Fate/Apocrypha Volume 4 Chapter 1

OLUME 4

Chapter 1

He was in a trance. He was numb. He was in a state of suspension.

The film was cut into disconnected pieces, and the scene changed when he blinked.

He felt intense pain in his chest. A feeling of exhaustion and lethargy gripped his entire body.

Just what on earth happened? Before thinking about such things, the first thing he had to prioritize was—surviving.

What he needed in order to survive was medical treatment—he had to close the wound. But intense pain was attacking him every second, and he couldn’t even form a healing spell in his head.

While groaning in anguish, he moved his hand and touched his chest.

Bullets had been shot into his heart—every time the organ pumped blood, the lodged bullets sent fresh pain through him. First, he had to remove the bullets agitating his body.

A healing spell was impossible for him right now. For the time being, he forcefully stimulated his metabolism by forming prana. He had to drag himself up to the point where he could use regular magecraft.

The harmful fog was also a cause for concern. It was accelerating the deterioration of his physical strength.

Though he didn’t even have a moment to relax, he felt surprisingly calm. Prana, prana was necessary. He took a deep breath and gathered prana. His lungs might be inflamed, but this wasn’t a situation where he could worry about that.

For now, he just gathered up prana. He was beset by head-splitting pain, chipping away even the energy to scream.

More, I need more prana. It’s all right, there’s no problem. This heart has the blood of a dragon flowing within it. So what if I’ve been shot by three bullets? Don’t worry. As if I’d die from something like this—!

“Guh…!!”

His heart muscles made a screeching noise as they removed the foreign substance within him. Activating his Magic Circuits, he accelerated the prana circulating through him, and gradually it began to repair his body.

Somewhere in his heart, a voice asked in doubt, ‘Isn’t there something strange about this?’

It was all well and good that Siegfried’s heart was strong.

And it was all well and good that he had just barely managed to hold onto his fractured consciousness even while suffering through pain as well.

But—still, even so. This healing ability was too abnormal. This situation was similar to when he was cut down by Saber of Red, though of course, the bullet wounds he had received weren’t even comparable in terms of destructive power.

However, back then, he had definitely died once even with this heart.

So why was he not dying this time?

—Don’t think about it now.

He breathed in and out again. He gathered and accumulated prana. He had to stand up now. The enemy hadn’t disappeared like magic, and she hadn’t carelessly let her guard down thinking that he was already dead.

Because, even now, she was gazing at him as he repeatedly breathed and vomited out blood—her gaze cold like that of a snake.

Screams of agony gushed out from every direction. Due to the fog that had instantly enveloped Trifas, the town had fallen into complete chaos.

Having donned her armor, Ruler frantically ran after Sieg, who had jumped into the fog without listening to her shouted warning. But his figure had disappeared in a blink of an eye due to the fog obscuring her vision.

She heard the dry sound of something being struck. It was similar to the sound of cannons she had heard in the past, but softer.

“A gunshot…!”

She was certain that Assassin of Black was hiding somewhere within this fog. But right now she was more concerned about Sieg.

The fog that Assassin of Black had unleashed had no effect on Ruler besides obscuring her vision. She didn’t even receive a rank-down in agility, thanks to her ridiculously high Magic Resistance skill.

“Sieg-kun!?”

“Help… me…”

The one who responded to her shout was not Sieg, but a young child. Without hesitation, Ruler decided to head towards the child.

However—Ruler instinctively sensed that Assassin of Black was somewhere nearby. Resolving not to let her guard down, she gripped her flag and searched for the location of that voice.

Searching through her hazy vision, Ruler immediately found the child. The child was pressing her head against a wall, holding her chest in pain. Her face—wasn’t visible.

Ruler hesitated slightly. Assassin’s true name was [Jack the Ripper], the name of a serial killer who was once famous in Great Britain, but—

There was no way Assassin could be such a young girl. But no one knew Jack the Ripper’s face or true identity.

Perhaps… Choosing to discard not even the slightest possibility, Ruler touched the girl’s shoulder.

…Instantly, she was filled with relief. She could tell immediately by touching her. The girl wasn’t a spiritual being like a Servant, but a living human made of flesh and blood.

“Mo… ther…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you to your mother right away.”

Ruler said that and covered the girl with a holy shroud she summoned forth. If she was wrapped in this cloth which protected those who wore it, she would be safe for the time being.

Luckily, the girl didn’t seem to be hurt either…

“Eh——?”

She didn’t seem to be hurt.

That was completely impossible. Even if it was somewhat weak, this fog had been harmful enough to make homunculi die or faint within less than ten minutes. Yet why was a normal and weak child like this still alive?

At worst, it should have instantly killed her, and at best, she shouldn’t have been able to avoid becoming seriously ill.

“Umm, are you… okay?”

“…Uh-huh. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The girl replied thus to Ruler’s question. Ruler felt like something was out of place.

“Where did it hurt?”

The girl silently stuck out her leg. On part of her knee, there was a wound of roughly torn skin. A wound from falling over… was what it obviously wasn’t. And of course, she had no wounds from the fog either.

This was—a scar from being cut by something. That’s why she had cried out in pain.

A chill went through Ruler’s entire body. She was struck by a feeling of ‘killing intent’.

Moreover.

It was…

This killing intent wasn’t half-hearted. It felt like sticky coal tar, a spike that burned so brightly it turned white, or a mutated murderous virus. It was an astoundingly overwhelming malevolence.

Even worse, this killing intent wasn’t directed at Ruler herself—

If I run from here, the child will be killed.

It was directed at the child Ruler was embracing with one arm. Assassin of Black appeared to have overwhelming confidence in his next attack.

“Very well.”

Ruler swore that she would protect the girl she was hugging in one arm. No matter what the next attack was, Ruler wouldn’t fall as long as she had this flag.

If Ruler had made a miscalculation.

It would be that, in this instant, she concentrated all her senses on Assassin of Black who was going to attack—and viewed the girl she was holding as someone she needed to protect.

The girl opened her mouth—and put her hand inside it, taking out a scalpel that had been stored in her stomach.

In order to kill this unidentified female Servant, Assassin of Black had taken all possible measures. Her own Master, Rikudou Reika, had dealt with the boy who seemed to be this Servant’s Master.

But even so, this Servant hadn’t fallen into a panic, and instead was trying to find and attack Assassin. Most likely, she possessed the skill [Independent Action], or perhaps—the boy hadn’t been her Master in the first place.

Even so, there was no problem. Without hesitation or mercy, Assassin of Black activated her Noble Phantasm.

“Everywhere except here is hell. We are flame, rain, and power—”

The surrounding dimension twisted and a murder began to take place. The victim is a woman. A ‘woman’ wandering ‘within the fog’ is cut down at ‘night’.

All three of these conditions had been fulfilled. Assassin’s attack was Maria the Ripper: Holy Mother of Dissection. An absolute Noble Phantasm that kills virtually all ‘females’.

And now, this Noble Phantasm—a murder—came into existence here.

Jack the Ripper killed at least five prostitutes—perhaps.

Jack the Ripper possessed advanced medical knowledge—perhaps.

Jack the Ripper might have been a man, or might have been a woman.

Even though the events of history remained the same, the existence of Jack the Ripper himself was merely vague and uncertain.

No one knew his true identity. No one could figure out his true identity. He might have been a police detective, a private investigator, a poet, a teacher, a doctor, a devilish cutthroat, a psychic, a scientist—or even a god.

There was only one thing that was known for certain about Jack the Ripper.

Jack the Ripper kills women.

The female victim’s abdomen split open. The instant the Noble Phantasm is activated, it ends all possible situations.

This was neither an attack by a holy sword nor a series of consecutive attacks by a divine spear—it was the reproduction of a murder.

The victim dies—she is dissected, she has her organs plundered, she loses her blood and, as a result, she dies.

First, a ‘murder’ occurs, followed by ‘death’, and finally, the ‘reason’ for it is drastically late in catching up; that’s what makes it a truly instantaneous attack. Counterattacking, dodging and resisting are all meaningless.

Assassin of Black was certain of this.

She killed her. She definitely killed this Servant. At the same time, she tried to tear out the Servant’s heart.

A Servant’s prana was enormous. Even more so within their heart or brain where their spiritual core existed. Assassin of Black would devour her soul and gain even more power.

…If Assassin of Black had made one miscalculation.

It would be that she viewed this woman as just an ordinary Servant. True, Maria the Ripper was an unequaled Noble Phantasm that delivered instant death in a single blow. All the conditions had been achieved as well—‘night’, ‘within the fog’, and a ‘woman’.

But even if one brought about a phenomenon that twisted cause and effect, a foundation, something to serve as the raw material for it, was still needed.

In this case, Maria the Ripper was, at its essence, a [curse]—the collected grudges of thousands of unborn children. That was the true nature of this fearsome Noble Phantasm.

Accordingly, in order to counter this Noble Phantasm, what was necessary was neither luck nor endurance, but purely an absolute resistance against curses.

And the woman she had targeted—Ruler, Jeanne d’Arc, was a saint who unmistakeably had the faith and belief of the world gathered upon her, a Servant with some of the strongest resistance against curses in this world. And what was even more fatal for Assassin of Black…

…was the holy flag she possessed.

Rikudou Reika stared at the revolver whose trigger she had pulled. It was an Italian handgun with an extremely narrow gun barrel, known as a ‘Rhino’. Reika didn’t even know the gun’s name in the first place, though. A Romanian gang that Jack had ‘eaten’ had possessed a heap of firearms, and she had chosen this one because it was the lightest and smallest among them.

How strange, she thought. This thing, which was just big enough to fit into the palm of her hand, could steal a person’s life with just the pull of a single finger.

Wasn’t life something precious and sturdy? At the very least, wasn’t it supposed to be that way? And yet, in the course of just a century, people could die just from getting hit in the brain or heart by tiny lead balls.

Naturally, even magi weren’t an exception to that.

She looked down at the corpse—he looked younger than her. But if he was a magus, he might have some kind of rejuvenation spell. However, it was a fact that he had just tried to save her.

“How pitiful. Truly, how pitiful.”

Reika had raided places that magi used as their residences countless times, and had basically grasped their lifestyle. A home expresses the inner nature of the resident. For example, there were many cases where fastidious people had unexpectedly messy rooms. This was an expression of how, though they could pardon their own messiness, they couldn’t pardon the messiness of others.

The homes of most of the magi had been simple and cold abodes. This most likely signified that they didn’t attach importance to their daily lives as human beings.

Reika knew of a similar kind of people. Workaholics… The type of people who simply think of their homes as places to sleep and take baths. Merely a place to rest the bodies of these people who had no hobbies and devoted their entire lives to their work.

On the other hand, each of the magi had ingeniously devised workshops in their basement or in hidden rooms. Looking at those, Reika felt that she understood the nature of magi. It was in those workshops where their passion came out. Their life was in there. A wish similar to a grudge was in there. And at the same time, there was despair in there.

Reika had questioned the magi and learned about their way of life. In order to master the mysteries of magecraft, their passed on their blood and accumulated knowledge from generation to generation, and even while knowing their ultimate goal was unreachable—they devoted their entire lives to it.

To Reika, it seemed like an extremely empty life, but there were certainly such people out there.

However, this boy was still an obstacle to Reika. She felt no emotion beyond pity. Now then, if things had gone well, both this Master and his Servant should have been taken care of by her and Jack.

If she trusted Jack’s words, two or three Servants had died on that battlefield a few days ago.

“There’s still a long ways to go.”

Sighing, Reika was about to leisurely walk away through the fog when—

“Oh my.”

She immediately stopped and turned around. Though blood flowed out from his chest and gushed out from his mouth, the boy writhed and struggled on the ground. It appeared he was still alive.

She should have shot him three times at point-blank in the heart. There was no way a human could survive that.

But that was the kind of being a magus was. Though surprised at the fact he was alive, Rikudou Reika did not panic. Ah, is that so? she thought, simply accepting the facts.

In one smooth motion, she switched out the cylinder of the Rhino, threw away the empty shell casings, and reloaded the gun.

As she did so, her movements were frighteningly calm, possessing not a single bit of confusion or hesitation… It could only be called abnormal.

There were humans who could cold-heartedly fire a gun. But there were no humans who could maintain their calm in the face of seeing someone who should have been killed still alive.

Moreover, Reika was not even a professional, and she had never touched a handgun until she came to Romania. Even so, she could calmly pull the trigger. If it was for the sake of her daughter Jack—she could calmly kill anyone.

“I wonder if you’ll die if I shoot you in the head?”

She approached the struggling boy and leveled the gun at him once there was less than a meter of distance between them. I won’t miss like this, Reika thought.

The boy was still lying face-down, gripping his chest in pain. His breathing was rough and wild, and it seemed he hadn’t even noticed that Reika was pointing her gun at him yet.

Please properly die this time.

With that wish in mind, Reika fired the gun.

The strength from her finger went from the trigger to the firing hammer, the firing hammer hit the detonator, the gunpowder exploded, and the bullet was shot with overwhelming power. It had more than enough energy to destroy a person’s skull. That boy was completely powerless in the face of the bullet flying swiftly towards him.

No… he should have been powerless.

“Straße gehen.”

Just when she thought she saw a pale light suddenly shine, the boy swung out his hand as if to protect his head. There was the high-pitched sound of something popping.

“…Oh my.”

The bullet that should have pierced through the crown of his head had disappeared somewhere. To be precise, it hadn’t disappeared, but been smashed to pieces.

Without hesitation, Reika pulled the trigger once more—and the boy repeated the same words as before, with the bullet vanishing at the same time as he struck it with his palm.

“This is… no good, huh?”

The boy’s breathing was starting to gradually settle down. He was still kneeling on the ground as if prostrating himself, but he raised his body up with his left arm and took a firm step with his right foot. He seemed to be receiving damage due to being within the fog, but—it didn’t seem to be any significant obstacle to him.

“So you’re Assassin of Black’s Master?”

The boy asked that in a low voice.

Now then, what to do—while pondering her option, Reika retreated a step back.

Though only slightly, blood flowed out from the nape of Ruler’s neck. The vacant-eyed girl had stabbed her with a scalpel. There was little strength in the attack, and the scalpel itself didn’t have much prana loaded within it either. But the girl’s arm had changed to the color of black, to the point that it was painful to look at.

Spiritual possession—possession by a low-level spirit was a common phenomenon. Dispersing the spirit wasn’t very difficult either. Normally, Ruler would have been able to easily deal with her attack, even if it was a surprise attack.

