Fate Strange Fake - Vol.8
Fate Strange Fake - Vol.8
Fate/strange Fake 7
Fate/strange Fake 7
Fate/Strange Fake
Volume 8
CONTENTS
“-” 001
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Fate/strange Fake 6
I’m not much one to talk myself, but my brother is completely insane.
The Archibald family contracted an astronomical debt with his predecessor’s death. Yes, the
debt’s figure would leave even the Animusphere astronomers out of their depth, and he took it
on himself alone to pay it.
Itemize the debt? Are you asking because you want to pay for it in our stead?
I’m joking, of course. Now that my brother said he’d shoulder the debt, he’s not letting an-
yone else pay for it. Besides, here’s what I’ve been thinking lately: no one other than my brother
could pay all that debt. Though it could be impossible even for him, maybe.
I say it including the non-financial losses, such as the loss of his predecessor’s life and the
damage to the Magic Crest, but also... you could produce a Hollywood ultra blockbuster with
all the physical assets the Archibalds lost. There were multiple losses that could have collapsed
the whole faction, but one of them was the greatest of them all.
One damaged item on our property... It was something not even the other Lords could easily
obtain. It’s for good reason that that item used to be El-Melloi’s Supreme Mystic Code until the
previous El-Melloi perfected Trimmau.
Yes... The previous Lord losing it in the battle of Fuyuki was the biggest of the 5 fatal losses
we suffered.
It’s not as big a deal as the Holy Grail... but there are mages who would start a war for it.
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“Puddle”
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Bridge: Puddle
5 days ago, Snowfield
When the Heroic Spirit Hippolyte was granted knowledge from the Grail and manifested,
she was met with sparkling lights everywhere.
When she felt a torrent of magical energy all over her body, she determined that that was the
energy from the summon, and tried to make the formal appeal to her contractor.
Because she understood her role as a Servant from the moment of her summon, much like
most living beings understand the need to breathe from birth.
The instant she tried to see the person she was supposed to direct those words to, her intellect
quickly comprehended the situation she was in.
She understood that the lights and the torrent of magical energy didn’t come from the
summoning ritual.
Bones creaking
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The area was charged with all forms of discord and violence.
Hippolyte was the queen of the Amazons. The head of a warrior tribe. This air was something
she was used to.
Conflict. War.
Hippolyte was summoned not to a formulaic ritual altar, but to the middle of a trenchant
conflict.
“...?”
She was of the many, many Heroic Spirits of Ancient Greece; the daughter of the god of war,
Ares; and the leading warrior guarding the temple of the goddess of the hunt, Artemis.
Therefore, the conflict could never make her lose her nerve.
Because it was a battle between flesh and blood humans, not a battle between the heroes
from the Age of Gods.
According to the knowledge the Holy Grail gave her, a Heroic Spirit summon was a ritual
performed with a catalyst and an incantation.
Some few tribes and religions have a ritual of offering to the god of war, but this one is not
supposed one of that kind.
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She thought that an enemy exploited the moment of the summon for a surprise attack, but
her history as a warrior leader immediately rejected that guess.
The battle between the two had been going on for a long time.
Wait... Considering the level of this battle, maybe... This was not a proper ceremony but it might
have been enough to call me.
Two figures collided and she had no reason to take either’s side.
“Aaaargh! Can’t you ever give up?”, said one of the figures exchanging shots—a woman in
red clothes—as she fired Gandr curses.
She launched cursed bullets with the force of a triple burst from an assault rifle, which the
target dodged by a hair, pulverizing parts of the concrete walls behind her and exposing the steel
beams inside them.
While the woman in red confirmed the result of her shot, her dark eyes found Hippolyte.
“Seems like our guest couldn’t stand to wait until we were finished. Wanna keep going?”, she
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added as she furthered the distance between herself and her opponent.
The other figure—a woman covering the area around her in black smoke—responded to her
enemy in red’s question with a sharp glare.
“Leave her waiting. Or did you want a break to have tea with the Heroic Spirit?”
From the gaps of the woman’s black smoke, she could peek at a harmonious face with shark-
like teeth and a pair of gothic goggles on her eyes, engraved with magical letters.
Her words were weaved with wicked laughter, but in contrast, the woman in red sighed and
shrugged.
“Well guessed, that’s exactly what I was planning to do this whole time.”
There was no delay between the woman’s words and her actions.
Each and every movement had a purpose in adjusting the flow of Od inside her and were
preparatory steps for an explosive drive on her joints and muscles.
Her approach was so explosive the ordinary man would have thought she disappeared.
A superb way of walking that combined her magical energy, technique, and all of her
arduously cultivated physical strength.
At that point, she had already switched her limbs to their next form.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
A hit to the ribcage. Even a normal backhand to that area had the chance to prove fatal to
an undertrained body.
At the start of her movement, the woman in red fired a ball of curse from her fingertip, ran
at the same speed as her shot, and delivered her twisted backhand together with it to push the
shot further.
“Gah...!”
The blow hit the chest, quite distant from the face, and yet the impact spread through her
body was intense enough to cause visible damage to her facial accessory.
Hit with a strike and curse inevitably capable of knocking out a boxing champion in one hit,
the woman with the goggles laughed ecstatically.
“I get it now... You’re as good as the rumors say! No, better than the rumors! Average One!”
“I don’t know what rumors you heard, but I’m much more than my attributes... Ah!”
“True, my bad!”
The mage with the goggles—Doris Lusendra’s chop was also superhuman.
The first thing to call attention to is that her fingers were nothing like human fingers.
Their form and hardness were altered to resemble the talons of a bird of prey—or rather, of a
phantasmal dragon. This makes them blades capable of bisecting a human being. She rushed in
at Rin for a follow-up.
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What makes her chops so difficult to fight against is how all of them cause the whole cloud
of black smoke around her to move.
A lineage that determined that one of their end goals was to replicate an allegedly extinct
phantasmal species from Japan, the oni, with their own flesh and blood, and spent the past 1000
years modifying their own bodies and Magic Circuits.
With a special form of Reinforcement Magecraft passed down in the family, they repurpose
their skeleton, each muscle fiber, each nerve, each lymph duct, and each capillary vessel to pass
as a makeshift Magic Circuit.
Their final destination is defined by the contradiction of making the already lost past reach
the distant future.
To take hold of, understand, or rewrite what is lost with the progress of the current form of
Human Order, many mages keep the engine of their bloodlines running.
Doris Lusendra is one of many using their lives and souls as fuel to the ends of the rails set
by their lineages.
“I really want to praise you right now, but the first word to come to mind is ‘nasty’.”, Rin
shrugged looking at the half-wrecked walls, floor, and pillars. “In no time, you changed this
room’s attribute into your own without even a Mystic Code or a catalyst... no, I guess at this
point, your very body is already a Mystic Code and a catalyst.”
The room had marks of destruction, some done by Rin’s magecraft but most done by Doris’s
own body, and the parts she broke were drenched in remains of the raging magical energy
seeping from her.
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Meaning that the more Doris destroyed, the more this environment became magically
advantageous to her.
The debris housing magical energy had already begun to resonate with Doris. The room’s
interior was expressing its hostile intent to remove the unwelcome element that was Rin.
“You are the greatest wall in my path! You are worth bringing out all the deepest secrets of
us Lusendra!”
“Do I really look nice enough to play along with everything you want to show?”
Her actions were faster than her words. Rin deployed jewels around her.
“Anfang.”
Simultaneously with her power words, surges of magical energy of multiple attributes
erupted from the spaces between the seven floating gems.
Then the light continuously reflected inside the gems, expanding their magical energy as it
shot flashes of light.
Magical energy of multiple attributes twisted into a beam of light aimed at Doris Lusendra.
And what was behind her seven jewels was even more terrifying.
The flash of light was concealing five floating jewels disposed in the shape of a pentagram.
It was the magecraft she perfected under Lord El-Melloi II’s tutelage: Fünf Sterne im Umlauf.
The unfair technique that allows Rin, the Average One, to initiate magecraft pre-deployed
in the gems in response to the enemy spell, ensuring her attack will always have the upper hand
in any compatibility interaction.
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The jewels’ magical beam served as a distraction to give her time to speak the chant that
induces its activation.
“You won’t!”
Black mist explosively expanded out of Doris’s body to cancel the glimmer circulating in the
jewels.
It was the blood that sprayed out of the cut she made on the arteries of her own wrist.
The blood sprayed out already on its acidic black color and tried to crush the jewels around
Rin in a form like a water jet’s blade.
Doris’s skin, previously reinforced like steel, was ripped apart as her right arm’s bones started
to morph into a blade.
And then the debris around her floated and began to gather on Doris’s right arm, compressing
all the steel beams and concrete.
The bone blade coated in steel and debris finally covered the whole arm, turning into armor
as it grew larger until the black hand eventually surpassed her own height, almost reaching from
the ground to the ceiling.
And next,
with a twisted sound, the right arm made of debris, bone, iron, and most importantly, Doris’s
Circuit-converted flesh and blood, plunged forward, assaulting Rin with the palm of a giant.
And the worst of all is that this whole alteration and strike took place in less than 1 second.
Normally, Rin could effortlessly dismantle the physical components if she had only
completed the Fünf Sterne im Umlauf chant.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
All cheats and counters are swallowed by her diligently optimized bodily alteration speed
and the physical strength created by her Reinforcement Magecraft.
Even if Rin did activate her spell and tried to dismantle it, the debris had already gained
impulse unrelated to magecraft and an improvised barrier or defensive spell couldn’t stop their
masses.
However, this description refers to magecraft which eventually dissipates into the world. It’s
powerless against real phenomena connected to the world, like for example special permanent
projections, a mercury being taking a fully physical form, or simply a dump truck running in her
direction.
Lusendra knew nothing of the Fünf Sterne im Umlauf spell, but in the depths of her
obsession, she unwittingly achieved a counterplay for Rin’s greatest secret.
