Chapter 16: We Request Your Cooperation in Resolving the Numerous Irregularities in This Holy Grail War

Hell. There was no other word to describe it. It was a landscape so nightmarish, it looked like it was under attack by dragons. Crimson serpents of flame writhed and coiled, devouring homes and people alike, casting a red glow that illuminated the pitch-black night. Even the screams that had faintly echoed from afar were now completely silenced.

Amidst the death that saturated the air, he stood. With every passing second, something was being stripped away from him. His hatred for death faded. His fury toward injustice spilled out. The foundation called hope crumbled. And finally, his sense of self began to be swallowed by the darkness.

Lying atop a mountain of rubble, he gazed only at the hell spreading before him. Having lost everything, he had accepted his fate. But it wasn’t out of resignation. He had simply come to understand the natural order of life—that the dead perish and the living go on.

Yet even as he accepted it, a thought bloomed in his heart.

“Ah, but... if I could save everything here and now—how wonderful that would be.”

That was the origin of Shirou Emiya’s yearning to become a hero of justice.

At first, he had simply wished that no one would suffer. To that end, the ideal of being a "hero of justice" that Kiritsugu Emiya had upheld seemed convenient. Above all, it was easy to understand—and it felt noble.

So he set his sights on it. Because the goal was clear, he could march forward no matter how harsh the road became.

And in order to reach the end of that road, he had sacrificed everything—absolutely everything.

---

With the break of dawn, the two of them left the Tohsaka residence.

"Just to confirm—what we’re heading into is the forest on the outskirts. A vast sea of trees that hasn’t been touched by man. Somewhere within it is supposed to be the Einzbern villa."

"That place, huh... I heard it’s pretty deep and wide. Fujinee told me that every year, a few people get lost there."

"That’s probably due in part to the Einzbern’s defensive bounded fields… But even setting Illyasviel aside, that forest is dangerous. Don’t ever let your guard down. Understood?"

"Yeah, of course."

A few minutes later, the taxi they’d reserved arrived at the designated location. Exchanging a nod with Rin, Shirou told the driver their destination.

"...The forest on the outskirts, huh?"

The driver looked at them with suspicion. That was only natural. The forest was infamous as a suicide spot and had nothing but a national highway running through it.

Two high school students heading there at dawn, with no entertainment facilities nearby—definitely suspicious.

Prepared to ask Rin to use hypnosis if needed, Shirou silently sent her a look of resignation.

Rin responded with a graceful smile and a nod. She seemed to understand. Shirou felt a brief moment of relief—

"It’s just a date. I’ve wanted to see the forest for a while now. When I asked him about it, he said, ‘Leave it to me.’ I get the feeling he’s got ulterior motives, but he’s experienced with outdoor activities."

…What is this woman saying?

"A date, huh! But you know, there are wild dogs out there?"

"I’ve got a much scarier beast beside me, so it’s not too frightening. He’s well-versed in martial arts, too."

"That so? Well, just don’t overdo it, alright?"

"We’re only going to circle the perimeter along the highway."

Just like that, Rin had completely persuaded the driver. And in the process, she had labeled Shirou as a lust-driven beast.

After dropping them off near the forest, the driver left with a parting shout, "Don’t go getting too frisky out there!"

Before they had even entered the forest, Shirou already felt mentally exhausted.

"...Wasn’t there some other way you could’ve handled that?"

"It’s fine. Middle-aged men like that are best dealt with using those kinds of stories. If I had used hypnosis and it affected his driving, we wouldn’t have gotten here so quickly."

"Well… yeah, you’re not wrong. But still… are you okay with it?"

"With what?"

"With…"

Shirou trailed off, blushing with embarrassment.

"With us being mistaken for a couple… Does that not bother you, Tohsaka?"

"...Pfft."

Rin burst out laughing at Shirou’s awkward question.

"H-Hey! What’s so funny?"

Offended by her reaction, Shirou protested, but Rin replied,

"I don’t mind."

She said it again, calmly.

"...Huh?"

"It doesn’t bother me. If I were to put it your way, I guess I don’t dislike you. So, being seen as a couple isn’t really a problem."

"T-Tohsaka..."

As Shirou turned red like a boiled octopus, Rin smiled at him.

"—Just kidding. Save the sweet stuff for after we rescue Saber. Or..."

Her tone shifted. Her eyes narrowed, and she asked in a serious voice,

"Want to just run away together?"

"...That’s..."

"If that’s what you really want, I wouldn’t mind running away with you."

"Tohsaka..."

Rin continued.

"Honestly, going to ask Illyasviel for help is pretty much a death sentence. We’ve got nothing to offer her. It’s not even a matter of equal exchange. What we’re doing is throwing one-sided demands at her, expecting her to agree. And even if we somehow manage to form an alliance with Illyasviel, we’d still be up against Caster—who already controls both Saber and Archer. Let’s be real, we don’t stand much of a chance with just Berserker."

Shirou fell silent as Rin calmly laid out the facts.

"It’s basically checkmate already. That’s why running away is a viable option. We could flee to some faraway town, get married, and live a peaceful life. Honestly, that kind of future doesn’t sound so bad, does it?"

"...Yeah, you’re right."

For a fleeting moment, Shirou pictured that future—one where he was with Rin.

"But you won’t give up, will you, Tohsaka?"

He asked, full of certainty. Rin didn’t reply.

"If you really meant it when you said you’d stay with me… I’d be overjoyed. But… if we chose that path, we’d probably—"

"Yeah. No doubt we’d regret it. We’d both lose ourselves."

Their eyes met, and the two of them shared a laugh.

"Because that would mean betraying who we are."

To her words, Shirou nodded.

"I want to save Saber."

"I want Archer back."

Their wishes were the same. Their resolve, unshaken.

"...But just so you know, I wasn’t lying earlier."

"Tohsaka?"

"I said I don’t dislike you. So from now on, act with your survival as your top priority. No more reckless charges."

Rin’s sincere gaze made Shirou hesitate.

"If you die, at the very least, I’ll be sad. And if you make me cry, you won’t get away with it."

"...Yeah, I’ll remember that. And Tohsaka—you better not die either. I don’t want to see you get hurt."

It was blinding.

She was a magus, usually acted like a cat (playing innocent), but in truth had a very lively personality. The most beautiful girl in the school, someone Shirou admired—an incredibly charming girl.

"Come on, let’s go."

As they began walking toward the forest, Shirou made a vow.

Even if negotiations with Illyasviel broke down and battle became inevitable—he would protect Tohsaka, no matter what.

They left the national road, passed through a thicket, and entered the sea of trees—the dense forest. After walking for about three hours, they took a short break.

He had braced himself, expecting this to be no easy task, but trudging through the actual forest wore on him mentally.

Though the sun had fully risen, the forest was dim. He couldn’t even see ten meters ahead. The scenery never changed, no matter how far they went, and he couldn’t tell if they were even on the right path.

There wasn’t the faintest sign of any animals. It felt as if the only living beings in this forest were himself and Rin—and somehow, he didn’t think he was wrong.

"Stop."

Just as they were about to continue further in, Rin held up her hand, halting him.

Shirou tilted his head, but Rin wore a strange expression.

"Something’s wrong..."

"What is it?"

Rin didn’t answer. She was glaring deeper into the woods.

"...This area should already be within the Einzbern domain. But there’s no reaction at all. That’s—too strange…!"

"Tohsaka—!"

Suddenly, the ground shook violently. A loud explosion echoed in the distance.

"That was—!"

Without waiting, Rin took off running. Shirou quickly followed her.

He felt a terrible foreboding. He didn’t know what lay ahead—but whatever it was, it was bad. Of that much, he was sure.

"—Trace, on."

He projected Kanshou and Bakuya. Even though the copies were near-perfect, they still couldn’t match the originals.

Whatever they were about to face, he hoped this would be enough to deal with it…

---

Illyasviel von Einzbern had already sensed its presence.

When she heard from Shirou that Rider had been defeated, she realized there existed another being like herself—something similar but separate—and began investigating.

Gathering information from the familiars she had scattered across Fuyuki, she traced its origin to the Matou family.

"So it’s come to this..."

The problem wasn’t what it was, but how dangerous it was.

Originally, it should have been an insignificant entity—not even worth her notice.

But the moment it stepped onto her land, Illyasviel had no choice but to flee.

Its true nature was—

A Holy Grail.

A magical furnace meant to collect the souls of defeated Servants in the Holy Grail War and serve as fuel for miracles. It was something the Einzberns created for each Holy Grail War—and Illyasviel herself was that very Holy Grail in this one.

And yet, somehow—this Holy Grail War contained another Grail.

Not exactly the same, but one that resembled hers in some ways and differed drastically in others.

The Einzbern’s Grail was based on their magecraft principles—flow and transference of power. In contrast, the Matou’s imitation Grail was founded on their own magical specialties—absorption, binding, and control.

While it did replicate the core function of a Holy Grail—harvesting Servant souls—the Matou Grail included a horrific new function not present in the original.

That added function was too dangerous. So much so that even Illyasviel, who believed her Berserker to be the strongest, knew without a doubt—he would lose to it.

That’s why she ran.

She knew it was pointless.

But she ran anyway.

And then—it caught up to her.

"A wise decision. To sense your inevitable defeat and flee without hesitation... It seems this Einzbern doll was crafted with some talent."

The voice was deep and unsettling.

Standing before her now was an old magus, resembling a withered tree. And beside him—

"Huh. I thought you’d even snatched up Assassin’s soul for yourself. Didn’t think you’d keep breaking the rules like this."

The Assassin summoned in this Holy Grail War had worn blue robes—a samurai.

But normally, summoning a samurai to the Holy Grail War was impossible. The system used in Fuyuki was built on the Einzbern’s Western magecraft foundation—it could only summon Heroic Spirits famous in Western Europe.

Perhaps legendary swordmasters known even in the West—like Miyamoto Musashi or Oda Nobunaga, the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven—might have been exceptions.

But someone like Sasaki Kojirou, whose very existence was questionable, couldn’t have been summoned by the Grail.

That was the first violation—the irregularity caused by Caster summoning a Heroic Spirit herself, a forbidden act.

Now, this old magus had stacked another violation on top of that.

He had used the prior Assassin as a vessel—to summon another Assassin.

"Summoning a new Assassin using the old one as a vessel… You’re really pulling out all the stops."

The original Assassin, believed to have been obliterated along with the temple gate by Archer’s attack, had actually survived.

Thanks to his unmatched agility among the Servants of this war, he’d narrowly avoided the arrow intended to destroy the gate itself.

But at that very moment, the old magus struck. With his original vessel destroyed, Assassin became a “wild” Servant, untethered. The old man used him to summon the true Assassin.

His name—

Hassan-i-Sabbah. One of the legendary leaders of the historical Assassins, the origin of the word itself.

"Matou Zouken…"

There was no need to ask his name.

Illyasviel had been taught of him in the castle she called home. A fellow magus—and one of the most dangerous monsters still walking this earth.

“Someone not even chosen by the Holy Grail pretending to be a Master? What a joke.”

“How strange a notion. The idea that the Grail selects Masters is merely church propaganda. All it seeks is someone to gather fuel to throw into the fire.”

“Indeed—the Holy Grail is merely a vessel to be filled. The Master is just a piece prepared for the ritual. However, even if the vessel has no will, the Greater Grail—the source—does. Have you forgotten even that much? It seems the Makiri’s decline is truly severe.”

Illyasviel’s scorn was met with Zouken’s cackling laughter.

“Worry not. The Makiri’s decline ends here. The matter is as good as accomplished. But everything has progressed so smoothly, it almost makes me uneasy. Thus, as a precaution, I shall take your body. If I secure the Grail here, my long-cherished wish will be unshakable.”

As a sinister gleam entered Zouken’s eyes, the black-robed assassin wearing a white mask shifted into a combat stance. Yet he did not advance. Naturally—before him stood the strongest guardian.

“Hmph. Like your Master, you’re such a coward, Assassin. Afraid to die? Then you shouldn't have come to fight in the first place. How foolish.”

“Unfortunately, neither this one nor I can die so easily. We both have our desires. I seek immortality; he wishes for a name that will echo for eternity. Life is more precious than anything. Yet we must move forward despite the agony. You could never understand. For us, there is only perseverance.”

Illya found herself filled with disgust toward that way of being.

“The Makiri are finished. Your knowledge has certainly proven useful. So as one of your kind, I’ll end it here—before you disgrace yourself any further. It may already be too late…”

Entrusting something so delusional as immortality to the Grail—Illya found the very idea insane.

“In the end, you’re just a doll. No matter how intricately you’re made, you’ll never be human. A fabricated thing, destined for a short life. You will never understand humans. The wish to surpass death, to preserve the self forever—past, present, and future, across all nations, it is a universal hope of mankind.”

“No—I don’t understand. Because you speak as if you alone represent the will of all humanity. But that’s just your delusion. You’re an outlier among humans. A madman who couldn’t accept his own mortality.”