But on top of embracing the aforementioned girl in her arm, Ruler had concentrated all her senses on the attacking Assassin of Black.

Her thoughts halted for a slight instant at this extremely unexpected attack. That temporary halt in her thoughts was precisely what Assassin of Black had aimed for—

Here it comes…!

Here I go…!

Assassin of Black—activated her Noble Phantasm, Maria the Ripper: Holy Mother of Dissection.

Ruler—activated her Noble Phantasm, Luminosité Eternelle: God is Here With Me.

All of Jack the Ripper’s preparations were complete. She had prepared a situation where she could use her Noble Phantasm to maximum effect, and had perfectly made a surprise attack by using a decoy.

Therefore, Assassin was one step faster.

Ruler’s Noble Phantasm was slightly late in activating.

But, even so, that grudge did not reach Ruler.

The rushing black grudge tried to possess Ruler, and at the same time tried to split open her abdomen—but Ruler’s Noble Phantasm activated immediately before it could.

“Kuh…!!”

An intense shock ran through the holy flag. As expected, it couldn’t absorb all of the curse and the damage, and numbness ran through her entire body. Different from Berserker of Red’s attack, which was a simple torrent of energy, this was a curse-type Noble Phantasm that followed some form of rules.

It was something that could easily kill and dissolve a normal Servant.

Ruler cried out in anguish and spat out black-dyed blood. But she didn’t bend even a single knee, and somehow managed to hold her ground there.

“Wha———!?”

The one who shouted in astonishment was Assassin of Black, who had just landed on the ground. She had definitely activated her certain-death Noble Phantasm under perfect conditions. And yet it hadn’t even dealt a fatal wound.

“So you’re… a user of evil spirits, Assassin of Black.”

Ruler pinned down the struggling young girl with one hand, and after she touched her forehead, the girl fainted. Ruler then sprinkled holy water from her pocket over her and quickly exorcised the spirit within her. Her blackened arm soon returned to normal—and her atrocious appearance changed to that of a gentle young girl.

“Why… aren’t you dead?”

Assassin’s voice was somehow strange. It was rough and mixed together with odd noise, as if several people were saying the same words at the same time.

Most shocking of all was that she looked just like a very young girl. For a young girl to be a Servant was unusual enough, but for her to be the serial killer Jack the Ripper who once terrorized Greater Britain was far beyond Ruler’s expectations.

Without revealing the surprise she felt within, Ruler replied to Assassin’s question.

“Unfortunately, I possess something with a resistance against curses.”

“…That flag, huh?”

Assassin of Black nodded in understanding. That flag had absorbed Assassin of Black’s attack like a lightning rod. Her preparations hadn’t been meaningless; the evil spirit she had put into the child that she had kidnapped within the town had borne fruit, making Ruler’s Noble Phantasm slightly delayed in its activation.

As a result, the curse had definitely adversely affected the Servant before her eyes—but she was still alive.

“…Onee-san, is your class Lancer? …No. The number of Servants wouldn’t match in that case. Saber, then?”

“No, neither. I am Ruler, the mediator of the Great Holy Grail War.”

Assassin of Black’s eyes widened.

“Heeh. Ruler… so there was such a class as well. I didn’t know,” Assassin murmured.

Ruler glanced at the girl that had fainted. If she had remained possessed by that evil spirit, even her soul would have been contaminated and she would have turned into the living dead.

Ruler thrust her holy flag forward. As if pressured by her gallantness, Assassin took a step back.

“Assassin. The Holy Grail War should consist of only seven Masters and Servants competing over the Holy Grail. Your behavior in dragging an innocent child into this is the worst possible offence. I won’t let you get away.”

“…Hmm. Is that so?”

Ruler’s words seemed to touch upon something within Assassin of Black. She looked at the sleeping girl, and then suddenly threw a scalpel at her.

Ruler repelled it with her flag—but she felt something was off. There was no meaning in that attack. Ruler could only think that it was an outburst of anger. No, if it wasn’t an outburst of anger, then—

“Assassin… it couldn’t be…”

“Children are a dime a dozen. If you still want to protect her… then good luck with that.”

Holding eight scalpels between her fingers—Assassin smiled faintly.

From the rooftop of Trifas City Hall, Archer of Red watched the disastrous scene below with a dumbfounded expression.

“This is—”

Fog covered Trifas. Even if it was a small town, it was insane for the entire town to be covered by fog. All the traffic on the streets and sidewalks always died out immediately once it turned nighttime these days, but since the sun had only just set, many people who were in the midst of returning home should have been engulfed within the fog.

In reality, screams were rising from all over the town. At first people were confused, then they shrieked, and after screaming, they begged for help with hoarse voices.

…There was nothing she could do.

…And most of all, she didn’t intend to do anything about it either.

“You were all unlucky.”

Archer of Red coldly muttered that. The inhabitants here should have already noticed the abnormalities occurring in this town. They were the ones who decided to go walking at night in this situation.

Assassin of Black was certainly involved with the specific manner of their deaths, but the responsibility of their death lay with themselves, and most of all—they were just fatally unlucky.

…It was a common occurrence. The weak are devoured by the strong due to bad luck, and even the strong were brought to an end by ‘something else’. Therefore, Archer of Red had no intention of saving them.

Her vision was completely blocked by the fog, but if she used her sense of hearing and ability to sense the presence of other Servants, she could roughly grasp the location of each Servant. As expected, Assassin of Black was the only one whose presence was vague and hard to grasp, but Ruler was easy to detect. She was a vortex of light that shined purely and honestly no matter how dark the night was.

Archer of Red could tell that Rider and Archer of Black were searching for her, but they didn’t seem to be able to detect her presence yet. Most likely, Ruler was the only one who could sense her.

But Ruler was sprinting through the fog right now. She was fighting Assassin of Black. In other words, she didn’t have the time to concentrate on Archer of Red.

“Even so… to think that she’s unable to take down Assassin.”

Archer of Red tilted her head in puzzlement. Assassin, just as the name indicated, was the class of ‘assassination’. To them, facing the enemy head-on was the height of foolishness.

For her not to be able to take down Assassin one-on-one, it meant that either Ruler was a very weak and puny Servant, or that this fog gave Assassin a tremendous advantage—

Either way, the time had come for Archer of Red to make a decision on how to act.

Should she throw herself into the fog, or continue waiting and watching like this?

Watching from the sidelines was a valid tactic, but there was one problem… Since earlier, Rider of Black had been actively doing reconnaissance from the sky. Archer was confident that the swiftness of her feet wouldn’t lose to even Rider of Red, but even so, she wanted to at least avoid being pursued by a hippogriff.

A flying Phantasmal Beast born from a griffin and a horse. No matter how much she sprinted across the earth, that thing could easily catch up with her from the sky.

If there was any merit in boldly jumping into the fog, it was that a chance to kill Ruler might appear. Archer of Red had decided to acknowledge Shirou Kotomine as her Master. She didn’t know if his ‘method’ was truly right. But there was definitely truth in his words.

She wanted to believe it. Archer of Red had a wish that she prioritized above everything else.

The salvation of all young children in the world. A world where they are all loved—where they are all happy, without a single exception. The malice in the world said that such a thing was impossible. Everyone devours each other; that was how the world worked. Even Archer of Red understood that.

Even so. Even so, she couldn’t help but wish for it… After all, Atalanta herself was abandoned on a mountain immediately after she was born.

“A woman is unnecessary.”

Her father had said that and abandoned her on a mountain. The moon goddess Artemis had seen this and thought it pitiful, so she decided to send a female bear to raise her.

Protected by the bear, Atalanta grew up on the mountain.

Many other babies besides her were abandoned on that mountain. Most of those infants died due to either being devoured by beasts or starving to death. Even if they survived by chance, their thought processes were exactly the same as a beast’s. Separated from the world, they lived meaningless lives and died meaningless deaths.

Thanks to being raised by the female bear, Atalanta’s life was rescued, and eventually she was found by a hunter.

…She remembered.

She remembered quite well the moment when she was abandoned. As an infant, she had noisily flapped her hands and desperately sought her father and mother—but her mother wasn’t there, and her father had abandoned her.

She remembered wanting to be saved. She remembered wanted for someone to grasp her hand.

She remembered that her wish wasn’t granted, and how she had drowned in a sea of fear—and how she had held out her hands while sobbing.

The wound in her heart from being abandoned never healed.

Even after growing up beautifully and becoming a famous archer—she continued to maintain her solitude.

She had friends. She had comrades with whom she rode the Argo alongside and went through many adventures. But she never found a human she could love to the point of risking her life and didn’t think to have a child either.

She felt that way even more after the competition and struggle over her during the Calydonian Hunt.

But—most likely because of her fame that arose from her adventures, Atalanta’s beauty became known by many people, and in the end reached the ears of her father as well.

“Anyone is fine. Take a husband and bear a child.”

To her father, his reunion with Atalanta was a joyous event. But that was only because she had grown up to be beautiful and could be used as marriage material.

…Ultimately, the father never loved his daughter, from beginning to end.

After that, she tried to run away from the marriage once she learned the conditions for it, but she was caught in a scheme and ended up marrying Hippomenes.

—She just wanted to be loved.

She wanted to know true love with no strings attached to carnal desire, honor or lust for power.

It would have been better if she could believe that there was no such thing as love. If she could think that this world was hell, that this was a damned world where parents devour their children and children devour their parents—how much better would have been?

But that was incorrect.

There were parents who love their children in the world. It was a free, wonderful love. There were parents who gave up their lives for the sake of their children. There were parents who worked hard their entire lives for the sake of their children and still smiled.

On the other hand, there were parents who oppressed their children. There were parents who treated the children they had given life to like trash.

That’s wrong, Atalanta thought.

That must be corrected, Atalanta thought.

Even though she understood it was a natural part of the world’s cruelty, she still wished for it to be changed.

The reason she was participating in the Holy Grail War was because she had the faint hope that the Holy Grail would be able to grant her wish.

It was a wish that Assassin of Red had called “impossible”.

Archer herself also understood that. She thought that it might be a wish that surpassed the ability of the Holy Grail.

But Shirou Kotomine had showed her a way. That boy had showed her hope. A method to save the world, to save all children using the Holy Grail.

In that case, she would eliminate even Ruler if she became an obstruction.

She was fully aware of the danger in jumping into the fog. She was fully aware, but—

“If it’s for the sake of those children, I have no regrets.”

Archer of Red leaped from the rooftop of city hall and jumped into the fog.

He was wracked by intense pain every time he breathed. An ugly scar was spread across his blood-stained chest, a mark from the shots that had hit him. Three bullets had gouged through his chest muscles and reached his heart. If they had been shot at his forehead, he would have certainly died.

But that didn’t mean that he had escaped from death’s door—in fact, there was a gun pointed at Sieg right now.

It would be over for him if he was shot in the head. And the mother in front of him was replacing the gun’s bullets with a single smooth hand motion. Her movements were extremely calm, showing no signs of panic. She’s used to killing… Sieg surmised.

In only a few seconds, this woman was going to shoot him in the head.

I won’t let her. Activate Magic Circuits—concentrate prana in palm—acquire information on lodged bullets—leave thinking about whether or not it’s possible to swing my arm at the same velocity as the bullet and crush it in the instant they touch for later—chant the spell—!

“Oooooooooh!”

The gun fired.

Two bullets were fired, and he repelled each one.

His right arm grated… Abnormalities had definitely formed within the bones. Enduring it, he gritted his teeth and glared.

The mother who sought help. The mother who laughed along with her daughter. Who are you?

A Master, or perhaps someone else? Either way, she wasn’t an innocent person who could be left alone. But, in complete opposite to Sieg’s determination to fight, the woman didn’t pull the trigger any further, and instead suddenly dropped her coat and began running away.

“Wa… Wait!”

Caught by surprise by her attempt to escape, Sieg frantically chased after her. But then a terrible clanging sound cut in between them. Immediately after, two figures leapt out before him.

One was Ruler, and the other was a slender young girl wearing a leather bondage suit. Ruler was running fiercely enough to crush the pavement beneath her and held a human girl in one arm. The other girl climbed up and clung to the wall of a building with clearly inhuman speed.

“Sieg-kun!?”

“Ah…!”

The girl looked at Sieg’s face and slightly widened her eyes, leaking out a gasp of surprise.

Ruler immediately swung her flag—and the high-pitched clang of steel rang out. A crushed scalpel was knocked to the ground.

It appeared the girl had thrown a scalpel at Sieg and Ruler had knocked it away.

“…You aren’t dead. What a shock.”

“Assassin… you seem to have a score to settle with him, but I’m your opponent right now.”

Apparently, that girl was Assassin of Black—in other words, Jack the Ripper.

“What a bad joke.”

In response to Sieg’s murmur, Ruler sighed in agreement. She still held the unconscious little girl in her arms.

“She’s—the daughter of that mother, if I remember right.”

“Yes. More importantly, Sieg-kun, did you find her mother?”

Ruler questioned him while holding her flag ready and cautiously watching Assassin. Assassin was still clinging to the wall, unmoving as she held two scalpels ready. Like a spider, Sieg thought.

“…It appears the mother is Assassin’s Master.”

“Eh? How do you know?”

Sieg silently placed a hand on his chest to display the blood clinging to him.

“She shot me.”

“I see, she shot you… A-A-A-Are you all right, Sieg-kun!?”

In actual fact, bullets had been shot into his heart, so he was far from all right—but he currently felt no significant pain or hindrance to his movements.

“I’m fine. More importantly, Ruler. I’ll chase after the Master, in order to bring down Assassin of Black here as well.”

“…No. It might be better if you let her go.”

As she said that, Ruler instantly swung her flag—and before Sieg could ask why, a jarring metallic sound rang through the area. And then, the shards of a broken scalpel were scattered on the ground near Sieg.

“I won’t let you lay a hand on Mother.”

There was clear killing intent within Assassin’s otherwise exceptionally impassive expression. I see. Sieg immediately understood. If he moved away from Ruler, Assassin would definitely attack him.

Naturally, Ruler would act to defend him, but Assassin rivaled proper Heroic Spirits like the Knight classes or the Rider class when it came to swiftness. In the worst case, if she managed to circumvent Ruler, Assassin would easily kill Sieg.

“Sorry. It seems I’ve become a burden.”

“It’s fine… It’s all right, Sieg-kun. There’s no need for you to transform. If we wait just a little longer, reinforcements will arrive.”

Reinforcements.

