So the book wasn't lying after all.
Rowan Mercer stared at Archer with open interest.
The so-called Throne of Heroes didn't just record figures from the past.
It could register heroes from the future as well.
Which meant the white-haired Archer standing in this living room was Shirou Emiya.
Not the boy sitting on the couch.
A future version.
One who would eventually walk the path of a hero, die, and be recorded as a summonable spirit.
Rowan didn't particularly care why Shirou would become a hero.
He didn't care how he would die.
What interested him was what this implied.
The Throne existed outside linear time.
Past.
Present.
Future.
All equally accessible.
That pushed it into a far more dangerous category of existence.
Something brushing against the fundamental structure of reality itself.
If the Holy Grail War truly opened a hole using the Throne as a bridge…
Then reaching the Root might not be fantasy after all.
Rowan's lips curved slightly.
Interesting.
"Nothing urgent right now," Rowan said casually. "Let's check Lancer's memories."
Time was still frozen.
With a flick of his hand, Rowan released the unconscious Lancer from his sealed space.
He placed a finger to Lancer's temple.
Images flooded in.
A childhood born of gods.
A warrior raised in blood.
Training beneath a witch in a land of shadows.
A crimson spear.
Countless battlefields.
Glory.
Massacre.
Death.
Then darkness.
Then summoning.
A woman using an earring as a catalyst.
Betrayal by a trusted ally.
A priest who smiled too easily.
Rowan withdrew his hand.
"Huh. You actually know magecraft."
Not much in the modern sense.
But ancient runes.
Old systems.
Lost languages.
More valuable than expected.
Unfortunately, Lancer himself didn't understand the underlying mechanics of his causality-defying strike.
He simply used it.
Which meant the real prize wasn't the Servant.
It was the spear.
Rowan glanced at Lancer's weapon.
"Looks like you're staying alive for now."
An hour passed.
Rowan snapped his fingers.
Time resumed.
Rin blinked.
Saber blinked.
Archer blinked.
Shirou blinked.
All at once.
"My clothes—why am I wearing this?"
"Why are you wearing mine?"
Everyone spoke at once.
Rin folded her arms.
"Changing clothes doesn't prove you can beat Servants."
Rowan pointed toward the window.
"Check the clock tower."
They turned.
The massive city clock read:
12:00.
Shirou's face went pale.
"When I got home, it was barely past ten…"
Rin slowly looked back at Rowan.
"You stopped time."
Not a question.
A statement.
Even Saber and Archer stiffened.
Time manipulation wasn't high-level magecraft.
It was myth.
Divine-tier territory.
Rowan shrugged.
"So yes. Taking your Command Seals by force would be trivial."
He looked at Shirou.
"If you give them to me willingly, I'll grant you one reasonable wish."
"Money. Love. Status. A quiet life. Your pick."
Shirou shook his head.
"No need."
Everyone stared.
"You saved me. You promised not to use the Grail for evil. That's enough."
He held out his right hand.
The crimson markings glowed faintly.
Rowan studied him for a moment.
"Fair warning. I also want the catalyst inside your body."
Shirou blinked.
"The what?"
Rowan placed a hand on Shirou's abdomen.
Pulled.
A beautifully crafted sheath emerged, shimmering with faint light.
Saber shot to her feet.
"That is… Avalon."
The air went silent.