen, my little Master. One person's modesty can become motivation spurring self-growth. But excessive modesty is detestable inferiority. Many can recognize their own merits, but few can candidly admit their flaws. And you are precisely one of the excellent ones this king acknowledges."
But before Waver Velvet reached the great crater, arriving here, Savior Ptolemy pulled him back. Then came Iskandar's serious voice.
Heroic Spirits within Ionioi Hetairoi all had D-rank Independent Action skill, could briefly leave the Reality Marble, manifesting like normal Heroic Spirits for a period.
Meaning they could protect Waver Velvet's departure—at minimum, distancing from Einzbern Castle, this final battlefield. This task Iskandar had already assigned Savior Ptolemy before battle. Otherwise, Miss Illya wouldn't have just happened to encounter him trying to enter the army's rear.
"My king already instructed. Come with me." Ptolemy ignored Waver's struggles, roughly shouldering him.
"No! I'm his subject. Even dying, I must advance together with him!"
Waver calmly spoke. Though his body instinctively felt fear, his voice was full of resolution. This was his conviction—after deep thought, willing to dedicate everything for the king he followed. He fundamentally didn't care about the omnipotent wish-granter!
For him, whether the Grail could realize wishes didn't matter. He just wanted to prove to everyone—even someone like him, an unsightly third-rate magus, could accomplish things!
He only wanted one answer—seeing in the process of pursuing the omnipotent wish-granter how far he could go. He was a half-baked magus with only theory, no experience, not even knowing his own future. So he hoped to search in this Far East magical ritual. And now he'd found it—the answer he'd willingly dedicate life to. With the king he believed in, on the road pursuing men's dreams, until body and soul perished!
"If you're truly my subject, willing to follow me, then obey this king's command."
"I..."
"Live. Carrying this king's ideals and ambitions, carrying the growth and answers you gained in this Grail War—live well until the next Grail War."
In the great crater, Iskandar through the Master-Servant contract gave Waver Velvet serious acknowledgment, then with his only remaining arm drew his half-broken cavalry sword, pointing straight at Diarmuid adjusting his condition dozens of meters away.
Chasing dreams was never about the goal itself, but about not regretting, not abandoning the process behavior of pursuing men's ideals.
And Waver Velvet had already accomplished this now, becoming a true man.
"Hahahaha! My subject—if you feel you've failed this king, you should live even more! Sixty years later in the next Grail War, summon this king again and fight together. This king will definitely respond to your summons. This king's Ionioi Hetairoi will forever reserve a position for you, whom this king acknowledges!"
Iskandar laughed dashingly. So, you must live to sixty years later.
Not die like this king on this road pursuing men's dreams.
Your path differs from this king's. Your road is still long. This king quite looks forward—in the next Grail War, seventy-eighty-year-old elderly you, what manly spirit you'll display to this king, what magnificent life story you'll tell.
He knew Waver Velvet already had conviction—just lacking some time's precipitation. The opponent wasn't stupid. He believed in the future, the opponent would definitely open new epic stories. And as king, how could he let a subject with a future die?
Waver Velvet had already done his best for him, this king. And he, this king—even defeated and dying, absolutely wouldn't let this acknowledged subject be buried with him!
Of course, he still hadn't completely lost yet! Mere fatal wounds couldn't obstruct his conquest's steps!
"You can't win, Conqueror. At most in a few more minutes, your Reality Marble will completely disperse."
Diarmuid shouldered his magic spear, lowered his magic sword, helplessly smiling at the gathering Heroic Spirit army.
Due to magical deficiency, Reality Marble shattering—Heroic Spirits gathering to the Conqueror's side weren't many. Approximately one-two hundred, and not one first-rate Heroic Spirit. Most also in wounded states, enduring scorching high temperatures.
This quantity-level enemies—even with his excessive consumption, currently in recovery phase—sufficiently relied on superior martial prowess to stall until Reality Marble collapsed and dispersed.
Moreover, since these people rushed here, his two temporary allies naturally already...
BOOM!
"It's over, King of Conquerors. Your seeking life for subjects even before death—your way of kingship earns my admiration. I also swear here I won't pursue killing your Master subject. But even without Command Seals, you're still a threat. Please forgive me joining with others to send you off first."
The gale-wrapped knight girl descended from the crater edge. Her remaining scarce magical energy didn't weaken her imposing presence at all—instead sharper than before.
Her consumption was also great. Even chest armor dented by several first-rate Heroic Spirits' attacks.
But now everyone knew—not first sending off Iskandar, waiting until the opponent recovered...
That would be everyone else's death. After all, though Diarmuid was strong, he couldn't break Reality Marble. If encountering the opponent next time with the opponent hiding behind army formations—even if Diarmuid released such attacks again, difficult to cope, right?
Perhaps losing Gordius Wheel and all Command Seals, the opponent's threat level was negligible. But Reality Marble was too terrifying. All Heroic Spirits on field had no Noble Phantasms targeting the World. Truly, no one could specially counter this mechanism monster.
Diarmuid being strong was correct. But his magic sword light cannon also needed skill casting time. As long as close combat entangled him, not impossible to counter somewhat.
While Iskandar's Reality Marble had no casting time. Hypothetically, if the opponent didn't follow martial ethics, not pulling Heroic Spirits...
Opening Reality Marble to pull your Master—wouldn't that be played like an idiot?
"Hahahaha! King of Knights of Britain—now you finally possess kingly desire and bearing."
"Don't misunderstand. I never thought I was wrong. Just like Caster said—throughout history, many naive, foolish people exist. But only those unable to firmly walk their will to the end are truly laughable fools."
"Then you think you're no longer a fool now?"
"Yes. I still don't understand people's hearts. But those who follow me prosper, those who oppose me perish. As long as actions can continue Britain, can make people and subjects happy—even if gods obstruct, I'll slay and annihilate them."
Those who follow prosper, those who oppose perish.
Hard to imagine these words coming from a King of Knights. Such extreme tyranny.
She hadn't forgotten her original intent—just added other things atop it. Perhaps after that final battle crushing Britain's last straw, her psyche was already somewhat abnormal. Thoughts in this Grail War carried some obsession. Yet she felt this instead made her clearer-minded and refreshed.
If the King of Knights couldn't save Britain, better let her—this obsessed, extreme King Arthur—save it.
"You truly led this little girl astray, Age of Gods magus Medea."
"...Please don't misunderstand. I'm Medea during goddess Hecate's disciple period, not the Betraying Witch Medea. Conqueror Uncle, your words make it sound like I corrupted the originally naive King of Knights Big Sister."
White Stork Knight-constructed bridges scattered. The black-hooded silver-haired little girl also lightly landed into the crater.
Scanning those approximately two hundred remaining Heroic Spirit soldiers and the conspicuous red burly man—also understanding the opponent had reached his limits.
Now just delaying time, letting Waver Velvet distance from the battlefield.
Unlike the knight girl worrying if the Conqueror survived, later opening Reality Marble to chase Masters—in Miss Illya's eyes, current him had lost most threat, like a declining old male lion.
After all, she truly wasn't afraid of him chasing her Master. Now worldwide, including the Holy Church, no one knew her Master's name or appearance.
"Seems we've reached consensus."
Diarmuid looked at the battle-ready knight girl, then at Miss Illya summoning dozens of familiar armies preparing to hide behind his area for long-range combat. He immediately understood both also prepared to first send the Conqueror off.
He exhaled long, adjusting his condition slightly, focusing gaze and attention on the frontal hundred-man legion:
"Come, Conqueror! Final blood struggle. This time, still you occupy numerical advantage, we three heavily consumed. Let's see who ultimately prevails!"
Diarmuid's battle spirit rose, slightly crouching. The knight girl tightly gripped her invisible sword, ready. Opposing remaining hundred-man legion constructed army formations, shield-spears forming defensive array, completely surrounding their king.
Thread-woven knights soared in the sky, forming bullets about to sound the horn.
BOOM! Battle resumed! Both great Knight-class heroes almost simultaneously charged enemy armies. Sky's dozens upon hundreds of magical bullets fired, assisting these two A-rank-plus Agility Heroic Spirits. In merely an instant's fleeting moment, crossing dozens of meters, instantly scattering formations!
