Chapter 7: Saber is a Fastidious Person

What does it mean to believe in oneself?

Even if you don't believe in yourself, you can keep living. Even if you do believe in yourself, there are those who die anyway. However, well... generally speaking, the vague act of believing in oneself is widely considered necessary. So, it must be important. At least to the extent that someone somewhere believes it and spreads the word, giving birth to someone else who then believes it too.

What exactly do you have to believe in to say you believe in yourself? Effort, talent, sociability, physical strength, technique, aptitude, appearance, confidence, or perhaps even your parents and siblings. None of these are bad things. Until the thing you believe in betrays you, you can probably maintain your faith with a light heart. Perhaps that very ease is its greatest merit.

Unfortunately, however, Matou Sakura had nothing that allowed her to believe in herself. Or perhaps, it had been stolen from her.

On that day about a year ago, when the girl was still a Tohsaka, it seems such a thing existed. At the very least, she was still happy. She had a strict but kind older sister, a gentle mother, and a stern father. This was likely something she could have been proud of. If she looked further, she might have found other small things to take pride in.

By being sent to the Matou family as an adopted daughter, she first lost her family. Then, little by little, she lost those small things. By the time she realized she could touch nothing even when reaching out, she had already forgotten what kind of face she was supposed to make.

There is nothing. I feel nothing. She was simply enveloped by darkness and Crest Worms. Every day was a repetition of this realization.

Her heart easily became dull. To feel something and then reflect emotions upon it—she realized for the first time how difficult that basic human activity truly was.

She would gather what little humanity she had left, only for it to be painted over by pain and terror. Eventually, she gave up even on that, and Sakura became a "doll." From then on, it might be said things were easier. After all, she felt nothing. Her daily life became nothing more than routine. Even pain and terror faded away.

How much time had passed since then before her days changed? It likely wasn't soon. But whether it was "late," I cannot say for certain. After all, everything had become exactly the same. Time, scenery, and even her faded thoughts—everything. Whatever it was that differentiated "when" a moment occurred had been lost.

From the mansion to the skyscraper. Just because her place of residence changed didn't mean anything about Sakura had significantly changed. The time spent in the Worm Pit was gone, but even so, she couldn't find much of a difference. The time spent doing nothing simply increased; it was just incorporated into the pattern of her new daily life.

Therefore, she wasn't supposed to feel anything.

People screaming in agony, being torn apart. People doing so with laughter.

—The feeling she had once felt, the name of which she couldn't recall, surged up from the core of her body, causing her entire being to convulse. Her mind, which should have been accurately perceiving the true nature of things, wasn't functioning properly. However, the distinct memories that were recalled caused her body to move on its own.

Before she knew it, Sakura was curled up in the corner of the room. She didn't know how she got there, but the room was dark—a darkness without even the lights on. She quietly submerged herself in that place she once hated. It was convenient. Darkness easily terrified the heart, and at the same time, allowed one's individuality to fade. If she could no longer perceive herself, there was nothing to fear. Nothing to feel. Even the consciousness of "enduring" didn't exist there; she simply let herself dissolve into the vast emptiness.

She realized it had ended because she felt someone embracing her. Her body wouldn't move, as if it didn't belong to her. She didn't understand why she was being held, or why he kept apologizing.

There was almost nothing she could comprehend—no, before that, there were almost no meaningful thoughts. However, she simply couldn't bring herself to leave the arms of that person—the one who called himself Archer and had rescued her from the Worm Pit. From the hands that held her trembling body, she felt a sense of security she was supposed to have forgotten.

And finally, she could recognize that this warmth was something she didn't hate. Surely, this was what "peace" felt like.

"Well then, I’m heading out. I don’t expect much to happen, but be careful. Don’t overuse your Far-Sight."

"...Bye-bye."

Lately, Archer went out often at night. Not long ago, he used to stay home much more.

She didn't quite understand, but it must be difficult. She didn't quite understand, but he seemed busy. And again, she didn't quite understand.

However, as she watched the door close, Sakura thought: I wish he would come home early today.

---

Somehow managing to calm Sakura down, I left the house without a moment's breath. As for the time, I wouldn't say there was none, but I didn't have enough to linger.

I finished some shopping on the way and then went to pick up Kayneth and the others. In times like this, the Gate of Babylon is convenient—I can just store the things I bought inside.

I had Kayneth, who looked a bit exhausted, deploy a concealment Bounded Field around the flying Noble Phantasm (Vimana). It might be hard on him, but I can't do anything about it, so he'll just have to do his best. Having a couple flirting right next to him might pile on more fatigue, but again, I can't do anything about that, and I'm not throwing him a lifeline. If he wants to blame someone, he should blame himself for bringing his fiancée and summoning a "NTR knight" (Diarmuid of the Love Spot). ...Now that I think about it, wasn't there a better option?

Once we reached the forest on the outskirts, the rest was easy. Even from a distance, I could see trees being mowed down and burned. It was a landscape that, if seen by someone, would cause a stir about aliens or something. I don't understand how this qualifies as "safe" by the Holy Church's standards.

"...What a guy."

“Rider’s really done something outrageous, hasn’t he?”

The two Magi behind me let out voices of astonishment.

I could understand how they felt. Even if I'm not a Magus, this redundantly high-spec body allows me to visualize powerful Bounded Fields. In other words, I can clearly see the Bounded Fields layered over this forest. Centered around where Rider passed through, they have been ruthlessly destroyed, scattered about as masses of meaningless magical formulas. Because they partially remain, they might be even harder to repair than if they had been completely obliterated.

A Bounded Field is, in essence, a Territory. You could also call it a Base (Stronghold) where one can conduct matters most advantageously. That is precisely why Magi create sturdy ones that even their peers cannot destroy—to force others to either give up on entering or step inside knowing they are within the enemy's field.

To have that broken by sheer brute force... it's natural to be left speechless.

His methods are reckless. However, that is also something to be grateful for. No, to be blunt, I was counting on this recklessness. If he causes this much of a rampage, Saber and the others will have no choice but to turn their attention there. Even if they think I—or we—might do something, they can't be more wary of us than of Rider, who is clearly doing something. Predictions can never beat results. And as their vigilance shifts, the chances of extracting a Fragment of the Lesser Holy Grail increase.

For now, since it would be bad to be thought of as his kind, we proceed slowly along the path Rider took. No, even if it weren't "bad," I wouldn't do something like smashing through Bounded Fields and moving straight ahead. I've become a Servant, but I don't recall throwing away my common sense.

We finished passing through the forest and arrived at the spot where the two Kings were facing off. Waver, standing by the side, saw me—or more accurately, saw Kayneth behind me—and his shoulders shook with a start. Despite participating in a Holy Grail War and asserting his rights in the den of monsters known as the Clock Tower, he's a guy whose "chicken" nature just won't go away. He looks like he might get killed easily someday.

His fear lasted only a moment; after noticing something, he glanced down at his pocket watch and muttered softly.

“Exactly five minutes early…”

“You’re really strict about time, aren’t you…”

"Of course I am."

As I stepped down from the Noble Phantasm, I told him flatly. I absolutely loathe people who are loose with time. If someone were to be late, I'm confident I'd get quite seriously angry.

Next, Kayneth stepped down. Upon landing, he immediately began walking forward. Surely, it was to avoid looking at Sola-Ui being escorted down. He can't let other factions see their strife, so he seems to be silently tolerating Lancer and Sola-Ui. Because he likely wouldn't be able to endure it if he looked at it directly, he is striving to keep it out of his sight. He's truly a pathetic man. Despite having no apparent flaws other than being arrogant and condescending.

"So even Lancer has come. And... you've come as well, Archer."

Saber's expression as she spoke looked as if she were ready to kill me right now. Her Master was almost killed; she wouldn't be able to stay calm. Even if that weren't the case, a Servant who actively targets Masters is a threat in itself.

"Now, now, calm down. The battle from here on is a battle without crossing swords. If you draw your sword here, it will be your loss by default."

"...I understand. I have no wish to violate the etiquette of a challenged battle. However, Archer, do not think it will go this way next time."

"Do as you like."