“Keh… There is no human unafraid of death. No matter the truth they’ve attained or the heights they’ve reached, it is the same for all. Remember this well, puppet: when a path to survival is before them, within reach, people will abandon all ethics, make any sacrifice, and reach for it no matter the cost.”

At those words, Illya’s expression shifted dramatically.

“How pathetic, Makiri. Have you truly forgotten where our yearning for miracles even began? Why we clung so desperately to our humanity—why we strove to reach the inhuman realm while remaining human?”

Zouken fell silent for a beat at her cold voice—but then twisted his face into a deranged smile and spat:

“No imitation of Justeaze by a mere puppet could ever move me. I need your body, not your heart. Farewell, Einzbern doll. The Grail that resides within you now belongs to Matou Zouken.”

A shadow spread from the old man’s feet. In the same moment, Berserker roared.

Even before his Master gave the order, the mad warrior leapt forward. “No! Stop! Berserker, come back!!” Illya screamed.

If he fought them, Berserker would never return. She knew this—and yet she screamed. But her voice didn’t reach him.

No—whether he heard or not, stopping was impossible. Because for him, hesitation meant her death.

---

The rumbling of the ground grew closer. They were nearly there.

Just beyond those trees would be the battlefield of the strongest Heroic Spirits—

“—!”

His feet froze, as if nailed to the ground.

The moment he emerged into the open space beyond the trees, his entire body rang with alarm.

Run. Flee with everything you have. If not, you’ll die. No—worse than death awaits.

Suppressing that instinct with brute force, he focused his will to keep his eyes open.

“That is…”

The sight before him defied belief.

Three Servants stood on the battlefield. One of them was Berserker.

He fought desperately, shielding his small Master behind him.

“No way…”

Another was a masked Servant in black robes—his identity unknown. With the seven standard Servants already confirmed, this made him the eighth—an irregularity of the highest order.

But even that strangeness paled in comparison to the last figure—Shirou and Rin’s eyes were drawn to it.

Standing there was—

“Sei…ber?”

Impossible. Why was he here?

Rin was shouting something, but Shirou couldn’t hear her.

The one he was supposed to protect above all else. The one he was meant to save at all costs. The one he had to reclaim no matter what.

Saber stood before him—but something was wrong.

Her armor, usually the blue of clear skies, was now pitch black. Her face was hidden behind a heavy, expressionless plate.

And above all, the magical energy she radiated was completely different—twisted, ominous.

“What the hell is going on…”

As Shirou reeled, the battle only grew fiercer.

Berserker roared and swung his axe-sword. Even the blow that could split a mountain was not enough—Saber didn’t flinch. She advanced.

The way she fought, as if fear itself had been stripped from her, was terrifying.

She closed in and delivered a merciless strike—cutting through Berserker’s supposedly invulnerable body with ease.

“No! Run, Berserker! That’s not her! You can’t fight her!! If you lose, you’ll never come back!!”

Illya’s voice cracked with desperation, nearly in tears.

“It’s useless. Utterly useless. No matter how strong an Heroic Spirit he may be, he can’t win three-on-one.”

Zouken’s mocking voice. Shirou stared at him in confusion, but Rin saw through it.

“Matou… Zouken. So he’s Caster’s Master.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“You don’t get it!? That masked Servant over there is definitely Assassin! And he’s got Saber too. That leaves only one possibility!!”

“B-But didn’t Archer take down Assassin?”

“He must’ve been wrong. He blew up the gate and rushed off to save you. Probably didn’t have time to confirm.”

“Matou… Zouken…”

Shirou glared at the old sorcerer. That’s the one. The one who stole Saber from him.

Fighting back the urge to rush forward, he took in the battlefield.

A black swamp was spreading at their feet. He didn’t know what it was, but it seemed bottomless—and it was slowing Berserker down. Black tendrils emerged from it, binding his limbs.

“What is that…”

His doubt only lasted a moment. The clang of blades refocused him.

Berserker—the strongest—was being pushed back. At this rate, he wouldn’t last.

Saber moved through the swamp as if it weren’t there, cutting into Berserker again. The sight made Shirou nauseous.

Saber, of all people, hurting someone so mercilessly—that act of killing, it should have been her greatest fear.

“It’s over. The rest is yours, Assassin. No point in staying here and getting caught in the blast. Once Berserker falls, seize the doll and return.”