“You don’t get a choice, you will play along, Toosaka Rin!”
The Lusendra lineage devoured everything it could to grow closer to the phantasmagoria of
the oni, or to live life the way they did.
The previous family head, the most powerful in their history, devoured man and fiend alike,
sometimes even vampires, and lastly, in an attempt to devour a god, he headed to Japan, where
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And there he randomly came across the real deal. Which means to say he was slaughtered by
a one-eyed man with thick oni blood in his veins.
They lost most of their Magic Crest and then had to deal with the heavy consequences of
their quest for “sacrifices to devour” continuously making larges amounts of new enemies for
them.
The only options left for them were to disappear into obscurity or to be instantly ruined by
an enemy attack.
That’s when Doris, the only one who hadn’t given up yet, was visited by Francesca and invited
to the Holy Grail War.
She was told that the Grail was fake and most likely incapable of reaching the Fount.
Doris Lusendra didn’t blindly trust the story but accepted the invitation.
She believed that seeing a hero from the Age of Gods with her own eyes and having her
magical energy connected to one was worth it, and most importantly, if something close to a
god manifested, she had a chance to incorporate it into her body.
A powerful enemy appeared before she could even summon, and faced with this enemy,
Doris lost sight of everything. The Holy Grail War, the revival of her family, and the roadmap
of her future were all trivial.
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This mage right here was the greatest obstacle in her whole life.
She was sure that blasting through this wall was the way to perfect her lineage’s magecraft.
She didn’t mind losing the chance to fight those who appeared alongside Toosaka Rin or the
chance to contract the Servant.
It was with that much resolve that she launched her Giant Oni Grab.
This blow was her ultimate technique to crush any enemy regardless of whatever magecraft
attribute they could have.
“Fantastic.”, Hippolyte approved of the magecraft Doris poured her heart and soul into.
“But...”
Her eyes were the eyes of a warrior Heroic Spirit. They clearly saw the bigger picture.
By the time the palm strike of the giant was composed, the woman named Toosaka Rin had
already abandoned the chant and the jewels.
She judged that the greatest magecraft she ever constructed couldn’t do a thing against the
physical strength generated by her opponent.
And as soon as she did, she repurposed half of the magical energy in all the deployed gems
to conceal herself and construct a power spot, and then she jumped close to the ceiling, slipping
between the giant’s fingers.
Any misstep and she would have ended up a victim of the oni’s claws, but regardless, the
mage named Toosaka Rin escaped the jaws of death.
This wasn’t a gamble. That mage... she went through all her options and knew which was the
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best one.
The mage Rin only turned behind for one instant to look regretfully at the gems going to
waste, and while she did, she kicked the ceiling, switching the vectors of her body, mind, and
magical energy flow into her next move.
Drawing all the excess energy from the crushed jewels back into her body, she composed her
favorite spell, one she can do without requiring a chant.
Dense misfortune spouted out of Rin’s fingertips at the start of her free fall from the ceiling.
Hippolyte recognized that as a curse, although one quite different in design compared to
the curses of her land.
Hippolyte never heard the word “Gandr” before, but as someone who fought loads and
loads of demonic beasts and sorcerers from the Age of Gods, she could easily guess what it was
used for.
The Gandr was just a curse. Hippolyte’s heartfelt admiration was for the refined tricks
around it. She presumed this magecraft finesse to be on the high end of what the tactical minds
of the modern age can do.
“You wily-!”
Doris voiced her surprise at the same time she internally commended her enemy.
The spell Rin had previously compiled was one of the greatest achievements of her mage
lineage.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
The decision to discard that magecraft after so much buildup was not an easy one even for
the most rational of mages.
Doris judged that her opponent had extraordinary combat experience on top of her diligent
study of magecraft. She prepared to counter her opponent’s attacks, with the corners of her
mouth raised high.
It was a refined cursed bullet named Finn Shot, capable of piercing concrete. Since Toosaka
Rin fired those with the frequency of an autocannon, no ordinary man fighting her could escape
certain death.
Even if their body can somehow withstand it, the essence of the curse would infiltrate their
body and stop their heart.
However, my skin is now iron and can block the consecutive curse volleys!
Doris surrounded her whole body with intense magical energy, with the intention of landing
the most effective counter she could deliver.
But the Gandr impact she was prepared to take never came.
“!?”
Doris felt let down but didn’t have the time to feel confused. Before she could, she saw the
Gandr shot out of Rin’s fingertips intercepted by something invisible.
For a moment, Doris assumed someone other than Rin interfered. But she discerned it was
not the case. The qualities of the magical energy emitted by the barrier were identical to the
qualities of the energy covering Rin.
Meaning the one who set the boundary was Rin herself.
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In its normal form, this boundary was powerful enough to lock an enemy inside a room.
Rin compressed the boundary to the size of a football, making it into a cage to circulate the
Gandrs she produced.
The cage was now a pressure cooker full of curses, shrinking even further as it dropped to
Doris’s feet.
Doris envisioned the explosion of the accumulated curses and focused her magical energy
on her feet to jump away, then Rin sank her foot to the ground with a full-powered stomp.
With the Gandr cage taking all of her attention, Doris forgot about Rin for a moment—an
instant, even.
To Toosaka Rin, a mage who once survived a Holy Grail War, an opponent who lets their
guard down like this is an opponent who surrendered the battle.
And Toosaka Rin’s style was to break an enemy’s spirit beyond repair, surrendered or
otherwise.
Rin approached from an angle Doris wasn’t looking at and shoved the Bounded Field
compressed to the size of a golf ball into Doris’s foot with her stomp.
Doris had her whole body down to the capillary vessels turned into makeshift Magic Circuits,
and this strike aimed for the moment she would focus all her magical energy on her feet for a
jump.
What could only be described as a curse cannon loaded with a grapeshot of Finn Shots
wrenched open her steel body and spread through her body when her foot had the maximum
amount of magical energy paths open.
The impact on the foot could be felt even on the top of the head, and its shockwaves broke
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“GAH...!”
Rin’s movement flowed into the next, preparing to use her palm heel to shove in her next
Gandr along with a jewel she suddenly had in her hand. However, this blow was blocked by
another palm coming from her side.
Rin cast a sharp glare at the intruder. Hippolyte looked straight into Rin as she spoke.
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“I apologize for putting a damper on your combat.”, said Hippolyte. Her right hand calmly
stopped the blow that would use a jewel to drive a Gandr to someone’s insides.
Rin just saw someone block an attack powerful enough to knock down a giant elephant, but
showed no signs of surprise.
Because she knew that Heroic Spirits were overwhelming power inaccessible to modern
mages.
“But this match already has a winner. Additional attacks those who can’t move won’t be
allowed on my watch.”
In sync with Hippolyte’s words, Doris’s knees gave in and she collapsed.
With the magical energy composing it dispelled, the giant palm made of blood and debris
crumbled.
Meanwhile, Doris’s left arm was extremely injured, but due to the original properties of her
body, it had already stopped bleeding.
“Hmmm...”
Rin looked as if she was the one testing the Heroic Spirit’s values. She sighed while she put
her magical energy to rest.
As she stepped away gripping her gem, Doris formed sentences in the gaps of her ragged
breaths.
“I don’t need your mercy, Heroic Spirit... Now that I’m defeated, I have no problems with
my blood, flesh, and soul being devoured by the victor.”
Despite the blood coughs interrupting her speech, Doris’s face had an expression of
satisfaction. She couldn’t stand up. It was taking all that she had just to keep talking.
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“Hey, can you stop making it sound like I’m a Strigoaică or a carnivorous dinosaur? I was
never after your life... That said, I hate being mistaken for a naïve mage, so listen. Ahem.” In
contrast with her previous violence, Rin’s assertion to Doris was completely rational. “Regardless
of our pact, the Command Spells appeared in you first. I can’t imagine the Heroic Spirit right
there will be happy if I kill you to steal them like some bandit... Although some Heroic Spirits
would like me better if I finished you off without mercy.”
Doris had also perceived Hippolyte’s nature at first glance. Her face alone could vaguely
move when her limbs still couldn’t, so she faintly smiled and closed her eyes.
“Good for you. I have a lot of regrets. Sigh.” Before continuing, Rin directed a mean smile at
Doris. “How many gems do you even think I spent on you? I can’t make you pay compensation
if you’re dead, can I?”
× ×
“I see, the two mages made a pact before the duel. I assume with the rights to my contract
at stake.”
“More specifically the bargaining chips that enable our contract. That’d be the Command
Spells.”
After hearing the situation, Hippolyte looked at Rin with new eyes.
A mightful mage.
Rider’s simple impression is that despite all this growth potential, she was already far too
perfected for her young age.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“And you don’t resort to your numbers to steal it...”, said Hippolyta, feeling the presence of
the dozens of mages outside the room.
“We do, depending on the situation. But the Holy Grail War is not even started yet, you
know?”
Taking Rin’s word as their signal, the ones outside stepped into the wrecked room.
“Well, it was really fortuitous that she accepted a personal duel bound by a magical pact,
Toosaka Rin. It’s already humiliating enough that our Svin and Roland, due to being a wolf and
snake, had to negotiate a peaceful resolution to their fight against the Zempulus beast hunter
the other day. Having to resort to our superior numbers to beat the Lusendra oni imitation
would put a dent in our teacher’s glory.”, said a young man with the airs of a noble.
“Still, what a boorish battle. You could have ended it so much faster and easier if you had
ever learned a grappling move or stopped being a penny-pincher with your gems.”, continued a
woman in a blue dress.
Hearing that, Rin took one more look at Doris lying down on debris before delivering her
counter-argument.
“Hello? Have you seen her magecraft? I’d be dead with my bones full of holes if I’ve ever
tried anything as slow as a grappling move.”
“Sweet, ignorant child. Once you master your locks and throws, you can neutralize your
enemies as instantly as you can with punches.”
“Honestly, you’re the only one who even tries pulling off these niche tactics on mages, do
you know that?”
“And that last hit... The Bounded Field sealing the Gandrs was shoddily composed. Were
you taking suicide bombing as your plan B again?”
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“What the hell do you mean by ‘again’? When did I ever do that?!”
The women in the red and blue continued their debate. Watching it from the sidelines, it
was hard to determine if they were serious or just bantering. The aristocratic young man, the first
one to talk, bowed to Hippolyte.
“Sorry for my classmates’ shameful display. Am I right to assume you are the Heroic Spirit
summoned for this ritual by the call of the Holy Grail?”
Seeing his elegant posture and the perfect harmony of his magical energy circulation,
Hippolyte was sure of one thing:
All the dozens of people in this place were like Rin, diamonds polished beyond their age.
But conversely, she couldn’t find any other common element between them.
Thus, Hippolyte had one question to ask before she ever talked about her contract or made
her requests.
“You don’t look like a very uniform organization. What kind of group are you?”
Her status as a queen and her experience leading a warrior team only made her all the more
curious about what connection formed this strange group.
This made the mage Toosaka Rin pause to think before answering.
“There’s really only one way to describe it... we’re disciples studying under the same teacher.”
This answer made all the dots connect. Hippolyte spoke with heartfelt admiration.
“Makes sense... He must be quite the capable mentor. Much the widely famous Chiron of
our era.”
The group responded by looking at each other’s faces. A fair number of them nodded without
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thinking twice, but the majority silently shook their head trying to hold back laughter.
“I can’t say for sure... but I think he’s the complete opposite of the mythological Chiron.”
× ×
If the amount of magical energy a person has can be described as a river or an ocean, then
that mage is a puddle.
The man once participated in a magecraft ritual in Japanese lands and managed to survive
despite then being a novice mage-in-training.
Any normal magecraft ritual would have finished with no life-threatening accidents and that
would have been the end of the story.
The problem is that this ritual was essentially mage duels, and dubious rumors say a wish-
granting device manifested. The most esoteric saying about the ritual is that is a pivotal ceremony
in the world of magecraft. One likely to even touch the Fount. That is the Holy Grail War.
At the time he survived the ritual, he was still just a boy. Years later, he became a Lord of the
Clock Tower.
In the same Holy Grail War ceremony, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald lost his life.
After inheriting his position and all debts the Archibald family contracted due to his death,
the young man went to encounter numerous cases and epic adventures, but that’s a whole other
story not directly related to the Snowfield ritual.
What’s important to Snowfield’s counterfeit Holy Grail War is the fact that his predecessor
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And the ones who grew under the tutelage of the man who inherited the El-Melloi name.
El-Melloi II doesn’t see himself as the one who raised them. He often mumbles that talented
people break out of their shells on their own with just some minor support pointing to new
directions, and is genuinely jealous of his students’ talents.
He’s the least influential of the Clock Tower Lords, and very few students were completely
affiliated to the class due to faction politics.
However, it’s said that all the ones who stuck with the class until graduation reached the
highest mage rankings in the Clock Tower— the status of Pride and Brand—and the ones who
went on to graduate in different departments are also widely praised mages.
Consequently, while the El-Melloi Classroom has only about 50 alumni, the other
departments in all factions, hundreds or thousands strong, fear the classroom. The general
opinion is that if they make a move, it’ll change the Clock Tower.
This appraisal is a thorn in Lord El-Melloi II’s side, but due to his slightly eccentric character
as a mage, he maintains his undesired Lord status.
Due to how he is, his students have all sorts of different stances about him. Some are fanatic
zealots toward their teacher, while some genuinely hate him to the point of wanting to kill him,
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and one would even betray him without remorse despite openly wishing to be his lover.
Far from a saint. A weird bad apple searching for ways to make the good apples prosper.
Ask any El-Melloi Classroom student to speak of Lord El-Melloi II’s worst aspects, and they
all will have something to point out while holding back laughter.
For better or for worse, they only are who they are today because they had El-Melloi II as
their mentor.
But this puddle is far more valuable than any river or ocean.
It reflects the one who looking at it, and any ripple in the water can twist the image.
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Chapter 24
“Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ******”
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Although looking at their destination, one could say all paths were the same.
Some called the sacred grounds of the mountain a belfry blessing the natural end of life,
while others called it the threshold of the underworld.
It’s the embodiment of a concept all those born in this world will eventually reach, yet at the
same time, it’s a land that cannot be walked to lest one crosses a ravine men avoid.
Among those who actually set foot on this mountain, very few reached the end and the
beginning at its summit.
It goes beyond a matter of reaching it or not. Most in the transient world of the living don’t
even know whether or not the temple is real.
Because reaching that place means ending your life in this world.
Because one’s life is only truly lost if one arrives at the place unharmed.
Because the recompense granted to those who arrive at the Mausoleum is a bell blessing the
literal end of their natural lives. A ring of the evening bell and a glimmer of a blade that invites
peaceful rest.
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Chapter 24: Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ******
At all times, only one person remains in this resting place of the spirits.
An old man with no face. It’s impossible to determine if he remains there alive or remains
there after death.
The announcer of death, which the assassin leaders known as Hassan-i-Sabbah respect and
revere above any other man.
Cursed Arm.
Intoxicated Smoke.
Serenity.
Shadow Peeler.
Quaking Pipe.
Hundred Personas.
Throughout every generation, the leaders of the Order of Assassins had unique epithets and
feats of assassination correspondent with those names.
The Old Man of the Mountain was the only one with no such name. He could be considered
the Order’s originator and its very concept.
An unreachable star, unseen regulation, and unavoidable executioner to the eighteen leaders
who followed him.
At the moment that those permitted to stray from morality drown in human pleasure, great
causes are corrupted into personal desires and become contrary to the dogmas.
And because this was intolerable, the Old Man appeared to the Hassans carrying the evening
bell.
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To invite them to the everlasting darkness with his blade of demise, much like demise itself
eventually appears before all.
A proper leader of the Order of Assassins needs to dedicate all they have to the dogmas and
chain their egos under the Hassan name.
When, for any reason, they become unable to comply with this, that is the moment their
lives end.
There’s no need for them to be in the mausoleum. Wherever they go, the Old Man will be
standing behind the Hassan that was living their life wrong.
It’s as if the true Mausoleum of Azrael is wherever the Old Man is.
Thus, although all leaders of the Order of Assassins heard about the spiritual mausoleum,
barely any of them ever walked to it, and the few who did went to offer their heads because they
could sense their part was done.
But in the unending flow of time, it’s possible for someone to defy the strong crosswinds of
reason.
A shadow crossed the misty ravine of the arid region like a heat haze.
While he was certainly alive, he was clad in an aura that suggested he stepped on the frontier
between the transient world and the underworld, blending in with both sides. This figure simply
advanced, advanced, advanced, advanced...
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After overcoming many trials and hardships, the shadow arrived at the Mausoleum.
The figure finally reached the old man with no face that guarded the mausoleum.
Basking in the presence of the Old Man who resembled death embodied, all the figure did
was proclaim words of respect for that venerable place.
For this figure, who wasn’t an assassin, let alone a leader of the Order, life ended without him
ever getting to hear the evening bell.
200 years passed. 500 years passed. Enough years passed for the shadow of the great tree to
disappear without a trace.
Enough time for the shadow of doom to leave a burn mark on the world.
× ×
“What’s your wish for the Holy Grail, shadow Assassin?”, asked the Master who contracted
the shadow in this Holy Grail War in the interstice between truth and falsehood.
But this Master of the shadow made this his first question after they tied the contract. An
attempt to understand at least the bare minimum about his own Servant’s nature—or to find
his weaknesses.
In a normal Holy Grail War, most Heroic Spirits are called because they have some wish the
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The shadow’s Master’s goal is to more effectively know his partner by understanding the
central reason for his presence.
The shadow manifested as Assassin—this Heroic Spirit going by the name Hassan-i-Sabbah
is someone seen as abnormal in the eyes of a Master who is knowledgeable about the Holy Grail
War.
After all, his own Master’s eyes can’t see his amount of magical energy, let alone his physical
abilities.
His choice of words showed he was blatantly testing his Master, and one wrong response
could easily lead to him being beheaded in his sleep.
The Master had the option to spend Command Spells to limit the Servant’s movements,
but the Servant was sinister enough to make the Master believe that binding this Heroic Spirit
through Command Spells required being ready to lose everything.
This Heroic Spirit doesn’t have a hint of fear for his erasure... his second death.
What is someone without the fear of death, someone who can go out without regrets, doing
here?
At that stage, he still didn’t have enough information to know if he should be using the
Heroic Spirit or preparing for its insurrection.
So even though the Servant would see through the calculated self-interest in the question,
the Master still chose to ask.
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“Can you tell me? If your wish is incompatible with mine, I know how to make us reach a
fair compromise.”
Despite the Master adding sincere-sounding words to his question, the shadow said nothing.
The Master could only hear noises coming from the monitor of the computer he was looking
at as subliminal letters raced across the borders of the screen.
“...?”
--My path has no need for it, as it is corrupt from inception, and therefore I am here.--
The flickering words among the strings of letters sounded like a riddle. He made a point to
use the term “wish granter, which is practically a token function to the ritual. It felt as if he was
intentionally avoiding the term “Holy Grail”.
The shadow simply left the following string of letters and melded his presence into the city’s
darkness without waiting for further words from his Master.
--The light of thy wish granter does not reach me, and for all eternity, I who am shadow
shan’t touch it.--
And then the shadow slipped into the darkness of the Holy Grail War.
Equally measuring the shadows of all those illuminated by the Holy Grail.
Even now that the shadow was summoned as a Heroic Spirit, his consciousness remained
the same.
