Irisviel was about to speak in the underground cavern when the phone on her waist suddenly rang. The sharp sound cut through the oppressive silence, breaking the tense eye contact between the young priest Kotomine Kirei and the others present. The heavy atmosphere seemed to dissipate for a moment. Irisviel looked down at the device with a thoughtful expression.
To Kirei, that expression suggested she was weighing whether or not to answer at such a critical moment. With a faint nod, he said, "If you wish to answer it, please do. The child's birth will still take some time. There is no harm in taking the call."
One might think Irisviel was hesitating. In truth, she was desperately trying to remember which button answered the call—recalling the lessons Kiritsugu had given her about telephones.
After all, Irisviel was an artificial human. Though her body had the appearance of a grown woman, she had not even lived ten years. It was difficult to imagine that this elegant, gentle-looking woman had never celebrated a proper birthday.
As the vessel of the Lesser Grail, destined to be sacrificed in this war, Irisviel's knowledge of the modern world was minimal. Aside from certain family secrets, the Einzberns had sheltered her from most new technologies. Mobile phones, cars—these had all been given to her by Kiritsugu. The Einzbern elders cared little for such things. So long as her body functioned properly as the Grail, nothing else mattered.
The Einzbern family had long since been starved of magical resources. If they failed to secure victory in the Fourth or Fifth Grail War, only a handful of homunculi would remain to carry on the family's name. Eventually, even the eldest among them would surrender, shutting down their own bodies and abandoning the pursuit of the Grail.
And yet, if it were only a matter of resources, the Einzberns could have found other means—trading their famed alchemical knowledge for wealth, or selling their artificial human craft to the highest bidder. They could have survived. But they chose to gamble everything instead.
Remembering Kiritsugu's lessons, Irisviel pressed the button.
"Hello… Kiritsugu?"
"Iri!" His voice came through sharp and urgent. "Have you entered the Grail's core? If you have, get out immediately. I've discovered the cause of its corruption. During the Third War, sixty years ago, the Einzbern family summoned the origin of the Avenger—[Angra Mainyu]. Now the Grail is overflowing with the evil of this world!
Iri—run!"
Snap—crackle—zizz…
Before he could finish, a Black Key flew from the shadows, spearing the phone and pinning it to the stone floor. Irisviel flinched, eyes snapping toward Kirei. The priest only shook his head, lifted his hands in a placating gesture, and whispered with a smile,
"Shh. Pretend you heard nothing. You've come so far—would you really leave without witnessing the birth of this child? That would be… disappointing."
At the mention of "the evil of this world," Merlin's expression hardened.
"The evil of this world…?"
A chill settled over him. Had he known, he would have sent one of his divine familiars to watch the Grail from the start. To think the magi had allowed such a being to manifest physically—it was more absurd than hearing that Tiamat herself would soon return from exile.
Why was it that human magi, in their pursuit of the abyss, always created horrors beyond reason?
To give Angra Mainyu form… Was this not tantamount to building a body for a demon god? Merlin's face grew pale. The situation had spiraled beyond restraint.
"King! That being must not be born!"
Without hesitation, Merlin unleashed a cascade of enchantments, layering one blessing after another onto Artoria. The golden sword in her hands flared to life as she vanished in a burst of prana, reappearing before Kirei in an instant.
If this were a game, it would have been the classic rhythm—three blazing strikes, buffs stacked to the heavens, the kind of world-ending damage that ignored whether or not the blow was even critical.
But before her blade could fall, the black mud surged. From its depths, figures erupted—several shapes lunging between her and the priest. Like summoned mobs with a taunt buff, they intercepted her strike.
Saber's sword fell, cleaving into them instead.
These were no ordinary shades. Though their bodies were forged of writhing black prana, their forms were clear: assassins. And not a single one—at least a dozen, each identical, not mere clones but perfect replicas.
Kirei watched them with the fond smile of a father.
"Look," he said softly. "This child has learned to protect itself, even before birth. Such strength… such promise. Will you not become nourishment for it?"
The eyes embedded in the grotesque pillar turned upon them. The black tide surged, waves crashing and receding, leaving behind shadow after shadow along the shore. And from the deepest point of the mire, two massive silhouettes began to emerge.
The King of Conquerors. The King of Heroes.
They did not speak, nor could the Grail release their full consciousness. These two carried wills too strong, too dangerous. Even Angra Mainyu dared not let them awaken fully. Yet their forms alone, born from the Grail's curse, were more than enough to bring ruin.
-End Chapter-
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