Kayneth studied the current state of the Holy Grail, already weighing whether he should contact the Clock Tower for reinforcements. Even his fiancée, Sola, wore a hesitant, troubled expression. Were it not for the dire circumstances, she would have taken Barin's hand, dragged Kayneth onto the first plane, and flown back to Great Britain.
For the first time, Sola felt vexed. Why was her fiancé so stubbornly responsible? The striking red-haired lady pressed a hand to her forehead with a sigh. When Kayneth considered calling the Clock Tower, Sola silently agreed. After all, nothing was more important to her than her fiancé's safety.
But just as Kayneth reached for the phone, a light knock sounded against the window. Glancing up, the pair saw a handsome young man with white hair smiling at them, waving cheerfully.
Kayneth dropped his teacup. It was the nth time shock had made him lose hold of the cup. Were all the sons of monarch families this extravagant now? He was actually rappelling down from the roof to their window, and from the sound, clearly from a private helicopter.
The window opened, and the young man — white-haired, with striking orange-gold eyes — stepped lightly into the room. With the air of a gentleman, he bowed and said,
"It has been a long time, Lord El-Melloi. Might I trouble you to let me observe the situation again? To be honest, I retain some interest in this Holy Grail War. If possible, I'd like to make things more convenient for you.
I imagine it will not be easy for word of this conflict to reach Great Britain quickly. In that case, I believe you might take advantage of the opportunity. I can even provide you accommodations in Chaldea, Antarctica, free of charge, for a time."
Why was he interested in the Grail War? Money. Rebuilding a vast organization from scratch — one tasked with safeguarding the world itself — required funds on an unimaginable scale. Chaldea's Antarctic base was already struggling due to lack of resources.
If the Holy Grail could be repaired through this war, he was determined to join the next one.
Most importantly, the Grail was already brimming with magical energy. Even if a wish were granted this time, another Grail War would inevitably occur within fifteen years. Should the current wish not consume too much of the stored energy, the Fifth War might even arrive in ten years. Waiting a decade was no obstacle for him.
He had been astonished when he first learned of it — who could have guessed something so convenient existed in the Far East? If given the chance, he would bring such a system directly to Chaldea.
"Do you understand what you are saying?" Kayneth's tone sharpened. "You have seen the current state of the Grail. If it is mishandled…"
The white-haired man only smiled. "Calm yourself. I said only that I wished to observe. I never suggested interfering. If the situation turns catastrophic, I will call for aid myself — without troubling you to involve the Clock Tower. I've no desire to see the world descend into chaos."
Kayneth clenched his jaw, exhaled heavily, and finally set the phone aside.
Meanwhile, deep within the mountain, the half-giant roared. The Hero King's warped body within its maw exuded an ever-thickening darkness, black flames of magical energy consuming him entirely.
The giant's gaze locked onto Melusine, who had slain Kirei, and it struck downward with its colossal palm. The blow was slow — far too slow for her eyes — and even repeated strikes would never be enough to kill her.
But as she spread her wings to rise, the Hero King's body moved, swinging the Sword of Separation. A scarlet wave of magic erupted, rending heaven and earth. It engulfed the space where Melusine had flown, and had she been even a moment slower, she would have been annihilated.
The half-giant showed no hesitation, continuing to unleash Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm with frenzied delight.
Melusine darted back behind Aslan, teeth clenched. The attack had seared her claws and tail, leaving them charred. She hissed through the pain. In truth, she was envious — jealous, even. With the Holy Grail as his support, the Hero King could fire that Noble Phantasm ceaselessly, day and night, without pause.
Artoria's holy sword blazed with golden light as she struck forward. The radiance met the scarlet fury of Gilgamesh's weapon in a deafening clash, barely holding it back — but such a defense could not last forever.
Lancelot, meanwhile, was in the worst condition of all. Kariya's body was already broken beyond repair. Under such strain, he coughed up blood again and sagged weakly. He had never been a true magus, merely a dabbler who had stumbled into sorcery. The crest worms implanted in his body were not his own, and ever since the Old Worm's death, Kariya had barely held them in check with the scraps of magecraft he knew.
Now, with the Grail's thick malice saturating the air, the crest worms rioted, impossible to suppress. Lancelot's strength dwindled further.
No longer did the Berserker thrash in mad fury. Except for countering when enemies closed in, he stood silent and still — like a puppet awaiting orders.
Kariya clenched his fists, despair seeping into his heart. Deep down, he knew he would not live to see the Grail claimed. And in that thought, in this place steeped in the evil of the world, a darker impulse grew. Perhaps he could simply drive his Berserker to ruin — let them both be devoured by the Grail's malice. Then no one would ever claim the prize.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector