"Caster, it's over. Let's go."
Ignoring Irisviel, who had collapsed to the ground, Roland turned away and casually walked toward the shadows of the alley.
"Eh? You're not taking her Command Seals?" Medea, still in a standoff with Saber, glanced over her shoulder, her expression curious. But the moment her eyes landed on Irisviel, her pupils contracted slightly, and a playful smirk curled on her lips.
"I see. So there really is no need for me to do anything extra."
"Irisviel!" Saber immediately rushed to Irisviel's side, paying no attention to Roland, who disappeared as naturally as he had arrived.
"Ah, right," Roland paused mid-step, as if suddenly remembering something. He looked back at Irisviel and spoke with a hint of amusement.
"I didn't see your android maid or your luggage. I suppose they've gone ahead to the Einzbern castle with Illya? Be sure to say hello for me, and let her know I'll come pick her up… eventually."
Hearing Illya's name, Irisviel's expression shifted, complicated emotions flashing across her face. The trance lifted from her features as she clenched her fists and stared Roland down.
"That child doesn't belong to anyone. She is her own person!"
"That's not for you to decide," Roland replied, his tone laced with disdainful mockery. "Einzbern still owes me a debt. Did you think offering yourself would be enough to make me forget?"
He sneered.
"Right, my dear lady?"
The way he addressed her made Saber bristle, his grip on his invisible blade tightening. But Irisviel, who had shown such strength earlier, now fell silent.
She lowered her head and gently clasped her hands over her chest, mute.
"Let's go, Caster."
Medea's eyes flicked between Roland and Irisviel, amused, but she said nothing more. With a graceful nod, she followed after her Master.
Saber instinctively stepped forward to give chase, but Irisviel held out her arm to stop him.
"Let them go, Saber."
She stared at the path Roland had vanished into and murmured softly,
"After all… he is Illya's father."
[T/N: The Plot Thickens😧]
---
"Master?" Medea asked with clear curiosity. "Who is that child to you? The one you called Illya?"
"How should I put it…" Roland sighed, If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, who would have thought that Einzbern would do such a thing with his power
"She's a daughter I've never even met or known about as a matter of fact."
Medea blinked but chose not to probe further. After all, she had her own burdens to carry. She simply followed beside him, quiet but perceptive.
"Now that the Lesser Grail is in your hands, the rest seems almost trivial, though your methods were... rather blunt."
Roland chuckled. Medea followed him as the two talked as they walked
"I'm not particularly well-versed in homunculus tech, but that Lesser Grail is specifically modeled after the Master's magical signature."
"Yeah. A lot of surprises today. I suppose we should be thankful Illya was born in the first place."
As the laughter faded, Roland's tone grew slightly more serious.
The entire Einzbern family existed for one purpose: the realization of the Third Magic. And the soul of the Holy Lord had once taken possession of one of their artificial mages, Jubstacheit von Einzbern during the last Grail War.
Although Jubstacheit had resisted full mental collapse, his internal concept of a "master" had been quietly overwritten. He no longer sought the Third Magic for the sake of their founder.
Instead, he believed the one who could truly achieve salvation, and become the Third Magician, was the being who held the soul of the Holy Lord.
Driven by this belief, he extracted fragments of Roland's fire demonic energy and embedded them into the bloodline via artificial means.
But the demonic energy of fire wasn't something an ordinary body could contain.
Even so, the Einzberns, descendents of the Third Magician's disciple, found a loophole. They created clones of the original Winter Saint, to assist in the master's return.
Irisviel never realized it, but her obedience had been hard-coded into her body's foundation.
So when Roland touched her, transferring a small amount of demonic energy into her, she had subconsciously submitted.
"What's mine… stays mine," Roland muttered. "That fire demonic mark I left? That's both ownership and insurance."
He looked forward, thoughtful.
"Now that I control the Lesser Grail, all that's left is to tie up loose ends. Honestly, though, with the way things are going, I probably don't even need to intervene. The Masters are already out for each other's throats."
He gave a leisurely stretch.
"But that's fine by me. Even if Archer ends up being that Golden arrogant Idiot again, I've got a card that'll bring him down."
"You mean King Arthur?" Medea asked. "He's got strong ideals. Doesn't seem like the type who'll bend easily."
"Doesn't matter," Roland replied. "Who cares about obedience of a man? All I want is the Holy Sword of the Stars. Irisviel will figure that out soon enough."
---
Once Roland's silhouette fully vanished, the temporary concealment barrier, no longer maintained by Medea's magic, dissolved into thin air.
Irisviel hadn't moved the entire time. She stood in a trance, motionless except for the rise and fall of her breath.
"Irisviel…?"
Saber's concerned voice stirred her. She forced a smile.
"Sorry. I was… just thinking."
"Should we head back to Einzbern Castle?"
Saber didn't press the issue. Though Roland's treatment of women angered him deeply, he had begun to sense that something else was going on beneath the surface.
"No… Not yet. Tonight is the first battle. No matter what, I have to get my.....child out of this war."
Irisviel rubbed her forehead and unconsciously placed a hand on her stomach.
Even though her self-diagnostics revealed nothing abnormal, she could still feel the residual warmth, those strange markings still quietly pulsing beneath her skin.
---
Meanwhile, on the top floor of the Hyatt Hotel, the 32nd floor, Waver Velvet was standing before a wide glass window, gazing down at the lights of Fuyuki City.
He had heard that newer skyscrapers would one day surpass this view, but to him, someone who had never stayed in such a place, it already felt surreal.
He sighed and turned to look at Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald, who was lounging on a leather sofa like a duke in his own palace.
If it weren't for Kenneth's support, Waver would never have gotten even a glimpse of this kind of luxury.
"Don't just stand there. How's the barrier holding up?"
Kenneth asked in a clipped tone, not even turning his head. "This is a countryside city playing at being a metropolis. You're my student, don't embarrass me."
"Yes, Professor Kenneth," Waver replied smoothly. "The barrier's stable. The mana furnace is also operating at full output."
After spending some time working with Kenneth, Waver had realized the man's arrogance and targeting him wasn't personal, just his default setting. And while he could be cutting with his words, his guidance was precise, and Waver had learned more from this process of building this magical workshop than he ever had in class.
Although Kenneth had dumped all the grunt work on him, just participating in the construction of a grand workshop like this was an opportunity Waver couldn't buy in his lifetime.
After all, the more advanced the magic a workshop is, the less accessible it is to magus of Waver's level. From this point of view, he was still very grateful to Kenneth.
"Geez. What's with all the fuss over this workshop?" came a booming voice from across the room.On the other side of the room, a sturdy man with an angular appearance and a huge body was sitting cross-legged on the ground.
Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, remote in hand, eyes glued to the TV screen.
"Hmph, is this the extent of the knowledge of the legendary King of Conquerors?"
Kenneth scoffed, chest puffed with pride.
"Twenty-four of this building's thirty-two floors are enclosed within my barrier. I've installed three magic furnaces. Even the sewers are transformed into a part of the bounded field. Even if a Servant comes head on, they couldn't break through the defenses that easily."
Waver glanced out the window again, at the sheer height of their fortification, and hesitated.
"But… Professor Kenneth," he said cautiously.
"What if they don't try to attack the workshop directly… and just blow up the whole building instead?"