Magic sword and magic spear charged forward. Invisible sword wrapped in gales. In under ten seconds, over ten Heroic Spirits already perished. Ionioi Hetairoi's elites were no more!
These already-wounded, poor-condition remnant defeated soldiers—how could they possibly resist two Knight-class? This was overwhelmingly crushing strength difference. If thousands, several thousands, Iskandar relying on command still had winning chances.
Because Diarmuid and the knight girl's current consumption was too enormous. Especially Diarmuid—even with magical furnace enhancement, internal magical energy hadn't rapidly recovered to peak state, let alone stamina and mental exhaustion requiring rest.
SLASH!
In merely around two minutes, remaining army formations completely collapsed!
Diarmuid's magic sword and magic spear first reached before Iskandar!
Completely ended. King of Conquerors—magic spear ignored soldiers' raised shields, completely penetrating. Diarmuid's spirit tightened, pointing straight at the mountain-like king before him's heart. The coming flesh-tearing sound seemingly echoed in his ears—that was Iskandar's spirit core shattering fantasy.
Yes... merely fantasy.
CLANG!
"This king already reminded you, Lancer. Current King of Knights possesses kingly desire and bearing."
The Conqueror's reluctant laughing sigh echoed in ears. The moment before the magic sword arrived...
From the other side, the invisible sword also reached between Diarmuid's body.
"Saber, you!"
Crimson magic spear rapidly returned to defense, colliding and rubbing with the suddenly attacking invisible sword. Magical sparks instantly flew, reflecting Diarmuid's somewhat incredulous expression!
Before him—firmly swinging sword, emitting magical energy fundamentally unlike just now's weakness—the knight girl violating temporary alliance promises, King Arthur!
Because though already somewhat anticipated, he truly never thought this knight—noble like that Age of Gods magus Medea—would actually betray promises like Kiritsugu Emiya, ambushing allies during joint battle!
"By my Command Seal—defeat Lancer and Rider! Let them both exit here."
"Chivalry can't save Britain. Sorry, Lancer. My Master and I both believe—before killing Rider, your threat is greater. Can't let you live and return!"
Magical energy under Command Seal power rapidly supplemented and recovered. Invisible sword erupted unprecedented hurricane, forcibly suppressing Diarmuid with parameters!
The knight girl gritted teeth, issuing a battle roar. If Diarmuid hadn't displayed that near anti-fortress Noble Phantasm light cannon, Iskandar would naturally be the great enemy. But since the opponent revealed his card, she absolutely couldn't watch him kill the Conqueror, then have hands free to reinforce Kenneth—already falling disadvantaged against Kiritsugu Emiya.
The Conqueror was now bait. If Kenneth recalled Diarmuid, couldn't kill the Conqueror—next encounter would definitely face three Heroic Spirits' joint subjugation.
And once the Conqueror died—in Kenneth's perspective, others were negligible small-fry Servants. Recalling via Command Seal to first kill Kiritsugu Emiya—wouldn't that be better? Even if Kiritsugu escaped, next time when Diarmuid recovered condition, handling her and Illyasviel—wouldn't that be easy!
So this was both a deterrent open scheme and a gamble betting victory on Kiritsugu Emiya versus Kenneth's duel!
Before those two Knight-class Masters determined victory—everyone present, one by one, shouldn't think of leaving, shouldn't think of escaping without worries!
SLASH! SPLURT!
Accompanying some figure's falling sound, this misty forest again returned to calm.
That was a mercenary pierced through body by three Black Key blades—Kiritsugu Emiya's assistant and lover, Maiya Hisau.
Her firearm powerlessly dropped. Floor littered with still-warm bullet casings.
"Since you have no Command Seals, aren't the Einzbern family's selected Master—probably serving as 'vessel protector' homunculus?"
"With such status, why make the foolish action of going to the Grail War frontlines? Kiritsugu Emiya's coercion? Or your own will?"
Under bright moonlight, the misty forest already carried some chill. Earth in disarray, everywhere bullet casings. Several large trees snapped at waist by tremendous force. Seemingly, a not-small-scale battle just erupted.
The black-clothed priest expressionlessly clutched a silver-haired red-eyed beautiful girl's throat, easily lifting her mid-air. Ancient well-like calm eyes carried a trace of playful pleasure.
Weak, powerless.
This was his impression of Irisviel and the nearly lifeless Maiya Hisau in hand.
Not that these two were weak—just they'd too greatly underestimated him.
One used bullets attacking his bulletproof priest robes. Another after so long effort just wove one White Stork Knight. Compared to her biological daughter—pathetically weak.
Thinking this mission would encounter some obstacles—unexpectedly so easy.
Seemed these days' high-end matches watched too much. He'd also overestimated his opponents.
"Kirei... Kotomine..."
Throat-clutched Irisviel naturally recognized him. After all, daytime the Holy Church just announced—this already-withdrawn Grail War Master under Holy Church protection, the Assassin-class Heroic Spirit's Master.
She painfully struggled, breathing increasingly difficult. But more—shock:
"You clearly... already withdrew from the Grail War... why, why still come here to attack..."
"Hehe. If my Servant truly exited, I'd naturally withdraw from the Grail War."
"?"
Sensing Irisviel's eyes flashing incomprehension and shock, Kirei Kotomine's mood inexplicably felt pleased.
He again increased hand strength, in the opponent's shocked expression approaching her ear.
He seemed to quite enjoy this—making others incredulous, gradually despairing. Especially this time's target was his Heroic Spirit's mother:
"Guess—what's Assassin's True Name?"
I must admit, your biological daughter is so much more interesting and pleasant than you~"
Assassin... is Illya?
The Heroic Spirit Kirei Kotomine summoned is her daughter?
Trying to struggle, after hearing the implication in Kirei Kotomine's words, Irisviel completely froze, as if her brain crashed from this sudden news.
First flashing through her mind was that Kirei Kotomine actually knew Illya's True Name. Second—that the Holy Church's supervisor Risei Kotomine was helping Kirei cheat. Finally, she quickly realized Kirei Kotomine was lying, deceiving her, trying to see despair on her face.
Because the probability of the Holy Church investigating Illya's true identity wasn't high. After all, the German Einzbern family's magecraft workshop wasn't just for show. The Holy Church wouldn't forcibly obtain Illya's photos.
After all, the Mage's Association and Holy Church appeared stable on the surface, but that was only because of Dead Apostles and the Twenty-Seven Ancestors. Privately, friction was constant.
Forcibly searching a not-small magical family—this undoubtedly offended the entire magus world. Though the Holy Church had ability to withstand pressure and act unilaterally...
But that also wasn't authority someone like Kirei Kotomine—a Holy Church Executor—could possess.
At most, he'd investigated she had a daughter named Illyasviel von Einzbern—impossibly having photos. And Illya in this Grail War, except slightly exposing her name at the harbor battle, every other time—everyone including her almost believed Illya was an Age of Gods magus.
Moreover, that harbor battle had curses. Except her and Kiritsugu, basically no one remembered Illya. Kirei Kotomine even more impossibly could match names.
"What... nonsense are you saying..."
Irisviel gritted teeth, grabbing the hand clutching her throat, trying to pry it open.
She didn't know if Kirei Kotomine was bluffing or why he'd suddenly tell her this.
But she knew clearly—whether Kiritsugu or Illya, both were her most important people. Caught in the middle as the Lesser Grail in this Grail War, she had no choice. But that didn't mean she'd betray either for the other.
"Hehe, why not admit it? Don't want to believe? Or don't dare believe?"
"Your biological daughter Illyasviel von Einzbern isn't some future great-achieving Caster—just a filthy, fallen Assassin? Even more detestable, hateful killer trash than your husband Kiritsugu Emiya?"
Under moonlight, on the chaotic earth, Kirei Kotomine's shadow stretched long.
BOOM! With interest, he casually threw the struggling Irisviel onto a broken tree stump. Superhuman strength and impact made this beautiful white lady's back bones even emit cracking sounds!
Kirei Kotomine appreciated others' despair and pain—not just mentally but physically. This dual pain's expressions and sorrowful wailing made his heart extremely pleased. Like some enjoyed abusing cats, some dogs—such people's joy was built on destroying beautiful things.
