Chapter 65: Day 11 ⑨ End

Unbeknownst to him, a smirk played on Lancer's lips. While running in his spirit form to remain unseen, he was reflecting on their earlier exchange.

Although neither had been fighting at full strength, he had fought her twice now; she was an opponent who was mysterious in a good way, piquing his curiosity. As her image floated in his mind, his grin widened of its own accord.

In terms of pure swordsmanship, she was unrefined compared to Saber. He couldn't shake a certain impression of inconsistency from her.

Yet, if one were to isolate a single strike, its sharpness was nothing for a Heroic Spirit of the blade to be ashamed of. There was a sense of logic and perfection in it, as if forged through the defeat of tens of thousands of foes.

The same could be said for her defense. She parried, deflected, and evaded his strikes. Despite facing his speed—reputed to be the finest among all the Servants in this war—she had managed to endure almost unscathed. Such a feat was beyond the reach of any mere foot soldier.

While she had grown significantly more formidable in their second encounter compared to the first, the nobility of her sword remained unchanged. It was honorable and untainted; perhaps she felt no need for deception when wielding a blade, for she possessed the power to strike down her enemies from the front.

—And yet, her 'intervals' are a complete mess.

It was as if only 'Offense' and 'Defense' existed as combat techniques for her. Normally, such a thing would be impossible; he wondered what kind of life she had led to become like that.

She seemed to fill those gaps with her extraordinary innate abilities and an overflowing amount of Prana, but even as a Heroic Spirit, she still left room for refinement. Had she been polished, she would have become a peerless gem. Conversely, it was clear—even to Lancer, whose true calling was the spear—that even in her current state as a Heroic Spirit, she was still nothing more than a raw diamond.

However, this evaluation was based on her performance as a Saber-class. Even if he held the advantage from start to finish, if her true essence—as her class suggested—was that of an Archer, then her true nature must lie in the bow, despite her appearance as a swordsman.

He couldn't imagine what kind of battle it would be, but next time, he would likely be able to fight with everything he had. Even in the previous fight, if his goal hadn't been mere information gathering, he would have exerted his full power and forced the confrontation into a clash of Noble Phantasms.

He didn't like being kept waiting. However, the only Servants left in this Holy Grail War who could truly satisfy his thirst for battle were Saber and Archer. One way or another, they were bound to collide.

If he were to be greedy, he would have liked to fight Berserker or Assassin without any restrictions, but there was no use crying over spilled milk. He would simply enjoy the remaining slaughter.

And that wouldn't be far off. After all...

"—His identities have been exposed. Even that coward will finally have to get off his seat."

Muttering the words to himself, he accelerated. His speed was such that even if he weren't in Spirit Form, he would be invisible to the eyes of any passerby.

Since Archer wasn't pursuing him, he could have returned directly, but he took a long detour just to be safe. He sped through Shinto toward the Spiritual Ground where his Master was stationed—the Church.

As he climbed the hill past the cemetery and the Church came into view, Lancer shifted from his Spirit Form back into a physical body.

As usual, there was no sign of people. Those who used to visit here were likely huddled in their homes, holding their breath. Without any particular sentiment, he passed through the prepared doors and moved deeper into the Church. In his mind, he looked back on the actions of the man who had become his Master.

Lancer had rarely met his Master, Kirei Kotomine, face-to-face. Since he didn't particularly care to see the man, it hadn't bothered him.

By his count, they had only met twice: once when the Master rights were transferred and he was forced into a Geis via Command Spell, and once when he was introduced to the 'male Archer'—who was different from the red girl's Archer—and told not to attack him as he was a collaborator.

Kirei was likely wary of other Masters. If there was a need to communicate, he did so strictly through Mental Link, never hinting to his surroundings that he was a Master. He proceeded with caution and a cunning mindset. He maintained a position where he was above suspicion of being a Master while stealing Servants from others. Regardless of the morality, it was a clever tactic.

But why would such a man seek information at the cost of abandoning his current advantage? For whatever reason, he was trying to come out into the open. Lancer didn't care to understand what the man was thinking, but his intentions remained unreadable.

The order to "Return at once" after the information exchange was natural given the situation. Now that the Master's identity was exposed, it was standard procedure to focus on defense.

The logic was sound. Yet, something felt off. It wasn't logic; it was something closer to instinct—a premonition.

Brushing aside the nagging sense of unease, he moved forward.

I'll leave the thinking to the others, he decided. Schemes and plots weren't to his taste. He had answered this summons to fight a heroic battle, so he only needed to face the conflicts he sought. Whatever the outcome, it was none of his concern.