…I see. Sieg decided to maintain a wait-and-see stance. Sieg had resolved to transform into Saber should it come to a fight earlier, but he decided to call it off. If he transformed, Ruler’s good will would be brought to naught. Preventing that was very important to Sieg.

Sieg weaved prana and then took out the slender sword from the scabbard that now hung from his waist. It was the sword that Rider of Black had given him before. It was the weapon of a Servant, a spiritual being, so normally, only Rider could materialize it by weaving it out of prana.

But, most likely because it had been loaned to him by Rider’s own will and Sieg himself had become something exceedingly close to a Servant, he was able to materialize it in the physical world using the same trick he used to activate his Magic Circuits.

“We wouldn’t do that if we were you, you know?”

Giving a small smile, Assassin of Black whistled. The sound of pitter-pattering footsteps resounded around them—and then Ruler’s face turned pale.

“Assassin, you wouldn’t…!”

Hearing Ruler’s tense voice, Sieg also became on guard and observed their surroundings. From within the fog, the faint forms of countless children holding scalpels in their hands appeared. Some of them were slightly familiar—among them, there were also children who he had seen playing earlier during the day.

They wore open-mouthed and empty expressions, their entire bodies convulsing in spasms, and their arms holding the scalpels were turning black… Assassin of Black was an aggregation of vengeful spirits. Those spirits appeared to have possessed these children. The separated vengeful spirits were weak enough on their own that a saint like Ruler could easily dissipate them by reciting holy scripture, but Assassin wasn’t using them as soldiers, but rather as mobile hostages. Since Ruler was a saint, she had to protect the children… or so Assassin had judged.

“Hmm, then Ruler, and also the, umm… Master over there? Try protecting every single one of them.”

“Sieg-kun!”

No need to even ask, Sieg thought as he moved. He repelled the thrown scalpels and at the same time knocked down the children who rushed at him. The children weren’t attacking by their own will, but rather that of the vengeful spirits that possessed them. They were unconscious from the start, so making them faint was useless, and he could only buy time by knocking them down.

But as he desperately pinned down each child, Assassin’s scalpels came flying. Moreover, they were aimed mercilessly and incessantly at the children.

“Kuh…!”

A thrown scalpel stabbed into Sieg’s left arm. Defending against scalpels without knowing when they would come flying while also dealing with the attacking children was, as expected, beyond Sieg’s capabilities.

Though Ruler was able to dispose of the scalpels, she was forced to take a step back for every one she took forward, preventing her from getting near Assassin. If Ruler carelessly approached, Assassin would easily rain scalpels down on the children.

For an instant, Ruler thought about using a Command Spell, but the female Master who had run away was a problem. Based on Assassin’s behavior, her relationship with her Master was closer to that of a mother and daughter rather than Master and Servant, and as such they probably wouldn’t be stingy about using a Command Spell depending on the situation. It was likely that any order that Ruler gave for Assassin to commit suicide or hinder her would be immediately canceled out by her Master’s Command Spells.

The situation was in a complete stalemate, but Sieg’s exhaustion was steadily increasing. It was a battle of time. Either Rider would plunge into the fog, find them and join the battle first, or Assassin would kill Sieg before then.

Even if defeating Ruler was impossible, Assassin determined that killing Sieg would be easy. A surprise attack was already impossible in this situation, but even so, she could easily strike at his openings.

Assassin threw down a rain of scalpels and began driving Ruler and Sieg apart, though the pivot of her plan merely required that she drive Sieg far enough away that Ruler couldn’t reach him in a single jump.

She controlled the children with her vengeful spirits and gradually separated Ruler and Sieg. Even as she threw her scalpels, Assassin moved to a location from which she could kill Sieg with a single strike.

Ruler purified the vengeful spirits possessing the children one by one.

But the children were many, and most of all, their value as hostages remained even with the vengeful spirits dissipated. It made protecting them easier, but that was all.

In the midst of that, Ruler realized.

“Sieg-kun! Get back over here!”

Hearing Ruler’s shout, Sieg also finally noticed it. He and Ruler had become completely separated by the attacking children between them.

Even if Ruler tried to protect Sieg from Assassin’s attack, with over a dozen children acting as a wall and blocking her way, she would be unable to protect Sieg for the span of an instant.

“Too slow————!”

Assassin jumped off the wall and charged at Sieg. She held a butcher’s knife in each hand, and moved to cleave off Sieg’s head with them.

Her absolute confidence in victory.

The despairing sound of his defeat.

But there was something even swifter than Sieg’s decision to transform or Assassin’s motion to cut off Sieg’s head.

An arrow shot by the god-tier bowman—Archer of Black—tore through the fog enwrapping the town like a ferocious shark.

It was too late by the time Assassin noticed it. The arrow, filled with prana, exploded like a cannon shot. It was strong enough for the aftershock to blow away Sieg too and send him tumbling across the ground. Assassin, who was directly hit by it, had part of her body blown off.

“Ugh, guuuuuuh…!!”

Howling in anguish, Assassin still managed to jump away. She leapt from building to building and tried to escape somewhere safe.

“—You’re not getting away!”

Ruler dashed towards her with the speed of a shooting star.

Because Assassin was concentrating on running away, the movements of the possessed children became dull, and having noticed that, Ruler dashed across the surface of a building’s wall and brandished her holy flag at Assassin of Black.

Assassin tried to directly block the attack with the butcher’s knives in her hands, but the holy flag didn’t have a sharp edge like a blade. It was a weapon that blocked attacks and knocked down the enemy with its steel pole.

Furthermore, Jeanne d’Arc’s flag was a holy treasure that had always accompanied her on the battlefield and was treated as a symbol even now.

Jack the Ripper’s knives were symbols of fear—but still, there was no way they could win against a holy flag that had won great fame on the battlefield.

Assassin of Black fell. With a strike strong enough to make a crater in stone pavement, she was rendered pretty much incapable of any further fighting.

The sorrow of the Assassin class was that she didn’t have the endurance to trade direct blows with those of the three Knight classes or the Ruler class.

“Guh… uu, uuu, uuuuuuugh…!”

Even so, Assassin of Black continued moving and tried to escape. Ruler glanced at Sieg. The possessed children were all falling to the ground as if their souls had come out.

Ruler guessed that Assassin of Black’s injuries were probably the cause. There was no error in her conclusion. Assassin of Black had weakened to the point that she had to call back and gather together the vengeful spirits possessing the children.

Even the fog created by her Noble Phantasm was gradually clearing away.

“Mo… ther… Mother, Mother…!”

While fallen to her hands and knees and trying to run away using only her arms, Assassin of Black called for her mother. Ruler couldn’t help but feel pity for her.

If someone asked whether Assassin was a perpetrator or victim, she was unmistakably a perpetrator. But most likely, her origins had begun from being a victim.

Looking at her form and hearing her voice, Ruler came to such a conclusion.

And—even so, she was evil. If left alone, the phenomenon known as Jack the Ripper would probably swell and grow until it could no longer be crammed into the frame of a Servant.

She was a unique, abnormal monster that existed outside conventional boundaries.

Ruler cut in front of the crawling Assassin of Black and placed a hand on her face in order to sublimate her with a Baptism Rite.

“The Lord forgives all injustice and forgives all calamities. And he frees your life from the grave, feeling love and compassion—”

Perhaps sensing something, Assassin’s ice-blue eyes widened in fear.

“No…”

Without responding to Assassin’s words, Ruler commenced chanting.

“No… no… no, no, no…! Stop it! Stop, stop, stop! Mother…! Save me, Mother…!”

Ruler gritted her teeth and continued the chant, but suddenly sensed a massive outpouring of prana.

“This is—a Command Spell!?”

“Motheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer1!”

Instantly, Assassin of Black disappeared. The Master had mostly likely sensed that her Servant was in danger and used a Command Spell. Just as Ruler thought, she appeared to be watching Assassin’s condition from somewhere. Her lack of effort to hide their murders might have disqualified her as a magus, but it seemed she firmly understood the system under which the Holy Grail War functioned.

Ruler faintly sensed traces of Assassin of Black’s presence. She was mostly likely still somewhere in this town. Now that the fog had cleared away, searching for her would be easy. They couldn’t allow her to slip away here.

“Let’s chase after her, Sieg-kun!”

Sieg nodded and began running after Ruler’s wake.

Rikudou Reika used the Command Spell because the fog had cleared away. The fog dissipating meant that Jack’s power had considerably weakened. It was easy for Reika to imagine that she had fallen into a dangerous situation.

“Mo… ther…”

As Assassin of Black cowered in pain, Reika quickly lifted her up. Though she was a Servant, her weight was the same as that of a young girl. Assassin was extremely light, so much that it made Reika wonder if she was completely empty inside.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t talk. Now, go to sleep.”

Reika began walking hurriedly as she spoke. They had to withdraw from here. Luckily, their hideout was nearby.

“Mother… what should we do next…?”

“Let’s think about it after you’ve healed your injuries. For now, you should rest.”

While saying that, Reika kept thinking. They wanted to obtain the Holy Grail, and those people they had fought were an obstacle to that, but eliminating them would be even more difficulty after this. Perhaps the two of them should give thought to a drawn-out war and withdraw from Trifas.

Fortunately, there would be no trouble obtaining information as long as there were magi around. No matter where in the world the Holy Grail was, they should definitely be able to track it.

“…Hey, hey, Mother. I want to hear, the piano, again…”

Hearing that childish request suddenly come from Jack’s mouth, Reika giggled. Though she was in pain, Jack whined charmingly while smiling.

“All right, I will.”

Prioritizing Jack’s words was more important than thinking of a battle plan to Reika right now.

Seeing Jack smile despite the pain made Reika feel relieved. The fog had literally vanished like mist. If they didn’t hurry, they might be found again—

Reika was hurrying down a narrow street only wide enough for a single car to pass through. There were people collapsed on the ground here and there, but she ignored every single one of them. Her heart felt nothing for them, merely discarding them with the thought ‘They were unlucky’. Right now, giving her daughter in her arms the chance to rest was prioritized over everything else for her.

One of the street lamps, which had just come back on, illuminated the glass window of a shop she happened to be passing by.

By the chance, the reflection of the light showed that to Reika. A human form, wearing strange clothes that clearly looked like those of someone from an entirely different era. And that person had nocked an arrow on a bow and was aiming it in her direction—it was unmistakably an enemy, and the target of the arrow was Reika and Jack in her arms.

She was forced to choose. At this rate, that arrow would definitely pierce through both her and Jack. She didn’t know about Jack, but she at least would experience near instant death. Relying on luck was useless here.

She couldn’t escape, and fighting would be difficult as well. There was no way the enemy would show mercy.

In other words, she had no means of stopping it. Therefore, there was no meaning in what she was about to do now

“…Yeah, it can’t be helped.”

There truly was no meaning in doing it. But I have to do it, thought Rikudou Reika.

Any further thought ended at exactly that instant for her.

Reika suddenly spun around and released Jack from her arms. Naturally, Jack fell on her back onto the stone pavement. Having suddenly been thrown away, Jack looked at Reika with a dumbfounded expression—and froze.

“Mo, ther…?”

She felt sharp pain for an instant, but even so, Reika managed to understand instinctively.

I can’t be saved.

—From the beginning, it was a battle with slim chances of victory. Since the Assassin class itself only showed its true worth in a battle royal, Jack was unable to fight fair and square no matter how much she struggled.

Killing the Masters was also difficult considering how they were holed up in the fortress. Furthermore, her Master Reika wasn’t a magus and couldn’t supply prana, the source of a Servant’s power.

That’s why, from the start, they were at an overwhelming disadvantage. If Reika knew who was managing this whole affair, she would have seriously lodged a complaint against them.

But Reika hadn’t minded at all.

She didn’t mind killing people. She had killed both the sinful and the innocent alike, but she still didn’t worry herself over it—she felt some pity for the victims, but that was all.

There were only two important points for her.

Jack the Ripper had saved Rikudou Reika. She had granted Reika’s wish to live.

And, though it was only for a short time, she had enjoyed the days she spent with Jack more than anything else in her entire life.

No matter how bloody, no matter how cruel Jack was—

Rikudou Reika had enjoyed being with her from the bottom of her heart.

—Mother.

A little girl had called her that with an innocent voice. No matter what her true identity was, Reika didn’t care. Just that alone made her happy. Just that alone made those days together so wonderful.

The happy dream ended.

She had a mountain of regrets—but there was no use regretting.

It was a happy dream.

While her thoughts were still clear, Reika murmured that in her mind.

As she fell to the ground face-up, Jack frantically approached her.

“Mother…!!”

Reika put a hand on Jack’s cheek—she had enough time and strength left to do that at least. She smiled—she somehow managed to do that much. As for final words—that was pointless. There was something more important she needed to say right now.

She had two things to say.

“I order you with two Command Spells. [Even if I’m not here anymore], [you’ll be fine]… Jack.”

It was useless to keep these Command Spells at this point.

She used up her remaining two and tried to boost Jack’s chances of survival even a little. As always, she didn’t understand magecraft very well.

She didn’t understand it, so she used it as a stand-in for a good luck charm. Like how a mother reassures her fearful daughter, Reika used her remaining Command Spells.

“No, don’t go, don’t go, Mother! No, no, no…!”

You’re a smart daughter, thought Reika.

She was losing consciousness and drifting away from the world—she closed her eyes. Her hearing was faltering, and she couldn’t even squeeze back the hand that held hers.

She could no long feel or even think anything.

At that moment, Rikudou Reika merely wore an expression that somehow seemed to fit the situation… a smile.

Archer of Red shot down Assassin of Black’s Master. Even if she had left them alone, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Rather, it would have been better for Archer’s side if Assassin and her Master fostered further chaos that way. The only ones bothered by the fact that they were murderers and deviating from the rules of the Great Holy Grail War were magi. It had nothing to do with Archer of Red.

But—Assassin of Black had involved children.

At that instant, Assassin and her Master became enemies to Archer of Red. The Master was especially unforgivable. Assassin was a child, but her Master was an adult—and she had allowed her Servant to involve children.

Archer had nocked an arrow and intended to end both Assassin and her Master together. But surprisingly, Assassin’s Master, perhaps because she was trying to protect the Servant in her arms, had turned in Archer’s direction.

Coincidentally, theirs gazes met.

She did not have the appearance of a crafty magus, but rather wore modern clothing—she was clearly an ordinary woman.

The woman had worn a fleeting look of sorrow, and then, without resisting at all, simply waited for the arrow to be shot. No, that wasn’t right. It appeared the woman was trying to protect Assassin.

—Even thought it was a meaningless act.