Of course, toward uncontrollable things—like Illyasviel—he still maintained some wariness.
Not fearing death, but fearing later being unable to feel this pleasure. Therefore, toward Illyasviel's clear explosive threats, he wouldn't refuse.
After all, with only one Command Seal remaining, he truly had no means to restrict that malicious aggregate little girl.
SLASH!
"Ah!"
Accompanying Irisviel's back bone cracking sounds, two Black Keys flew through the air, piercing and tearing both her arms, embedding like thumbtacks into the stump!
Pain from her body and continuously flowing blood made Irisviel subconsciously cry out. But before her tears and voice could continue long...
Next moment, Kirei Kotomine's hand again clutched her throat, preventing further sound.
"Mmmmmmmmm...!"
"Very painful, right? This period's pain for me was no less than yours. How I wanted to announce Assassin's true identity—seeing Kiritsugu Emiya's shocked expression, seeing Kenneth's incredulous face, seeing my teacher Tokiomi Tohsaka's bewildered posture. She and I deceived everyone, but isn't deception without audience boring? What fun is unknown deception?"
Kirei Kotomine covered Irisviel's mouth, as if somewhat sentimental, wiping tears from her eyes. So alike—this woman and Illyasviel.
Just the opponent was too boring, completely lacking Illyasviel's maliciousness and mischief.
This period, he'd been very troubled. Several times wanting to do things for fun. This situation—clearly having fun to seek, but his Servant would definitely kill him first—truly tortured him.
He felt deceiving others, making them believe—that sense of immorality was extremely interesting.
But if not revealing, others didn't know being deceived. Dying peacefully in lies also pained him.
Mm, correct.
Precisely pain.
Like constructing a grand stage drama. Everyone only saw the drama's glamorous surface, no one appreciated the drama's depth. How cruel for a playwright wanting to enjoy audience analysis and evaluation.
"Are you thinking I'm lying? With Illyasviel's magical quantity, how could she be Assassin? Where's her Assassin-class aptitude? Heroic Spirit summoning doesn't require aptitude?"
Kirei Kotomine, while preventing Irisviel from speaking, pulled out another Black Key with his other hand:
"Actually, not long ago I was also considering this question. Modern era figures achieving Heroic Spirit feats almost don't exist. Illyasviel becoming a top magus in the future, even touching Magic, possesses upgrade possibility."
"But how could such a magus possess Assassin aptitude? Classes are distributed based on Heroic Spirits' past experiences, not final form. But after carefully reviewing Kiritsugu Emiya's materials, I suddenly had enlightenment."
Kiritsugu Emiya.
This man was precisely a Magus Killer—Illyasviel's best learning target.
Illyasviel von Einzbern theoretically shouldn't have Assassin aptitude. But hypothetically, if Kiritsugu died and Illyasviel inherited Kiritsugu's will for a period in the future—that was also a transition, right?
Perhaps that era's Illyasviel lacked qualifications becoming a Heroic Spirit. But later achieving feats approaching Magic—that Assassin experience would also be one of her aspects.
"Mm!"
"Hehe, precisely this expression—what I wanted to see. Your despairing expression. Next comes everyone else and Kiritsugu Emiya. Don't worry—all the same. They'll also despair and die like you after knowing everything."
Not some great-achieving magus, but a despairing, fallen Assassin.
In Irisviel's eyes, besides painful tears, certain bewildered radiance also vanished. Even if she still didn't want to believe Kirei Kotomine's words...
But if true, she couldn't imagine what future Illya experienced to be summoned as Assassin-class, moreover wearing a mask deceiving everyone, using Magus class to cover the truth of being Assassin-class.
But...
But if Illya wasn't Caster...
Then who exactly was...
"You know Gilles de Rais, right? The eighth irregular Servant. He actually wasn't some irregularly summoned Servant, but this Grail War's true Caster."
"Your daughter might truly be from the future. Actually knowing this Grail War's true Caster was just a French madman only knowing summoning magecraft, completely ignorant of other magecraft. Previously she had me define Gilles de Rais as irregular. I was still worried others would see through it, but now seems she'd already calculated everything. With future intelligence's inherent advantage, she'd long laid spider webs, standing in an invincible position."
Seeing Kirei Kotomine candidly admit using Holy Church authority to cheat, Irisviel's gradually lifeless pupils grew more bewildered.
Everything matched. This way, everything could match.
"With false Assassin identity hiding behind scenes, with open, honest Caster identity walking on stage—your daughter seems to have learned Kiritsugu Emiya's essence."
Sharp Black Key stabbed into Irisviel's abdomen. Newly surging pain made her struggle uncontrollably. Blood continuously poured from mouth and nose.
Red—indeed like humans, suffering and bleeding. Kirei Kotomine thought quite enjoyably.
Bewilderment flowing from Irisviel's eyes, despair emerging amid pain.
This was simply humanity's treasure—could awaken violence instinct deeply hidden in humanity's ancient genes.
Beautiful things were made for destroying. This woman deeply loving her daughter was thus. That person attached to family, trusting disciples—Tokiomi Tohsaka—also thus. That person attempting to rewrite everything, loving Aoi Tohsaka—Kariya Matou—even more so.
Unfortunately, Kariya Matou died too early. Kirei Kotomine had prepared—after killing Tokiomi Tohsaka, letting him and Tokiomi be discovered together by Aoi Tohsaka, then watching these two's new grudges and entanglements—whether he'd bear to kill that childhood friend sister deeply loving Tokiomi Tohsaka.
"Mmmmmmm!"
"Let me tell you another secret, Einzbern family's homunculus."
"Mm!"
"Actually initially, I didn't want to kill you, worried your internal vessel would have problems."
"..."
Two more Black Keys inserted into this beautiful white lady's—graceful figure like a doll—chest and organs. Her vitality was rapidly fading.
Even as an Einzbern homunculus surpassing ordinary people, non-combat puppet her facing this degree of torture—only awaiting death.
Mouth and nose blood unstoppably overflowing. Ruby pupils' except remaining trace of stubbornness—Irisviel as an existence almost had nothing left. Was she about to die? She was dying? If Kirei Kotomine truly was Illya's Master, how could he possibly kill her?
He must be lying, right? Must be so, right?
This was her final dying consciousness—also a kind of self-comfort...
"Unfortunately, I don't want to kill you. But Assassin—your daughter Illyasviel—specifically named she didn't want seeing me bring you back still breathing."
Kirei Kotomine's lips curved slightly, mercilessly crushing Irisviel's final hope and comfort like discarding garbage:
"Meaning—not that I want to kill you, but your daughter wants to kill you."
"Illyasviel... very much detests you, hermother."
He wasn't lying. Because his Servant was thoroughly malicious existence.
She detested this must-fight-to-death Grail War. Anyone not withdrawing from the Grail War was her enemy, all on her must-kill list.
Familial affection? Don't joke. Discussing feelings with evil—only foolish women like Irisviel would believe in familial affection. He and she were both evil surviving to the end, killing everyone else to seize the omnipotent wish-granter's malice.
Irisviel's eyes' final glimmer seemingly shattered and vanished.
Not hatred, not doubt—just a kind of abandoned despair.
Not despairing over Illyasviel's heartlessness, but heartbroken despairing over what Illyasviel experienced to become the strange appearance in Kirei Kotomine's mouth.
Aloof magus...
Fallen Assassin...
Why did Illya hate her so much? She didn't dare imagine, could only accept.
Perhaps from the start she had the answer. Loving both Kiritsugu and Illya simultaneously was the mistake.
The world never had naturally beautiful things. She could only choose one side.
Just she was too weak, also unqualified to love those two—both already walking into dead ends, stubbornly insisting, must decide life and death—husband and daughter...
Everyone in this Grail War was insane. Her humble love from the start wouldn't have good endings...
"For saving my Britain, die here obediently, Lancer!"
Gale sword energy crisscrossed everywhere. The fragmented Reality Marble completely dissipated, no longer existing!
Already battle-crazed, the knight girl maintained Mana Burst at any cost, continuously colliding with magic spear-magic sword Diarmuid. Her current expression completely lacked knightly solemnity—instead like someone obsessed to madness!