The “individual” here is merely a shadow of the Old Man cast by a glimmer.
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He was not the Old Man of the Mountain, but instead a shadow that only imitated his will.
× ×
The shadow remained still, submerged in Snowfield’s forest, now turn into a hellscape
centered around the trio of the Mesopotamian goddess, her divine beast, and her demonic beast.
Thinking that if this is the end of the world, returning to the perpetual night alongside the
rest of Human Order is also part of his role.
One seeker of the truth, struggling through the path she believed in, without an answer.
× ×
“On schedule. The city’s telephone tower will cut off both the civilian and military lines
soon. We’re fully ready to jam all wireless transmissions, except the ones using magecraft.”, his
subordinate Aludra reported.
“The hurricane knocked down the telephone tower. Neat enough of a cover story. I was
starting to feel sorry for the gas company after pushing the blame on them so, so many times.”,
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Faldeus shrugged.
“How do we proceed with the THORN and BADGER units dispatched to the marsh and
desert areas?”, Aludra dispassionately asked.
“Ask them to remain on standby. They are disposable assets, and any thoughtless movements
will make them notice that. There’s not much low-end spellcasters and mercenaries can do in
this situation.”
× ×
Watching the remains of what once were modern weapons falling from the sky, the Assassin
with no name forced a groan out of her throat.
The bloodsucking hellspawn she was chasing was before her, and even then this fully stole
her attention away from her enemy, although only for an instant.
But the same is true for the enemy in question—her hematophage summoner Jester Karture.
Despite the lengths of his obsession, Assassin was gone from all his sensations for an instant.
No, it’d be more accurate to say that their attention and sensations were forcibly drawn.
What happened the moment the alleged goddess on the temple exerted her power went
much beyond catching Assassin and the vampire’s attention. They could feel their whole soul
being dominated.
She couldn’t feel her feet. She was suddenly thrown into a zero-gravity darkness. Her
common sense was being rewritten to tell her that the temple before her eyes was the only thing
that existed. Perhaps she could only remain conscious through this whole process due to her
powerful faith and mental strength.
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That’s how much overwhelming power—or perhaps the concept called “beauty”—filled the
the solemn edifice in front of her. That was the Neo Ishtar Temple.
Our Ishtar shall be the last god granting creation her blessing.
She will permit everything and she will punish everything.
She is the goddess of love, therefore, harvest.
The upcoming season will be the best.
Bring reverence and adoration.
Bring sacrilege and profanation.
Words announcing the coming of a new era flowed out of the mouth of Haruri, now the
head priestess of the Neo Ishtar Temple.
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The announcement wasn’t directed to anyone. Haruri was telling her own heart that.
The scene she saw was a scene of knowledge being presented to the fools opposing the
goddess. Knowledge that modern weapons are rendered powerless by Ishtar’s charm. Knowledge
of how pathetically they drop to the ground.
Ishtar, advened in the vessel named Filia, imposingly lorded over the lands, indicating she no
longer had a care in the world for Jester and Assassin standing next to her.
“Fine.”
And then she delivered her divine proclamation. Not only to Jester and Assassin, but to all
mages and Heroic Spirits participating in the Holy Grail War, or perhaps to all people living
in Snowfield—no, to everything on the planet’s Texture, not limited to categories of land and
mankind.
Harvest.
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The goddess in the forest generated a unique air that induced ecstasy and resignation.
The temple to her worship increased her graces, turning them into winds filled with a feeling
that the end of times has come. The winds began to travel across the world.
The winds were carried by the divine beast standing on the west side of the city: the Bull of
Heaven.
The now-completed temple became the lynchpin for a new world order. It seemed
unavoidable that the Singularity created in this forest would corrode the world.
Will this pushback come from the power of self-purification or from the collective struggle
of the doomed weak? The answer is not yet clear.
One fragment of the pushback was in the marsh region on the opposite side of Snowfield,
letting out an idiotic scream.
× ×
“HYAAAAaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAAA”
“Are you okay, Ayaka? We can still go on foot if you can’t handle it...!”
The reason for Ayaka Sajou’s panicked yells is that she was heading north of the city by horse.
She rode clinging to Saber’s back, advancing through the boggy grounds of the marsh area
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at extraordinary speeds.
The horse, presumably a power borrowed from one of the Saint Graphs that Saber called “his
retinues”, barely didn’t sway like a normal horse would.
The only cause for Ayaka’s screams was moving at speeds she never experienced before, but
she still never told him to slow down.
It had gotten to a point where even someone as unknowledgeable about magecraft as her
could detect the abnormality in the city.
If she looked west, she could see an unmoving wall of clouds so dense it looked like there
was no world beyond it, and the news reported abnormal phenomena all over the world, most
notably in the Arctic.
To top it off, she was visited by a Servant she never interacted with before, and invited by her
Master to fight in a united front.
A normal mage would have considered a trap, but this didn’t even cross Ayaka’s mind.
But she’s a complete amateur and wouldn’t have been able to hold her base if that really was
a siege.
Saber would have offered a plan if she asked but he was clearly invested in this idea of a
united front. Ayaka found no reason to oppose him, and more relevantly to her decision, she
didn’t get the impression that this visiting “Rider” was a dangerous woman.
She considered her a lot more trustworthy than any of the other Heroic Spirits she saw in
front of the hospital or the demonic beasts she met in the dream.
Ayaka had, of course, some level of caution, not taking the visitor’s every word at face value.
Clinging tight to Saber, she took a peek at the Rider’s horse running next to hers.
It kept up with the extraordinary speed of Saber’s horse. If anything, it was Saber’s horse that
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Since she mentioned her Rider Saint Graph, Ayaka arrived at the elementary conclusion
she’s called Rider because she was really good at riding.
“Amazing! And here I thought I was a good rider. To think you can reach these speeds
without even stirrups or a saddle!”
“I’m a little abashed with all the sincere admiration, but thank you. My tribe prides itself in
treating horses as comrades.”, answered Rider, looking at the Heroic Spirit with curious eyes as
he spoke his praise with boyish honesty.
Rider was happy that her horse gained more recognition than herself.
“Woah woah, are you should be saying things that hint at your True Name?”
“It’s not a problem. You won’t see me naming myself for no reason, but I do have my Master’s
permission to disclose my True Name. Besides... the enemies already know who I am.”
“Your enemies? The people who called this tremendous hurricane here?”, said Saber, looking
west.
“Those are not enemies. They’re obstacles our united front must remove.”, Rider denied. She
closed her eyes before continuing. “The only enemies in my Master’s eyes are the masterminds
who arranged this Grail War.”
Saber was intrigued by her choice of words being “in my Master’s eyes” instead of “in my
eyes”, but chose not to press the statement.
Because his greatest interest was the Holy Grail War he must fight, not other people’s
personal battles.
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Seeing Saber running by her side, making such declarations with a smile on his face, got
Hippolyte thinking.
This man... he may sometimes seem scatterbrained... but he must have been a general or a
monarch. I guess he seems this way because of his personality that lives only for the moment.
This is their first time talking, but Hippolyte had seen Saber before.
She only watched from afar as Saber battled the golden king. Although he lost, he provided
an incredible sword fight.
He had the eyes of a general who keeps track of everything around him, not just the warriors.
It did feel like he fought always executing the first idea to come to his mind, but in every
choice he made, he picked the best path and ran through it with what seemed to be divine speed
on his legs.
She surmised that either his eyes were set on long-term strategies or that he worked closely
together with a tactician doing it in his stead, but either way, he dominated a vast area.
Since the person she was going to communicate her will to with her wish is also manifested
in this Grail War, in a form dedicated to revenge.
Do this Saber and Master even know that the Heroic Spirits called here are sacrifices to fill up
the wish granter?
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She had the appearance of a woman somewhere between her late teens and early twenties.
Hippolyte recognized that figuring out what she was was beyond her capabilities.
After some hesitation, she concluded she didn’t need to try to find out more, so she faced
forward.
That’s because she knew they were about to leave the marsh region and to the straths.
“We’re almost there. Remember, we have no intention of antagonizing you. Whether this
will remain true after our united front is over will depend on your objectives, but at the very
least... WHAT?!”
Far in the distance, she could see smoke coming out of the industrial district.
From the source of the smoke, the presence of her enemy intensified.
His abnormal presence was transfigured, even more ominous than it was the last time she
confronted him, and with magical energy on a higher order of magnitude.
Perhaps sensing the same presence, Saber looked in the same direction and yelled.
The start of the battle wasn’t going to wait for Saber and Ayaka to join Hippolyte’s Masters.
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The herald of this chaos was the Noble Phantasm of the Archer exacting revenge on the gods.
× ×
Neither heat nor smoke came out of it, as the factories have been out of operation for the
past few days, either due to the local quarrel or the hurricane.
Twisted magical energy, reminiscent of black mud, started gathering on his bow-gripping
hand.
Inside his robust Saint Graph, hydra venom and pitch-black mud consumed and neutralized
one another.
“May this shot, product of a martial art refined to its completion, burn down your hollow
interior.”
The hero manually circulated the two substances through his body. Alcides began his revenge
against the gods.
The Noble Phantasm that shot down Gilgamesh a few days before in the avenue in front of
the hospital.
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However, now Alcides was freed from all possible shackles, and his Master Bazdilot
Cordelion provided him with as much magical energy as he could handle. This resulted in the
Noble Phantasm manifesting in a completely different form this time.
With his feet planted on the narrow foothold of the chimney, Alcides drew his bow.
As he did, the entire factory, and then the area around it, began to be sucked dry of magical
energy, with the energy traveling through the chimney to be absorbed into Alcides’s body.
Watching the chimney was like watching the land’s blood being sucked by a giant pipe.
With Prelati’s Noble Phantasm’s illusions being peeled off, the nearby factories were gradually
returning to their original forms: destroyed by Haruri’s Berserker Servant.