Archer of Red didn’t waver. If her target was letting herself be shot, Archer wouldn’t pass the opportunity up. Neutrally, emptying herself of all sentiment, she shot the arrow.

The shot was more than enough to kill a single person. The arrow pierced the Master’s chest, and Archer of Red could sense from the feedback that it had killed Assassin’s Master.

“Mother…! Mother, Mother, Mother…!”

Assassin’s Master placed her hand on the cheek of the young girl that was desperately calling out to her, and murmured something to her before finally dying.

A feeling similar to guilt gouged Archer’s chest, but it didn’t move her heart. Even if she was a child, Assassin was a Servant. Servants were beings summoned in order to win the Holy Grail War.

Even if she took the form of a child, that was simply the form of her heyday in life.

…Though it was irregular, there were such cases among Heroic Spirits.

Assassin of Black merely stared at the corpse of her Master in a daze. She would disappear eventually at this rate even if Archer let her go, but even if it was a one-in-a-million chance, another Master might appear to make a contract with her.

I’ll get rid of her here and now, Archer decided, nocking another arrow and immediately shooting it. Assassin didn’t move an inch from her kneeling position beside the corpse. Perhaps she didn’t even understand that an arrow had been shot at her.

It’s better that way, thought Archer. It would be better if she just let it all go like this. All of Assassin’s regrets, hopes and despair would be irrelevant if she disappeared.

Assassin merely convulsed for an instant when the arrow pierced her heart, not even letting out a scream.

Puzzled, Archer of Red approached her. The arrow definitely should have destroyed Assassin’s spiritual core. But she didn’t display any response to it.

There was no sign of pain, or of her body fading away and vanishing. It was an abnormal sight. Assassin was merely looking up at the sky. Her blank face made it clear that she was no longer capable of fighting.

And yet, Archer of Red felt a chill go down her back and started to feel fear towards something she couldn’t place.

Heroic Spirits were those who had become figures of bravery by conquering fear in all forms. Naturally, as a Heroic Sprit herself, Atalanta understood that well.

She didn’t fear the darkness of the forest deep in the night. She hadn’t feared the giant boar that a god had released on the earth.

She could even laugh and overcome battlefields where a single instant’s decision could lead to death. That shouldn’t have changed in the Great Holy Grail War either.

There was no room for her to feel fear in this situation. She had shot down the enemy, and even if she hadn’t, Assassin was on the verge of death. This was enemy territory, but she was confident that she could make her escape on her swift feet. Even if everything proceeded in the worst possible way and she perished on this battlefield, she would have regrets, but she would accept it.

That was the karma of battle. Any Heroic Spirit had at least that much resolve.

But…

Archer of Red took a step back. No, the thing that conflicted her right now was something decisively different from that kind of fear.

It was the feeling that, just by remaining here, something would end.

What was there to fear? Assassin of Black no longer had any means of counterattack.

Just what kind of threat could a Servant, who’s Master was dead and who couldn’t use her Noble Phantasms, pose?

There was no threat. There shouldn’t have been, and yet—

Assassin of Black’s head spun around her neck like that of a doll’s, and turned to face Archer of Red. Archer couldn’t help but think that her blank eyes were beautiful like blue crystals.

Assassin of Black opened her mouth.

“Why?”

After Assassin spoke that single word, a stream of black mud-like mass spewed out from her mouth.

Archer of Red frantically jumped away, but her reaction was fatally too slow.

“This is…!?”

Summoned as Assassin, Jack the Ripper was an amalgamation of vengeful spirits. The unborn children who had been abandoned in the Whitechapel district had merely temporarily materialized by taking the form of a young girl.

Archer of Red’s arrow just now had released all of them from the focal point known as [Jack the Ripper].

Looking like a thick fog, the vengeful spirits attacked the nearest living being, Archer—and completely engulfed her.

—In that instant, Archer of Red saw hell.

Question: What is hell?

Answer: Eternally continuing torture.

Answer: Eternally repeated slaughter.

Answer: Eternally unending despair.

Indeed, each and every one of these can be called hell.

However, there are actually a great variety of hells in this world.

The city of fog, London, the Whitechapel district—to certain people, that place was definitely hell. Just living was difficult, and it was impossible to have a life you could take pride in.

How could there be pride in a world where nine-year-old girls sold their bodies on the street? The stench of the tanning factories and meat processing plants always filled the air, and rats and cockroaches rejoiced in this society. There was no such thing as the ‘strong’ there; everyone who lived there were miserable weaklings, pitiful victims and cruel assailants.

Yes, it was hell.

Hell, this is truly hell. Children, there are children, so many children.

Their eyes are dead. They understand that there is no love in this world. No, that’s wrong, there is love. There definitely is. And yet, I can’t call out to them. I want to help, I want to save you all, and yet my body won’t move.

All the children turned their eyes towards her.

I’ll save you! I’ll save you! I was abandoned just like you all in the past. I was saved from that fate! The joy of that, the happiness of that, I’ll bestow it to you all—

She had lost the ability to speak, but even so, Archer of Red tried to appeal to them in her heart. The children merely approached her silently.

There was no joy, sorrow or hatred in them. Their cold and inhuman eyes were similar to those of sharks.

Archer of Red unconsciously tried to step back in chilling revulsion, but one of the children grabbed her arm.

The children opened all their mouths at once.

“Join us.”

Smoothly, the child entered inside her skin. Another one grabbed her legs—and penetrated her blood vessels. Others penetrated her nerves, bones, organs, muscles, brain…

Archer of Red screamed.

Her heart was tormented not by fear, but by the despair of the children and herself—

Sieg and Ruler, who had been chasing after Archer of Black, were also engulfed in it.

A black fog-like something had surged toward them while they were running through the streets, and engulfed them without giving them any time to run away. A mud-like substance coiled around their entire bodies, and all their senses were cut off, like when you’re about to fall asleep.

When he regained his senses, Sieg was standing in a strange place.

“This is…”

He was in an extremely cold city covered in fog. A heavy and awful stench pervaded the area. The stench of meat, the stench of entrails, the stench of vomit and human excrement…

This isn’t Trifas, Sieg judged based on his surroundings. The building architecture was completely different, and there were people on the streets. Though the fog smelled slightly disgusting, it wasn’t painful.

He noticed that all of senses were dull and muted for some reason, and that everyone passing by him on the street was ignoring him.

He began walking. He limped, unable to feel his feet stepping on the ground, as if he were stepping on a plastic bag.

This is an illusion, or a nightmare—Sieg thus concluded.

The problem was, whose dream was this? It wasn’t Sieg’s; this scenery was completely unknown to him. It wasn’t Ruler’s either. He already knew her true name. No matter how he thought about it, this place didn’t match the era she was from.

A cold wind blew by, seeming to permeate his very flesh and bones, and a crumpled newspaper floated down in front of Sieg’s feet.

He read the text on it—and understood everything.

From Hell—Jack the Ripper

This appears to be Jack the Ripper’s… that is, Assassin of Black’s dream. But where is Assassin herself? She… no, he? Which was it? Strange, there’s no way I could have forgotten that…

“Damn it. All the information about Assassin disappeared again.”

The way Assassin was able to slip away no matter how much they chased after her was truly superb. But this time, this time Sieg wouldn’t let her get away.

Sieg began walking in search of Jack the Ripper—but then his vision suddenly distorted, and an instant later, he found himself in a different place once more.

—Sieg couldn’t deny that, up until that moment, he had held certain illusions about humans.

—He had only gained self-consciousness a few days ago and, even if he had knowledge, he had no experience, so it was hard to say that he had understood how deep the evil deeds of humans went.

—Most of all, the fact that he was blessed with the people surrounding him being Heroic Spirits, those who were heroes in the past, had the biggest effect on his view of things.

—The world is beautiful. How many sacrifices had people made in order to speak those words? Sieg still hadn’t comprehended that.

Laugh, laugh, laugh.

This place is the lowest plane of the world. This is none other than Cocytus, the very bottom of hell. Of course, I don’t know if there’s actually a hell. I know nothing of such things.

Visitors here come to understand just one thing. ‘This place is definitely hell.’ London, Whitechapel, a great human meat processing plant. It’s a nest of Jorougumo1 where escape if impossible if you fall down into it.

This place is packed with everything within Pandora’s Box, except for hope. All kinds of disasters, all kinds of despair, continually flux, converge and rain down like dirty mud here.

Prostitutes who are like monstrous creatures both without and within sell their bodies, and shelve the money they earn by selling the life they were born with.

Splat, splat.

Repeat, repeat.

Splat, splat.

Treatment, treatment, treatment, treatment.

Blood flowed in a river. The factories are discharging waste anyways, so it’s no big deal if we increase the protein.

It’s truly no big deal. No problem at all. If you consider the size of the world’s great flow, this is just a little smidge of dirty mud.

Hands protrude from that dirty mud, and monsters are born.

That’s why this place is hell, purgatory, the corrupt city of Babylon where inhuman monsters live.

Sieg watched.

He watched a very young girl be violated by a large hairy man in order to get her daily food. He watched a young boy knock down the girl with a stick in order to steal her food. He watched the boy have the bread he risked his life to get stolen in turn by a cunning adult, and watched that bread finally arrive meaninglessly in the hands of someone else.

He saw an unborn fetus. He watched the people who had brought it into the world in an unchaste act of intercourse then dispose of it.

Children weren’t killed in this hell. Children were expended.

Thus, light gradually disappeared from the eyes of children. The world, like silk cloth, twined around their bodies, and they were swallowed by snakes without moving an inch.

It was ugly.

It was far too ugly.

If there was some great evil, he could understand. If there was some enormous, wicked villain—someone like that who ruled them, then Sieg would still have been able to hold onto his illusions about humans. But, this was a system. A bad debt that was created when humans built and developed a city. Or perhaps it was just pus.

No one was blamed and denounced. No one was saved. No, saving anyone here was impossible. The act of salvation itself wasn’t acknowledged by the system.

“Stop it.”

Sieg trembled and kneeled down on the ground. He had been on the verge of death many times up until now, but those times were all cases of bodily death. But the sight of this was killing Sieg’s heart.

“Stop it… Please, I’m begging you, stop it!”

His illusions were contaminated and the scene that should have been beautiful grew faded and dull.

“—Yes. That’s right.”

When he came to his sense, his surroundings had changed once more. There was thick fog in the air, blocking out all moonlight… It was a truly chilly night. Whose voice was that just now?—Sieg wondered as he looked around, and finally noticed.

Sieg was standing alone on a deserted street somewhere.

“…What’s right?”

Sieg resolutely questioned the voice. He saw a shadow move in an alleyway. He chased after it without hesitation.

At the dead-end of the back alley, there stood a girl in tattered clothing.

For some reason, he knew who she was—she was Jack the Ripper.

“I’ll ask you again. What’s right?”

The girl replied in a strangely distorted voice.

“The world is ugly.”

Hearing a rustling sound behind him, Sieg turned around—and there too stood a girl in tattered clothing. That girl opened her mouth.

“That’s why we wanted to go back.”

“…Go back where?”

Another rustle. This time, it came from above—and walking casually on a building’s wall was another girl in tattered clothing.

“Back inside mother’s belly.”

Another one appeared. Every one of them looked at Sieg with hollow eyes.

“We wanted to go back.”

“We wanted to go back.”

“We just wanted to go back inside mother’s belly.”

“So why? Why is everyone so mean to us?”

“We wanted to be saved. So why did no one save us?”

“Were we bad?”

“Were we hated?”

Sieg couldn’t give an adequate answer to those questions. The premise of ‘wanting to live’ did not exist for these girls.

The girls grabbed Sieg’s arms. The girls melted while smiling with tears falling from their eyes and permeated inside of Sieg.

“The world—is so very ugly. We know that. Despite that, do you still want to live?”

Those words… dealt the most fatal wound of all to the heart of the boy who did not yet know the world.

Ruler had also been sucked into the girls’—Jack’s nightmare. Ruler walked down a road filled with the stench of rotting bodies.

“This place is… England?”

In Trifas, though the architectural style had been that of the Middle Ages, the town itself had a properly maintained sanitation system. But this place was the opposite. The buildings here were modern in style, the kind that Laeticia was familiar with in her memories. But the streets were filled with strife and unsanitary conditions.

This was the city where Jack the Ripper was born. A freezing fog and a pitch black night. In the midst of that, Ruler walked down the street.

Before she realized it, her armor had disappeared, and her holy flag was gone from her hand as well. However, she didn’t feel helpless at all. She continued walking straight ahead in a dignified manner.

She had a rough idea as to the nature of this illusion. She also understood how to escape from it—no, how to bring it down.

…It meant doing something sorrowful. Even if the end result would be a blessing, someone would have to bear pain in order to achieve it.

A person, no, a child, who was the pure manifestation of innocence.

“—Even so. Nothing will start unless she is killed.”

After she took a single breath, Ruler’s eyes were filled with strong determination. Her resolve was as sharp as a blade and as hard as steel.

There was a young girl in one of the back alleys. She glared at the holy maiden Jeanne d’Arc with eyes filled with despair. The girl’s killing intent was that of the weak—but Ruler glared back at the girl without flinching. She released her own killing intent, which a hero would normally never direct at a despairing, victimized child.

The little girl was so shocked she retreated back a step. Ruler questioned her with a cold-hearted voice.

“What’s wrong, Assassin of Black…? No, the girl who used to be Assassin of Black. The girl who held the name of Jack the Ripper, who wasn’t really anyone. Do you intend to run away?”

“…Why aren’t you scared?”

“Scared? Why is there a need to think of you as frightening? All of you are merely sorrowful victims.”

At those words, countless children appeared all around Ruler one after another. Their faces were each unique and yet they somehow had a sense of sameness. Every one of them was dirty and had eyes filled with a dark light.

This place was unmistakably the hell of this era. These children were the embodiment of it in human form.

No matter how heartless someone was, they would falter, feel fear and shudder if they were pushed down here. This place was the inner world that embodied of Jack the Ripper’s Origin. A miniature garden of darkness that took form as Assassin was dying, filled with human ugliness.

“Great Holy Maiden.”

“Lady Angel.”

“Save us, save the pitiful, so pitiful Jack. Save us. Save us, help us, gives us your hand. Please, please, please—”

The children crowded around Ruler and clung to her with desperate expressions on their faces.

If she’s a saint, then she can save them. If she’s a saint, then she’ll definitely grant them salvation. No, even without being a saint, as long as she was a decent human being, this was a situation where she should feel something for them.