Over-consumed Diarmuid was actually briefly suppressed. That utterly unreasonable parameters at this moment were like an abyss—like battling Berserker!
BOOM BOOM!!!
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG!!!
Continuously colliding with magic spear and sword. Hurricane and red light. King and knight. Mad king and radiance. Holy sword and divine artifact. Combat surpassing human imagination's magical energy even tore and destroyed Ionioi Hetairoi's remaining things, severing all manifested gardens!!
Ionioi Hetairoi shattered—not from power, but from the Conqueror's magical depletion.
Waver Velvet had already distanced from Einzbern Castle. Iskandar also without worries appreciated this death struggle.
Not that he didn't want to leave—couldn't leave. His wounds made him immobile.
Moreover, his life was nearly ending. Diarmuid's heaven-earth-breaking strike was too domineering and fierce. His remaining magical energy utterly insufficient to repair wounds. Could only stand like a giant welcoming light, waiting.
"Well, little girl—won't you give me some magical energy? Maybe with your help I could still move?"
Glancing at the distant silver-haired little girl atop the castle using familiar armies supporting the knight girl, Iskandar smiled boldly, proactively chatting.
"My not acting to finish off Conqueror Uncle is already helping you."
"Don't say that. Inside Ionioi Hetairoi, I specially took care of you—just let Ptolemy alone play around with you, didn't even deploy too much army restricting your movements."
"So I also never killed Uncle's soldiers. We're already even. After all, my threat was smallest then. Of course you'd mobilize main forces besieging the other two. Wasting time on me would be unwise."
"...Hahahaha! If you say so, then this king says you feared that Radiant Knight escaping, so left this king's life hanging."
Iskandar clutched his belly laughing, shaking his head. His gaze also looked toward the already-chaotic rooftop garden and the besieged yet undiminished lancer.
Their victory-defeat, he temporarily couldn't judge. After all, the lancer was heavily consumed.
Yet still firmly seated as current version's strongest.
While the knight girl—though seemingly strong and fierce, magical energy rapidly depleting...
But with companion interference and assistance, plus who knows how many Command Seals remaining...
Just as everyone initially thought—the victor would undoubtedly emerge between these two heroes. Neither he nor that Age of Gods magus had trump cards remaining, unable to contend with these two Knight-class anymore.
"Remember what I said? Weak unite with weak. Now whichever wins between them, we'll both fail and exit."
"The reasoning's correct, but Uncle, your wording's wrong..."
Not "we."
But "you all."
Yellow Rose spear reversed. Sensing unidentified magical energy gathering outside the castle, Miss Illya pulled her red hood, then leaped into the battlefield.
Of course she wanted to kill the Conqueror. But unfortunately, temporarily couldn't touch him.
Moreover, even ignoring him—without magical supply, he'd die before long anyway.
She needed stalemate. The longer the stalemate, the better. Mutual wariness, mutual checks—the longer, the better.
"King of Knights Big Sister, I'll assist you! Come quickly—I'll help you supplement magical energy and apply enhancement magecraft!"
CLANG!
Relying on slightly higher Strength than Diarmuid plus Mana Burst skill, reluctantly repelling him!
Hearing Miss Illya's words, the knight girl rapidly distanced, explosively retreating toward her location. And Diarmuid naturally impossibly would watch the knight girl rely on Miss Illya to supplement magical energy. Just the repelled instant—transformed into streaming light, thrusting again!
"Saber, you think you can escape?"
Breaking through atmosphere, surpassing vision—magic sword, magic spear advancing together. A++ Agility Diarmuid laughed with rising battle spirit, driving straight in!
The knight girl could briefly suppress him, but she was essentially still more than a notch weaker!
But he knew clearly this was just magical supply difference. Since the knight girl abandoned martial ethics, he naturally impossibly would allow her supplementing magical energy for renewed battle. Knights' duels were past. Now would be life-death struggles serving their lords!
Thrust, thrust, thrust again! Demon-breaking power revealed. In his eyes, the knight girl seemed like a naked doll—that armor instead became her burden!
"Caster, hide behind me. Magical supplementation can wait—first help me..."
The knight girl gritted teeth, wanting Miss Illya to first apply enhancement magecraft.
However, her words unfinished...
The entire battlefield—or rather, sky—brightened.
"?"
"?"
Dawn arrived?
Diarmuid and the knight girl simultaneously stopped, looking up. Their pupils dilated together. Outside Einzbern Castle's sky, dozens of golden ripples lit up—brilliant Noble Phantasms manifesting within, illuminating the night sky!
That was? How possible? This method—so similar to that harbor battle's golden king's Noble Phantasm bombardment move?
Just as both Servants wondered, those Noble Phantasms simultaneously aimed at the castle's another direction...
"Not good!"
"My lord!"
Sensing these Noble Phantasms' attack target, both Servants tacitly ceased fire.
Especially the knight girl who'd directly resisted the Golden King—almost immediately wanting to withdraw.
SLASH!
Just then, sharp weapon tearing flesh sounded. Before the knight girl's anxious terror ended...
Instinct subconsciously made her dodge. Severe pain from her waist froze her thoughts.
Pupils suddenly contracted, looking at that yellow rose magic spear splashed with blood.
—Then with difficulty, incredulously turning back!
"Illya?! You?!"
IL! LY! A!"
Blood from the slashed side abdomen unstoppably overflowed.
Gáe Buidhe's aimed at the knight girl's heart—barely dodged due to Instinct skill warning. This was a sudden ambush from behind.
Mental and attention fully focused on Diarmuid and Iskandar, the knight girl had no time defending this strike. Even with armor protection, she didn't completely escape. Curse power acting—the side wound couldn't be treated or healed.
She gritted teeth, rapidly rolling in disgrace dozens of meters away. One hand gripping invisible sword to rise, other hand covering the wound. Green eyes both shocked and furious.
This moment's world seemingly quieted. The entire garden silent as death.
Time seemingly froze from this sudden change. Air permeated with heaviness and bloody scent.
The knight girl tried stopping the wound's collapse, but Gáe Buidhe's curse wasn't something she could break. Already wrist-injured her—now besides maintaining Mana Burst skill, no longer possessed capital directly contending with Diarmuid.
Her mouth issued wounded beast-like low growls. She knew she should guard against Illyasviel, but never imagined the opponent would strike now.
What was the opponent's Master thinking? If she died, the opponent absolutely impossibly could resist Diarmuid. The Grail War would completely end tonight.
"You actually dare!"
"Very surprised? Artoria Pendragon Big Sister—from start to finish, you never took severely wounded me seriously, thinking I was a pawn you could casually manipulate."
Meeting those incredulous, shocked and furious emerald eyes, single-handedly gripping the blood-stained Gáe Buidhe, Miss Illya smiled—smiled very pleasantly and contentedly.
Not the slightest guilt backstabbing her, just like when she suddenly backstabbed Diarmuid.
"You want victory. I also want victory. Since you've already abandoned chivalry, violating the verbal alliance with Weapon Rack Big Brother—why would I dare assume you won't violate the covenant between us? Ultimately all the same."
"We all want victory. Whether you violate or not, we'll be life-death enemies. Just you underestimate me, instinctively thinking weak me wouldn't dare violate your will."
"You're very confident. Extremely confident. Confident you can defeat Diarmuid, win to the end. Merely possessing magical supply, you can compete with Diarmuid on the same stage. After he's defeated by you, your wounds recover—where's my use then? Oh, then I'm already useless—just a hidden danger who can anytime give other Heroic Spirits magical assistance."
Final heroes' one-on-one fair duel? Sword knight fighting magus—truly fair.
Long ago I said—I'm very sensitive to malice. From the moment stepping into Einzbern family castle, I sensed much malice.
Among them, greatest was the knight girl. The opponent wanted me dead even more than Diarmuid.
Just due to the Conqueror's disruption plus Diarmuid's erupted extraordinary combat power, I was pushed back slightly. But not pushed far.
No surprise—the moment Diarmuid died, the knight girl wouldn't even mind the Conqueror, but would immediately tonight behead me, this ally.