Kirei seemed to be in the reception room. He could sense a human presence inside. Apparently, he wasn't alone, but Lancer couldn't identify the other person.

He didn't sense any large amount of Prana, though it could be a concealed Magus. At the very least, it wasn't 'that Archer.' If he walked in and it was a civilian, explaining himself would be a pain. Perhaps he should avoid entering.

"Lancer, it’s fine. Come in."

Just as he was cursing his Master's timing in his head, a voice called out from behind the door as if on cue. With a small click of his tongue, Lancer entered the room.

Across a low table with tea sat Kirei and a young woman on the facing sofas.

Kirei stared at the entering Lancer with stagnant eyes and a hollow expression.

The woman sitting opposite him didn't even look at Lancer, keeping her head bowed. Her long bangs cast a shadow over her face, and since she was looking down, Lancer couldn't read her expression.

Without hiding his suspicious look, Lancer looked down at the woman. As far as he could see, she was an ordinary woman, though the fact that she was wearing a Japanese kimono was strange. Perhaps the size was wrong, as the collar was opened wide at her chest.

Lancer could tell the garment was the local ethnic clothing, but he didn't know the difference between men's and women's styles. He failed to notice that the woman was wearing a man's kimono. He judged that while it wasn't a common sight, it was a traditional ethnic costume of the land, so it wasn't particularly unnatural.

"She is an associate. She is aware of the circumstances."

"Yeah, fine. More importantly, what business do you have calling me back?"

He had been wary of the woman since he entered the room, but he dropped his guard at Kirei's words. He didn't know who she was, but he didn't sense enough danger from her to harm a Servant. Even if she used Magecraft, the Runes carved into his accessories would protect him.

He turned his gaze back to Kirei. The prior arrangement was that he could move as he pleased once he obtained the information, but had his Master caught a "cowardly wind" now that he was exposed? ...No, that might be true for a normal human, but the man before him was far too singular to be called 'normal.'

"Now then, Lancer. Your wish is to fight heroes to your heart's content, is it not? If so, I thought I might lend a small hand in that regard."

"—Hah. For you to spout such noble nonsense,... what kind of trick is this? In the first place, I just want to fight with everything I've got as I see fit. Why would I need your help?"

This guy acting as my backup as a Master... that’s probably never happened and never will. In that case, he would only be a hindrance to Lancer's goals. Lancer felt he would be much more grateful if the man just stayed quietly tucked away in the Church.

"Regrettably, I am a coward. I am not inclined to leave this Church and leap onto the battlefield. However, in that case, it would be difficult for me, as your Master, to fulfill your desire for battle."

"—Heh."

At those blatantly transparent words, laughter surfaced before irritation could.

Though he was incomparable to a Servant, this man's body was undoubtedly that of a combatant. His aura, even for a Magus, was far too drenched in blood.

Against an average opponent, this man could likely defeat multiple people even if they were armed with modern firearms. And yet, that was the nonsense he chose to spout!

"Therefore, I shall provide you with a place where you can engage in the battles you seek."

"A place?"

"Indeed. If you follow this—Makiri, it shall become a battlefield."

Stating this, Kotomine grandly gestured toward the woman. Drawn by the theatrical movement, Lancer's gaze followed.

"Only one Command Spell remains. By normal means, transferring the pact would be difficult, but—"

"Hey, wait. Don't go deciding things on your own—"

As Lancer turned his gaze away from the woman to object to Kirei’s progress—he was frozen in place.

The woman had raised her head. Her mouth curved into an arc, but her eyes held no light.

Finally, his instincts screamed. His skin broke into goosebumps instantly. The aura of the being before him had shifted. It was 'that' nauseating sensation he had felt occasionally in the middle of the night.

No matter what kind of opponent he faced, he never felt this kind of dread. It wasn't the weight of her presence, her martial prowess, or the pressure she exerted—it was a difference in the power of her very existence. He sensed it.

"You—!?"

In the next instant, a demonic spear appeared in Lancer’s right hand. As he took a stance and tried to leap back, he finally noticed another abnormality.

The room was drenched in Black Mud. The ceiling, the walls, the floor. The door he had used to enter was painted entirely in black, and the windows were sealed, letting no light through.

"What is this—!"

His feet were sinking into the shadows. His body was being ensnared by something shaped like black cloth stretching out from within the shadows.

The woman called Makiri watched the sinking Lancer with a smile, her eyes hollow.

"Ku, kakaka! I see, what a mass of Mystery! Now that I have become a vessel for the Grail, I finally understand the vastness of these beings' power!"

A voice that sounded double. Overlapping the woman's voice was a cracked voice echoing from somewhere. But Lancer didn't have the luxury to worry about that.