And yet, Ruler did not quiver as she stood at the center of them—in fact, there was not the slightest tremble, sympathy or even pity on her face.

The holy maiden spoke harshly to them.

“—I cannot do that. I can save children who’ve lost their way and I can purify souls that have lingering regrets by praying. However, Jack the Ripper alone cannot be saved by me.”

The children froze.

“You have all already been included as part of ‘his’ legend. The murderer known as Jack the Ripper is already both anybody and nobody. Do you all truly understand that the people you killed were victims of Jack the Ripper? You know neither their names nor their faces. You only sought your mother’s face and killed them in the process, right?”

Jack the Ripper killed at least five prostitutes—

Jack the Ripper gouged out their organs—

Jack the Ripper sent a letter to a newspaper company—

Jack the Ripper is a doctor.

Jack the Ripper is a member of the Royal Family.

Jack the Ripper is a painter.

Jack the Ripper is an ordinary person that can be found anywhere.

All of these were lies, and all of these were true. Now that all kinds of rumors, gossip and guesses had become jumbled together, trying to grasp her identity outside of being Jack the Ripper was an unimaginably difficult act.

She was anybody and nobody. She was nobody and anybody.

The problem was—that the number of possibilities was close to infinite. Because of that, the Anti-Heroic Spirit Jack the Ripper included all the possibilities in this world.

Most likely, the Holy Grail had tried to call forth a ‘Jack the Ripper’ that embodied all of these possibilities.

“That’s right. You all have all been made part of Jack the Ripper. You might have been forced to become part of him… But that’s why, even if I can kill you, I can’t save you.”

“—No way…”

“No—”

“We, we—”

Unrest ran through the children. Though they sought salvation, they contaminated everyone they came across. They truly were evil spirits. Though it was only vaguely, they understood their own end.

This holy maiden’s prayers weren’t salvation for them—

“…It seems you finally understand. I’ll commence destroying you all now.”

Her prayers were a Baptism Rite for completely annihilating their existence.

“The Lord’s blessing is deep, His love is eternal and constant.”

“Why… Why are you…!?”

“This is natural providence… You should already understand. You have all been transformed by your inflated hatred and the despair of the people you killed. Not one of you can be separated from the concept of ‘Jack the Ripper’ anymore.”

“You dwell in the deserted wasteland, not knowing the path to your proper place.”

They were all molded together as one into ‘Jack the Ripper’.

Not a single one of them even had a name of their own. They were not recognized as individuals by the world.

“Hunger, thirst, the soul withers.”

“No! No, we, we are—!”

“Then do you all have individual names?”

The children’s breathing halted. That was a forbidden question. These children, who had been thrown away while still a fetus, had no names. Even if humans had names, mere cells did not.

“Speak His name and be saved. Speak the name of the One who will guide you to your proper place.”

“In that case—”

Ruler slowly held out her right hand. At that moment, a shout rang out from somewhere.

“Stop… stop, Ruler…!!”

“Archer of Red…!?”

Ruler was shocked as she saw Archer of Red glaring at her with an arrow nocked on her bow. Her right arm was tainted black and it was clear that she was being possessed by an evil spirit.

“What are you doing, Archer!? Your right arm—”

Archer interrupted Ruler’s words by shooting the arrow.

“Shut up! Right back at you, what are you trying to do!? They’re children! They’re merely children, innocent souls. They aren’t evil! They’re victims, pitiful souls that were crushed by the system of the world! Why are you killing them!?”

The evil spirits reacted to Archer of Red’s words and gathered behind her all at once. They probably sensed a strong will to protect them from her.

Ruler had no weapons. In the first place, this was an illusionary world. Nothing would be settled no matter how much they tried to kill each other here, and the arrow Archer had fired had no effect either.

…That bow and arrow were Archer’s will. A pure and simple will of retribution that declared she would kill Ruler if she killed these children.

Does she feel sympathy for them? thought Ruler as she glared at Archer—and was glared at in return.

“Archer, you should also understand as a Heroic Spirit. Those children cannot be saved. For them to live only results in increasing the number of their own kind. In the first place—returning their souls to a peaceful place is an act of kindness.”

Without any hesitation, Archer of Red fired another arrow. The steel arrowhead pierced the ground’s stone paving. Archer was sorrowfully earnest, and yet fatally mistaken.

“What kindness!? Saving others is the duty of a saint! Maid of Orleans, for what purpose did you wield a flag instead of a sword on the battlefield!? It was in order to not kill, wasn’t it!? In order to not bloody your hands—”

“—Is that what you think, Archer of Red?”

Ruler spoke in a cold voice. It was a blade-like voice that was so sharp it even overwhelmed, for just an instant, the huntress who had run through battlefields.

“Since I didn’t use a sword, my hands weren’t bloodied? Ridiculous. —I participated in those battles. I decided to fight. From that instant, it was the same as if my own hands were stained in blood. Don’t take me so lightly. I will not hesitate to destroy those children!”

Those words angered Archer of Red from the depths of her heart, and she shouted as if snarling at Ruler.

“Then, then. You aren’t a saint…!”

“That’s exactly right, Archer of Red. Everyone called me a saint, but I myself have never once thought of myself that way.”

Archer of Red’s expression turned shocked. If she was a saint, it was possible she could save these children. Archer might have thought that.

“This place is the world of these children’s memories, merely an illusion created by their residual thoughts. Do you intend to continue letting them suffer eternally in this vague and ambiguous world!? Please, move aside.”

Though visibly in anguish, Archer of Red firmly remained where she stood.

“… guh… I… refuse! If I, if I abandon these children, then who will love them!? You said you would return their souls to a peaceful place, Ruler. That’s merely extinguishing them, merely murder! I—”

Both Archer and Ruler’s words halted. One of the girls hiding behind Archer’s back stepped up to Ruler. What a vast and lost expression—like a puppy thrown out into the wild, Ruler thought.

“Hey.”

In response to that voice of appeal, Ruler bended down to her knees and met the child’s gaze. Regardless of the reasons, what Ruler was about to do was unmistakably a ‘sin’. At the very least, she mustn’t avert her eyes from it.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Are you… okay with killing us?”

Those words pierced Ruler’s heart like a sword. She clenched her teeth—and endured it.

If they could be saved, she would have already saved them. If they could be helped, she would have already helped them. But she couldn’t. Ruler understood that it was something she was unable to do.

“Even so. Even so, we must all move forward.”

Ruler bit her lip hard, causing blood to flow out. The instant they saw that, the agitation and fear of ‘Jack the Ripper’ disappeared.

“No… no, stop… please stop…!”

The children hiding behind Archer of Red walked up to Ruler one by one. Archer of Red tried to pull them back—and as if rejecting that, the children slipped through her arms.

“—It can’t be helped, huh?”

“Yes. It can’t be helped. May you all find peace.”

Like cats that realized their end, the children took Ruler’s hand without running away. Archer of Red understood then. It couldn’t be helped. The death of these children was inevitable, a fact that couldn’t be overturned.

Most of all, these children had rejected her—so she couldn’t move. She could only watch as a spectator in this illusionary world.

“He satiates the thirsty souls and satisfies the hungry souls with good.”

The chant solemnly and smoothly began extinguishing the children’s existence. This wasn’t the normal second death of a Servant, but a literal erasure. They were being removed from the axis of the cycle of rebirth, and they would no longer be summoned as ‘Jack the Ripper’ in any other Holy Grail War.

It was both salvation and not salvation. Becoming a Servant meant gaining a second life, but to them, this was effectively their first life.

Holding hands with each other, the children stared at Ruler.

“Give salvation to those who suffer and are bound in iron within the deep darkness.”

They were disappearing. They weren’t ascending to heaven, nor sinking into the darkness; they were merely dissolving into the world like mist.

“Ah—”

As she chanted, Ruler didn’t let her grave and solemn expression break at all. If she cried, the children would know that she was saddened by their death, and they would probably leave behind lingering regrets in this world. That’s why Ruler remained standing there firmly like steel.

“Now, let your shackles be broken, and be freed from the deep darkness.”

“We don’t want to die—”

She nearly crumbled at the children’s whisper—but she didn’t allow her posture to break. Without the slightest tremble, she simply continued ‘disposing’ of the children dispassionately.

“Grant salvation to those who have fallen ill from acts stained in sin and who are troubled by injustice.”

The children began disappearing one after another, and at the same time, the nightmarish London also began disappearing. This place was reconstructed from their memories, so if they disappeared, this city’s existence would inevitably be rejected.

And then, everything was in darkness. There was only one young girl left. She stared at the holy maiden with pure eyes.

“We’re going to disappear?”

“Yes. That is natural providence.”

“Is that so? Yeah, that’s right. We can’t return anywhere or be anywhere. We spun in circles, ran in circles, and weren’t able to reach anywhere.”

After murmuring that, the girl laughed and then asked a final question.

“—Are you sad?”

“…No. You all are merely returning to your proper place. There’s nothing to be sad about.”

The holy maiden replied in a hard voice.

“So, I won’t cry.”

The holy maiden didn’t cry. She covered her heart with a thick shell, and calmly crushed the children underfoot. She had no right to feel sad. As someone who wasn’t judging their sins, but simply couldn’t allow their existence—she had no right to mourn.

“A song of joy for the just, and silence for the unjust.”

She recited the holy words.

The little girl, without smiling or looking sad, accepted it with empty eyes.

“——Pax Exeuntibus: Grant peace to these departing souls.”

“…How sad.”

Leaving behind those words which pitied the holy maiden, the final girl vanished—and the fog cleared away. Ruler’s knees didn’t bend or collapse. She didn’t cry, and she didn’t let out a single sob. She did not show any pity or compassion for the children who weren’t even allowed to live.

Sympathy simply called forth victims. If she lost herself in it, everything would be wasted.

She had killed with her own hands the victimized children who sobbed out ‘We just want to go back’. It was no one’s fault and no one could be blamed; it was simply an act of murder carved in sin.

Blood flowed out from her tightly clenched lips.

Ruler had personally tasted the heavy karma of humans just now.

Even so.

Even so, she didn’t let her heart be crushed. Ruler warily gazed at Archer of Red. She was also worried about Sieg, who had also been caught up in that illusion along with her—but she was certain that, if she moved her gaze away from Archer even slightly, she would fall into a fatal situation.

Even now that they had returned to reality, Archer was crouching on the ground, her body shivering. Like a wounded beast, thought Ruler. Regardless, it was clear that Archer of Red had lost herself.

…It still hadn’t been decided for sure that they were enemies. Ruler still hadn’t confirmed which side Archer, Lancer and Rider of Red had chosen after their group left.

But, based on Archer’s behavior just now—

“Ruler… You killed them.”

A hollow voice resounded terribly through the dark night of the city. Ruler immediately understood from that voice.

“Yes. The one who killed them was me, for certain.”

She was an enemy. She would never get along with Ruler—

After staggering to stand up, Archer shouted as her entire body trembled with killing intent.

“I see. You’re also on the side that discards them. Even though those children just wanted to live. You’re on the side that tramples over them!?”

A deep killing intent exuded from her eyes along with tears. She was so enraged that blood trickled down from her lips.

It was only briefly, but Ruler did exchange words with Archer on the battlefield previously—but no trace of her aloof attitude from back then could be seen now.

It wasn’t because they were enemies or allies, but because Ruler wounded something that was equivalent to Archer’s soul.

Heroes had things that mustn’t be touched. For Archer of Red, that was children. Since Ruler didn’t save those children who existed as Jack the Ripper, she was now nothing more than an enemy to Archer of Red.

Even if those children were beings that absolutely couldn’t be saved, Archer of Red still struggled to save them. No matter how much anguish and despair it brought her, she never gave up.

“…No matter what I say, you won’t understand, Archer of Red.”

“—Those children could have been saved.”

“No, they couldn’t. Those children were, in the end, evil spirits. The concept of ‘being saved’ doesn’t exist for them. That’s why, no matter how much they continue to seek warmth—they will destroy those who could give that warmth to them.”

Archer of Red struck her hand against the stone building next to her. With a loud crack, the wall crumbled away as if it were brittle.

“Shut up! They could have… they could have been saved! Even if it was impossible with my own power, they could have been with the power of the Holy Grail!”

With the power of the Holy Grail, she said. In other words, that meant having the Holy Grail grant her wish.

But Shirou Kotomine should have been in control of the Holy Grail.

As Ruler was about to question this discrepancy, Archer of Red nocked an arrow on her bow without waiting for her to speak. But, by the time she did so, Archer of Black had caught sight of the two female Servants once the fog cleared and had already aimed his own shot at Archer of Red before she could fire.

“—αστραπη χειμων: Ferocity is the Hammer of the Gods1.”

The three arrows he fired were all filled with as much prana as they could take. Though it may not have worked against Rider or Saber of Red, Archer of Red had no defense strong enough to withstand arrows containing this much destructive power. If they hit her, she would almost definitely die at once.

But—only if they hit.

The stone-paved ground exploded, forming a huge crater. But Archer of Red had avoided all three arrows with frighteningly agile movements while howling like a beast. Those movements like a four-legged beast… as expected of a hunter that lived in the wild, Archer of Black thought with a bitter expression.

But Archer of Red had no interest in the shots fired at her just now. Without even looking in Archer of Black’s direction, she sharply snarled like a beast—and shouted at Ruler with deep hatred, as if vomiting blood.

“—I won’t forgive you!! Ruler, I won’t forgive your deception-filled life! False holy maiden—I will never forgive you for having killed those children instead of saving them! If you’re going to steal the Holy Grail, come and get it. I, Atalanta, shall shoot you all down without leaving a single survivor!”

Glaring at her enemy, Ruler, while gasping in anguish, Archer of Red quickly retreated.

When she was alive, the men who were charmed by Atalanta’s beauty were given a trial. Beat her in a foot race. Losing meant death. Even so, the men who didn’t give up challenged her one after another—and all of them lost.

Rider of Red was one of the few people who possessed speed equal to hers. Even the great Greek sage Chiron couldn’t pursue her when it came to pure running speed.

“—Are you running away, Archer of Red?”

Archer of Black said that, thinking she would come fight him if provoked. But Archer of Red didn’t even glance at Archer of Black once, and swiftly ran away within the darkness of the night.

“…We can’t catch up with her.”

Ruler could tell. Archer of Red had retreated from the battle area in a mere instant, and she would slip out of this city in less than a minute. She was most likely here as a scout, and even if there had been a ripe opportunity for it, it was irregular for her to move to kill Assassin of Black earlier.