Well, your opponent at that time will probably be Lancer, though. My policy is to avoid fighting my own "death flags" as much as possible.

"The actors are all gathered. Shall we have you guide us?"

"Very well. This way."

Guided by the armed Saber, we began to walk. By the way, I am the only one here not in armament.

Even though I'm not wearing armor, I have the backup of the Treasury. My defensive power is guaranteed. At the very least, unless I'm suddenly blasted by Excalibur, I won't die. If they let their guard down just because I've expressed my lack of intent to fight through my appearance, that would be a bonus.

Then, just as we were about to reach the courtyard, I turned back as planned. Saber, noticing this, shot a sharp gaze at me.

"Archer, where do you intend to go?"

"The bathroom."

"A Servant needs that!?"

Surprisingly, it was Lancer who played along with the joke with such good spirit. I wasn't wrong to think we could get along much better than expected. Incidentally, Rider was laughing loudly.

Saber's eyes, the only serious or, rather, icy ones, grew even colder.

"Are you mocking us?"

"I just forgot to put away my plane."

"Come to think of it, you did leave it out."

Saber snorted and turned back. It seemed I had successfully neutralized the tension with my first comment.

As I left, Waver shot me a look that practically begged me not to go. He must really hate being in the same space as Kayneth. But does he truly understand that I am in an alliance with Kayneth? Well, the possibility that his discomfort surpasses even that understanding is higher.

I returned the way I came at a relatively leisurely pace, but the expected ambush did not occur. That is to say, an interrogation by Kariya Matou.

No matter what kind of person I am, the fact remains that I have secured Sakura, the person precious to him. I thought he would come to confirm my true intentions, but my prediction was wrong. Perhaps he isn't at the castle right now, or he's bedridden. Well, it's not like I was hoping for an ambush, so it's no trouble. I had considered both the patterns of him coming and not coming, so there's no problem.

When I returned to the castle entrance, Irisviel was still there. If she hadn't been, I would have had to break into the castle and search for it myself. That was a stroke of luck.

"The Einzbern, I presume."

"Eek! Archer?! Why are you still here?"

The moment I spoke to her, her body trembled, and as she turned, she immediately drew back and lowered her stance. It's the reaction of an amateur who half-heartedly learned self-defense. In the sense that it's better than doing nothing, I agree.

"U-um, did you need something?"

"I have no business with someone who isn’t even a Master. And if you’re going to brace yourself against a Servant, you'd be better off running away immediately."

"kuh… Where did you get that information?!"

"Do you really think I’d tell you? Though, if you insist on claiming you’re a Master, be my guest. It makes no difference to me."

Irisviel tried to act as brave as possible. Even if she takes such an attitude toward me, who has neither a purpose nor any motivation here, it is strictly a waste of time. She is the only one who will get tired.

More importantly, I have work to do. With my right hand, I touched a Noble Phantasm I had secretly brought out. I did this while walking, in a position that was in Irisviel’s blind spot. This Noble Phantasm is by no means the quiet sort. However, if I lower the output, the activation itself won't be noticed. There was a reason I went through the trouble of wearing casual clothes. The idea that a Noble Phantasm is integrated into modern clothing is beyond anyone's expectations.

Irisviel frowned, straightened her back, and recovered her posture. She took a quick deep breath and let her face become firm and dignified. Is this ability to switch gears proof that she, too, is a Magus?

"Hey, let me ask you something in Kariya’s place. Why did you kidnap Sakura-chan? How is she now?"

"It was just convenient for making her my Master. She's probably spaced out at home right now, I think? She didn't seem to have anything else to do."

Since it wasn't a problematic thing to answer, I said it clearly. That seemed to be a satisfying answer, as Irisviel let out a sigh of relief. Of course, since I gave a reassuring response, it would be troublesome if she didn't feel that way.

"And, once the Holy Grail War is over, what do you intend to do with that child?"

An unpleasant question. The kind that is most troublesome for a criminal who committed a kidnapping to answer.

It will take a little more time to extract the fragment. Until then, I have to engage in conversation. I opened my mouth, intending to lie and get through it, but the words that came out were completely different from what I intended.

"I selfishly involved her for my own convenience. So, I plan to atone for it as much as possible. But..."

What’s the point in saying it? This is just a complaint. Moreover, it’s the most pathetic kind, resembling a moment of weakness. It’s something that doesn't need to be said. I willed myself to stop, but the wave of emotion had already swallowed my mouth.

My mouth opened of its own accord. I no longer even felt like stopping it.

"Whether that is what Sakura wants, or whether I’m even capable of doing it... I haven't a clue."

As I finished speaking, Irisviel looked at me with great surprise. Her eyes, rounded in a blank expression, met mine.

"I’m surprised. You are... how should I put it, very human, aren't you?"

"Did you think Servants were some kind of special existence? You’re overestimating us."

After all, the "inside" is just a human. I swallowed the words that almost leaked out. They aren't words that have any meaning if spoken—whether they are understood or not.

I reached the Vimana and stored it in the Treasury. My steps toward the courtyard naturally became hurried.

"I feel like I somehow understand why you’ve been so quiet until now. Heroic Spirits might be much closer to us than I thought."

"Is that so. What you thought was distant was yours. What you think is close is also yours. It doesn't change either way. If it doesn't change, do as you please."

I didn't turn around, so I couldn't see her expression. It was fortunate, perhaps, that she didn't call out to me and I had no reason to look back.

I toyed with the small fragment in my pocket. My mission to steal the Lesser Holy Grail fragment was a complete success. Since the objective was achieved, today was nothing more than a formality. The banquet isn't even a diversion.

Yet, what is this lingering feeling in my chest? Perhaps, though it is quite a foolish thing... I might be hoping to be forgiven by Sakura. Without having repaid her in any way, quite shamelessly.

An unpleasant heat, like heartburn, suggests a headache that shouldn't be there. In times like this, there's nothing better than drinking. If I drink until I'm soaked in alcohol, eventually get swallowed by it, and finally forget my guilt and everything else... if I do that, even if I face Sakura tomorrow, I can act as if nothing happened—as if I wasn't in the wrong.

Is that alright? My inner conscience protested. However, I immediately kicked it away. I kept putting it off, using the excuse that I had no time to spare. I can't help it, can I? What can't be helped? In the end, I'm only thinking about myself. I just need to give her a portion of that. Could that really make a difference? After seeing her condition, how can I be so optimistic? Besides—I'm already in a state where I can't even face her—

My head was spinning, yet my footsteps were steady. Should I praise myself for being able to keep up appearances even in this state, or should I laugh?

Let’s drink. Anyway, to death. In order to dilute this guilt with alcohol.

---

It was not even a few minutes later that Archer returned. Well, according to him, he had only gone to retrieve his aircraft, so it was only natural.

"Hey, Archer! You're late!" Rider called out.

"…It hasn’t even been that long," Archer replied.

His voice sounded somewhat displeased, or rather, lacking its usual vigor. He was a man who typically lacked ambition or high spirits, but now he seemed even more deflated. While it was slightly concerning, Saber decided to leave him be, figuring it didn't really matter. To her, this was far better than him being in a good mood.

"Now then—"

"Wait."

"...What is it, Archer? I was just about to take the lead."

Cold, silent stares pierced Rider from three sides, as if to say, "No one asked you to do that." However, Rider was not the type of man to be bothered by such things. His fist hovered over the wine cask, waiting for the moment to strike.

Archer reached behind him, his hand sinking into a shimmering, rippling wave in the air. In that instant, only Saber braced herself; she was also the only one truly surprised by the sight. From Archer’s withdrawn hand emerged two tables and about ten chairs. They were ordinary items, the kind one could buy anywhere. In fact, he had likely acquired them after being summoned. He placed one in front of himself and handed the other to the Masters.

"Ho, quite considerate of you."

"We wouldn't do this inside the castle, and I didn't want to sit on the ground outside."

"And is that your Noble Phantasm? It seems quite convenient."

Rider tried to touch the ripple, but his hand passed through empty space, poking at nothingness. Was it something Archer could activate at will? Or was it simply that only he could touch it? Those were mere possibilities, and thinking about them wouldn't provide an answer. In any case, he wasn't the type to let others touch his belongings.