Sensation vanished from his sunken legs. He felt as if he were being eaten by the shadows, bit by bit. He could find no strength in the parts of his body ensnared by the reaching tentacles. No matter how much strength he exerted, he couldn't even twitch. His Prana and vitality were being drained.

At this point, Lancer realized through his own body that the information Archer had given was the absolute truth. In an instant, he was swallowed by the shadows appearing at his feet, buried up to his waist. Both his arms were restrained, leaving him unable to move.

"Gah, aaaaaaaahhhhh!! You bastards—!"

"Resisting is futile. Surrender yourself to the Shadow and sink to your heart's content."

The blurred voices of the woman and the old man overlapped. Finally, Lancer was swallowed up to his face. His right ear had already ceased to function. He was losing all sensation in his body.

Thoughts, will, and emotions mixed in from the Shadow. Anger, hatred, sadness—all of it tied into a murderous intent. He was being eroded. Both the inside and outside of Lancer were being devoured.

Yet, Lancer stared them down without wavering. Before him was Kirei. Rather than anger, a question surfaced.

Why is that guy in the same space and not being swallowed by the Shadow? It was a natural enemy to Servants, but even for a human, this was a lethal poison.

This isn't something any human should be able to withstand—damn it, my rematch with Archer is still—

Then, with a plop, all of Lancer was swallowed. ...In his final thoughts, the image of his former Master—the one who had summoned him to this era—flickered, and Lancer's consciousness cut out completely.

The black mud spread across the room retreated back into the woman's body as if being absorbed. It was like a swarm of insects receding, yet without a sound.

The red spear, having lost its wielder, fell to the floor of the room.

"—Well then, that leaves only Tohsaka and Emiya. No, I must also collect the two portions contained within the Einzbern vessel."

"Oh? Then what about Caster?"

"Just a moment ago, I caught her while she was running around and stored her in my belly. If I had gone out myself, I could have stored Rider and Berserker as well, saving myself the trouble. I failed to realize Shinji would commit such a foolish act; it was nothing but my own carelessness."

While stating his blunder, the "woman" laughed happily.

In the reception room, which had returned to normal, Kirei Kotomine and Makiri sat facing each other on the sofas as before. The room had regained its original appearance.

"Regarding Anti-Servant combat, it is no exaggeration to say this body is truly invincible. While some unease remains regarding human opponents, there should be no issue if I use my pawns. With that, once I have taken at least two more Servants into this body, the preparations to open the Hole of the Grail will be complete. Whether it be the two (Berserker and Rider) in the Einzbern vessel, or Saber and Archer who share the same appearance—it matters not. Two more. Then, I shall finally achieve immortality in this land of the Far East!"

"..."

Makiri smiled as adorably as her appearance suggested, but Kotomine felt nothing but disgust in his heart. Though they shared the same region, they hadn't met in the last ten years, but the bitter memories of the Fourth Holy Grail War, where he still harbored internal conflict, were being recalled.

He had given away Lancer based on a cold calculation of profit and loss, but Lancer would have been devoured by this thing eventually anyway. Against this opponent, even sending a Servant would only result in them being stolen. In that case, giving him away voluntarily would at least buy some favor. That was all.

"This body. A body that boasts of Prana, boasts of lineage, and above all, possesses the Magecraft of the Matou. It does not rot, does not age, and does not die. In that case, it will be possible for me to live forever alongside this prosperity. Having finally obtained a successful product, I have no desire to taste the loss and pain that comes through the process of rotting again."

The problem was that Zouken Matou was starting to break down slightly. A monster caught in this obsession after living for so long.

He was a small-minded man, but for that very reason, he was cunningly wise. Defeating him wouldn't be difficult, but there was no telling how he would act in the end.

There was likely a price to pay for being connected to the Grail, and at this rate, it might even affect the "fetus" that was about to be born.

"Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka! Behold, come forth. Lancer... greet your former Master."

Blackness stretched from Makiri's feet. From there, a figure surfaced.

It indeed had the silhouette of Lancer, just as he had been called. However, the pigment had drained from his hair, turning it an ashen blue-grey, and the parts of his outfit that were once blue had been repainted in black.

"…………"

Lancer did not look at Kirei. Silently, he picked up the red spear lying on the floor and tilted his head, gazing at the weapon in his hand.

When his pale red eyes slowly closed, blackness began to seep from the handle and spread across the spear. When Lancer opened his eyes again, that spear had also been dyed black, following a spiral trajectory.

"He is inferior compared to Saber, but for a Magus, he is more than enough."

And with that, Makiri let out another throat-vibrating laugh.