The opponent already issued death notice in her heart. Precisely thus, increasingly underestimating me, this severely wounded one. Anyway, a severely wounded magus who could be killed anytime—while Diarmuid lived, what was there to care about?
Poor Ionioi Hetairoi performance, almost zero utility value—Illyasviel had completely retired from meta.
Barely maintaining second-rate Heroic Spirit level, needing Diarmuid's third magic spear loan to barely entangle one Noble Phantasm-less, skill-less first-rate Heroic Spirit—what was worth this super first-rate Heroic Spirit guarding against?
Lacking even self-preservation ability—what was worth mighty King Arthur being wary of?
King Arthur doesn't understand hearts.
These words seemed not historical random writing.
Of course, this didn't mean the knight girl was an idiot. Conversely, the opponent was actually very cautious. From the start, never let Miss Illya approach within five meters. Plus Instinct skill—even severely wounded Miss Illya with A-rank Agility basically impossibly could ambush successfully.
But when the great battle with Iskandar ended, Diarmuid and her entered the final battle situation, both Knight-class Heroic Spirits' spirits and mental energy highly tense from massive consumption, plus suddenly arriving attention-diverting golden light...
Then this moment's knight girl was the truly subconsciously relaxed, vulnerable moment.
"..." The knight girl raised her head, turning deaf ears. Side waist continuously overflowing blood, staining skirt and thighs red. Looking at the distant silver elf little girl.
Miss Illya bloomed like lilies, slightly raising lips corners, quite intoxicatedly smiling.
Black-red garments set off this elf's whiteness.
Wound unable to heal, combat power declining twenty percent, magical energy remaining one-third, stamina and mental energy nearing limits—she no longer possibly could be on the same level as Diarmuid.
"Are you insane, Caster? Allying with me, I might betray you at the final moment."
"But at least you still have winning chances. Allying with Lancer—do you think ultimately, fairly dueling him, you can defeat the knight who later recovered to full prime, surpassing his own mythology?"
Suppressing heart's shock and fury...
The knight girl's expression looked calm. Because she understood—now getting angry was useless. Illyasviel's betrayal dealt her severe wounds.
Seeking revenge from her only would benefit Diarmuid. Besides momentary satisfaction, no possibility saving Britain.
Then only one method remained—making Illyasviel re-recognize the situation as much as possible, having her provide magical energy to Iskandar for renewed battle. Under three-on-one, winning chances existed—if her brain was still normal.
"I'm also severely wounded. Now we're equal. Diarmuid still has most remaining strength. Between me, you, and Iskandar, there might be victory-defeat. But if we split—no one can resist even poor-condition Diarmuid..."
"So, King of Knights Big Sister—you still haven't recognized the situation."
Sweetly, pleasantly shaking her head, glancing at the lancer, Miss Illya covered her mouth, smiling gently: "You don't think I ambushed you now to defect to Weapon Rack Big Brother? As someone who betrayed allies then defected to others—do you think another lord accepting surrender would treat me kindly?"
She was a three-surname slave—just self-deprecating.
From the start, she'd never sincerely allied with anyone. Everyone was her enemy.
Could only say the knight girl fundamentally didn't grasp the point, still thinking she simply wanted ambushing at this time.
She was still willing wasting words with present heroes—delaying time. Delaying Tokiomi Tohsaka finishing off Kiritsugu Emiya and Kenneth's time.
She was the field's most unhurried Heroic Spirit. Because only her Master currently wasn't on Tokiomi Tohsaka's must-kill list.
"Moreover, Weapon Rack Big Brother lent me the Noble Phantasm three times. How could I not reciprocate?"
"..."
Diarmuid tightly gripped magic spear and sword, narrowing eyes. He saw slightly deeper than the knight girl. Though unclear why she'd call this already-confirmed Betraying Witch Medea little girl Illyasviel...
But this didn't prevent him seeing through somewhat—this snow elf's true purpose.
"I see. Worthy of the Betraying Witch. Little kitten—you truly played us all. From the start, you never thought frontally surpassing other Heroic Spirits, but wanted surpassing our respective Masters, right?"
Her backstabbing the knight girl naturally made him pause, but only that.
After all, this Grail War long wasn't first night's harbor battle playing house.
Everyone wanted victory. Even the knight girl dared violate verbal agreements, swinging sword at companions. Let alone the Age of Gods existence called Betraying Witch? Could even say—her backstabbing after the knight girl's betrayal was already quite excellent character performance.
Grail War—serving respective lords, fighting to the end. He and the knight girl's character had long been discarded.
Current them had no qualifications pointing fingers at the originally-titled Betraying Witch Age of Gods magus, standing on moral high ground randomly judging.
"Can't say so. After all, Weapon Rack Big Brother—you also have trump cards stunning everyone, right?" Miss Illya smiled, tacitly agreeing.
"I personally saw little kitten you pierce his brain. Logically you're already mortal enemies. How did he survive? How did you two set aside past grudges, uniting?" Diarmuid exhaled long, adjusting his condition. Because he already sensed—next would be a fierce battle.
That sky's suspended golden light wasn't wrong. Magical reaction also wasn't wrong.
Harbor battle's strongest—after investigation, confirmed identity—most ancient king, Hero King, Gilgamesh King, King of Kings—had revived.
Very unfortunately, his magic sword Noble Phantasm's fate-manipulating ability no longer existed.
"First battle certain victory, initial battle certain victory" fate...
Already applied to King of Conquerors Iskandar. Plus his own stamina condition's massive deficit—facing that King of Kings, victory-defeat truly was uncertain.
"Weak unite with weak to thus check the strong. Throughout history, always thus."
"...He's weak?"
"Compared to Weapon Rack Big Brother and King of Knights Big Sister—which Heroic Spirit in this Grail War isn't weak?"
"His condition's poor."
"All the same."
"Meaning—if you finally face him, little kitten, you're confident of victory. But facing me and the knight—your winning chances basically don't exist?"
"Who knows~"
Miss Illya and Diarmuid briefly completed communication. Listening made the knight girl frown.
She suddenly felt these two opened team voice chat, speaking incomprehensible code.
And Diarmuid didn't explain much, just lightly raised red magic spear pointing toward Illyasviel. He understood his lord possessed extremely high magical attainment. Even in average third-rate Heroic Spirits' hands, could rely on those Mystic Codes plus genius brain to preserve life.
But if the enemy was Gilgamesh King—forget whether he had confidence in his lord...
Current condition him—facing that obviously super first-rate tier Heroic Spirit—also lacked certain-victory assurance.
"My lord and I thought we'd already far overestimated you, Age of Gods magus."
"Unfortunately, now seems we still underestimated. At least in multiple Grail Wars' records, never had precedent of already-dead Heroic Spirits returning. You actually could pull that most ancient king back from death."
Diarmuid's face no longer held ease and high spirits—only serious solemnity.
Hearing this, the knight girl seemingly understood something. Pupils again dilating, incredulously looking toward the calm-faced Miss Illya. Seemingly even temporarily forgetting waist pain.
Originally she'd speculated about the castle's outside golden light, just didn't think toward Illyasviel. After all, she was the main force slaying that classless bastard king—properly life-death mortal enemies.
"You—you revived that classless bastard king?"
"..."
"..."
No.
Now you seem more classless.
Seeing the knight girl again shocked, Miss Illya felt somewhat helpless, spreading small hands.
She felt her settings were increasingly numerous. But Age of Gods magus...
Goddess Hecate's disciple Medea—having such a cover seemed various mechanisms weren't impossible.
"I lack such ability. Of course, if King of Knights Big Sister doesn't believe, I'm also helpless~" Miss Illya also slightly raised lips corners, imposing presence undiminished, directly facing the ready, emanating killing intent and fighting spirit lancer.
Her backstabbing the knight girl had only one purpose—continuing delaying time.
Currently seems the knight girl already used two Command Seals. Possessing high-rank Magic Resistance skill her—at minimum needing two Command Seals for forced commands. With Kiritsugu Emiya's personality, he absolutely wouldn't dare wasting another Command Seal recalling the knight girl.