"I see. So, your ability is a 'Treasury' (Vault)?"

"You probably already guessed that," Archer replied curtly.

The information Matou Kariya provided was extremely useful. Furthermore, his ability to organize information was even more potent. It's probably also because there's no need to be wary of him. Even Kiritsugu relied on his ability to that extent.

The idea that the space behind Archer—presumably his Noble Phantasm—was an ability to store and retrieve items had been one of their strongest hypotheses. Now that it was confirmed, the number of candidate Heroic Spirits was significantly narrowed. Still, because of that aircraft-like Noble Phantasm  he possessed, they couldn't quite pinpoint his True Name.

"Now then."

Rider cleared his throat with a cough and braced himself. The playful atmosphere from before vanished instantly, and the tension in the air tightened. He made it known that despite his antics, he was a Heroic Spirit.

"Let our Dialogue of the Holy Grail begin. By exchanging cups and displaying our respective statures, we shall know who is worthy without even resorting to the sword. If you claim to be the one fit for the Holy Grail, then carve that dignity into us—and above all, into yourself."

With those words, his fist swung down. The wooden lid shattered, and the scent of wine filled the air.

To rule a nation, one’s own kingly stature is more important than any blade. Saber knew this all too well through her own, albeit brief, experience in governance. Therefore, she couldn't help but feel her heart race at this event where their capacities as kings would be contested. Even if Saber herself were not a King, that feeling likely wouldn't change. As if to prove this, she could sense Lancer’s fierce excitement.

That was why Saber could not understand Archer. He rested his cheek on his hand at the table, appearing even more listless and unmotivated than usual. Far from being tense, the man looked as if he found the whole thing a nuisance.

"Then, this—"

"That’s a ladle. A tool for scooping. Use this instead."

"You truly are well-prepared. Do you possess some form of clairvoyance?"

"There are just some people who are far too easy to read."

He took out four ceramic cups and tossed them to Rider. Showing no preference, Rider caught them and poured the wine.

"Also, take this as a bonus," Archer said, reaching into the rippling space once more. What he pulled out, for some reason, was food. Various dishes stored in preservation containers were still steaming, looking as if they had just been prepared. The drifting aroma was enough to stimulate the appetite of even a Servant, a being who required no sustenance. They were perfect as appetizers, yet the reason for bringing them out remained a mystery.

"Hoo-hoo, you’re quite the thoughtful one. Is this what you’ve prepared to demonstrate your worth?"

"Huh? It's not that great. Just grabbed some things I had buy on the way. Well, I suppose they are the best you can find around here."

"Guhah, Now it finally feels like a banquet! What’s this? Despite your cold attitude, weren't you actually looking forward to this?"

"I just can't stand listening to your nonsense without some decent food."

She wonder if these two have good or bad compatibility. Archer spoke, looking annoyed, toward the rejoicing giant.

Rider raised his cup and drained it in one go. Not exactly following suit, the others also brought their cups to their lips. It was, in a sense, the signal for the start of the war. A declaration of war. As the wine filled their bodies, it naturally ignited a fervent heat.

While strengthening her spirit throughout her body, Saber prepared for the coming 'war'. Suddenly, she glanced sideways. That was, needless to say, the table where the Masters were gathered. A different kind of war was unfolding there as well. Everyone, with faces that looked ready to kill (except for one, who for some reason looked like he was about to die), was engaging in an information battle.

Saber was a former king and naturally had experience in negotiations and the like. Therefore, she understood which person had the greatest advantage in that fight. Irisviel was trying to keep up, but she fell short by a mile. That man was Lancer's Master, counted as one of the best magus of the era. He held a considerable position even in the Clock Tower, the headquarters of the Mage's Association. Foundation, experience, and ability—Irisviel had nothing that could rival him.

At this moment, she felt grateful for the presence of her Master, Kiritsugu, whom she often felt frustrated with. Even if Irisviel lost a certain amount of information, the one who knew the entire situation was elsewhere. In other words, the struggle here was something that was expected to be lost and only a bonus if won. Losing wouldn't be fatal, unlike for the other factions. Of course, losing too much is not advisable.

In any case, she had no choice but to leave that battle to her. Saber had to focus on her own fight.

She brought her gaze back. Archer, whom her eyes accidentally fell upon, had an incredibly sour expression.

"...Disgusting."

"Is that so? I think it's not bad at all."

"You bought some cheap liquor at random, didn't you? Ah, damn it."

Even as he cursed, Archer drained the wine. He slammed the cup down and reached into his Treasury again. What he pulled out was a golden bottle. The aroma drifting from it was far more mellow and fragrant than the wine Rider had brought.

He poured the wine into the empty vessel and drank it down. Instantly, the wrinkles on his brow smoothed out, and he happily reached for the food. What kind of wine could blow away such a foul mood in an instant?

"Oi, oi, Archer. You can't possibly mean to drink alone after bringing wine to a banquet."

"If you want to drink, pour it yourself."

He is a free-spirited man, in a different sense than Rider.

"Then, don't mind if I do."

Rider immediately filled his cup to the brim and moistened his throat. With just one sip, his eyes widened in shock.

"I see. It lives up to your words. This is my complete defeat."

Saber and Lancer stared in shock as Rider easily admitted his loss. Admitting a mistake was one thing, but admitting defeat was entirely unlike the man. Did that mean there was such an overwhelming difference that he couldn't even offer a rebuttal?

Saber likewise downed the wine. In her astonishment, she nearly dropped her cup.

It was a masterpiece so perfect it felt like a joke. Once you drank this, calling what they had been drinking "wine" seemed absurd. It was certainly not something obtained in this era.

"So this is what wine should be?"

"Indeed. Even in my homeland and era, I've never come across anything this good. Archer, you are truly unfathomable."

First, those needle-like projectiles and the hammer-like launch, then the aircraft and the swords, and now this ridiculous wine. It was impossible to imagine what would come out next. However, that also meant he was not to be underestimated. It wasn't something to simply laugh about.

The two of them finished their wine quietly, savoring it. In contrast were Rider and Archer. They drank and refilled as if they were drinking water. However, while Rider looked like a heavy drinker, the owner seemed more like he was drinking out of desperation. Well, it was his property, so no one could complain.

"Rider, can't you show a little more restraint? We can't start the discussion if you're only drinking."

"What are you saying? You can't bring wine like this before this King of Conquerors and expect it not to be conquered. Isn't that right, Archer?"

"Do whatever you want, jester."

"You've been saying nothing but that for a while now... Did something happen?"

"Leave me alone."

Lancer's concern was meaningless, and Archer sank further into the alcohol. He's genuinely a lost cause.

"But well, it is as Saber says. Wine is merely meant to loosen the tongue. To get bogged down in it would be putting the cart before the horse. Let's start with, say... Archer?"

"That’s unexpected."

The murmur escaped Saber’s lips before she could stop it. Though she had thought it, she hadn't intended to say it. Rider turned a puzzled gaze toward her. It wasn't something she had meant to say, but it wasn't something worth hiding either. She continued.

"I fully expected you to claim the first turn for yourself."

"Indeed, running at the front is also true conquest. However, it is also reasonable for a king to hold the final position."

"In other words, you're just justifying your 'anything goes' attitude as the 'Way of the King' (Kingship)," Archer said bluntly, swirling his cup. After drinking that much, he couldn't stay sober. His face was slightly flushed.

"Well, whatever. My goal is Incarnation. To live normally in this world."

And then, silence.

Everyone waited for Archer to continue. But he just started pouring more wine. When they waited further, he started eating the food. The silence stretched on aimlessly.

Actually, no one intended to criticize him for eating. Saber herself was eating at the fastest pace among them. …Actually, saying there was no criticism was a lie. She wanted him to slow down his eating pace—because her own share was decreasing. She knew this was irrational, but she couldn't help it. It was all the fault of this food, which, while not as divine as the wine, possessed a flavor that was brilliantly vivid. She realized for the first time that gourmet food could drive a person mad. Therefore, it was the magical power within the cooking that was to blame. She was not at fault. Probably.