Zouken’s body faded into mist. Just as Shirou instinctively tried to leap forward, Rin stopped him.

“Wh-Why—?!”

“No. This situation is far too dangerous.”

“But—!”

“Quiet.”

Silenced by Rin, Shirou faltered. In that moment, Zouken’s voice echoed in his ears.

“…Listen well. That thing devours anything in sight without discrimination. Servants, or that doll there—none are exceptions. Do not make a mistake.”

With those final words, Zouken vanished entirely—his presence, gone without a trace. What remained were Assassin, Berserker, and Saber, now cloaked in a black light.

“No!! Please, Berserker, run!! If this keeps up, you’ll die!! No, worse—something even more terrible will happen!! So—!”

The girl’s cries only roused the berserker further.

For him, escape was never an option. He swung his sword solely to protect the girl behind him.

His legs, sunken to the knees, moved forward as he kicked away the mud. Berserker rampaged like a violent storm. Knowing the danger of even touching the black vines binding him, he tore off the limbs entangled by them himself.

The berserker charged. Seizing the split-second when his restraints loosened, he lunged at Saber.

His final—and strongest—strike. A supreme blow unleashed while on the verge of death.

“S-Saber, no!!”

There was no stopping it. The situation clearly placed Berserker at a disadvantage, but Shirou couldn’t imagine Saber withstanding that attack either.

Saber was going to die. That vision burned into his mind. Shirou shook off Rin’s hold.

But before his feet could even kick off the ground, Saber moved.

“—Ah.”

She parried it. Saber deflected Berserker’s most powerful attack with ease, then slashed across his chest.

“N-No!! Don’t go, Berserker!!”

Illya ran forward. As if she didn’t even see the black swamp pooling beneath the giant’s feet, she sprinted toward him, desperate.

“I-Illya, stop!!”

Shirou ran. He didn’t have time to think about whose side he should take.

Because Saber and Illya—both of them were precious pieces of Shirou’s ordinary life.

“Illya!!”

He caught her from the side as she rushed toward Berserker, holding her tight and pushing his legs to run.

If they didn’t escape, they’d be killed. This Saber was no longer the one they knew. If they could defeat Caster, they might be able to bring her back—but not now.

Suppressing the raging instinct to save Saber, Shirou forced himself to act with reason and ran toward Rin.

Illya struggled in his arms, and he kept whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over as he ran.

“—Shirou!!”

At the same time Rin screamed, the world went silent. He had just reached her. When he turned around—what he saw left him speechless.

“What the hell… is that…?”

It captivated him. In that one fleeting instant, it was seared into the depths of his soul.

Even Archer’s twin swords or Lancer’s spear looked insignificant before it.

An otherworldly illusion—beyond comparison. There might exist weapons with greater craftsmanship or sharper edges. But the beauty of this—no, to even call it “beautiful” felt insulting.

That sword was nothing less than… sacred.

It was the dream wished for by all soldiers fallen on the battlefield.

The ideal all who took up the sword sang in unison.

A concept woven from the hopes of humankind itself—its name:

“Excalibur—The Sword of Promised Victory.”

Dark light exploded through the forest. The radiance was so overwhelming it blurred their vision.

Still, Shirou gritted his teeth and endured. He couldn’t afford to collapse now. He forced strength back into his trembling body.

And he saw it—the figure of a swordswoman standing amidst black flames.

She held no hatred, no killing intent, yet pointed her sword at them. Shirou murmured, without thinking:

“—Who… are you?”

No. This woman was not Saber. It wasn’t about her appearance or her personality changing. He just knew—she was someone else.

“I am Artoria Pendragon. You are the Master of my reflection. No—perhaps Caster stole that from you. I had hoped we would meet… but it seems I must withdraw for now. Hand over the doll. Do so, and I won’t take your life.”

That voice was unmistakably Saber’s. But what resided within it was a coldness the real Saber never had.

It grated harshly on his nerves.

“I refuse. I’ll never hand Illya over to you.”

“Then I’ll kill you and take her.”

The swordswoman raised her black blade.

In that instant, the berserker, thought to be long gone, let out a roar.

It was a horrific sight. More than half of his body had been blown away—he shouldn’t even have been able to remain in this world.

And yet, with his one remaining arm, he gripped his axe-sword and charged the swordswoman.

One image floated in his fading mind—

“Berserker, you’re so strong.”