The chimney he stood on was the only part he was intentionally keeping in place with a
voluminous mix of mud and magical energy. It was transfigured into a dark tower resembling a
giant tree.
In his hands, he had a greatbow which was made in a strongly arcane era and sucked the
blood and magical energy of his enemies on numerous battlefields.
Famously, Philocthetes later inherited this Demonic Bow from Heracles and used it to
shoot the Trojan hero Paris.
An item that required above-average physical strength, on top of the skills of an Archer. A
regular Heroic Spirit could not as much as pull its adamantine string.
He casually drew the string to its maximum tension, pointed nine arrows west, and shot.
It looked as if the man was trying to dispel the incoming hurricane with arrows, but before
anyone could laugh at his comical idea, the arrows suffered a visible mutation.
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The magical energy coated in dusky mud reacted complexly with the hydra miasma the
arrowtips were laced with, provoking an enormous distortion in space as they traversed the gaps
between the ground and the sky.
With a thunderous noise, clouds of dust rose, engulfed in the world distortion caused by the
arrow shot, taking the form of a black-colored colossus.
The Hydra.
The trajectories of the nine arrows became nine jaws rushing to take a bite out of the world,
as did the legendary serpent he once sent to its grave.
An ordinary man would see only a black sandstorm, but anyone remotely sensitive to magical
energy could understand how abnormal this was.
Through a combination of the overwhelming techniques that the always battle-ready hero
spent his life cultivating, the ominous spell of curse resembling jet-black mud which he obtained
in exchange for discarding his divine aura, and the sheer volume of magical energy supplied by
his Master, Nine Lives finally developed the move that manifested its former nemesis into the
world.
Needless to say, this wasn’t the real Hydra, only an almost miraculous feat created by a part
of the Noble Phantasm that put the legendary poison dragon to rest.
This force traversed the world, bending the laws of fate and physics to its will.
All to bite off a literal god trying to take hold of the world order.
Without waiting to see where the venomous snakes go, the archer of revenge readied his
next set of arrows.
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On his arm, he wore a girdle imbued with the war god’s power, identical to the girdle
Hippolyte wears.
But this godly power was now entangled and subjugated by black mud, mutedly sending
only a constant stream of raw energy to the bow and arrow.
Watching the magical torrent which screamed its grudges and cursed everything in the
world, Alcides talked to himself.
“Perhaps a previous incarnation of me had some contact with it, but it is all trivial.”
He then spoke addressing the “cornerstone” at the heart of the “jet-black mud” seeping into
his body. The essence of this mass of curses that always felt so strangely familiar to him.
“I cannot begin to guess the volume of the concentrated human sins boiling within you. All
I know is that in your essence, you are meant to curse humans... Forgive me, but I’ll attune your
power to my grudge.”
The blood coming out of his mouth was accompanied by dusky mud.
The Hydra’s venom was consuming his body, and he knew perfectly well that he was running
out of time.
The virulent poison that drove him to suicide during his lifetime.
The same poison laced in the arrows the avenger shot without a hint of hesitation.
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While the “mud” moved as if it had a will of its own, Alcides offered it a smile as if they had
been friends for many years.
“Feel free to curse me to your heart’s content. I who discarded godhood and returned to
humanity.”
× ×
Destruction approached.
An immense torrent of power approached the Neo Ishtar Temple, growing progressively
larger as it fed on not only the trees of the forest but also the very divine aura of its surroundings.
Nine incoming arrows coated in layers upon layers of dust, curse, miasma, and energy in the
shape of the Hydra, with a next mass of energy coming behind it.
Each head of the wind serpent was about as thick as a building, and they rose to swallow
Ishtar’s temple and its object of worship whole.
The nine arrows changed trajectory in front of the temple, momentarily spreading their nine
heads as they rose to the sky, then initiated a sudden drop, locked to the temple like homing
missiles.
Had they landed a direct hit, the torrent of power would have pierced the land for intense
physical destruction, which would have been coupled with an area spread of curse and lethal
venom, trampling the god’s domain with maximum tyranny.
This faster-than-sound ruin was stopped by one guardian and one divine beast.
The halo atop Haruri’s Berserker’s Servant’s head shone and transformed into a dome-shaped
rainbow wall covering the temple.
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The tyranny was blocked by the halo’s power which symbolizes everything mankind
considers a calamity.
The power of a calamity can hold off a calamity. Berserker alone blocked all fangs of the
giant venomous dragon created by the demonic arrows.
Naturally, this was not something she could afford to do with Haruri’s magical energy alone.
Due to her constructing Ishtar’s temple, she was directly powered up by the divine power
filling up this place.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t repel the arrows. The curses in the shape of serpents attempted to
bite off her calamities charged with divine aura.
But the divine bull’s walk wasn’t slow enough to let them get away with it.
Per its title of Bull of Heaven, the pressure it exerted on the whole area truly felt like the skies
were falling.
All those on the ground could see was the bottom of a giant hoof.
A classic folk story tells about a huge accident that happened because the people of the
nation of Qi were driven to paranoia by their groundless fear that the sky would fall.
But at this moment, the moral of the story was flipped on its head.
The power of goddess Ishtar, who is Venus and the azure sky incarnate, and her companion
bull’s hoof.
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× ×
Thia Escardos watched that moment, with his feet pointing to the firmament and his head
pointing to the Earth’s surface.
“...”
He observed the hurricane’s shape distort slightly, as a portion of the cloud expanded,
stretching toward the forest of Snowfield.
But that was not the part he was paying attention to.
Thia lined up some of the fruit-sized “satellites” floating around him, forming a row starting
from his eye.
In doing so, the space between each satellite was distorted, becoming multiple lenses
amplifying the image of the aboveground.
Through this magically-created makeshift telescope, a video relay was projected onto the
void of the mesosphere.
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Some might have been vaguely aware but nothing beyond that.
The El-Melloi Classroom was something irreplaceable to the boy that was his host. The only
place where he belonged.
Because of the way the two were always together, he knew everything about Flat.
The classroom is the home he must return to, and it wouldn’t be home without those humans
in it.
“Tch...”
Thia manipulated the magical energy orbiting him to slowly descend to the surface.
Will he eliminate them to rid himself of his lingering regrets and grief, or will he interact
with them mercifully because of how good they had been to Flat?
Unable to decide between these two extremely opposite options, Thia locked eyes with the
lonely blue planet and tried to slip back into Snowfield’s stage of incoming destruction.
× ×
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As all the clouds were sucked into the hurricane in the west, the blue sky was still plainly
visible from the strath region. She rose her ringed left hand to the sky, blocking its blinding light.
“What’s wrong, Mary?”, said Caules Forvedge, noticing her behavior. Mary Lil Fargo
returned her line of sight to the ground to answer him.
“It’s nothing, I just got a feeling someone was watching us from the domain of the stars.”
Overhearing that, Yvette L. Lehrman also turned her eye to the sky.
“HUH!? When an Animusphere veteran says stuff like that, it sounds like a really big deal,
you know?”
“Well... what’s happening here on the ground is a really big deal, too.”, said Org Rum, the
bespectacled goliath. His eyes pointed to the forest west of Snowfield, watching the scene
immediately after a giant something clad in cloud swung down.
The serpentine mass of curse and magical energy was stomped out by what appeared to be a
giant hoof clad in galestorm, lightning, and divine aura.
It wasn’t something as basic to handle like a building falling from the sky. The best way to
describe it is “what if a downburst dropped the Ayers Rock with it”.
“I don’t even want to theorize on what that was.”, said Org, adjusting his glasses with one
finger. The man standing next to him shrugged snidely.
“The Professor would have figured it out at first glance. The answer is always the worst-case
scenario among his conjectures. Cue the headaches and stomachaches.”
These mages had numerous laudable accomplishments under their belts despite their young
age. And now all of them watched the head-on collision between the return of the Age of Gods
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Despite something that giant swinging down from the heavens, the ground didn’t shake or
crack.
Instead, a mighty gust of wind ran across the world, reeking of curse and magical energy.
This air current beyond 50m/s blew wildly around the forest, accompanied by clouds of
dust.
With the hand movements of a ballad’s conductor, Werner Ceasarmund sang his chant with
a soft timbre to his voice.
Doing so, all the countless butterflies spread around the ravines started flapping their wings
in unison.
They were magically created familiars, which emitted a dim light reminiscent of the hazy
moon on a spring night.
Next, the gentle breeze created by the butterfly wings neutralized the high winds that could
easily send a car flying, canceling the dust clouds and miasma along with it.
The tremors generated by these frail familiars combined to create a Bounded Field. While
they didn’t generate a solid wall, this was still a baffling situation, and yet no one in the group
seemed particularly surprised.
Hansa Cervantes, the overseer priest watching them, speculated about the chain of magecraft
techniques that just impressed him.
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I see now. So this is Werner Ceasarmund’s so rumored butterfly magecraft. I can see why someone
so young would become a Brand and be put on the Church’s watchlist.
He kept amusedly studying the prodigy mage participating in the Holy Grail War, as if he
didn’t consider himself a member of the aforementioned Church that should be wary of him.
While his senses told him that everyone around him was similarly powerful.
× ×
--An extraordinarily powerful hurricane is approaching. We ask all citizens to refrain from
leaving your houses. We further recommend retreating to underground shelters until the
tornadoes have passed.--
All televisions and radios in the city repeated this same warning in a loop, while sirens rang
all over the place, with their sound adjusted for the purpose of amplifying the anxieties of the
people in town.
It’s the same siren that would normally ring when there are ultra-large tornadoes capable of
blowing away residences. It alerted the people that a calamity on this level was coming.
They could see the cloud wall in the west, but the winds lacked the intensity of a regular
hurricane and the sky above the city was perfectly blue.
The thunderous winds were audible everywhere in the city, but only as a distant sound. The
wind never trampled the city.