"No, isn't there something more? You are a King as well; surely you have some aspirations or drive."

"A King?"

"Oh, that's right. Only Saber didn't know. It seems this one is also a King."

She has been surprised many times before. However, the shock this time surpasses them all.

If he were a King, one should be able to see that stature. Even if it were hidden. She thought Rider was quite uninhibited, but he had a stature that made his claim to kingship easy to accept. She felt none of that from Archer. He felt incredibly ordinary, or perhaps natural, despite having a strong divine presence and intimidating pressure. Whether that was good or bad, she didn't know, but he certainly didn't look like a 'King.'

Should I try a cheap provocation to make him reveal his name? Saber considered it for a moment but immediately dismissed the idea. There was no way Rider hadn't already tried that, and the secretive Archer wouldn't answer anyway. Additionally, that method was far removed from her own principles.

"I have no aspirations or anything of the sort. I don't look at the past. If I think about anything, it’s what lies ahead."

"If you were a king, did you have no thoughts on your reign? Didn't you have any regrets... any remorse?"

Saber wasn't sure if those words were truly directed at Archer. The words she had spoken herself lingered in her ears, echoing and replaying in her mind.

Lancer lowered his eyes painfully. Rider frowned. None of that mattered now. She simply wanted to hear the answer of one who had also been a King. What kind of clear answer did she want to hear?

Archer lightly pressed his hand to his head. He still looked annoyed, but there was a hint of confusion in his expression.

"I'll say it again, I have no thoughts regarding the fate of my country."

His words lacked the weight they should have had. The pride of a King who stands at the center of the nation—that great and vast convergence of people. Yes, pride. She felt none of that. It wasn't about whether he fulfilled his responsibilities or whether he was a great leader. It was the simple confidence of having been a King. This man truly didn't care about the country he had carried.

What welled up upon realizing this wasn't anger or sadness, but pure bewilderment. She could understand him up to a point, but beyond that, he was completely outside the realm of her comprehension. They weren't the same, but they must have had many similar experiences. And yet, she couldn't understand his way of thinking at all.

"Are you not afraid of death? I am. I’m terrified. You all should understand; you've died once. Having died once, you've been revived like this, and have the possibility of a continuation of life. That gives me some motivation. At least enough to try not to die actively and to endure some hardships."

While his previous words lacked weight, the weight of these words was strongly conveyed. This Heroic Spirit is undoubtedly fighting simply for the sake of 'living'. He has no ideals, no pride, and no understanding of them. A primitive survival instinct, the avoidance of death—that was his driving force.

However, this doesn't explain the mysterious lack of kingly pride. But the fact that he is biased is far easier to accept than that.

"Hmm, you were a king with a very different banner from ours, then. So there are such kinds in this world."

Rider nodded as if he understood. In reality, it was probably just that he understood that he couldn't understand.

"I have one thing I want to ask, too. You betrayed your Master immediately after being summoned; what was that all about?"

"Ah, that..."

Archer's hand, the one holding the cup, lifted and swayed. It looked as if it were wandering, or searching for something. The wine, defying the limit of surface tension, spilled carelessly from the raised cup. Saber noticed this first and quickly moved the plate of food away. She received a rather subtle, ambiguous glance from Lancer beside her, but paid it no mind. Delicious food sometimes triumphs over pride. To say one doesn't need it is the idle talk of the privileged. And if anyone were to criticize her for it, she would not hesitate to stuff their mouth full of nothing but a chunk of meat, simply salted and grilled.

Even as he spilled the wine, Archer continued to ponder. He didn't look like he didn't want to say it, but rather like he was having trouble finding the right words.

"For example."

He straightened the finger of the hand that was raised, the one holding the cup. Rider was at the end of his gaze, but the action probably had no meaning.

"The first thing I saw when I was summoned was a bearded clown who looked like he had some serious delusions. He’s bowing his head, talking about kings and such. Right?"

No one understood what he meant by "Right?". More than that, they didn't even know who he was seeking agreement from.

Silence fell again. Everyone expected him to continue. But the man they were waiting for ignored the atmosphere and dropped his empty cup. His expression had softened considerably. Had his bad mood improved, or had he simply forgotten?

"…Eh? Don't tell me, that’s it?"

"What do you mean 'that’s it'? That's an important thing. Imagine, the moment you wake up, a bearded clown who's pretending to be an aristocrat is telling you he's your vassal. You have no choice but to cut ties there, right?"

"D-Don't you have any sense of loyalty or anything?!"

Lancer cried out in astonishment at the overly harsh remark. Saber herself was speechless because the reason was too ridiculous.

"Watch your tone, mongrel. Besides, I’m not a Knight or anything. Why would I swear loyalty? The only ones who can understand that kind of thing are the King of Knights over there."

"Well, it does make sense in its own way. Even I, though I consider the boy a comrade-in-arms, have not a shred of intention to swear loyalty to him. My pride as the King is something I cannot compromise," Rider added.

"Right? Tell him more. If I saw a beard when I woke up, I'd definitely pluck it out. Honestly, growing such a patchy beard. That bearded cur."

"You, on the other hand, how much do you hate beards? Do you hold a grudge against them?"

"No, but they're annoying, aren't they? Besides..."

Archer had now become a person who was completely enjoying the wine.

"That cur would definitely betray me. At the crucial, most important moment. I'm not kind enough to fight alongside a clown like that."

There was no change in the tone of his voice. That is why the surprise was great. Is it possible to see through such a thing at the first meeting—just a moment's encounter? Saber did not know how reliable this is, or if it's even possible. But at least for him, it was a reliable insight, enough to make a decision.

"To measure a person, see through them, and make a decision. Despite what you say, you truly are a King."

"Hmm... ah, well, maybe so."

Was he trying to deny it or argue? The moment was ambiguous. To the end, it was impossible to tell what he considered the main point.

"Even so... I cannot accept your act of 'betrayal'. Even if betrayal was waiting at the end."

Lancer stubbornly refused, grumbling with his mouth twisted. Only anguish remained on his face.

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. The greatest knight of the Fianna, and at the same time, the man who lost sight of his loyalty due to a cursed love spot. He died for the love of a woman he had driven mad, leaving strong regrets in his life. It’s easy to call it misfortune. It’s also easy to give up and say it couldn't be helped. But he was too sincere and serious to give up everything for those reasons.

Saber cannot gauge the extent of his regret. Furthermore, due to his cursed nature, he was forced to steal the love of those to whom he swore loyalty. Saber is not allowed to speak on his plight—whether to agree or disagree.

However, there are things one can learn when swords cross. That is, he is utterly sincere, and at the same time, starved for loyalty. In that case, no matter the reason, he could not forgive disloyalty. Even if it were toward his own past self.

"Archer, and Rider. I cannot understand the King's logic you speak of, nor do I intend to try. I am merely a knight, nothing more and nothing less."

He extended his arm straight, a cup at the end. It was a spear, and a sword. Just as a knight swears loyalty and dedicates his sword, he held it aloft.

"Therefore, with this loyalty, I shall dedicate the Holy Grail to my Master. The most pure and unsullied thing in this world, without an ounce of impurity. To die for chivalry, to win as a knight, and then... this time, to my Master."

Magnificent—no one doubted it. Even Archer watched him with quiet attention.

It was true. Chivalry (The Way of the Knight) serves as a guide exactly because it is unclouded. It is exactly because it is a glorious form that everyone admires that one can be a knight. Who admires a path that is stained? Does anyone seek one who soils their hands with convenient excuses like "embracing both the pure and the corrupt"? It must not be. A path has no value unless it is one of glory. That is what a path others aspire to follow must be.

A dignified way of a knight. They can laugh if they want. They can worship cleverness and point fingers. If they find value only in doing things well and succeeding, they will never understand, even in a lifetime, the meaning of a path where "it has to be this way or it means nothing."

And someday, they will realize. It is exactly such people that knights have crushed.

In a war where victory is the only glory, chivalry might be nonsense. Saber had no intention of denying that. Likely, neither did Lancer. But that was exactly why they could not discard chivalry. If they discarded it there, a knight would truly be reduced to nothing more than a being that simply wins.

