“Oh . . . What, you came all the way here, Ayaka?”
Saber was there.
He was standing majestically, like he had when she first met him at the opera house.
Unlike then, however, he was covered with blood.
He had not fallen on his face like he had in the church, but part of his armor was split, probably torn by Kerberos claws, and fresh blood was dripping from the gash.
“Saber . . .!”
“Please, don’t look at me like that. This is only a scratch. . . .”
“We’ve had this talk three or four times already. I’ve made up my mind, so shut up and listen!”
“Certainly.”
The sight of Ayaka’s ghastly appearance made Saber forget his own injuries and nod in spite of himself.
“Saber . . . you’re hesitating to use my magical energy and holding back, aren’t you?”
“. . .”
“I won’t run from you or the Holy Grail War anymore. I’ve made up my mind to fight with you! I only made up my mind just now, though! Sorry about that!”
“Oh, yes. . . . Certainly.”
Ayaka somehow managed the trick of angrily delivering a sincere apology, and Saber responded with another instinctive nod.
Ayaka had been thinking it over for the past few days, but now she understood.
She understood what running in fear from everything would lead her to.
That question was meaningless in the situation she found herself in. This was the place she had run away to.
If she were going to find anything at the end of her flight, she would have to find it here.
“I won’t even mind if you’re going to suck up all my magical energy and kill me! I mean, I would mind, but it’d be way better than dying with you in a place like this without even knowing what’s going on! So, I’m going to do what I can!”
Ayaka seized Saber’s hand and pressed it to one of the Command-Spell-like marks on her body as she listened to the sounds of the battle outside.
“If you’re willing to give me something in exchange for my magical energy . . . I want you to teach me how to fight. I don’t care if it’s just how to throw rocks. If you think I’ll get in your way, it can even be how to make more magical energy or how to use it!”
Saber lowered his eyes from Ayaka’s earnest expression for an instant, then answered with an earnest look of his own.
“I appreciate the sentiment, and you’re strong. However . . . right now, it’s me who can’t respond to you.”
“?”
“You’ve resolved to fight for me, but I still haven’t found a reason to seek the Grail if it means risking my life and my chivalry and trampling the wishes of others. Therefore, this life of mine isn’t for winning this war. I should use it to keep you safe. Until yesterday, I thought that I could balance that with my own curiosity . . . but that gaudy fellow taught me better.”
I knew it, Ayaka thought, Saber did get hurt. Not just physically, either. His fight with that golden Heroic Spirit drove a wedge into his heart.
Saber was not afraid of others. Defeat certainly had not made him afraid that that golden hero would kill him.
Even Ayaka could understand that, and she doubted it had changed.
But even if he were not afraid, without a wish for the Grail, he had no reason to turn his lion’s heart to the Holy Grail War.
He must not be able to fight with all his passion as a result.
Ayaka had only known Saber a few days, but she had been forced to learn more than she would have liked about his temperament.
“Therefore, I don’t care if I vanish. I got you involved, and your survival is my prime objective. Although ideally, once I’ve ensured your safety, I’d like a chance to challenge that golden king again with whatever magical energy I have left.”
“It doesn’t matter what your wish is! I wouldn’t care if you wanted to sell the Grail for cash! Didn’t you say you were going to take music back with you to heaven or “the Throne” or wherever? A childish whim like that is good enough!”
Saber lowered his eyes again and flashed a wry smile.
“. . . The Throne is one thing, but you won’t find me in heaven.”
“?”
“I’m a Heroic Spirit—just a shadow burned into the world—so I don’t know the truth, but if there’s a heaven, then my soul must be . . . burning in purgatory until the day the human race comes to an end.”
“. . .?”
She was about to ask what he meant when more of the wall of the building collapsed.
“!”
The pair turned to see a row of three massive, bestial mouths.
Kereberos had grown again while they were not looking. Its appearance recalled a three-headed beast out of a giant monster movie.
Poisonous plants sprouted wherever droplets of its drool hit the floor.
“Sleep. (Die.)”
All three heads spoke in unison. They seemed about to bite off the whole room with Saber and Ayaka inside it. Before either had a chance to move, however, a tiny fragment tumbled between them and the beast.
“?”
Ayaka was puzzled.
All three of Kerberos’ heads had suddenly frozen in place.
All six of the monster’s eyes were fixed on the little lump that had tumbled to the floor.
When Ayaka realized what the thing was, she could not hold back an exclamation. It was just so out of place with the life-threatening situation.
“. . . A cookie . . .?”
It was a single cookie, sweetly redolent of honey, that might be found for sale in any supermarket.
Everything fell silent, Kerberos included.
“Taking in Kerberos was neat, but it was a bad move.”
Cheerful voices rang out. They were definitely out of place.
“I mean, it’s weakness is just so famous!”
The boy and girl sounded like they were having the time of their lives, like an audience watching Ayaka and the others’ predicament as a scene in a slasher movie.
When they actually appeared, they were indeed munching on store-bought cookies and chocolates like popcorn.
A gaping hole opened in the ceiling, and through it two figures descended with an open umbrella like characters out of a movie.
“Hi there. Should I say nice to meet you? Mr. Lionheart and . . . I don’t know who you are, but you’ve got some impressive magical energy!”