As for the lancer—even more needless to say. The Conqueror was bait—the opponent wouldn't easily abandon. Plus Kenneth not knowing who the attacking enemy was—with his pride, whether he'd even recall was debatable. Even more impossible.
And hypothetically both truly recalled—Einzbern family castle wasn't large. She had plenty of time finding them. Then the situation would be the same.
She just needed stalling enemies. Tokiomi Tohsaka would solve everyone else.
"You can try leaving. I guarantee—you leave, Conqueror Uncle lives~"
"Then I'll use magecraft controlling Uncle, deploying Reality Marble only pulling your Masters in. How many Command Seals do your Masters have breaking through Reality Marble~"
Threat.
Naked threat.
This was open scheme. You dare recall, I dare raising the Conqueror. Then you'll each have only one Command Seal left. I'm guaranteed killing, exchanging one at minimum.
The only breakthrough method—defeating me. Killing both me and Conqueror Uncle here.
"Hahahaha! Good! Good! Good!" The silent Iskandar suddenly laughed heartily. If not for his severed arm, he'd even want applauding. Because this Age of Gods magus played everyone.
From start to finish, everyone thought she was weakest. Actually, she was the deepest-hidden vicious viper.
The opponent actually schemed to this degree, utilizing her own weakness plus others' psychology.
"Medea! Hahahaha! What a Medea!"
"This world truly has hidden dragons, crouching tigers—countless heroes! Heroes truly like crossing river fish!"
"Betraying Witch, goddess's disciple—you played beautifully! The strong have strong advantages. The weak have weak advantages. Yet you utilized your weakness to such extent!"
He laughed skyward!
Strength was one's advantage, but sufficient weakness was also one's advantage!
This Age of Gods magus succeeded this calculation, calculated extremely beautifully. Everyone's condition already reached minimum. Others' desperate struggles all made wedding clothes for this Betraying Witch no one cared about from beginning to end!
Knight girl ambushed, severely wounded. Lancer stamina and mental energy bottomed, Noble Phantasm unable to certain-victory again. King of Conquerors Iskandar near death, no Command Seals or magical energy. She became this Grail War's undisputed star!
Probably sixty years later's next Grail War, Betraying Witch Medea's name would also shake heaven and earth!
Iskandar didn't feel angry over Miss Illya's words. Instead, he admired this open scheme, increasingly appreciating this unfathomable hero—this witch battling for happiness until now.
"But one thing you're wrong about, little kitten—you can't stall us."
"Even if Saber and I are in poor condition, joining hands sufficiently takes your and the King of Conquerors' lives."
Factions changed again. Tonight's how-many-eth time already.
From initial sword knight, magus, and cavalry three versus lancer, becoming lancer, lancer, and magus three versus cavalry. Then cavalry about to exit, magus and sword knight versus lancer. Then again magus backstabbing versus sword knight. Finally this bizarre situation—magus one-versus-three battling all Heroic Spirits.
Tonight, every Heroic Spirit except the knight girl had at some point fought one-versus-three lineups.
Just this Age of Gods magus currently wasn't very obvious. Currently looked like she lacked Iskandar and Diarmuid's terrifying suppression.
"Caster, listen to me. We can still talk." The knight girl gritted teeth, still trying to struggle something. Because current situation was muddied by Illyasviel.
Seemingly her disadvantage was greatest. Actually, her disadvantage was most troublesome.
Because once Illyasviel died, Diarmuid would behead Iskandar.
One-on-one situation—she absolutely impossibly could defeat this firmly-seated version T0 Radiant Knight, let alone the suspected-revived, eyeing-hungrily Gilgamesh King.
She wanted to win!
She needed to win!
Whatever happened, she must now maximize her winning chances!
"Like you said—weak unite with weak. Now we two are weak. Losing either, we can't reach the final moment. You don't trust my oath—fine. But calculating to this point, you should see the situation clearly. Without me, you can't resist Lancer. We can still..."
"King of Knights Big Sister, when did I give you the illusion I'm weak?"
Miss Illya blinked, puzzledly tilting her head. She was indeed severely wounded, correct.
And even using Noble Phantasms, would be weakened by the controller's wounds.
But this didn't mean she was truly very weak. Unable to release Noble Phantasms, panel already rotten with only Agility remaining—Heroic Spirit EMIYA card—she could still use to frontally engage first-rate Heroic Ptolemy. Why would the opponent think she lacked trump cards handling this situation?
She couldn't beat two Knight-class heroes—but that was built on both being full prime condition. Now everyone had no green bar, no red bar—just blue bars. Could she really not win some residual health?
"Caster!"
Everyone on field was shocked by Miss Illya's statement, seemingly all thinking she'd gone mad.
The knight girl was even more anxious, stamping feet, glaring at Illyasviel:
"What exactly are you thinking? Without me, fellow Knight-class—how will you resist dual knights!"
Lancer and Archer are the strongest!
Even Diarmuid was somewhat shocked. He'd thought Miss Illya at most wanted stalling him, delaying time. But her statement was obviously wrong.
She didn't want battling him—but wanted simultaneously battling the current battlefield's strongest two Knight-class!
No—more. If she wanted making the Conqueror a puppet, that meant simultaneously battling three!
One versus three. As Magus-class, at this distance—frontally one versus three!
"Very simple—I'll become the evil dragon!"
BOOM! Magical energy erupted! Seeing the snow elf insistent, lancer and knight girl no longer hesitated, simultaneously violently launching attacks!
Hurricane sword and crimson magic spear simultaneously arrived from two directions. Both great heroes struck with full force. Because they both knew—must quickly rush to their lords' sides!
"Acting so long, I'm also very tired." Finished speaking, Miss Illya's aura finally no longer concealed.
Simultaneously facing two Knight-class Heroic Spirits' killing moves, she didn't dodge or evade.
Terrifying magical energy outwardly erupted. Black malicious magical energy nearly condensed into substance, releasing.
Silver long hair blown up. A golden card depicting seemingly insane humanoid jackal materialized in hand—precisely Berserker's card:
"—Dream Summon, Berserker!!!"
I summon you—Berserker! This is a battle that transcends myth!
I am the malice that has stumbled onto a mythological battlefield, a lowly being who cannot compare to heroes.
I don't know what is good or what is evil, because for me, as long as I can live better, concepts of good and evil don't matter.
Perhaps the most suitable class for me is Berserker. After all, my mental state is pretty terrible.
The high-pressure environment, the battlefield where death could come at any moment—it's driven me nearly insane.
I fear death. I dread death. I want to escape death and rise above the fate that defines it.
My enemies are the maddened King of Knights who stands against ten thousand, the uncrowned conqueror who dominates and overcomes three opponents to realize his ideals, and the glorious knight who has transcended himself in historical myth. I don't know how someone like me—who has never established great achievements to be remembered by the world—should compete with these heroes and outstanding individuals. Because I know I'm not worthy. Compared to them, I'm like a mortal trying to challenge the gods in the high heavens, trying to cross an impossible trial over an unbridgeable abyss.
But I know this is my only chance. Once they recover to their peak condition, I'll have absolutely no possibility of defeating any one of them. I want them to die—because if they don't die tonight, I'll never see tomorrow's dawn again.
This is a trial, a death struggle, the hope that a lowly being has seized after exhausting everything.
Chanting? No need for chanting anymore. No amount of flowery words can hide the fact that I'm a murderer.
I will survive. I will overcome this trial. I will see the rising sun!
I've obtained the strongest card—power even more arrogant than the Three Knights!
I can't defeat them, I know. But even if I'm defeated and die, please let me die under warm light, let me eternally sleep while embracing that humble desire!
I can do it, because I believe Berserker... is the strongest!
This chant seems a bit different. This time it's so direct—not asking for specialized skills, but simply needing uncrowned combat power capable of contending with the Three Knight classes. Such existences aren't rare in the Throne of Heroes. After all, the Berserker class itself is a symbol of combat power.
Basically, no matter which Heroic Spirit has lateral compatibility, responding as a Berserker can at least arm-wrestle with most Three Knight class Servants head-on.
A few tremors arose within the Throne of Heroes. Since Berserker class compatibility is almost universally high, even if you lose you can blame it on losing rationality without being too embarrassed. So this time, more existences within the Throne of Heroes opened their eyes with interest than the previous two times.