Many citizens ignored the warnings and walked around outside, questioning if any
destructive damage would actually happen. Many more went to their west-facing windows to
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“Ain’t this place kinda weird?”, said a drugstore clerk dressed in punk fashion as he made his
way to a show house sturdier than his home. “With the gas explosion, the terrorist attack, the
epidemic, the meteors, and now this, I’m getting a feeling that this is the end of the world.”
At this point, even a rebel spirit like would start to feel sorry for the politicians having to deal
with all this. Without giving much thought to the evacuation warnings, he set foot to the show
house, thinking it’d be at least better than his rundown apartment or the drugstore.
“It’s underground, at the very least... Though it’d suck if the rain got inside...”
“!?”
The gusts blew all over the city with much greater intensity than before, instantly repainting
it in the colors of the dust and rain carried by the winds.
The punk man rushed to the show house’s entrance, but he tripped on the wind flaps and
fell.
“Ah... Damn...”
But before it happened, a shadow grabbed the man and jumped away.
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The shadow used the flying car as a stepping stool for his jump and kept this momentum
until he carried the man next to the closest building.
“Y-yessir.”
The man was confused about the officer’s clearly superhuman movement but delivered his
flustered thanks.
The officer also wasn’t expecting any expression of gratitude so after momentarily flinching
from surprise, he flashed a smile.
John was a member of a unit codenamed Clan Calatin. After saving a citizen, he went back
to running through the city swallowed by the windstorm.
John did nothing to lower the power of his legs, having decided that he could disguise his
actions as floating carried by the wind flaps.
The chief ’s Servant’s Noble Phantasm gave John superhuman power for a limited period of
time. This Servant is Dumas.
It’s been a few days, but he was still not used to handling his new strength. He handled this
power quite naturally amidst a fight against an extraordinary enemy, but now that he was out of
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that battle, he had been feeling like the power is too much for him to handle.
John and many teammates were currently patrolling the city, with the goal of speeding up
the evacuation of civilians for the sake of arcane concealment.
They were all informed that the city would meet its destruction in 1 day.
But the chief declared he would fight until the last second to prevent that.
John saw himself as a police officer first and a mage second, so he couldn’t be happier with
the chief ’s decision.
He was happy.
The words said in the war’s opener supported him even now.
A lot happened in a short period of time, but all those events became a greater source of
power allowing John to keep running against the rainstorm, as well as his reason to do so.
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Chapter 24: Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ******
Memories of John’s past returned to a corner of his thoughts as he was bathed in the showers
of the rainstorm, sometimes saving a person along the way.
If he recalled correctly, his soul was shaken when he heard those words.
John kept moving forward, believing this from the bottom of his heart.
But it’s alright. Even if I’m no longer myself... Even if I’m no longer human, I know... I know I
can keep protecting the city.
With these thoughts running through his mind, John was not noticing what was happening
to him.
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Not yet.
× ×
Strath region
“Taking a closer look, it seems considerably more efficient than it was last I saw it. I don’t
remember you undergoing any sort of special training course since then. Is this not somewhat
of a major problem?”, asked Luviagelita Edelfelt, watching the Butterfly Boundary deployed
around her.
Despite Luvia’s weird phrasing, seeing problems in an increase in efficiency, Werner nodded
with a stiff expression of agreement.
“Yeah, this is close to the best expression of magecraft I’ve ever done. Things couldn’t be
worse.”
Hearing this news, Toosaka Rin raised her voice, with her eyes still on the forest.
“Werner’s magecraft approaching perfect form means... this area is already becoming
ambiguous, is it?”
The Ceasarmund family’s butterfly is centered around the arcane process of transforming
into a completely different lifeform as demonstrated by the caterpillar using the chrysalis to
become a butterfly.
It’s a magecraft that interferes with the world by dominating the unclear interval where
certain becomes uncertain, the moment of ambiguity in which anything in the universe can
switch into something else.
This magecraft being “at its best expression yet” implies one possibility.
Watching the forest in horror, Rin states what this fact is.
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“If we don’t do anything now, this metamorphosis really will end the world as we know it.”
The essence of the human world was gradually changing, starting from the temple in the
middle of the forest.
So far, only the quality of the magical energy and the overall atmosphere changed, but with
enough time, the alterations would reach the physical realm. As things currently were, this
temple would become the starting point of a Singularity corroding the world.
A new wave of demonic arrows shot from the industrial district, once again clad in serpentine
curse, entangled the giant “hoof ”.
This wave’s actions could be interpreted as it waiting to see what the first wave would do—or
perhaps they indicated the first wave was nothing but bait to lure the “hoof ” and the genuine
raid started now.
The Pentel sisters, Radia and Nazica, whispered to each other watching the grotesque
spectacle in the western zone of the city.
“Well, maybe if you ever went along in our teacher’s fieldwork, you’d be seeing things like
this a lot more frequently, you know?”
“You tell me. His luck with this kind of thing almost makes it look like he’s doing it on
purpose.”, Rin complained in agreement. The comment certainly reminded her of something.
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Away from their conversation, another pair of youngsters had their own conversation, one
with the presence of a beast and one with the presence of a reptile.
“The hoof that fell from the sky is without a doubt a divine beast. The thing was transparent
like water, but from here I can feel its smell is anything but that. It’s a smell that forces everything
into submission.”
“Meanwhile, those snakes might be the ancestor to all snake venoms and snake curses.”
“All snakes in my world are united expressing fear, praise, hatred, and worship for that thing...
Fascinating.”, cackled Roland Berzinsky.
Hearing his words, the beast boy—Svin Glascheit—made his own comment as he stared
fixed at the battle between two beasts from the age of the gods.
“Regardless, we need them to leave this land... no, retire from this Holy Grail War.”, said
Werner.
“The first thing we do after announcing our participation to the overseer is to pick a fight
with a god.”, answered a tired Rin with a huge sigh.
Rin noticed that she had an inexplicably positive aptitude for the current atmosphere. To
distract herself from this lingering question, she remembered her mentor, a young man she
picked up in her pirate days, and a series of incidents relating to these two.
“Honestly... how can we be so sure the teacher isn’t intentionally trying to hunt everything
arcane to extinction?”, she grumbled as she thought back to those memories.
× ×
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“...”
“What’s the matter, Ishtar, my goddess?”, Haruri asked after seeing Ishtar ignore the tumult
in front of her and turn her eyes to the north instead.
“Hmm... nothing, I must be imagining things. I felt a really weird presence... but there’s no
way any human from this era is directly linked to me or any other incarnation of myself. Could
it be a descendant of Uruk’s people? Eh, doesn’t matter either way.”
After a quick shrug, she pulled her attention away from the trivial detail.
“Anyways...”, said Ishtar, shifting her gaze to what was in front of the temple. “What a waste
of talent.”
Her companion animal’s front leg had stomped from the sky.
Watching the tangle of serpents trying to eat way his flesh made of divine aura, the goddess
advened in the vessel named Filia mumbled:
“Had he not let revenge degrade him, he could have pulled off the same thing with his
divinity alone.”
Sensing the Heroic Spirit who kept shooting the demonic arrows modeled after a serpent
from the Age of Gods, she spoke with no fear, no caution, and no respect.
“Well, those freeloader gods of the western lands were some real weirdos. They acted like
they had no rules to follow, and more often than not, the humans they hated and loved didn’t
have a say on the matter. With how deeply twisted those parasites are, I can’t blame him for
turning out like this. The people dominated by the Mount of the Stargazers must have suffered
awful lives, victimized by the cultural differences between humans and Olympians.
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× ×
“She’s always been support for the gods. I can’t talk her out of it.”, whispered Enkidu atop the
Crystal Hill rooftop.
The screeching gales around them had their volume lowered by the Bounded Field the mages
of Tine’s organization set around the upper floors of Crystal Hill.
The woman’s most prominent features were the goggles she wore and her shark-like teeth.
She said she was Servant Rider’s Master, although she added an “against my will”.
Although her status demanded a lot more explanation than her curt statement, Enkidu
wasn’t particularly surprised.
As she approached, they noticed her presence was qualitatively linked to that of a Servant,
and they could also tell she wasn’t hostile.
For that very reason, the moment she mentioned there was an enemy she needed gone so
much that she wanted others to fight alongside her, they already predicted she was going to talk
about the god’s sect west of town.
Her words were dispassionate in delivery, but couldn’t hide the implicit excitement she felt
about its subject.
“I wonder, does this era still have those vain parents who force their unwilling children to
wear jewelry? That’s pretty much what she is. She acts only to feed her ego and honestly believes
what she does is what’s best for the other person. She’ll listen to anything you say but only listen,
making no effort to understand, or even thinking she has any need to understand you.”
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The mage was confused at Enkidu’s clear-faced speech but Enkidu continued, paying no
mind to her.
“Be it the original or an emanated stain in the planet, she’s always the same. And that’s why
I must reject that goddess... and her temple.”
And with a fluid movement, they created the thing atop the building.
Golden chains wrapped the trees and minerals created out of Enkidu’s feet, molding them
all into one giant figure.
The construction process was sudden but flowed so naturally that an onlooker would assume
the speech Enkidu just presented was part of the procedure.
The only actual onlookers witnessing the process were the female mage introduced as Rider’s
Master, Tine’s subordinates standing guard by the rooftop’s entrance, and Enkidu’s own wolf
Master.
If an ordinary citizen was to look up to Crystal Hill’s rooftop in the middle of this galestorm,
all they could see would be some light shining atop Crystal Hill.
The unaffiliated mages who chose to stay in town would be drawn to its dense magical energy
but need time to process what manifested there.
Its form was too eccentric for an object created with magecraft, yet none could call it
completely impossible.
And due to its massiveness, the El-Melloi students on the north strath, the moving Saber
and his two companions, and the goddess standing majestically on the western temple all could
visualize the thing.