That was why. Saber, and Lancer. To protect that glory, they had to defeat each other.

"With your nobility, allow me to offer it up, Saber."

"I feel the same, Lancer."

"You guys…"

The one who spoke was Archer. He seemed to have had enough wine and had set down his cup. Instead, he was skillfully using chopsticks to enjoy the food. He didn't have the serious expression from before. Now, he was looking at Lancer with an exasperated face. Pondering for a moment, he dropped his chopsticks onto the table.

"If you have something to say like that, put it into words more." Archer said. 

Lancer frowned, not understanding what he meant.

"I just said it."

"What’s the point of saying it to us, are you a clown too? The one you really need to assert that to is your Master."

"Archer, you may not understand, but a knight is not like that."

What one offers to a Master are only loyal intentions and results. Thoughts and decisions are things that should be kept in one’s heart. Saber had interacted with knights in that way, and she had interacted with the nation in that way.

"You're forgetting one thing. Your current Master isn't Fionn mac Cumhaill; it’s Kayneth."

"Of course. And I have sworn the same loyalty to my spear."

"This fool doesn't get it—" Archer held his head. No one but him understood what he was trying to say. The man, realizing his own frustration, pointed a finger forcefully.

"Listen, the only person who will 'graciously' understand you when you're silent is Fionn. That was possible because of the time spent in your Master-Servant relationship. Do you truly understand that a Master-Servant relationship in a Holy Grail War is nothing more than a temporary arrangement? You have to say it for them to understand. That’s why, no matter how much loyalty you swear, they won't trust you because you won't listen. If you convey what you're thinking, even if they don't agree, there's room for understanding..."

Archer, who had been angrily raising his voice and about to stand up from his chair, suddenly stopped speaking, took a deep breath, and leaned back against the backrest.

"I said something pointless."

"No, that was quite the grand speech. Even if they aren't your subordinates, you guide them if they stray from the path. That was a truly pleasant display of kingship."

A monumental 'tsk' pierced Rider. However, he is not the kind of man to be discouraged by that and was grinning at the grumpy man. To dispel that, Archer reached for the wine again. This man might actually be quite a lost cause.

Lancer didn't stand up at those words. But he looked straight at Archer and bowed his head.

"I am grateful for the advice. I had misunderstood you."

"Whatever."

"Hah... I must have a talk with my Master."

Archer said he had no interest in his nation. Thinking back now, she wondered if that was a reflection of his confidence. She didn't know if he had served the country—but he had likely served the people. He was undoubtedly a King of a nation and a beacon that showed the way to others. He had been watching, equally, without discrimination, and without favoring either side. And he couldn't help but speak out, feeling bitter about the misunderstanding.

Saber had no way of knowing what had happened to his kingdom since she did not know his True Name. It had probably long since perished. However, surely... the people were saved. He was a king who made people think, even after he passed, that it was good that he had been their king.

The exact opposite—Saber realized the sediment remaining in her heart and laughed self-deprecatingly.

I dedicated myself to my kingdom, and Archer dedicated himself to people. Yet, why—was there such a difference? Even if that were the case, what should I curse? I hold onto something I cannot give up, even if I tell myself fate was cruel.

That was exactly why she entrusted her remaining hope to the miracle.

"By the way, Archer. You were saying something was wrong with the Holy Grail; what happened with that?"

"…What?"

Saber was the only one who cried out in surprise at those words. Since Lancer was in an alliance, it might be natural for him.

Her face immediately turned pale. They were fighting precisely because they sought the Grail. There was no way to remain calm when told there might be something wrong with it.

"Hmm, well, somehow it'll work out. If it doesn't work out, I'll handle it."

"Umu, I'm relieved to hear that. It would be a letdown if the Holy Grail turned out to be useless even if we obtained it. ...Saber, you look visibly relieved."

"Yes, of course. I answered the call of the Holy Grail for that purpose."

To destroy time, fate, and all chains to manifest a miracle. She was confident that she was the one who desired it most strongly.

She realized her tense hand had nearly crushed the table. She lightly brushed her fingers, letting the wood chips fall. The sweat she was damp with wouldn't let the dirt fall away as she wanted. The gritty texture that remained bothered her.

"Hoh... For the sake of the Holy Grail. In that sense, you might be the closest to Archer. For me, the Holy Grail is merely a means to an end."

Her brow naturally furrowed slightly.

I have no intention of complaining about their goals. But it is also true that I find it hard to accept.

"Are you different too?"

"Of course. My goal is the same as Archer's, Incarnation. But our consciousness is completely the opposite, is it not? The body I need as an individual is necessary to achieve the act of conquest. First, I enjoy the war. I identify the strong, cross swords with them, and make them submit. The Holy Grail is just a bonus. Well, since it's such a grand festival, I expect the prize to be of considerable value. And then, with a body granted by the bonus, I shall begin my campaign to conquer the world. It is a grand plan and perfectly suited for me."

Standing up and raising his hands dramatically, he seemed to be expressing how magnificent the act of conquest was. He clenched his fists and placed them at his sides. He is different from both Archer and Saber. He is, so to speak, the image of an Overlord.

The very driving force of the King of Conquerors, Iskandar.

"Did you carry your knights upon that dream...?"

"What, have you become interested in joining my ranks? I’d like to say you're always welcome... but you won't come, will you?"

"Of course. I was... inadequate. I realized that. From here, I shall swear true loyalty. and I shall surely offer up glory."

"A shame. To miss a knight of your caliber is truly a shame. However, you have a much better face than before. That makes you all the more worth conquering."

While they intimidated each other, the atmosphere was far from that of battle. Perhaps this was the moment they truly recognized each other.

"Well then," Rider said, turning around. Even without intending to, he kept the pressure on and looked at Saber. She, too, had been stirred by their declarations. Rather, being exposed to them only made her more determined.

Each believed in a different path. Saber also had a path that only she believed in. A journey that wouldn't lose to anyone. No one was drinking anymore. The wine had fully served its purpose by this point. Even Archer, who had been drinking the most, had lost the redness in his face and had returned almost to sobriety.

That also brought a premonition of the end of this banquet.

"It seems you've ended up as the finale, King of Knights. Now, let us hear the reason why you cannot stop wishing for the Holy Grail—above all, let us hear your grand ambition."

"You don't need to ask."

She took a deep breath. As she did, the memories of her motherland and the path she had walked passed through her mind.

It had been a series of hardships, surely not all things she could boast about to others. No, rather, there might have been more things in which she was inadequate. Even so, she could say with pride that she had done her absolute best. Her life as a King, as Artoria Pendragon.

The nation that was steadily heading toward destruction. The beloved citizens who couldn't even scream. The knights who fell one after another. What had gone wrong? Was something missing? No matter how much blood she spilled, what was in her hands continued to slip away. Even if everyone lived desperately, fate still swallowed them with high waves.

Finally, what remained at the moment of death were only the voices of regret close to resentment. They still clung to her ears like a curse.

I must save them. With only that thought, the girl took up the sword. And having become King, she gripped the sword once more. To obtain the Holy Grail.

"My wish is to save my motherland. To change fate and bring salvation."

"…What?"

Who was it that spoke? She felt Rider and Lancer's presence become incredibly agitated, a stark contrast to their previous sharpness.

What is it? Saber was just as confused. She hadn't expected them to accept it. But it was also true that this reaction was unexpected.

"Saber, did you say you would change fate? Are you serious about bringing salvation with the power of the Holy Grail?"

"Of course. I gave my all for the nation. But it was not enough... Then, I must fulfill my final duty. Isn't that right? What problem is there in me, who destroyed the kingdom, wishing for salvation..."

"Of course there is a problem!!"

Rider's roar echoed. Her words were cut off by what sounded like a scream.

The voice reached the Masters, interrupting their quiet conversation, and they turned around.

"A King regrets their own actions!? A King is one who does not look back! And it is precisely because they stand at the front, show dreams, and bind everything together! To actually wish for the alteration of fate!"

"Ngh—! Didn't your country perish as well? Then you must have thought about it! A path where the country didn't perish! You must have regretted! The strength you lacked! Having dedicated your life to the nation, there must be regret for the place you still lost!"