The prerequisites this time were very loose—basically anyone even slightly versatile could descend.
First condition: Same as usual, must be able to use an Assassin Spirit Origin.
Second condition: Must possess formidable combat power even after going berserk, at least not inferior to standard Three Knight class Servants.
These two were hard requirements. As for the other chant words, they could be treated as supplementary. However, what surprised people was that the one using the Noble Phantasm for summoning was severely injured—meaning even after using the Noble Phantasm to transform, they'd still be heavily wounded. Under such circumstances, contending with the Three Knights would probably be quite difficult.
Moreover, the enemies this time were a bit overpowered—three standard top-tier Heroic Spirit Servants. Even though they were all in incomplete states, Miss Illya's Noble Phantasm was only B+ rank.
Even if there were Heroic Spirits capable of responding to such a desperate situation, most would be unable to bear the power due to the Noble Phantasm's rank limitations. So after watching with some interest, some powerful Heroic Spirits who were interested closed their eyes.
"The Fourth Holy Grail War—is it this intense?"
"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne with both his magic spear and magic sword, surpassing his own myth? Artoria Pendragon with four Command Seals, unwavering and merciless, wanting to restore her nation? Iskandar who wasn't killed by King Gilgamesh alone and successfully deployed his Army of the King?"
The white-haired Heroic Spirit in red tights stroked his chin. In his impression of the Fourth Holy Grail War—or rather, in the account from his old man Kiritsugu Emiya—
It wasn't supposed to be this intense. The overall level of Heroic Spirit Servants was more than a notch lower than during the Fifth Holy Grail War period. Though there were many first-rate ones, there were only so many super first-rate ones. How did it become this power-inflated situation where first-rate Servants are nothing and super first-rate Servants are everywhere?
This should count as a singularity, right? Where did that guy King Gilgamesh go?
Just that Diarmuid with both magic spear and magic sword could rank in T0 even in the Fifth Holy Grail War, right?
He felt somewhat troubled, though since the Counter Force hadn't said anything yet.
These matters weren't for him to worry about. He just found it strange—which parallel world's Illyasviel was this, to be able to scheme and beat others to this extent in such a Holy Grail War infested with monsters and demons? That was pretty terrifying.
"Berserker class, I should have that kind of compatibility, right? Maybe probably perhaps?"
"Berserker compatibility plus Assassin Spirit Origin—that Assyrian Empress surely can't steal it from her this time..."
The red Heroic Spirit began warming up.
Don't ask—just assume there's inexhaustible magical energy backing from someone like Illyasviel who has a Lesser Grail. Forget several super first-rate Heroic Spirit Servants, he'd dare to solo even King Gilgamesh, the serious kind without using Sha Naqba Imuru.
Berserkers have stats, he comes with his own mechanics, and Illyasviel can guarantee mana supply. Good God, if he doesn't achieve the extravagant feat of Divine Constructs flying everywhere and casually beating the Three Knights, he'd be doing this setup a disservice.
Most importantly, he just happens to be within the range of that B+ rank Noble Phantasm. Second and third-rate Heroic Spirits, and even the very few who might have this compatibility, couldn't possibly compete with him, right? In this situation, who else but him could resolve it?
"Hahahaha! Berserker! It's Berserker! Finally my turn to perform!"
"Father! Arthur! How can you win against me now? How can you—a mere incomplete version—win against me!"
The handsome blonde girl in armor laughed arrogantly, laughing like a child who finally got the toy she wanted. She just made the cutoff—she was exactly first-rate level.
Whether it was her Berserker class aspect or her Saber class aspect, both were standard first-rate Heroic Spirit Servants.
As for whether she could beat Diarmuid Ua Duibhne? She hadn't considered that, but she was certain that with that Illyasviel's unreasonable magical energy attribute, she could beat up Arthur, let alone the obviously weakened King Arthur in poor condition.
A first-rate Heroic Spirit descending—who the hell could compete with her? You must know that what Illyasviel wants this time is raw power!
Only first-rate Heroic Spirits have this compatibility and affinity. Among first-rate Heroic Spirits, very few would be willing to respond. Of those remaining, which one is more suitable than her, more stat-based!
"Hehehaha! Berserker! It's Berserker compatibility! Finally my turn to save that poor child! You bastards who persecute children! Demons! Scum! I'll make you recognize your mistakes!"
The famous green-haired cat-eared huntress from Greek mythology also laughed maniacally like the handsome blonde girl.
Hunters can also be considered Assassins, and her Berserker class aspect was maxed out too.
"Damn Assyrian Empress, try stealing it again if you dare! You've stolen twice now and harmed that child into desperate straits both times. The most ancient poisoner is poisonous not just in skill but in heart too. Can't even tell how much you weigh and still causing trouble. You'd better not let me encounter you in any Holy Grail War, or I'll definitely settle this account with you!"
Frantically clicking the summoning response button, watching the child being persecuted again and again, she simply couldn't stand it. Children are meant to be saved and protected.
That Assyrian Empress born in Assyria simply wanted to watch this child get screwed over. She had to compete for both Assassin and Caster classes, and with her compatibility, others couldn't out-compete her.
But now it's different. For Berserker class compatibility, there are no records of such a period in that woman's historical legends.
She will sortie in Berserker form to save that little girl in deep water and hot fire.
Although in the Archer class her stats are at best second or third-rate, in the Berserker class she's standard first-rate or even super first-rate. Breaking through the situation isn't too difficult—the probability is really not low. After all, the enemies are just three already weakened Heroic Spirit Servants.
"That Mordred will definitely choose to respond, but the King has already awakened. To revive Great Britain, how can that guy not understand the King's heart..."
Having guessed a certain troublesome child's thoughts, a certain handsome-looking Sun Knight sighed helplessly. He also wanted to see again the king he served.
After all, as a member of the Round Table, which Knight of the Round Table doesn't want to fight alongside their king? But he also doesn't want to be the king's enemy, so it's very contradictory. However, thinking that he doesn't have much Berserker compatibility anyway, he stopped worrying about it.
"What's going on with Diarmuid? Participating in the Holy Grail War, where did he get both his magic spear and magic sword?"
The descendant of the Celtic war god Nuada, the glorious leader of the Fianna Knights.
The great blonde hero who once defeated the evil god who could manipulate sleep and flames and saved the capital, establishing countless achievements, rubbed his eyes somewhat skeptically, seeming to find it hard to believe that Diarmuid could pull out both magic spear and magic sword.
What the hell? Doesn't the Holy Grail War have class containers? Diarmuid can at most choose between dual spears or dual swords—why can he have both magic spear and magic sword at the same time?
And that battle spirit and loyalty, surpassing past epics and myths—what does that mean? What kind of Holy Grail War was fought here? This Diarmuid differs quite a bit from the one in his impression.
No good! He must send down some power to take a look. Could it be that someone's wearing Diarmuid's skin? As his lord, he has both responsibility and obligation to investigate thoroughly!
But this Noble Phantasm rank is way too low. He has some compatibility with the Berserker aspect too, but his spiritual rank is a bit high. B+ Noble Phantasm seems to be...
"Can't descend. Tch, the Noble Phantasm rank is too low. Really don't understand what legend this was elevated from to connect to the Throne of Heroes with only B+ rank."
Ireland's Child of Light clicked his tongue in displeasure. This kind of rank division means anyone with even slightly higher spiritual rank can't descend. His plan to exchange pointers with the Knight King and the Glorious Knight became a pipe dream. After all, his Berserker aspect is also standard super first-rate.
He had no particular desire for the Grail. Mainly, that little girl's talk of desperate trials and rising above death slightly moved his strong will.
He also doesn't know what that person's original class actually was, to have the Noble Phantasm rank suppressed so low. If it were the Rider class or Caster class, surely this kind of Noble Phantasm connecting to the Throne of Heroes wouldn't be lower than A-rank, right?
"...We're both evil spirits. This time, let me help you again."
The collective resentment of London's abandoned children, a Heroic Spirit whose true form couldn't be seen and who seemed to have no original face, let out a voice that couldn't be distinguished as male or female, unable to establish a true identity.