His Master’s voice, spoken in the snow.

“That’s why I’m never afraid. Because no matter who comes… as long as Berserker’s here, we’ll never lose.”

The one who once told him that now looked terrified.

She was about to be killed.

Then, there was only one thing left for him to do. It didn’t matter how close he was to death.

He had to be the strongest. Otherwise, his Master would be afraid.

“Berserker…!”

The berserker roared. In that cry, Shirou felt a will that shouldn’t have been there.

“Run,” that massive back seemed to say.

“Shirou, let’s go!!”

Rin broke into a run. Only then could Shirou finally cast aside his hesitation.

Now was the only chance, while Berserker was drawing the enemy’s attention. Holding Illya close, he took off.

He chased after Rin’s lead. But a presence closed in from behind—Assassin.

“Shirou, behind you!!”

There wasn’t even time to turn. Shirou swung Kanshou instinctively.

A black-dyed dagger clashed against his blade. A voice came from beyond.

“—That’s far enough. You’re not needed.”

“Don’t just decide I’m not needed and try to kill me, dammit. We still have business with that kid.”

That offhand remark blocked Assassin’s attack.

“Wh-Why…?”

Shirou gaped in shock. The blue spearman grinned.

“Told ya, didn’t I? We’ve got business with you. Now run! I’ll handle the rear guard!”

He had no idea what was going on.

They suddenly showed up, saying they had business with him, but this was someone who’d already tried to kill him—twice.

There was no way he could just nod and say, “Alright.”

“There’s no time to hesitate. Assassin’s one thing, but if that shadow or Saber-imposter catches up, it’s over.”

“…Damn it, I know!”

Lancer’s words were spot on.

Every second spent wavering could be fatal. Shirou tightened his grip around Illya and focused solely on running.

“That’s right, just like that. You’re trying to protect that girl, aren’t you? Then protect her—no matter what!!”

He didn’t need to be told. He would protect Illya. Even if it meant setting aside the grudges of the past.

He didn’t know why Lancer was helping him. But if it meant keeping Illya safe, then there was no reason to hesitate.

He would use him—for that purpose alone.

“Let’s go, Tohsaka!!”

“Yeah! We’re sprinting straight through!!”

Shirou and Rin picked up their pace.

“You’re not getting away!!”

Assassin increased speed to pursue them.

However—

“Now, now. I’m right here, y’know. Wouldn’t want you getting distracted.”

A crimson spear tore through the air.

Annoyed, Assassin hurled a black-dyed dagger.

Lancer parried it effortlessly with a casual swing of his spear.

Assassin’s thrown daggers could match Archer’s shots in raw power. And Lancer had deflected one fired at close range like it was nothing. There was only one explanation.

“…Some sort of divine blessing?”

Clicking his tongue, Assassin pulled back from Lancer.

Even if his throws didn’t work, charging in would be suicidal.

To engage a Lancer—one of the three Knight classes—in close quarters was to walk willingly toward death.

Which is why he focused on the exposed backs of Shirou and Rin. For whatever reason, Lancer was adamantly defending them.

Then the opening lay there.

After over an hour of all-out sprinting, Shirou and Rin began to slow.

But the exit was close.

That’s what opened a brief gap in Lancer’s guard.

“—Die.”

A twisted arm. Assassin’s cloth-wrapped arm now revealed itself.

Grossly oversized for his frame, the limb swung upward as he cried out.

“Delusional—!”

In contrast, Lancer—grinned.

“Nah, you were actually pretty good. Honestly. Your technique, your skills, your eye for the fight—they weren’t bad. You just had rotten luck.”

Lancer shrugged as he spoke.

For a brief second, Shirou and Rin couldn’t understand why Assassin’s words had stopped.

But once their breathing steadied and their vision cleared, they realized.

Standing there was a woman with crimson hair. Strange spheres floated around her, and her fist was pointed forward.

Right along her line of fire, Assassin was fading away—his heart pierced by a small hole.

She had killed him.

A new Servant? No—it was quickly denied by the woman herself.

“—Member of the Mage’s Association. Sealing Designation Enforcer. Bazett Fraga McRemitz. To Illyasviel von Einzbern, Master of the Einzbern family. To Rin Tohsaka, current head and overseer of the Tohsaka line. And to Shirou Emiya, son of the Mage Killer. I formally request your cooperation in resolving the numerous anomalies affecting this Holy Grail War.”