She had most likely acted in order to save the children that Assassin hurt. But her arrow had unleashed something in Assassin of Black. Normally, a Servant would have their connection to this world severed and vanish when their spiritual core was destroyed—or when their Master died.

But, instead, Assassin of Black had reproduced that scene of hell at the end of her life…

Ruler shook her head, and for the time being, put aside the various matters that needed to be considered later. The safety of this area had been secured, so next she had to find Sieg—

“Sieg-kun!”

Reprimanding her own strife-filled and screaming heart, Ruler began searching her surroundings. Sieg should have also been dragged into that fog along with her. She had managed to endure it, but could that painfully pure boy endure—?

Ruler quickly found Sieg lying unconscious on the ground, curled up in a fetal position. She lifted him up with her arms and called out to him.

“Pull yourself together… Please pull yourself together, Sieg-kun!”

Trembling weakly, Sieg woke up. And without even giving Ruler the time to pat her chest in relief, he grasped her arm and asked her.

“Ruler, what was that?”

“Sieg-kun… please calm down.”

But Sieg was tensed and strained. He questioned Ruler with a confused and lost expression.

“Those were normal humans? Not magi, but ordinary humans created hell that easily?”

Sieg’s shock was great, as to be expected. Servants were beings of abnormal power and therefore separate from the world of humans. Magi were those who were human and yet separate from human reason.

And, excluding other homunculi, the number of ordinary humans he had met was quite few, consisting of only the old man he met on the other side of the forest when he ran away and the people he encountered in town today.

Of course, he hadn’t expected for humans to be perfectly good.

But—he had believed they weren’t evil. He would never have thought that they could create a hell like that by their own will.

What should Ruler tell him, as he sat there on the verge of tears even now? That even those people hadn’t wished to create that hell? That it was because human survival instinct permitted evil? No, the problem was that he wanted to believe that people were good.

But Ruler knew that that was wrong.

“…Most likely, I saw the same thing as you did.”

Sieg looked at Ruler in surprise.

“Listen, Sieg-kun. What you asked isn’t something even I can answer. It’s true that a great and pure cruelty, which excuses all kinds of terrible and unjust acts, exists within human beings.”

Jeanne d’Arc had experienced it firsthand. She was betrayed and had her life and pride trampled over in various ways. It would to be wrong not to call that evil. And the ones who trampled upon her weren’t natural-born villains or those who had been raised to be evil, but simply ordinary humans who had judged Jeanne d’Arc as an enemy.

That’s why she understood that humans committed evil even without falling into evil.

She was aware that, even if people were individually good, they were evil as a whole.

Even so—

She strongly gripped clasped Sieg’s hands with her hand. Not wanting to show her expression, she bowed her head.

“Even so, please don’t give up yet. Please, please…”

Please don’t give up on humans.

Please don’t give up and say ‘That’s all they are’. Because becoming disillusioned with humans is easy, and hating humans is even easier, but continuing to love humans is hard.

“You—”

Sieg spoke up. Ruler listened to him without raising her head.

“You still haven’t given up?”

Even though she said that humans weren’t evil in themselves, didn’t she acknowledge that humans could be an ugly and wicked existence?

Even though she was gripped by such despair that she was unable to add anything after saying ‘Even so’—

You still love humans?

Ruler raised her head. Her smile was pure and noble.

“Yes. I haven’t given up.”

Those proud words just barely managed to stop the chaos and disgust inside Sieg. Sieg also knew of Jeanne d’Arc’s past.

Even though she had experienced such a terrible death, she said that she still hadn’t given up. Then, someone as young and inexperienced as him shouldn’t give up yet either.

He still hadn’t seen anything of the world yet. It was too soon to come to a conclusion.

Of course, just remembering that scene invoked such disgust in him that it made him feel like vomiting. Ruler said she hadn’t given up, but… for her to have to think ‘I won’t give up’ in the first place—

It meant that the world was filled with that much undefined evil.

Stifling the gloomy feelings inside him, Sieg somehow managed to stand up.

“It appears it’s over.”

Sieg turned around, and saw Archer of Black elegantly jump down from above. He landed soundlessly like a feather.

“Yes. Do the people that got dragged into the fog need medical treatment? I can also help a little with my magecraft.”

“The people who fainted are seriously hurt, but not so much that they’ll die. My Master is already making arrangement for them to be taken care of.”

“Then, about the children—”

Ruler asked with a worried face, but Archer of Black smiled to put her at ease.

“It seems they were intentionally excluded from the effects of the fog. They only have some scratches from when they fought both of you.”

“I see. Thank goodness…”

Ruler sighed and patted her chest in relief. After finishing his report, Archer of Black immediately went back into spiritual form and headed off to return to his Master.

“With this, it’s over.”

“Yes. At the very least… everything concerning Assassin of Black is finished.”

Absentmindedly, Sieg remembered the scene he glimpsed in the fog at the end—more specifically, the voices he heard back then.

Archer of Red, who was laid out accusations filled with killing intent, and Ruler, who responded with a cool voice.

Archer of Red had yelled at her several times, “You killed those children.” While lying incapacitated on the ground, Sieg had thought in shock that she meant the children they had protected from Assassin of Black, but it seemed Archer of Red had been talking about the children who appeared in that illusionary world.

Sieg’s general knowledge was enough for him to understand what kind of beings those children were.

Those children were what brought the Servant Assassin of Black into existence… in other words, they were like the foundation of existence known as ‘Jack the Ripper’. Naturally, they were already dead.

Even so, if they were left alone, they might have possessed some powerless human. In that case, it was highly possible that a Jack the Ripper with a living human body would have appeared.

Of course, they were low-class evil spirits. The most they would have been able to do was give someone the urge to commit murder, and they would have lacked any supernatural powers.

Even so, victims would definitely appear. That’s why Ruler killed those children—by extinguishing them with the Baptism Rite chant. Sieg could understand that that decision was correct and definitely an act of justice.

Yet, why had Archer of Red cursed Ruler like that? And why had Ruler kept accepting her words?

It was irrational. It was far too irrational. Even though she was a hero who had accumulated various achievements in life, didn’t Ruler think that it was far too unreasonable?

When Sieg asked Ruler about it, she scrunched her brow in sorrow and murmured.

“—Most likely, Archer of Red had never seen that kind of [evil] before.”

“Never… seen it?”

“There are various forms of hell. Atalanta might have seen villages massacred by evil beings. She might have seen the tyrannical rule of heinous kings.”

But that hell was different from those. There was no justice in that Whitechapel district. Such a thing as justice didn’t existence anywhere there.

But—they weren’t evil. The queen of that era, the doctors, the policemen, the criminals, the prostitutes, the orphans—none of them were either evil or just. The sky of that city had just been too heavy. It was like that oppressive grey sky had been crushing all of them.

Indeed, ‘Jack the Ripper’ was evil. But her origin was simply—the small wish of the abandoned to ‘return to a peaceful place’.

“…That’s why you apologized?”

“Yes. Remember this well, Sieg-kun.”

Ruler turned around—and gave a transient smile illuminated by the faint streetlights.

“Evil and justice can be interchanged infinitely depending on where one stands. At the very least, I am definitely [evil] to Archer of Red.”

“You, are evil…?”

“Yes. It’s just as Archer of Red said. I also think so myself. I—am not anything like a saint.”

Ruler said she wasn’t a saint.

That was a denial of herself, a lie towards the people who idolized her. Sieg was shocked and gazed at her—but Ruler averted her eyes.

“Now, let’s go back, Sieg-kun. If we’re too slow, your Servant will get angry.”

She smiled as if to push aside the previous discussion and began walking. Sieg decided to obediently follow after her. While gazing at her back, Sieg recalled the evil hell that ordinary humans had created.

He was certain that he would recall that scene countless times in the future. Each time he did, he would probably waver and become unable to believe in humanity.

There might be individual people that he’ll come to like. But that might be merely a small piece of goodness washed away amidst overwhelming evil—

Sieg would continue to ponder over humans and the world they create.

Would he eventually be able to come to a conclusion?

Humans are good/Humans are evil.

Or perhaps he would acknowledge that humans were neither under some unknown concept? Sieg didn’t know. It was far too much to shoulder for a newborn homunculus.

The confusion due to the feelings born in him, the confusion due to the abnormality of his situation, his own yet-unseen destination.

His mind was a mess, and the most he could believe in was his own Servant and Ruler’s smile—

“I am not anything like a saint.”

Her confession just now was incredibly important. It was something he mustn’t forget. That’s how Sieg felt. But he didn’t understand the meaning behind it.

He had no idea why the saint who should have been acknowledged by everyone derided herself as being evil and murmured that it was impossible for her to be a saint.

If he asked her, would she tell him why?

“…No, that’s no good.”

Sieg immediately discarded that idea. Questioning everything and getting an answer to everything from others was probably wrong. He needed to think for himself and understand it on his own.

Even if it was a question that might never be answered, even if the answer was lost in the darkness—he mustn’t stop the act itself of searching for that answer.

When Archer of Red returned to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon: Aerial Gardens of Vanity where the Greater Grail was stored, she dispassionately reported to her Master Shirou that she had shot down Assassin of Black.

“If possible, I would have like it if Assassin of Black kept causing a disturbance among the enemy camp a little while longer…”

Assassin of Red spoke up in a bored manner from where she sat calmly on her throne.

“It doesn’t matter. Either way, they will definitely chase after us. Since we’re in an all-out war, it would be troublesome to have trash like that moving unnecessarily.”

“That’s true enough… Ah, by the way, Archer. Did you find out which Heroic Spirit Assassin of Black was?”

Archer of Red replied in a completely apathetic, bored manner.

“There’s no point in worrying over those already slain.”

“…Hmm. Yes, it’s just as you say, but…”

Shirou’s gaze became slightly suspicious. Archer of Red wore an annoyed expression and didn’t respond. There was something more important she needed to think about right now—all her focus was on her hated enemy.

“I’m tired… that’s all I have to report.”

After saying that, she left the throne room. Her Master Shirou tilted his head in puzzlement at having seen something strange.

“What’s wrong, Master?”

“…No. I’m a little concerned about Archer of Red’s behavior.”

“She looks the same as always to me.”

Archer of Red was a fundamentally cool-headed person. She wasn’t indifferent, but even if someone died in front of her eyes, she wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

Perhaps it was because she had lived her life amidst the exceedingly harsh providence of nature. Her thoughts were extremely cool and sober when it came to life and death—including her own.

That’s why she wouldn’t care about the people she killed, no matter who they were, since their deaths changed nothing.

Certainly, in that regard, her behavior was not that different from her usual attitude. But Shirou couldn’t get rid of a feeling of something out of place.

…And then he realized. She had said she was ‘tired’. But there was no way the likes of Atalanta could feel tired from a simple scouting mission.

Immediately before she turned around, Shirou had seen Archer of Red’s face from the side.

Her beautiful face, which countless men had sought to marry her for, had been exuding unconcealed hatred and rage towards someone.

Archer of Red silently walked through the Hanging Gardens. Her pace was quick, as if she was trying to shake off that scene carved into her memories. But before she could go anywhere, a single man came to stand in her path.

“…Out of the way, Caster.”

Archer glanced at Caster in displeasure. Caster spoke to her while wearing his usual smile that was as deep and opaque as the bottom of the sea.

“[Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; While night’s black agents to their preys do rouse]… Were you captured by the night, exalted swift-running huntress?”

Archer grabbed the collar of Caster’s shirt as if she were fed up with him—and pushed him against a wall.

“I’m tired. Very tired. So shut up, you clown.”

But Caster didn’t shut up.

“There is no way you of all people would be tired from a mere scouting mission! And you aren’t tired, but frightened, are you not? Just like a child who’s unable to escape into sleep after hearing a scary story!”

“Shut up!”

Archer’s gaze oozed with killing intent. Her eyes declared that she would kill him if he joked around any further. Nevertheless—Caster questioned her, his smile never breaking.

“—What did you see? What did you perceive? How foolish. No matter what you saw, it is already merely a remnant of the past. We are ghosts of the past, and if ghosts regret the past, they become merely vengeful spirits.”

The words of the clown, who shouldn’t have known anything, gouged the deepest depths of Archer’s heart.

“You bastard…!!”

Suddenly, all life and energy disappeared from Caster’s body. In the blink of an eye, the man she grasped by the collar was reduced to a mere wooden puppet.

A spell used by the author Caster… or rather, a kind of sleight of hand that combined his immense fame and enigmatic history.

“—We must live in the future. To devote our bodies to the yet-unseen world. Archer, you also want to see it, don’t you? A world where all children are loved!”

At some unknown point, Caster had crept up behind her back. Hearing him voice her wish, Archer stopped as she was about to grab him by the cuff again. The one in front of her didn’t seem like a puppet this time.

Caster of Red gave a thin smile and closed one eye.

“For the sake of that, we must activate the Greater Grail. Through any means possible.”

“…You really believe that it will grant that wish?”

“You heard our Master’s words, did you not? That Greater Grail can certainly grant his and your wish.”

Hearing that answer, distress and conflict filled Archer of Red’s face. Caster’s words were truly like the devil’s whisper.

“I—don’t know. Certainly, if it’s his wish, it might have the power to grant my wish as well. But… but, is it really all right? Is that wish truly… correct?”

“Who knows? I don’t know either. No, let me put it like this. Are you unable to decide unless there’s a guarantee? [To be or not to be]—in that case, a clown can only laugh!”

Archer glared at Caster for a little while—but a little bit of life had returned to her eyes. She silently walked away from him.

Caster called out from behind her.

“By the way, Archer-dono. In the end, just what kind of hell did you see?”

Keeping her back to him, Archer whispered softly.

“…It was a piece of the world’s system. Gods, heroes, magical beasts, evil kings—everything was dead there.”

If an evil being committed a crime, then she would eliminate it.

If a god went on a rampage, then she would search for a method to soothe it.

But there was neither there. It was a part of mechanism of the world, working so superbly well that it created a perfect system that preyed on the weak.

There was only one way to destroy it.

The fulfillment of her wish by the activation of the Greater Grail. That was Archer’s only hope now.

“I couldn’t save them with my own power… But, even though that woman could have saved them, she abandoned them and cut them down.”

Her fists trembled with rage—and, even while understanding that this question was a landmine, Caster of Red asked her without holding back his curiosity.

“That woman?”

Turning around at the question, Archer of Red’s eyes were filled with dreadful glee.