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“The piece of junk is pulling all stops to mock me...”, said the goddess in the western forest,
erasing the expression off her face.
“There’s another one on that level of insanity?!”, exasperatedly said the mages on the canyon.
“Hoooly shit, no way! Is that Mesopotamia’s brand of comedy? I’m pretty sure Mesopotamia
didn’t have anything like that.”, a mastermind in the desert rolled around in laughter.
“I think I should be glad they waited until most citizens closed their windows. Who would
have thought I’d be thanking the windstorm...”, said another mastermind observing everything
from his safe underground space.
But the one with the most dramatic reaction wasn’t either of those.
But the reaction didn’t come from him. It came from the aged captain “silhouette” that
appeared next to him.
“Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, they must be pulling my leg here!”
“Hm? What’s wrong?”, asked Sigma, quite confused at seeing the aged captain far more
energetic than he has ever been before.
His eyes could see what appeared atop Crystal Hill, but he couldn’t find any reason to
be shocked about it. It was not too different from the crossbow on his back, as far as he was
concerned.
However, the old captain started cackling instead of explaining anything. Nonetheless, his
eyes were somewhat distorted with a hint of frustration.
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“How ironic... Of all things to build, that’s what they choose to go with! That’s what they
pull it off right under Watcher... right under that wretched monster! Right before the shadows
of my eyes!”
The laughing man’s gaze pointed to the creation rooting itself on the rooftop of the tallest
building in town: one giant harpoon cannon protruding out of the roof.
“As always, he produces an awful amount of noise.”, mumbled Enkidu, standing on the
rooftop of Crystal Hill, where the cartoonishly gigantic weapon popped from, with sharp eyes
directed at the immense overflow of divinity on the west. “Thanks to that, I can’t hear her voice.”
Their usual clear smile was gone from their face, replaced with a somewhat saddened visage
and, even rarer for Enkidu, eyes demonstrating human-like irritation.
“If you are arrogant enough to try to hinder the progressing order of man, you are a beast.”
Their voice retained its serene tone but spoke pure anger and hatred.
“I don’t mean the Beasts, Evils of Humanity. You’re nowhere near as filled with their noble
affection. As you are now, you’re just a vermin both to Human Order and to the planet... nothing
more.”
The Heroic Spirit placed their hand on the object they created while still weaving scathing
words with a serene face.
“With that in mind, I supposed this isn’t exactly made for vermin, but...”
The majestic harpoon cannon had shining gold-colored crests amidst its clay base, resembling
Uruk’s stronghold.
With their hand on its platform, they pumped their magical energy mixed with divinity.
“Borrowing this product of mankind’s wisdom and fruit of their accomplishments, I declare
to the goddess Ishtar:”
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Enkidu simply sent the message that their conversation was already over a few millennia ago.
A promise that they would fulfill their duty, in the form of a makeshift pledge crafted with
words they normally would not use.
At that instant, a thunderous flash enveloped Crystal Hill’s rooftop, repelling the gales and
the rainstorm.
The back part of the harpoon was attached to an equally sized chain of gold.
The chain had the same properties as the ones Enkidu creates as his default weapon. The
chain and harpoon turned into a single streak of light, forming a golden westward rainbow as it
ripped through the galestorms.
To be precise, the golden rainbow was an attack but at the same time, a bridge of light
spanning the world whose atmosphere began to be recolored with the air of the Age of Gods.
The giant harpoon kept moving west, piercing through the hazardous winds that symbolized
the dominance and tyranny of the gods.
× ×
“Nnnnnnnnnot a single shred of respect...”, said goddess Ishtar, stopping her eyes from
trembling.
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Around her, the space above the temple unleashed a tremendous volume of divinity, making
the atmosphere denser.
But unlike the missiles fired before, the harpoon showed no signs of reducing its speed.
Due to Enkidu’s body being originally a weapon made by the gods, it’s in their nature to be
effective even against the gods.
The power made to allow humans to use the power of the gods now became the piercing
power to reject the gods.
She chose the correct target to dominate with her Charm: the air.
She compressed the winds set in motion by Gugalanna’s gale, held them in place, and
transformed them into viscous vapor.
Everything in the sky is subjugated and can be made part of her body.
Like a meteorite entering the atmosphere, the giant harpoon flying in her direction was
covered in intense heat, and the air around it changed color.
Nonetheless, this is still not enough to erase the heavy blow of Enkidu’s Age of Babylon
Noble Phantasm.
The radiating harpoon continued to tear away the new Age of Gods that Ishtar was creating,
albeit at lower speeds.
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The harpoon continued its even clash, unable to reach anywhere—but the fact that a third-
party attacked was enough to affect the state of the battlefield.
× ×
Industrial district
As Alcides was shooting his venomous snake arrows from atop the chimney, his eyes caught
the chain of light running through the sky.
With the air being altered, the power of the series of arrows he fired decreased.
But he didn’t mind. With the vast volume of magical energy at his disposal, he could
compensate for the lower damage with sheer quantity.
The image of the nine-headed serpents assaulting the temple one after the other resembled
a black deluge.
Glaring at the targets of the chain, the temple of Ishtar and the Bull of Heaven entangled
with the giant serpents of his own creation, he said:
The serpent copy created from his next arrow shot popped like a water balloon the instant
it reached the forest.
And then it turned into a genuine black flood that began to swallow the forest.
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An order to clean in 1 day a giant barn with three thousand cows left unattended for decades.
A service that was more like harassment than a labor of penance.
The king who ordered it and then annulled his own agreement was ultimately killed for it,
but that’s not the important part of this chapter.
The method he used to clean the stables whose owner never visited since its construction
was honestly simple and truly out-of-the-box.
He changed the flow of the rivers near the stables by force, pulling their muddy streams
directly into the stable grounds.
As a symbol of the tremendous strength it took to pull that off, he can use the power of his
Noble Phantasm to replicate the muddy streams he stole, pouring the venomous snake’s miasma
and the “mud”’s magical energy into it to form the black flood splashed onto the forest.
× ×
???
It’s true that most living beings don’t come equipped with this answer, but he in particular
had never even thought about the matter.
He could reduce his whole body and mind to ash if that’s what it took to remain alive.
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Without even considering his reason for it, he always screamed his wish created from pure
instinct: to live.
He lasted this far thanks to the power of the one called by his wish.
He never again saw the animal purely driven to kill him, and the being he met—the creature
called “Servant”— protected him from all obstacles that appeared before him.
For as long as he can remember, he always felt his life was threatened, and now, for the first
time, he didn’t.
This was the first time he thought about who he was and what he is living for.
One was from the same species as the Servant who saved his life, but the other was someone
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like him.
Due to her lack of hostility, he snuggled up on the creature he judged to be his equal, and
they watched the Servants’ conversation.
His equal, who was lying down, panicked but since she knew neither had any intention to
kill the other, she simply watched the scene with a look of wonder in her eyes.
He wondered why they didn’t dash freely through the lands if they had more than enough
power to do so.
A presence that felt like a comforting embrace and irresistible terror at the same time.
Come the first signs of this presence, Servant’s presence also changed.
They permeated hints of themself into the forest and ground. And despite their apparently
serene smile, he couldn’t help feeling that they were always struggling against something.
Inside Servant, there were hints of a whirl of hatred and aggression. Not unlike his owner at
that time his owner took a weapon and chased after him.
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Eventually, the “warm but scary presence” grew stronger... and since then, Servant has been
producing an emotion akin to sadness.
Their voice and mannerisms were the same as always, and they never stopped protecting
him.
Even now, atop this rooftop, with this jaw-dropping mass of power approaching and this
windstorm covering the lands...
That he was no different from that “mage” animal who chained him and locked him in a
cage.
But as long as he was there—as long as Servant was protecting him, they weren’t free to do
what they wanted.
He didn’t feel anger even when his creator was one step away from killing him, but now, he
was furious at himself for unknowingly doing the same thing his creator did.
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There was one thing he couldn’t spare attention to back he was desperately trying to survive:
Servant showed him the path to continued survival. They protected him.
That’s why, filled with the will to watch them until their final moment, he raised his paw to
Servant.
Not to run away, but to make out of it alive, following a conscious will independent from
his instincts.
× ×
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The female mage wearing goggles and Tine’s subordinates were blown away by the shot’s
shockwaves, but golden chains sprang out of the rooftop, preventing them from falling off the
building.
The mage with the goggles, Doris Lusendra, tried to analyze their immense power with eyes
filled with a mix of joy and frustration.
She was defeated by Toosaka Rin and granted her Master rights to the El-Melloi Classroom.
But due to their method being more stable if they used the first person to have the Command
Spells as a catalyst, she was added to the party as Rider’s lowest-ranked Master.
Of course, this was done under a very restrictive magecraft pact, and the Command Spell
isn’t being shared with her.
Still, the Heroic Spirit’s power wasn’t the only thing that astonished her.
She’s also impressed at the supplier of magical energy enabling this level of construction.
It’s dumping this much energy into the Servant and still has more to spare...? If I was the supplier,
creating the harpoon cannon alone would dry my magical energy reserves. A Heroic Spirit being
able to spam Noble Phantasm is inconceivable from a regular mage’s perspective.
She saw a Chimera who was, like her, fixed to the rooftop by Enkidu’s chains.
Enkidu’s Master, the silver wolf, quietly approached them, still protected by the chains, and
held their clothes with his mouth, trying to convey a message.
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With an honest apology, Enkidu put their hand on the silver wolf ’s cheek.
“Calm down, Master. Your life is safe in my hands. I can stay here if that’s what you wish...
and if anything happens to me, you can ask that girl on the top floor to...”
The silver wolf pulled their robe harder and stared at them with fiercer eyes than ever.
Catching what that meant, Enkidu kneeled to speak with their eyes on the same height as
their Master.
“You don’t need to worry about my wants, Master. I’m a tool. Born disposable... Not to
mention I’ll be gone no matter what once this ritual is over.”