"There is no such thing! A King is a King because they do not look back and run straight ahead! That is exactly why people dream and follow the King! …To look back at the glory left behind in regret—that is not a King, Saber."

Rider’s face looked as if he were about to cry.

Why would he cry? Could it be that it was... pity?

"I did not serve the nation. The nation served me. It was only by gathering that dedication that I became King. I was, so to speak, a tyrant. However, it is precisely because I was a tyrant that I am a King."

Saber did not want to admit that such a sentiment was directed at her.

"You are just a little girl, Saber. Pitifully, such a person ended up becoming a King..."

Why? Saber didn't understand. Why would he not regret, with the destruction of his motherland before his eyes? They both cared for their nations. What was wrong with saving it—

"Saber, it may be presumptuous, but please listen to my words as a knight."

Lancer’s voice. It was painful.

Why?

She didn't want to hear it. Surely he must have regretted as well. Being forced into an unwanted betrayal and failing to maintain his loyalty. He must have thought about how it would have been if he hadn't betrayed.

"I did indeed commit betrayal. Without excuse, and pathetically. And I did indeed wish. If given an opportunity, this time I would maintain my loyalty to the end. Truly, committing betrayal was painful and felt the worst. I regretted it many times and cursed myself for many nights. But I never once thought, until the end, that it would have been better if it hadn't happened."

Stop, please don't say it. Her heart screamed.

Saber’s wish was not granted, and Lancer’s words continued.

"Because if I wished for that, I would be making even the loyalty and glory I offered in the past into fakes. Because I would be admitting that they can be substituted or replaced. Please... I beg you, Saber. As a knight... please do not make the loyalty of the knights who served King Arthur into a lie."

"That... is not..."

I can't.

I understand. I realized. Just as Lancer said, her wish was something that would turn all the feelings there into lies. She also realized that their words were correct.

Then, what about the others? The citizens who perished screaming. The kingdom itself, which was wasting away. Are you saying they don't wish for salvation either? Will they reject it because it becomes a fake? Am I wrong? What is right? Is a fake a mistake? Is the original correct? Then where—where will my feelings reach?

She wanted to scratch her body. Her whole body was hot. She wondered if her head was working. She didn't know what was right. She didn't know what was wrong. The ideal that remained at the end, which had slipped from her hands. To reach out to grasp it again, what is her goal?

Naturally, her gaze turned to Archer. That was likely because she followed the gazes of the other two. There was no more meaning than that; it was just a reflex. Because, in truth, she didn't want to look.

His face was as bored as usual. Her crumbling mind couldn't capture the emotions within him.

"You guys, where do you think this is?"

"What do you mean 'where'?"

"It’s not a difficult question. What era is the current one?"

"It's the present."

He laughed through his nose at Lancer's answer. He looked very bored, very trivial. But as if he had expected it.

"Wrong. This is the future."

"Well, that's one way to look at it. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you truly think it has nothing to do with it?"

Archer's words were spat out. An extremely resentful gesture. She didn't know what it was. But something had definitely touched Archer somewhere.

"We are existences of the past. There is no exception; we are people who have already finished. And yet, 'past' and 'future'? It doesn't change anything, you mongrels!"

For example, if a certain existence flew from the past to the present to do something and took it back to the past, would that count as interference in the past or not? At the same time, wouldn't that count as interference in the future?

"If the perspective is the problem, the place where I am is the present. As long as I am myself, interference is always in the present. Since the past is already a result, interference might be impossible. However, from the perspective of the future, both the present and the past are equivalent. How can you prove that the present is not already a result? How far is permitted, and from where is it not? Who permits what in the first place? This is nothing more than wordplay. From anyone's perspective, the era of the viewpoint is fixed. If one could make such a thing possible, it would truly be 'Magic' (True Magic/Mahou)."

An existence that died in the past becomes a Heroic Spirit and is resurrected in the present. What is the difference between that and a wish to alter the past? The past is fixed, the future is undecided. There is no guarantee of that anywhere.

"No lingering regrets for the past? Can’t deny it? Spouting nothing but pretty words. Both you and I are full of lingering regrets; that’s why we're here and doing this. Killing each other until only one remains, all for the sake of our own selfish wishes. A bunch of selfish people who want the 'continuation' of what they couldn't do in the past, all together... how grand."

"Archer, you..."

"I'm just not denying it, but I'm not agreeing either. If you changing the past means I lose my chance to live again, then you're my enemy, but if not, then I don't care. Ah, it's strange to say you're not an enemy when we're in the middle of a Holy Grail War."

He sharply cut off Saber's words. Perhaps fueled by the lingering effects of the wine, he continued to lash out.

"The only difference is whether you could forgive the past or not. It’s not even a difference in resolve or way of life. Ah... damn it. You're still struggling pathetically, so what’s with that 'I’m different' face? We're all in the same boat. If you truly mean that you don't regret or can't change it, then go kill yourself right now. That way... you won't drag anyone else into it."

His words were painful, as if he were vomiting blood, while his fingers dug into his scalp. Where were his eyes directed? At the very least, they weren't directed at anyone here.

Only one thing was clear. If he had regrets, it was about the present. He died once, desired a second life, and now, in the present, he causes regret to someone... yet he cannot stop. Or perhaps, he has forgotten how to stop. It is a situation brought about by his lingering attachment to life. Something that couldn't be divided into past and future.

Who is reflected in his gaze? She suddenly felt an intense desire to know.

"Saber... no, King of Knights. I must apologize."

The sound of a sigh. She felt it was someone’s, and she felt it was her own. However, the atmosphere was such that it wouldn't be strange no matter who did it. Perhaps everyone had done the same.

"I still don't think you are right, nor will I ever. The same goes for Archer. I think there is some truth to what he says, but I don't think I can fully accept it. But, I had unknowingly overestimated myself and made my vessel small. Forgive me."

"I accept it, King of Conquerors. I too cannot change my wish. But, in your wills, a certain correctness dwelt. I thank you for making me realize that."

That didn't solve anything. The motherland wouldn't be saved, and the destination of the knights' wills remained floating in the air. Still, whether to reconsider or to brace herself, she was glad for the opportunity. Even if it were something that would drive her into further despair.

Her heart was clear. Strangely enough, she was calm. Her duty as a King was not a burden. It was the proof that she was a King.

"Aghh... I've gone and said something unnecessary again... And it was something, really..."

"Don't look so down, Archer. Your words also resonated in my heart. It seems that at some point, I too had started thinking of my wish in a way that was convenient for me. I was taught that I must truly reflect. I am grateful."

"Stop it—or rather, please really stop, it was just me venting my frustration."

For some reason, Archer was suffering mental damage all on his own. "It’s not such a grand thing..." those weak words were lost in his arms as he slumped over.

"I acknowledge it!"

Rider raised his cup and called out.

"All of you are brave warriors worthy of contesting for the Holy Grail! I, Iskandar the King of Conquerors, acknowledge it in that name!"

"I intended to do so even without your acknowledgment. But... if that is a compliment, I shall accept it. I shall return that favor with this sword, though."

"Heh, you talk big. You, too, prepare to be swallowed by my conquest. If there's an opening, I'll add you to my ranks. Be ready."

She returned the pressure of a King from Rider with an equivalent one. She wouldn't be overwhelmed anymore.

There was still hesitation. But the wish to save her motherland was something she absolutely couldn't change. Besides, whether she achieved anything or not, nothing would start until she obtained the Holy Grail. She couldn't set down her sword just because she was hesitating. Besides, strangely—she felt that if she defeated these men, she would find the answer.

"Is it over for today?"

For some reason, Archer had become terribly depressed at the very end. He spoke with little energy, still dragging his mood.

"Wait, wait. There is still wine and food left. It would be a waste."

"There’s nothing more to talk about, is there? I want to go home quickly. I have someone waiting. And I’m exhausted for some reason..."

"But well, to end the party leaving those behind would be so lonely."

Rider said longingly, glancing at the wine bottle Archer had brought out. Archer ignored him... no, he wasn't ignoring him. He looked at Rider with half-lidded eyes, looking incredibly annoyed. When he tried to put the wine away, a thick arm grabbed his hand from the side.