“Jeanne d’Arc. I will kill that woman. I’ll shoot her down with my arrows, and if that doesn’t work, I will rip her apart with my claws, and if that doesn’t work, I will tear her to shreds with my fangs.”

“Oh my, is that possible with your beautiful nails and teeth?”

With unfading madness in her eyes, Archer of Red smiled in joy from the bottom of her heart.

“It’s possible. If it’s to kill that woman, I will even become a monster.”

Archer of Red departed, and Caster watched her leave. At some unknown point, Rider of Red had come to stand behind Caster.

“A mouth that runs off so much can be a nuisance, you know.”

Caster turned around at Rider’s sharp voice—and laughed.

“Hahaha. After all, the only weapons I have are daggers of words!”

Rider didn’t believe that this man had given advice to the troubled Archer out of the kindness of his heart. Caster was clearly planning something. The problem was that his intentions were unclear.

Perhaps he simply found it amusing to mislead her with words… actually, that was quite possible.

“More importantly, how about you go comfort Archer-dono yourself, Rider-dono?”

Caster’s words were correct. It was true that it was important for Rider to soothe Archer of Red in her current dangerous state. But there a matter that took priority over that. It was something he had to ask Caster in front of him.

“Hmph. I’ll go comfort nee-san later. What I’m more concerned about is—”

“What are we waiting for, you mean?”

“That’s right. You said you had to make preparations, Caster. Preparations for what? …The Black camp is going to arrive here sooner or later. It doesn’t seem like you’re preparing any countermeasures against them.”

“Naturally. In the first place, preparations for that are being taken care of by Assassin—our dear empress.”

“So it seems.”

The Hanging Gardens were a Noble Phantasm, and its owner was that unbearably unlikable Assassin of Red.

She had probably already made a plan for dealing with any attacks against them. Then, just what on earth was Caster, who shouldn’t be capable of using magecraft, doing right now?

“Even if I cannot use magecraft, as a Servant of the Caster class, I have a technique to weave ‘miracles’. Right now, I’m in the midst of making preparations for it, you could say.”

“Miracles—huh?”

In other words, he meant his Noble Phantasm. Perhaps, like these Hanging Gardens, it required necessary materials or conditions, or perhaps it needed time to activate.

Either way, it was probably something not for battle, but to break out of the deadlock of this situation—thus Rider concluded.

“Now then, I will be on my way—ah, wait a minute. Speaking of which, Rider-dono. Archer of Black is your teacher Chiron, is he not?”

“…What about it?”

“No, I just wanted to ask how you have come to terms with the fate of clashing against your former teacher, even if you’re both Servants now.”

“Do you want to know?”

“Quite,” Caster replied with a nod. Without hesitating, Rider of Red materialized his beloved spear and pointed it at Caster.

“You wouldn’t understand even in a hundred years.”

Rider’s stern gaze radiated blatant killing intent. Rider of Red wasn’t a patient person at all. Regardless of the situation, any further mockery would cost Caster his life.

And, with it unclear whether or not he was aware of this, Caster calmly shrugged.

“So it’s like that. The pride and soul of noble warriors cannot be spoken of in words. In other words, you’re filled with such delight and sorrow to be facing each other as warriors that you cannot express it in mere words!”

“You really don’t listen to people at all, do you!?”

—And, even more annoyingly, when he heard his incredibly complex and indescribable feelings put into words like this, they became unexpectedly simple and clear.

“Damn it, this is giving me a headache.”

Scratching his head in frustration, Rider made his spear vanish. I’ll go make Lancer listen to my complaints, Rider decided as he turned his back on Caster—but he was called out to once again.

“Eventually, I will carve your story into writing as well. So I have a question. Should it be a tragedy, or a comedy?”

Too fed up with threaten Caster again with his spear, Rider replied immediately.

“It’s my life. Interpret it however you want. But, well—”

Suddenly, Rider’s past flashed through his mind. He had been born the child of a hero and a goddess, was separated from his mother at a young age, learned, fought, love, hated, and died in battle.

That was probably something that could be expressed in words. With the infinite words that Shakespeare could spin, he could probably speak of and expose even Rider’s true heart.

However, in the end, that was merely a story.

No matter how accurately it was expressed in words, his life belonged to him alone. That’s why it was all the same to him whether it was a comedy or a tragedy.

Therefore, all that was left to decide was Rider’s own preference.

“Make it a comedy. So ridiculous it makes people laugh. In fact, dying because only my heel is human and it was shot with an arrow is already far beyond ridiculous!”

Rider heartily laughed off his own life. Seeing that, Caster’s smile vanished, and he deeply bowed his head.

“As you wish.”

Even if he had some troubles, Rider believed himself to be fortunate.

At the very least, this second life of his wasn’t filled with only bad things. There was someone he had wished to surpass in the past. The great sage who taught many heroes and knew all manner of martial arts and wisdom.

There was a hero who once had wondered whether he would be able to fight and surpass that man one day.

It was a wish Rider had left behind at some point during his days on the battlefield. But—his wish was now granted. Since it was granted, he treated it as fortunate.

However—Rider of Red still had doubts over whether or not Shirou Kotomine—no, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada’s wish was truly enough to save the world.

He understood the reasoning. It was flawlessly correct. Rider, who understood human karma quite well, even now deemed that Shirou’s plan was worthy for him to devote his spear in support.

But… even so, he had doubts. It was literally a revolution against the human species. There was no predicting what would become of the world afterwards.

But, at the very least, his Master believed in it. It was the conclusion he had reached after many decades. Most likely, he had already experienced the doubts that Rider was feeling.

Was it too fast or too slow? It was a problem that even Heroic Spirits couldn’t reach a conclusion on.

…Amakusa Shirou Tokisada must have seen hell before. He must have certainly witnessed that scene of every single human in his sight sight being massacred. And, even so, he still wanted to save all of humanity.

That’s why Rider of Red decided it was fine to acknowledge him as his Master.

He didn’t think that was wrong. He didn’t, but—

He still had some slight hesitation he couldn’t get rid of. Rider was certain these feelings wouldn’t disappear until he knew that the salvation of humanity had been correctly brought about.

Each of the Red Servants had been given their own rooms within the Hanging Gardens. Naturally, they could rest by going into spiritual form, but there were many Servants who preferred to stay materialized. Especially when there were no worries in regards to their prana supply.

However, the interior design of the rooms was quite cold and blunt. To Servants, who did not require sleep or food, personal rooms were simply for protecting their privacy. And even that privacy was almost completely useless considering the role they were summoned to this world for.

However, right now, Archer of Red needed to be alone.

She sat on the bed and threw off her leather gauntlets—and then she looked at her discolored right arm. There was a black bruise like a curled snake twining around the skin of her arm.

It neither hurt nor inconvenienced her movements. But Archer could tell. This was a ‘curse’ of extremely high purity. Most likely, it was from that darkness which had swallowed her up when she killed Assassin of Black’s Master.

Assassin of Black’s repulsive past. The flocks of children, the grudge of the unborn fetuses. Right before Assassin of Black died and dispersed, this curse was probably engraved in Archer.

Of course, it would be easy to cut it off. Though Archer had no means to dispel curses, their group’s Assassin had the abilities of a Caster. There was also the dual Master-Servant Shirou Kotomine to rely on.

If she asked for their aid, it probably wouldn’t be hard to restore her right arm.

But—Archer couldn’t choose that option no matter what. Naturally, she didn’t want to rely on Assassin’s help. The idea of showing any weakness to that woman wasn’t even funny enough to be a joke.

And Shirou Kotomine was technically Assassin’s Master. So she was naturally reluctant to request his help.

…No, those were all excuses. Archer understood. She had to accept this curse. This curse was the resentment of the children she loved more than anything else.

Fortunately, there was little pain since it was merely the work of low-class spirits.

And she didn’t mind even if this curse brought about her own destruction. This was a punishment. A punishment she had to accept.

She wrapped bandages around her rotten-smelling right arm, and decided to leave it alone with that.

There was one thing that Archer hadn’t noticed. It was true that what possessed her right arm were low-class vengeful spirits, too weak to have any effect on Archer herself. After all, Servants were the spirits of heroes who stood at the pinnacle of all spirits.

In the first place, it had been possible for Archer to reject the possession. The moment the vengeful spirits entered her arm, she could have even devoured them as sustenance without any danger to herself.

But she had refused to do that. In other words, she wished for ‘those children’ to maintain their consciousness. Of course, these vengeful spirits did not have any high-level intellect. They simply continued whispering their wish.

We want to go back, we want to go back, we want to go back. We want to go back inside Mother’s belly.

They could only whisper. They were vengeful spirits that should have been completely harmless. But Archer of Red felt ashamed at those whispers and felt compassion and pity.

Those were feelings that one must never have when facing vengeful spirits who only made appeals for their final wish. That compassion stirred up her emotions, and gradually made her hatred swell up towards both herself, who couldn’t save them, and that holy maiden, who didn’t save them.

“I don’t care.”

But Archer of Red accepted that hatred without hesitation. She couldn’t help cherishing those ephemeral, destructive feelings.

The more she hated herself and that woman—the more she could prove and believe in her own love.

So, for now, she would sharpen her fangs. In order to kill that false saint, Archer of Red continued to earnestly nurture her hatred.

Caster of Red watched Rider depart, and then headed off to his study. The Servant Caster possessed the class skill [Territory Creation]. This skill’s rank changed depending on the Servant’s ability, bloodline or occupation. If they were famous as a magus, they could even create a Temple, which surpassed a Workshop.

Caster of Red wasn’t technically a magus… in the first place, someone like a writer didn’t need a Temple or a Workshop. What he required was a study for writing.

Within the study that Caster of Red had constructed, there were mountains of books, a typewriter that Shirou had gotten for him (he had immediately abandoned it after getting it), a desktop computer (he had immediately abandoned this as well)—and a writing desk with a pen and paper on it.

It was a room quite disconnected from his class name as Caster. It truly was a study. Of course, if you considered that the piles of scrap paper in the room’s garbage can were all part of Shakespeare’s new work, it was a mystical room in a certain sense.

Caster of Red took out one of the books on the bookshelves. The book’s title was [William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Historical Dramas and Tragedies]—a book compilation commonly known as the ‘First Folio’.

…However, this book wasn’t something that Shakespeare had published himself. His friend had merely collected together his works after he died. In the first place, there were no manuscripts made from his personal handwriting.

After looking it over, he took out another, bulky leather-bound book beside it. The book had no title, and even the author’s name wasn’t inscribed on it.

The book he held now was different from the earlier one. This was a genuine book personally handwritten by him. But—he still hadn’t finished writing it.

He cherishingly moved his fingers across where the text came to an interrupted halt.

“—Now then, it’s certainly been following the path of a masterpiece until this point, but…”

The protagonist needed to go through many hardships. A life full of smooth sailing from beginning to end should be left to any average person you could find anywhere. A protagonist’s story needed dramatic parts. Whether the story was a tragedy, a comedy, or something else entirely, unique people had equally unique lives.

In that sense, Shirou Kotomine was infinitely close to Caster’s ideal. Regardless of whether or not his wish was granted, his end would no doubt be impressive.

Contained in these bookshelves were books recounting the stories of all the people involved in the Great Holy Grail War.

They included both those who had already lost and vanished and those who had been killed off-hand. Naturally, among them was the book of that country girl—Jeanne d’Arc. He admitted that he had been slightly wrong to utterly make fun of her when he was alive just because she had been England’s enemy.

She wasn’t some pitiful, mad country girl. It would have been far better for her if that’s all she was. She was someone who understood her own sins and yet still didn’t stop being a saint—a girl who fought against despair.

“When classifying those known as saints, they can be properly described as those who save people and fight not out of personal desire, but against the despair of this evil world. In that case, regardless of the end results, the two of them are naturally and unmistakably saints.”

To save his people, to save her homeland; regardless of the scale, they had stood up and fought.

“However, their paths ended up being different. My Master, who acts to save all of humanity, and the Holy Grail’s protector, who moves to stop that. To think their good intentions would be turned inside out into ill will towards each other, how tragic! [Honor travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast.]”

Their confrontation with each other couldn’t be avoided, and their tale was so fascinating. Even though they were both trying to save people, they were enemies who had no choice but to kill one another.

“I’d like it if the two of them squared off against each other at the very end, but—”

Caster closed the book and took out another one. This book was different from the last extravagant leather-bound one; it was a white and bluntly plain book.

This was the book of that homunculus. He should have been immature, weak, and commonplace. No, even now, he was still commonplace. The only unique thing about him was the power he had received. The choices of those surrounding him had merely pushed the trait of being unique onto him.

But… but.

Even so, he continued to survive in the Great Holy Grail War. Though he had a short life, he chose to fight and desperately struggled. His short days alive were far too condensed to be called a human lifetime. Of course, homunculi were given knowledge from the moment they were born—or rather, they were artificial lifeforms that were born with knowledge. Most of them were boring, ordinary and uninteresting mass-produced beings.

That’s why the abnormality of this homunculus stood out so much.

He was neither boring nor ordinary. It was just that he wasn’t conspicuous within this Great Holy Grail War when all the Servants were far more abnormal than him—but that’s what made him so amiss.

He wasn’t a hero. But he wasn’t an ordinary being either. He was a pitiful boy trifled with by fate, but he wasn’t bothered by that.

In that case, what was his role in this Great Holy Grail War?

To act as recognition of the services of the holy maiden? To be a Master or Servant that was part of his side’s forces? Or perhaps—he was the one who would square off against the person at the center of this battle, Shirou Kotomine—against Amakusa Shirou Tokisada?

“…Hmm, no, that’s impossible.”

The only one who was equal to Amakusa Shirou Tokisada was the holy maiden Jeanne d’Arc. Everyone’s awareness of that was unchanged. Most likely, the two of them would square off again in the final decisive battle.

There was no room for the homunculus to wedge himself in… No, he might be thrown in as part of the enemy forces, but he himself shouldn’t be able to meddle in the part which touched upon the foundation of this war.

But even that possibility was about to vanish.

His Master’s plan to save humanity would soon begin. Would Shirou Kotomine become a savior? Or—would he fail to save people once more and become a pitiful clown? Either way, Caster had no doubt it would be a tragic, comic and extremely enjoyable story.

Caster of Red watched Rider depart, and then headed off to his study. The Servant Caster possessed the class skill [Territory Creation]. This skill’s rank changed depending on the Servant’s ability, bloodline or occupation. If they were famous as a magus, they could even create a Temple, which surpassed a Workshop.

Caster of Red wasn’t technically a magus… in the first place, someone like a writer didn’t need a Temple or a Workshop. What he required was a study for writing.