It was the Ripper of the Foggy City, Jack the Ripper, an evil spirit elevated from legend.
It has no true form because it's merely a collective of resentment, not the actual Jack the Ripper.
It was the first Heroic Spirit to respond to Illyasviel, possessing extremely high compatibility with her, and also possessing Berserker class compatibility.
Moreover, its Berserker class form was quite strong—not like the Assassin class wandering around third-rate. It should be able to help Illyasviel overcome this crisis, and theoretically, no one should be able to compete with it, right?
After all, whether it's Spirit Origin compatibility, class affinity, or even mental state, it and Illyasviel are almost cut from the same mold.
"Heh, simultaneously facing two Three Knights and one king—you're really getting braver with each battle~"
"You should have accepted my power earlier. If I'm not mistaken, that Conqueror King is weak to poison, perfectly countered by me. I could easily send him off stage. Mages and Assassins should hide behind the scenes—frontal combat isn't what you should be doing~"
The Assyrian Empress who'd been rejected twice, who hadn't successfully responded even in the last wave's perfect Assassin plus Caster setup, propped up her small face and lazily curved her lips into a charming smile. She'd been thinking for ages and couldn't figure out what had responded to the summons last time, who in the Throne of Heroes could be more suitable than her.
This time, she clicked the response button as usual—not because she thought she could succeed.
But out of habit. She was truly curious about what kind of peculiar existence that little girl was, to have so many absurd entities she didn't even recognize respond to the summons.
The first time could be explained by someone understanding assassination better than her. The second time made no sense at all.
So now she didn't hope to descend and take a look. Just treat it as entertainment. Once or twice failing didn't matter—she'd be annoyed. But three or four times—that becomes quite interesting. She was determined to test this Noble Phantasm, to see if the user was really targeting her, whether she'd fail no matter how many times, dozens of times she tried.
"Ara ara? Miss Illya is using her Noble Phantasm again? Does that mean she's already defeated the Lake Knight? Amazing! Using the Assassin class to consecutively defeat three Heroic Spirit Servants, including 'me' manifested as an Archer in my chuunibyou period~"
The King of the Two Rivers, the most ancient King of Heroes, the cute blonde red-eyed little boy who was one of the very few who knew not only Miss Illya's true class but also her achievements and the source of her Noble Phantasm, exclaimed while tilting his head. Very nice, Sister Illya.
Yes, he knew Illyasviel—or rather, his manifested Heroic Spirit aspect knew her.
It's just that perhaps due to parallel worlds or different worldlines, the Illyasviel he knew was somewhat different from this Illyasviel. Probably like the difference between himself at different ages.
The Illyasviel he knew was quite happy, though the ending was just a tiny bit not so good.
And this Illyasviel, though she felt familiar to him, her essence was too mixed.
Who does she resemble? Hmm... early Chloe?
Even darker than Chloe. She yearned for happiness and beauty far too much.
This was an almost obsessive attachment, attempting to resist fate and find an ending of happiness that belonged to herself.
There were two directions—villain and savior—but she chose neither.
She walked a third path belonging to herself, a path named after Illyasviel.
"How interesting, evading multiple certain-death endings." The blonde red-eyed little boy couldn't help but admire. Having activated Sha Naqba Imuru, he'd seen much, including multiple situations where Illyasviel should have died.
Like when assassinating Tokiomi Tohsaka—if she'd succeeded, the enraged King Gilgamesh would have killed her directly.
Like when assassinating Kiritsugu Emiya—if Kiritsugu had died, when King Gilgamesh arrived afterward without the Saber girl to face him head-on, it would have been total annihilation.
Like when she fought desperately with the Saber girl—if the Conqueror King hadn't arrived in time to intervene, the moment she killed the Saber girl, exhausted with no strength to fight again, she would have been finished off by Diarmuid who followed close behind.
And so on, many many more... such instances of luck.
"Misfortune accompanied by fortune, two types of innate skills. Luck beloved by the world."
"And misfortune detested by the world."
"The evils of this world and the savior—what interesting thing will they ultimately give birth to?"
Closing Sha Naqba Imuru, the blonde little boy stroked his chin with some delight. He already knew the true responder to the Berserker card.
The compatibility with Illyasviel couldn't be said to be very high—could only be said to be random among a group of Heroic Spirits with similar conditions. But perhaps it wasn't random but inevitable—inevitable for Illyasviel, having used that method to edge the Noble Phantasm's limit.
But actually, it's meaningless.
At least in the Fourth Holy Grail War conclusion he'd seen, it was meaningless.
The victor of this Holy Grail War would absolutely not be the existence called Illyasviel.
No matter how hard she struggles onward, the victor couldn't possibly fall upon her head.
The one who could ultimately hold the omnipotent wish-granter was actually...
—The Noble Phantasm's summoning ended. Compared to the previous two summonings, this one lasted nearly a full minute, as if there were no suitable responders.
—However, in reality it was still just an instant. After all, the Throne of Heroes doesn't exist within the flow of time.
Was it unable to choose and randomly selected a substitute? Some Heroic Spirits couldn't help but think this.
It seems that among the Heroic Spirits with Berserker compatibility this time, not many responded. At least not like the previous two times with perfectly compatible existences.
Or could it be that too many Heroic Spirits simultaneously met the conditions, and the Noble Phantasm summoning couldn't distinguish between them?
Great Britain's Rebellious Knight Heroic Spirit: Aaaah! Why isn't Berserker me either? Who is it! Three times—three times and it's still not my turn!
Cat-eared green-haired Archer Heroic Spirit: How could it not be me? Does it really have to be the Archer class for my turn? Could this time be random? Please don't let it be that Assyrian Empress. Three times now—if it's her again, that's too much...
Great Britain's Sun Knight Heroic Spirit: Hope it's not that Mordred.
Red-suited Heroic Spirit: Hey hey hey, what's going on? I just started warming up and getting ready to enter!
Fianna Knights' Leader Heroic Spirit: Berserker class plus Assassin Spirit Origin, cutoff line at first-rate Heroic Spirit Servants and below—could it be that guy?
France's Marshal Heroic Spirit: Jeanne, my Jeanne!
London's Resentment Collective Heroic Spirit: There shouldn't be anyone with higher compatibility than me, right? But why isn't it me? Too low and the combat power isn't enough, too high and they can't descend. Logically, I should be the only one who has both compatibility and combat power.
Assyrian Empress: ...I knew it.
Uruk's King of Heroes: Ohohohohohohoho! Hahahahahaha!
Beautiful Green Divine Construct Heroic Spirit: It seems someone is more suitable than me.
The Throne of Heroes returned to calm again. The Assyrian Empress who'd been rejected three times wasn't particularly annoyed. After all, she was just trying it out—she didn't have Berserker class compatibility to begin with, and her combat power for facing such a situation was basically nonexistent.
However, how many Heroic Spirits could break through under a B+ rank Noble Phantasm when besieged by two super first-rate Heroic Spirit Servants? After all, that little girl was severely injured.
"Basic conditions unchanged—needs Berserker compatibility, must be able to use Assassin Spirit Origin."
"Actual condition is powerful combat power, able to face this trial of certain defeat and see tomorrow's dawn."
"Chant additional conditions are... wait, something seems off about this chant. This doesn't seem like incantations for screening compatibility and adjustment period—it's more like a prayer, praying for the strongest Berserker, already having made a choice?"
Semiramis, who'd become a loser three times, frowned. With her knowledge of magecraft, she realized the subtle difference between this chant and the last one.
Moreover, the time wasn't right either. Logically, even if random, such a summoning should last at most thirty seconds.
Why did it persist in the Heroic Spirit Hall for a full minute this time? Even though in reality it was just an instant.
But based on her loser experience from the previous two times, it shouldn't have connected this long, right?
Wait, could it be that this time's responder...
"The Noble Phantasm's limit is first-rate Heroic Spirits, correct, but one can exploit the Noble Phantasm capacity loophole. I see—the true standard is that only Divine Spirits and Grand-class cannot be carried."
"No wonder it lasted so long. But who exactly is it?"
"Breaking through their own power and attribute lower limits, forcibly falling to first-rate level, just to 'downgrade'?"