"W-Wait, Archer. I said it at the beginning, didn't I? Since that wine appeared before me, it cannot escape the fate of being conquered."

A declaration made with an annoyingly good expression. Saber was probably not the only one who felt needlessly irritated by it. A tremendously loud sigh was heard from Archer, and it was inexplicably tired.

"...Fine. Take this, and let's call it a night."

"What about the food?"

"Just take it all!"

"Wait, Archer. Since it was spread out here, doesn't the right belong to me?"

"Ho... you say such things, King of Knights."

"You mongrels just do whatever you want!"

It was a truly sincere scream.

Saber glared at Rider in front of her. Intense pressure tried to crush her. Naturally, this was not a game. What they sought was just food, yet still food. Do not laugh; food is the basis of life, and if one masters it, it is equivalent to obtaining an unrivaled army. Saber, who hadn't placed much importance on food in the past, could understand that now that she had eaten something of that caliber. A healthy body, a sound spirit, and stable growth—those could only be obtained through perfect food.

If she could obtain this food, Saber would become far stronger. Surely, maybe, twice as much. In her sensation, she felt she could use Excalibur with one hand sealed even without the backup of a Command Spell. Therefore, this was not for satisfying her appetite. it was a legitimate act of strengthening her forces. There was no need for anyone to complain; it was perfectly logical.

That is why she could not hand this food over to the King of Conquerors.

This was war. It was far more important, bloodthirsty, and yet a battle of words than something like a banquet. Yes, in the place of negotiation, you assert your rights and take the rights of the opponent. To protect the food she should obtain.

"King of Conquerors, you have already received the wine, haven't you? To want the food as well is too greedy. Above all, I provided this place."

"Well, well. For the King of Knights to be so small-minded. The wine is mine because I obtained it by negotiating directly with him, that's natural. The food is a separate issue."

"I wish those two would just die."

"Saber, you're quite the..."

Lancer muttered very sadly, but she had more important things to worry about.

Ultimately, the shares were decided as 6 for Saber and 4 for Rider. In exchange, Saber was to receive her desired dishes with priority. It wasn't "satisfactory," but it was a battle result she could accept. The King of Conquerors was indeed a difficult opponent and didn't give in easily.

"Anyway, the party’s over now. Rider, hurry up. Your Master looks like he’s about to die."

The conversation on the Masters' side seemed to have concluded as well, and the initial tension was gone. However, the boy who seemed to be Rider’s Master was being bullied by Lancer’s Master. The boy might have been trying to hide it, but it didn't mean much when his whole body was shaking as if in a convulsion.

"The boy should try to be a little more firm. Oi, Archer, you truly possess some excellent things. Thinking about how much more you possess makes my heart pound with anticipation. One day, I will conquer and seize it all. Be prepared."

"...............I've never wanted to punch you so badly until now."

A long silence. Then, he scratched his golden hair. And finally, he spoke with an indescribably tired expression.

"Haah... for now, it is still a truce. The next time we meet, I shall show you my true power."

"I can't wait for that time."

Self-centered and a free spirit—that was her impression of Archer. But overall, he couldn't help but intervene in the discord of people’s hearts, and he thought too much himself. Considering he couldn't completely abandon people, he might unexpectedly be a person who takes on many burdens. It was certain he was a person who would end up losing out.

"Oi, Boy! It's time to go!"

"—Wait, Rider."

"Huh? You too, Saber? It would be rather unromantic to cross swords today."

Ignoring Rider's joking words, Saber re-positioned her sword. Her vigilant gaze swept over a place that should have been empty. She continued to look around cautiously. There should have been nothing. However, Saber's 'Intuition' (Instinct) was still sounding the maximum alarm.

She relied on her intuition, but she still couldn't figure it out. So, she called out to him somewhat casually. Since there is a difference in class aptitude, it wouldn't be surprising if he had detected it before Saber.

"Archer."

"They're here. Not just 10 or 20. Probably over 50, but not reaching 100."

Archer, who answered, was already armed. He was clad in golden armor, gripping a single sword.

Realizing that this was serious, the remaining two Servants also armed themselves. They maintained vigilance, slowly retreating, and encircled the Masters.

The only ones who could possibly come here were Assassin. Since they were in an alliance with Berserker, there was no reason for him to attack. Even if he did, there shouldn't be over 50. Conversely, there was a possibility it wasn't Assassin, but this wasn't very realistic. Because she couldn't think of a reason why she wouldn't notice until her instinct caught it and why she couldn't find them even after it caught. Even if such a means existed, it was a waste to consider. If it wasn't Assassin, it wouldn't be a threat in the first place.

A Servant is, so to speak, a transcendent being that has been made easier to handle by limiting it. Even if slightly weakened, the fact that it is a transcendent existence does not change. Even if wounded, a lion is still too much for humans to handle. That is precisely why magi conceived of binding the weakened Heroic Spirits further with Command Spells.

In other words, Assassin and Caster, who are the lowest in terms of simple combat ability—even they are beyond human capability, and if they didn't have at least this level of ability, they wouldn't be a match for a Servant.

The fact of simple power that couldn't be resisted no matter how hard one struggled. Because of this, Kiritsugu continued to use Saber, and Kayneth couldn't cut Lancer. No Master thought they could do anything about a Servant.

A Servant is not just a qualification for participating in the Holy Grail War. At the same time, they are a lifeline.

"Impossible. What is their goal?"

"Why would the Assassins, who have been hiding until now, suddenly show their faces? No, it's something they must do eventually, but... why now?"

She agreed with both of them in her heart.

Lancer's words held undeniable contempt. But he was not the kind of man to misjudge the situation because of it. Archer, in contrast, was deeply lost in thought, reserving only the minimum necessary awareness. In a sense, he was the most confused.

Masked figures gradually appeared from all directions. Weak, Saber judged instantly. There would be no trouble defeating them. As for the Masters, being encircled by four Servants, there was no room for any unforeseen circumstances. In other words, the Assassins had not a single chance of victory.

Then, what is the reason for them attacking now?

"It is regrettable that the banquet has ended. However, it is not too late. Now, Assassin, take my cup. And show your worth."

The answer was the throwing of a dagger. It shattered the raised cup, headed straight for Rider's face, and was struck down just before it hit. Large and small sounds rang out. The large sound was the dagger rolling on the stone pavement, and the small sound was the ceramic falling on the hard ground and breaking.

"Yare yare, these are people with no leeway."

"Idiot! That's not the point!"

"It is the point. They don't talk and they don't take the cup. They're too hard-pressed. It seems they were forced with a lot of pressure."

Bound by a Command Spell—everyone there reached that answer. That only emphasized the question further.

How much reason does the Assassin's Master have to expend him? If they are using Assassin up in a reckless operation here, there are only two reasons. One is the possibility, though unlikely, that they have a trump card greater than a Servant. The other is that they have a reason to expend or eliminate Assassin for some reason.

Ridiculous. In that sense, whichever was the correct answer. No matter how much she thought, it didn't go beyond imagination. The truth must be somewhere, but at the least, it wouldn't roll into her hands now. In that case, she just had to get through this place for now.

"Archer, how many of them are there?"

A low man's voice. There was only one person it could be—Lancer's Master.

"...A little over 70."

Saber don't know how much meaning that conversation held. But both of them fell silent as if they had communicated.

"Saber, are you alright...?"

"Yes, there is no problem."

Irisviel's anxious voice came from behind. She stated it with conviction to reassure her.

In truth, there was absolutely no issue with the combat itself. Even while dividing her attention between the Assassin and keeping Irisviel in mind, she still had more than enough to spare. The real problem, however, lay elsewhere.

"Just in time."

Rider said so, drew his sword, and started walking forward steadily. The defensive formation surrounding the Masters broke. No one was weak enough to let Assassin take advantage of that. But there was a feeling of suspicion.

"H-Hey, Rider! Where are you going!?"

The boy raised a pathetic voice in a panic. Regardless of the tone, it was a representation of everyone's thoughts.