Within the study that Caster of Red had constructed, there were mountains of books, a typewriter that Shirou had gotten for him (he had immediately abandoned it after getting it), a desktop computer (he had immediately abandoned this as well)—and a writing desk with a pen and paper on it.

It was a room quite disconnected from his class name as Caster. It truly was a study. Of course, if you considered that the piles of scrap paper in the room’s garbage can were all part of Shakespeare’s new work, it was a mystical room in a certain sense.

Caster of Red took out one of the books on the bookshelves. The book’s title was [William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Historical Dramas and Tragedies]—a book compilation commonly known as the ‘First Folio’.

…However, this book wasn’t something that Shakespeare had published himself. His friend had merely collected together his works after he died. In the first place, there were no manuscripts made from his personal handwriting.

After looking it over, he took out another, bulky leather-bound book beside it. The book had no title, and even the author’s name wasn’t inscribed on it.

The book he held now was different from the earlier one. This was a genuine book personally handwritten by him. But—he still hadn’t finished writing it.

He cherishingly moved his fingers across where the text came to an interrupted halt.

“—Now then, it’s certainly been following the path of a masterpiece until this point, but…”

The protagonist needed to go through many hardships. A life full of smooth sailing from beginning to end should be left to any average person you could find anywhere. A protagonist’s story needed dramatic parts. Whether the story was a tragedy, a comedy, or something else entirely, unique people had equally unique lives.

In that sense, Shirou Kotomine was infinitely close to Caster’s ideal. Regardless of whether or not his wish was granted, his end would no doubt be impressive.

Contained in these bookshelves were books recounting the stories of all the people involved in the Great Holy Grail War.

They included both those who had already lost and vanished and those who had been killed off-hand. Naturally, among them was the book of that country girl—Jeanne d’Arc. He admitted that he had been slightly wrong to utterly make fun of her when he was alive just because she had been England’s enemy.

She wasn’t some pitiful, mad country girl. It would have been far better for her if that’s all she was. She was someone who understood her own sins and yet still didn’t stop being a saint—a girl who fought against despair.

“When classifying those known as saints, they can be properly described as those who save people and fight not out of personal desire, but against the despair of this evil world. In that case, regardless of the end results, the two of them are naturally and unmistakably saints.”

To save his people, to save her homeland; regardless of the scale, they had stood up and fought.

“However, their paths ended up being different. My Master, who acts to save all of humanity, and the Holy Grail’s protector, who moves to stop that. To think their good intentions would be turned inside out into ill will towards each other, how tragic! [Honor travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast.]”

Their confrontation with each other couldn’t be avoided, and their tale was so fascinating. Even though they were both trying to save people, they were enemies who had no choice but to kill one another.

“I’d like it if the two of them squared off against each other at the very end, but—”

Caster closed the book and took out another one. This book was different from the last extravagant leather-bound one; it was a white and bluntly plain book.

This was the book of that homunculus. He should have been immature, weak, and commonplace. No, even now, he was still commonplace. The only unique thing about him was the power he had received. The choices of those surrounding him had merely pushed the trait of being unique onto him.

But… but.

Even so, he continued to survive in the Great Holy Grail War. Though he had a short life, he chose to fight and desperately struggled. His short days alive were far too condensed to be called a human lifetime. Of course, homunculi were given knowledge from the moment they were born—or rather, they were artificial lifeforms that were born with knowledge. Most of them were boring, ordinary and uninteresting mass-produced beings.

That’s why the abnormality of this homunculus stood out so much.

He was neither boring nor ordinary. It was just that he wasn’t conspicuous within this Great Holy Grail War when all the Servants were far more abnormal than him—but that’s what made him so amiss.

He wasn’t a hero. But he wasn’t an ordinary being either. He was a pitiful boy trifled with by fate, but he wasn’t bothered by that.

In that case, what was his role in this Great Holy Grail War?

To act as recognition of the services of the holy maiden? To be a Master or Servant that was part of his side’s forces? Or perhaps—he was the one who would square off against the person at the center of this battle, Shirou Kotomine—against Amakusa Shirou Tokisada?

“…Hmm, no, that’s impossible.”

The only one who was equal to Amakusa Shirou Tokisada was the holy maiden Jeanne d’Arc. Everyone’s awareness of that was unchanged. Most likely, the two of them would square off again in the final decisive battle.

There was no room for the homunculus to wedge himself in… No, he might be thrown in as part of the enemy forces, but he himself shouldn’t be able to meddle in the part which touched upon the foundation of this war.

But even that possibility was about to vanish.

His Master’s plan to save humanity would soon begin. Would Shirou Kotomine become a savior? Or—would he fail to save people once more and become a pitiful clown? Either way, Caster had no doubt it would be a tragic, comic and extremely enjoyable story.

Lancer of Red was in the room where the five former Masters—Rottweil Berzinsky, Gene Rum, the Pentel Brothers and Feend vor Sembren were relaxing.

The five of them sat equal distances apart around a circular table. They weren’t actually confined here, but they talked while looking up at the ceiling with idiotic expressions.

“Speaking of which, according to what I hear, there’s been a political change within the Atlas Academy—”

“Look at the minute detail of the ritual recorded on this scroll. It’s expensive, but it’s worth it—”

“Yes, quite right. Yes, yeah, exactly—”

“Ah, I’m looking forward to the auction so much. Just how long does the airplane intend to make me wait—”

“It’s almost time to gradually begin the inheritance of our family’s Crest, but my son is no good. He lacks the ambition to be a magus.”

There was already no coherence in their discussion. They were trapped between sanity and madness. They were completely sane, and if they were truly in the same situation they thought they were, they would certainly react and speak the same as they did now.

However, this was the room that had been given to them by Shirou Kotomine and his Servant. Before they had summoned their own Servants, they had drunk poison prepared by Assassin of Red, and were lured into the world of madness while still remaining sane.

Their mastered mental defenses were mere paper-thin armor against Assassin of Red. They hadn’t been killed—but they had no freedom either. They simply continued to exist in this room.

“—So you came here again.”

Assassin of Red idly emerged from out of the shadows. Lancer’s eyes couldn’t be deceived. She simply spoke her thoughts to Lancer. The Assassin standing here was merely an illusion as well.

“Shirou Kotomine’s orders were to guard these Hanging Gardens. There are currently no signs of any attacks. The enemy will most likely arrive tomorrow night. Until then, I will remain here unless my former Master instructs otherwise.”

The empress’ face scowled in displeasure at Lancer of Red’s words.

Lancer of Red was the only one among the other three Servants who hadn’t acknowledged Shirou as his Master. Both Rider and Archer had abandoned their former Masters in this state of affairs, but Lancer alone still guarded them for the simple reason that one of them had summoned him.

Assassin of Red didn’t particularly care about that. Either way, in the end, Lancer of Red, like the others, was a pawn under their control.

But the problem was the five former Masters. They had drunk poison, causing their minds to roam through another world—but they were sane. In order to convince them to give up their Command Spells without their Servants noticing any abnormality, Semiramis had to avoid directly harming them.

Though she was Semiramis, the world’s oldest poisoner, she was unable to bring about satisfactory results under such unfavorable conditions. In other words, she didn’t know when they might wake up from their dream worlds.

Rider and Archer wouldn’t side with them at this point. But what about Lancer?

Even though he hadn’t exchanged a single word with his Master and the Master rights had been transferred to Shirou, he still continued to be a loyal Servant.

It was only natural that Assassin of Red’s mistrust would rise. If his Master awoke and gave an order, Lancer would undoubtedly betray them. Regardless of what the situation was.

Therefore, after a certain point, Assassin of Red had planned to kill these five, whom no one was interested in anymore. It was something trivial, amounting to the act of clearing away scattered garbage at best.

But Lancer had stood in her way.

“You all may think of these five however you wish. But as long as my Master is here, I won’t let you have your way with them.”

He had dispassionately declared that he would protect the five of them. Since then, he had continued obstructing Assassin of Red’s plot even while doing the extremely boring job of guarding the Hanging Gardens.

Of course, forcefully breaking through would be simple. Within these Hanging Gardens, Assassin of Red’s power and authority was truly absolute. She could restrain Lancer of Red and kill the five of them with just a single hand. However, that wasn’t a secret assassination, but an act of battle.

…In other words, there was the danger that the deed could be exposed to her Master and the other Servants. So the issue wasn’t in the means, but rather that it wasn’t something that should be displayed openly for others to see. Therefore, Assassin of Red had reluctantly withdrawn every time she found Lancer in her way.

Even so, after repeating this so many times, she was becoming irritated. Assassin of Red spoke up.

“Just give up already, Lancer. They won’t awaken in time for the coming battle, and you have no obligation to listen to their orders.”

There were unconcealed thorns in her voice. Rider and Archer were easy to understand in comparison; they were both stereotypical heroes. Foolish heroes, who intolerably prided themselves in their strength and skill, carried a great sense of honor and pride, and ran across battlefields.

But—Lancer of Red, Karna, was somehow different from them. Though he should have been a perfect hero in terms of his bloodline, history and everything else about him, he was distinctly unlike the many other heroes Semiramis knew.

“The relationship between a Master and Servant has nothing to do with obligation. It’s a contract and a bond. Assassin, even you are not cooperating with Shirou Kotomine out of mere obligation.”

“Of course not. He and I are joined together by the contract between Master and Servant. However, Lancer. Your Master is Shirou, not that man there.”

Assassin said that and pointed at the man who Lancer of Red should have respected as his Master.

She provoked him with a scorn-filled laugh that no normal hero would be able to endure without flaring up. But Lancer didn’t show any signs of anger at her smile and nodded with an attitude that, rather than solemn, was simply too serious and honest.

“Your words are certainly correct, Assassin. The only ones who are truly joined together as Master and Servant within our camp are you and your Master. Your Master uses you and you use your Master. But there is service and trust in that relationship. You can’t betray him; it’s probably the best you can do to simply imagine doing so.”

“—”

Assassin became speechless at Lancer’s words. Just now, hadn’t this Heroic Spirit pointed out [something] deep inside her far too smoothly?

After a short silence, Assassin of Red slowly opened her mouth.

“…What, did you, just say?”

“Nothing really. You can’t betray your Master and he trusts you as well, so I was merely complimenting you for being the ideal Master and Servant pair.”

Assassin of Red glared at Lancer. “How unexpected,” Lancer said as he tilted his head in puzzlement. He had certainly been praising her. He had intended to praise her. However…

“What… ridiculous nonsense are you saying?”

“It’s not ridiculous. You two are ideal as Master and Servant. Your Master won’t betray you either. Not because you will repay betrayal with the greatest punishment, but because he understands that it’s important not to betray each other as the best possible means.”

—He wouldn’t betray her.

She couldn’t help but feel that those words were something very precious.

Ignoring Assassin’s turmoil, Lancer spoke further.

“I won’t tell you to agree, but at least understand, Assassin. Survival of the fittest is the providence of this world—however, we are not beasts. There should be some kind of humanity which covers our instincts. And that humanity takes the form of various different ethics… My ethics demand that I not betray my Master. That is who I am.”

Lancer said that while knowing full well about Assassin of Red’s seemingly useless paranoia and Archer of Red’s overly cold logic.

“I will protect them here. That’s all I have to say.”

The illusion of Assassin staggered, showing how deeply shocked her true self sitting on the throne was.

“…I, see. Fine, do as you wish.”

“Thank you, Assassin.”

Just before her illusionary phantom disappeared, she turned back to Lancer and asked a question.

“—Hey, do you really think I won’t betray my Master?”

“…That’s a foolish question. Assassin, are you such a paranoid monomaniac that you would want to kill the person you adore?”

At those words, the illusionary Assassin lost her composure and became greatly flustered just before vanishing from the room.

Lancer of Red gave a murmur of relief. Assassin probably wouldn’t aim to kill these five after this.

“—It seems my duty is finished. Master, I was unable to exchange a single word with you, but I wish you good fortune.”

“You listening? The trick to making good coffee is…”

Nodding to his former Master who was staring at empty air and talking to an imaginary person, Lancer went into spiritual form and vanished from the room.

Meanwhile, Assassin was dumfounded as she sat alone on her throne.

—You can’t betray him; it’s probably the best you can do to simply imagine doing so.

What thoughtless words. Finally, an emotion like anger began boiling up within her.

She seethed so much that her blood was boiling.

“I can’t betray him? Me, Semiramis—?”

Ridiculous. The reason she didn’t betray him was only because their objectives aligned. He would save humanity, and she would become the one who controlled humanity after they were granted salvation.

The one to assume the throne would be her alone. The rest were all her “livestock”. It wasn’t like she would oppress them; she would merely control and rule them. That would be easily granted once she obtained a physical body, and as long as the Greater Grail was within these Hanging Gardens, there was no need to worry about running out of prana either.

All that was left was to simply settle things with the Black camp. Once everything was over, it would be more than possible for her to betray her Master.

Don’t make me laugh, Lancer. I can betray him. I merely have no need to betray him.

In fact, she could betray him even right now. It would be simple for her to erase his will, steal his rights as a Master and make him her puppet.

That’s right. There’s no need for me to follow along with that boy’s whims. I can steal everything from him. Just like always, just like I’ve done countless times, I’ll make everything of his mine using my words, fingertips and sweet poison—

She imagined it. His face when he was betrayed. After turning shocked like an idiot and gradually understanding the truth, his face would twist hideously in anger. And then, he would cry and scream in sorrow—

“…No, that’s wrong. He wouldn’t show sorrow like that.”

Most likely, he would just widen his eyes slightly in surprise. And then, her Master—would surely smile.

It didn’t work out. My sixty years of effort came to nothing.

And yet, he wouldn’t lament. Because Shirou Kotomine had already abandoned any regrets four hundred years ago. From the moment he forgave everything and swore to save everyone, he threw away everything he had.

He wouldn’t become angry at her betrayal. He would simply deal with it and take appropriate measures.

That was a sad way of life. Just as scorn was unavoidable with betrayal, he was scorned each time he was betrayed and had the things he built trampled down. But, no matter how many times it repeated, he would simply rebuild again from the beginning.

When he was betrayed, he wouldn’t seem like the betrayed one at all. Having already discarded all despair, he would simply leave behind the betrayer and move forward.

Assassin, who stabbed others from behind, could never catch up with him.

She could only watch his back as he left.

She felt no emotions like sadness or frustration—but rather a vague loneliness like a wispy cloud.

CHAPTER 1 END