The way they spoke their mind to their Master was bizarre, but those who knew Enkidu
could confirm that this was this Heroic Spirit’s natural state.
The Heroic Spirit Enkidu will always place themselves as a tool, be their Master a person, a
Natural Spirit, or a Chimera.
The gods created them to be a tool and they knew that their purpose as one was to grow able
to perfectly imitate a person, a creature the gods struggled to comprehend.
For that reason, they could identify the glitch in their own system, and its causes: the deity
emerging west and its companion Heroic Spirit.
Taking all that into consideration, Enkidu chose the logical way to do what’s best for their
Master and fix their own bugs at the same time.
What they didn’t expect is that their Master wolf would go against their choice.
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“...”
Having pieced together the silver wolf ’s intentions, Enkidu calmly weaved their words.
“You should think only about your wish... to survive. I exist to be your tool. So, Master, stay
where it’s safe until I dispose of all that threatens the world, and threatens yo...”
The wolf who previously only wished to live now pulled Enkidu with a powerful will
reflected in his eyes.
“Sorry, Master. I’ll admit that I forgot I was a tool when I saw that garbage of an ancient
goddess and... my old friend.”, Enkidu said hugging their Master.
“...”
“But you’re... not mad that I forgot. You’re mad I was trying to return to being a tool.”
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Their voice was serene but contained a mix of sorrow and joy. Enkidu’s next message to their
Master was an expression of gratitude and at the same time a confession of guilt.
The same soft smile the first greeted the wolf with.
The Master hadn’t seen this face clearly since he was on the verge of death at the time.
Regardless, the wolf felt that their aura had the same color it did back then, and understood
that Enkidu was making the same face they did the first time because this might be the last.
After looking at Enkidu one final time, the wolf howled strikingly at the rampaging sky.
The silver wolf watched them leave. He didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t bark. He only watched
their back.
He watched the creature who momentarily lived with him flying away to live in freedom.
That his fate would be roughly the same no matter where his road takes him.
And that, just like Enkidu, he would also be gone soon. His life wasn’t made to last long.
Numbers don’t make a difference for a wolf who doesn’t know how to read a calendar.
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He didn’t know what family, friends, or followers were, and he didn’t care to learn about the
concepts.
The only relationship that mattered to him was Master and Servant.
Enkidu demanded to be used as a tool, but now the wolf wilfully rejected this implication
of the word “Servant”.
The terms Master and Servant could be reduced to non-indicative names, devoid of their
original meanings. To the wolf, the one and only form of relationship was simply being there for
each other.
That’s why the silver wolf only wanted to see the Heroic Spirit Enkidu living.
So that at the moment his life is finally over, he can say that they lived together rather than
just existed together.
They didn’t share an adventure to be remembered in history, nor did they develop a deep
love for each other.
Even then,
The silver wolf looked proud as he watched the creature he spend very few days with leave.
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“Backroom Rhapsody”
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“If only I had one of those in my time... Nah, what a sad thing to say. That thing was built
with the power of the gods, so if I overpowered the monster with that, it wouldn’t have been my
win... humanity’s win.”
Hearing the captain silhouette laugh with heartfelt joy with a tinge of frustration, Sigma
thought “I don’t know what’s so funny but I’m jealous of his ability to laugh”.
“Well, we Shadows are just some duplicates. Just Watcher recreating how she thinks the
originals would react in this situation. The bastard doesn’t care to put every detail into the
simulation, so we’re more like magecraft constructs than anything.”
“As an outsider, I can’t see the difference between that and talking to the original.”
The silhouette responded by taking the shape of the boy with wings.
“Shouldn’t you work on fixing that? Someone using illusions to make fakes of us could easily
deceive you.”, he warned.
“If there’s any third party involved with the intention to deceive me, then I simply won’t
trust you.”
“The original is as likely to betray as a fake. There’s a lot that can be said about philosophical
zombies but my knowledge of magecraft is not enough for this debate. Instead of thinking about
whether the other is the original or a copy, I think about how the other is affecting me at each
given moment. That’s all.”
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The other was the Assassin Servant, who just like the Shadows, was copied from the throne.
The former backstabbed Sigma when he least expected and fell to a retaliation he has no
strong feelings for.
The latter was someone who barely knew him but fought against a horrid monster alongside
him because that was what her faith or creeds determined.
Although she almost killed him when they first met, in their farewell the previous day, she
said they would save people for as long as they could, and to top it off, showed him her smile.
On the contrary. Sigma felt these replicated shadows feel a lot more human than the
Instructors in his childhood.
Since Sigma couldn’t tell them apart, the only things he knew to be real are the products of
his interactions with others, no matter which they are.
Sigma watched videos of comedians from all over the world until the discs wore out. Now a
thought occurred to him.
All those people in the videos were, strictly speaking, copied. And they follow a script, making the
thing doubly false. But here I am, enjoying comedies. Does that make me also fake? If my ego was
shaped by fakes, what would my ego and my emotions qualify as?
After some thought, Sigma shook his head, deeming these questions a waste of time.
He could be real or could be fake, but regardless, he could only play the cards at his disposal.
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After all, he needed to save a girl—Kuruoka Tsubaki—from the clutches of both a god and
the government.
It was his decision. Trusting himself or not, the dice were already cast.
Whether he was real or fake is up to others to decide when it’s all said and done.
Authenticity is determined only by the lasting impression you leave on those who saw you., Sigma
commented to himself.
What was it like for mom? She fought alongside Emiya Kiritsugu, a legend. What was she seeing
when she died in obscurity?
Many people die with their heads blown off, unaware of what they were seeing in their last
moments.
He realized he was romanticizing his mother too much in asking what final conclusion did
she reach, hence the pained chuckle.
Yeah, my head could be blown off at any moment. So... I’ll choose to believe that I already found
my conclusion somewhere.
When Sigma asked himself where, the first image to come to his mind was Assassin’s smile.
In response to these words that Sigma mumbled while carefully traversing the marsh, the
Shadow of the boy with the caduceus spoke with a serene smile.
“Why don’t you start a new religion with that? If your teachings rebuke the Greek gods and
set the logical practice of medicine as an absolute creed, you have my support. Gotta make sure
Apollo is the one you’ll demonize the most.”
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“You want to worship medicine itself as a deity? Maybe try someone else, all I’d be able to
produce is weird gods in lab coats and nurse outfits... Also, who is Apollo?”
“Ok. I thought that sounded like a comedian’s name, but if he’s not funny, I’m not interested.”
Saying that, Sigma activated magecraft that hid his presence and braved closer to the rocks.
“Hey.”
Hearing a sudden voice from above, the mercenary reflexively pointed his assault rifle.
“Don’t scare me like that... You couldn’t blame me for shooting you when you show up like
that.”
The THORN man confirmed that FAMINE had Sigma’s face and let go of the trigger.
He pointed the barrel slightly away, but remained in the position to shoot any time,
presumably because he was ordered to keep watch on Sigma and Saber a few days back.
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THORN was Faldeus’s codename for his pet squad, an ambush team heavily armed to
suppress mages.
“He told us to be on standby here and hasn’t messaged since. We get responses for the regular
reports but it’s his subordinate woman talking. Not CATTLE.”
The “CATTLE” Sigma asked about referred to Faldeus, much like Sigma himself was
codenamed FAMINE. The question was a farce. Sigma already knew from the Shadows that
Faldeus had cut off many low-importance teams and was operating in sigil with a team that was
sort of like his personal guard.
Saber offered the THORN soldiers meals and after some difficulties, they came to accept it.
He didn’t know if they honestly opened up to Saber. Knowing they are a special squad,
there’s a high chance they simply pretended to be on good terms with him.
But from Faldeus’s perspective, regardless of the answer, that’s an element of uncertainty.
Faldeus can’t ignore the possibility that Saber or his Master placed brainwashing magecraft
or something to that effect.
After all, he’s working on the most confidential operation possible: carrying away the base of
the Holy Grail before they destroy the whole land of Snowfield. Teams should be cut off at the
slightest suspicion.
Through Watcher’s information via the Shadows, Sigma knew their situation better than
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Interlude: Backroom Rhapsody
they did.
He knew that in the north of the city, there was a united front fighting against the deity in
the west.
But they didn’t trust Sigma, who is aligned with the masterminds.
He felt that he could easily have been invited if Saber and Ayaka were the leaders of the
alliance, but Sigma would rather avoid being a source of discord within the united front.
From the backroom, his trick would push the lead actress away from the stage.
But they did not need to shoot silver bullets against a monster.
Sigma had to fight in a way only an actor in the backroom can. His next words were the first
step.
“? Tell what?”
“Everyone in the JACKAL, SPADE, and WINEGLASS units is dead. And their reaction to
that was calling Operation [Aurora fall].”
“!? All of them!? And what’s this operation codename? No one told me about that one.”
Sigma noticed the special squad member tensing up under the mask.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
But what he could do was follow the good faith growing within him and speak a mix of
truths and lies.
“I know about it because I’m a Master but Faldeus froze his line to me. Looks like I was
discarded.”
“This city will be wiped off the map tomorrow... with all of us in it.”
The soldier could figure out the rest from just that.
His words would normally be hard to believe but they were Faldeus’s subordinates. They
knew his personality and they knew the power of the people above him.
Not to mention that if the hurricane approaching from the west was related to the world of
magecraft, then they had a perfectly valid reason to resort to such measures.
After waiting for him to slowly digest the situation, Sigma opened his mouth.
“We were abandoned. If you want to escape, it won’t be me who will stop you. If you don’t
trust me, try calling CATTLE. It might get you wiped earlier, though.”
“I’ll do what I can. There’s one minor problem that can change the upper echelon’s decision
if I solve it.”
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Interlude: Backroom Rhapsody
He was a taciturn and inarticulate man who didn’t trust others or himself—
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