"Saber, I indeed do not deny your Way of the King. But, I also said I absolutely cannot acknowledge it, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did say that... but why bring it up now?"

"I am saying I will show you the reason now."

He stepped in with his right foot so powerfully it made a sound, and braced his body. And as he swung his sword once, he raised his voice as if to make it roar to the sky.

"Now, answer the call! My brave warriors who shared their destiny with me!"

With those words—the world was replaced. It wasn't a metaphor; the world truly changed into a completely different place.

No, it didn't change. The world doesn't change. Absolute and unique. That alone cannot be denied no matter what existence one is. Then, what does this mean? It's as if the world were painted over. As if the existence known as Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, had created a world.

An endless desert and a mercilessly shining sun. It is classified as one of the harshest environments in the world. However, she couldn't feel a thirst that swallowed everything from it. Why, even though it was such a hungry, terrifying world—did dreams and hope strongly carve themselves into her heart from there?

"This... no way... a Reality Marble (Koyuu Kekkai)?"

"Exactly. This is my trump card. The Noble Phantasm I believe in the most."

"B-But you're not a magus! So how can you use a Reality Marble?!"

"This world is..."

Rider spread both hands wide. With that, she understood whether she liked it or not. The center of this world was him.

"The place I once ran through. At the same time, the very 'dream' seen equally by those who offered loyalty to me and ran through together. Therefore, it is not correct to say this is my Reality Marble. It is a mental landscape that exists only when me, the brave warriors, and the country itself are there."

The sword was stretched high above his head. At the same time, all the brave warriors who saw the same dream as Rider raised their weapons and gave a roar.

A huge world trembled with the intense surge of fighting spirit. Of course. Because this world is a world made for them. It is something unadorned, directly thrown at them. No, precisely because it is direct, the simple, honest strength of their bond was powerfully slammed into them.

Even after death, even after transcending time, and even after receiving a temporary life in this world as a Servant. Still, a strong bond that couldn't be broken. Just how much connection would make that possible?

"Do you understand, Saber? The reason why I absolutely couldn't acknowledge your wish."

Now, she understood. Just as Saber couldn't back down even if she was crushed by the voice denying her wish. The countless voices calling for help that she heard. The country's scream that still didn't leave her ears. The same thing was being heard by Rider. The voice thinking of the bond, pushing him up, and wanting him to be a King.

"No matter what happens, no matter how much regret there is in that path, I cannot deny this. ...It’s just as Archer says. You must have had something that made you want to pull a different fate for the country. It was the same for me. As long as I communicate with my vassals like this and they continue to respond to my words, I cannot regret. I cannot allow the past to be undone. Looking back is the one thing I absolutely cannot do! To face forward and continue to move. Because that is the path of conquest that I, my vassals, and everyone believed in!"

It was a single, ideal model of a nation.

Not just a mere crowd or an army, but a collective bound by a single purpose. It was the very embodiment of the ideal that is Iskandar, the King of Conquerors.

How grand it was. Everything Rider had said before seemed insignificant. The word "small" was too big compared to the desert of hope that spread out before them. A vessel—vast enough to swallow everything in a massive, hot storm.

"This is the treasure that surpasses any treasure in this world that I possess! The greatest Noble Phantasm that is not ashamed to be placed alongside the world itself! Ionioi Hetairoi! Saber, in your way of life, no matter how good a King you were, you could only be alone! Even if the homeland reached the height of prosperity, you could only be alone! I was certainly not a good King. But! I am not alone! As long as these people who accompany me are here, I can be proud of the one 'Me' that is Iskandar, the one King! With the brave warriors by my side!"

Who remained?

Saber asked herself. She could not give a false answer to that question. Her own death was one of complete solitude. In the end, everything betrayed her, and she ended up being crushed.

However—

Then, did she have regrets...? She could confidently say no. Not about failing to save her country. But about ultimately being swallowed by the monster that was the country. Her own outcome didn't matter. All she sought was to save the country she loved, and only that. If she could achieve that, she didn't care if she fell into hell.

She checked the grip of her sword. The sensation of power entering firmly into her fingertips. She wouldn't lose strength with this much.

"It seems your legs haven't given out. That makes you worthy of being the enemy of the King of Conquerors."

Rider directed his gaze forward—toward the Assassins who had been unintentionally gathered.

"Well then... I've kept you waiting, Assassin. You must have your own circumstances, but once the war has started, I have no intention of going easy on you. Now—advance!"

The air was filled with fighting spirit, and a battle cry was unleashed across the world. The Assassins were easily separated and defeated one by one without being able to coordinate. This was no longer at the level of the violence of numbers or the difference in stats. The fleeing Assassins had already lost their will to fight. Since they were broken before fighting, there wasn't even a fragment of a chance of victory.

There was nothing that could be called a battle. A one-sided trampling that seemed to prove his name. Within a few minutes, all the Assassins here had disappeared.

The King of Conquerors, carrying the victory cry and the will of the knights. With the crumbling world behind him, he walked step by step firmly and stood before Saber. The sword pointed at her was directed straight at the girl.

"This is my Way of the King. Now, answer, King of Knights. Even before this sight, do you still say your Way of the King compares to mine?"

An intensely strong gaze. However, it wasn't one to strike down the weak. While intimidating by showing everything he had, expectation was reflected in his eyes.

"Of course."

Saber swung her sword. That act, which was a small downward sweep, struck a gale in all directions and revealed gold to the world from a place where light didn't reach. A Divine Construct Noble Phantasm with a blade that shone like the sun, with nothing that could equal it.

Excalibur. Also known as The Sword of Promised Victory. Unfortunately, it hadn't guaranteed the victory of Britain. The partner that had stayed with her, inadequate as she was, until the very end.

Just as all knights take pride in Chivalry and do so. She also took pride in her own path in the same way and raised the sword before her eyes.

"King of Conquerors, can you see the radiance of this sword?"

"Indeed."

"This sword is a sword that reflects the human heart, destined to be wielded by a King. The moment this radiance fades, I cease to be King. As long as the light shines upon me, the King of Knights is me."

Therefore.

Even if that path is wrong. She will continue to search for the path to salvation.

The cracked world ended. Everything returned to the forest of the original night. The silence of the night continued as if nothing had happened. A slight loneliness arrived.

"I raised my country with everyone centered around me. You bear the country alone."

"—It is my destiny. To save a country that is withering away and on the verge of collapse. If so, I shall be proud of it. Even if I am alone, and even if I have to be alone."

He let out a soft laugh. Rider turned on his heel.

"If you and I are to fight, it will be a battle with everything of our respective nations at stake. If you let your guard down for even a moment, I shall trample you in an instant. Don't let that happen."

"I would have done so even without you saying it. I shall prove that no matter how great your bond is, it is powerless before my sword."

Rider swung his sword vertically. In a place where nothing should be, however, it severed space. As if prying open the opened alternative space, a chariot appeared. Raising a voice different from a horse's whinny, it kicked the ground with a heavy sound.

He put his own Master into the manifested chariot as if pushing him in.

"Archer, Lancer, and Saber! I hope that the next time we meet, it will be in a setting worthy of a final resolution!"

Leaving a loud laugh, Rider departed. To not forget the wine and food even then, should she say it was impressive or should she be exasperated? Likely both.

Before she knew it, Archer and the others were also flying in the sky. There was no time to call out, but she received the gaze in which Lancer's strong will dwelt. The fact that Archer didn't even cast a glance to anyone was also typical of him. In a sense, he was the one most serious about the Holy Grail War. Still, she gained many things from the words he showed today—whether they were strength or weakness, she didn't know.

She released her sword and armor. Her figure in only her combat clothing looked like a dress. She secretly mocked her figure, which looked just like an ordinary girl. Despite having resolve, becoming such a figure felt, how should she say, comical. Perhaps if she had truly made up her mind, she wouldn't even care about such a thing.

"Saber..."

Irisviel's voice reached her from behind. The face she saw when she turned around was somewhat powerful.

Saber didn't have many words to answer her. She just said one sentence, putting all her feelings into it.

"Let’s win."

“Yes, we shall.”

And they returned to the castle side by side. Because from tomorrow, the war would continue again.