The girl in a gothic-Lolita dress flashed a smile as she twirled her umbrella.
Beside the spinning, open umbrella, a boy with similar features made a polite bow.
“. . . I have a lot of questions,” Saber asked the pair as if he spoke for the bewildered Ayaka, “but tell me, what are you holding up an umbrella indoors for?”
“Is that really important?” Ayaka frowned when the question failed completely to speak for her.
The girl twirling the umbrella, however, puffed up with pride, her eyes gleaming.
“I’m glad you asked! I knew you were a real find! I love people who give me reactions like that!”
“The answer is simple,” the boy continued for her, spreading his arms wide.
“It’s about to rain here!”
The next instant, a downpour of cookie and candy packages began inside the building, painting over the gray floor in a deluge of pop coloring.
It was an unbelievable scene out of a fairy tale or comic book.
Ayaka found herself at a loss for words amid scenery that was divorced from reality in a completely different sense than the pervading atmosphere of death a moment before had been.
The candy packages falling in place of raindrops began to grow larger. Mountains of sweets was piling up toward the room’s high ceiling like piles of scrapped cars in a junkyard.
And the most surprising thing of all was that the immobile Kerberos sniffed loudly and then immediately began to wolf down the now-gigantic sweets packaging and all.
“Who are you . . .?” Ayaka asked the boy and girl from her position beside Saber, unable to process the situation.
“You know, we’d like to ask you the same thing,” the girl answered while deflecting the rain of sweets with her umbrella. “We’ve been wondering where Filia managed to dig up someone like you.”
“! You know her?! Where is she now?!”
The white woman who had led her to this city against her will.
Ayaka grew warier at the revelation that the pair had something to do with her. They, however, answered her question with a statement she could make no sense of.
“Ah ha ha! I don’t think she’s anywhere anymore. Her body’s still around, though! You’d better be careful you don’t talk to her by mistake. She might turn you into a gemstone for being insolent or shabby or something!”
“?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m Francesca. This is Francois. In this Holy Grail War, we’re the True Caster faction, the masterminds, the bookies, and the troublemakers all rolled into one. . . . Is that enough for you to go on? It is, right?”
“???”
Ayaka was more confused than ever, but Saber nodded.
“I see. I don’t understand at all, but thank you for rescuing us. I had heard that Kerberos is fond of honey cakes, but I had none to hand.”
“Crazy, isn’t it? People have kept on telling stories about a guard dog who lets criminals go for sweets all this time,” Francesca guffawed and looked outside.
Ayaka gave a start and turned to look at what was happening while keeping a cautious eye on the Kerberos gobbling sweets.
Outside, the same rain of sweets was falling, and every Kerberos was glued to a mountain of cookies.
“Oh, I almost forgot. No need to thank us.”
“After all, we’re here to defile you.”
The mysterious pair announced with cheerful smiles.
“What?”
Ayaka frowned, watching to see what they were up to.
“Oh?” Francesca said, watching Ayaka right back. “You’ve gotten a whole lot tougher since Cashura almost killed you on the first day.”
“. . . Cashura . . . Are you friends of that guy at the opera house?!”
“You got it. Back then, you had a look on your face like you couldn’t even be bothered with living. Did getting dragged around by a hero like Mr. Lionheart here toughen you up? Or are you a little vixen who got full of herself once she cozied up to someone strong? Which is it?”
“Wha—”
Ayaka stammered at the sudden change of subject. She could not be certain that she was not the latter.
Saber, however, voiced his honest, unvarnished opinion in her place.
“What do you mean? Ayaka has been strong since the beginning, and it’s natural to get a big head when you’re close to someone you can trust, no matter how strong or weak you are. Also, while Ayaka does have imposing eyes like a fox, she doesn’t disturb gardens or farms, nor does she deceive people by pretending to be a cat.”
“You can say that from the heart? Great! I knew you were a real find!”
“I see, I see. He’s a fine king indeed! He acts entirely on his own principles in the moment!”
Francesca’s sarcasm had missed its mark, but for some reason the pair sounded satisfied.
They turned their attention back to Ayaka and said, with twirling, dance-like movements:
“Lucky you. I’m jealous. Ayaka, right?”
“You managed to bump into a good king! No wonder you’re toughening up! No wonder you can trust him!”
“That’s why we’re going to apologize while we have the chance. Sorry!”
“Well, not that we mind if you hold it against us. Let’s be friends if you don’t, though! Oh, we’re not going to hurt your bodies, so don’t worry about that. Yay!”
Ayaka could not help being irritated after that string of provocations and started to say something to the pair.
“Hey, what the hell are you talking a—”
An instant later, however . . .
“We’re just going to trample on His Majesty’s adoration a bit.”
Francesca brandished her umbrella, and the world turned inside out.
It was a beautiful castle.
It was not policed like a tourist attraction, but the nearby doors and the gardens visible within showed signs of being well maintained. Its time-worn stone walls lent it an air of solemn grandeur and harmonized fantastically with its location in the deep forest.
“. . . Wh-What?”
The cry that escaped Ayaka’s mouth were high pitched and quavering.
She knew that they had been inside a building until a few seconds earlier.
Now, however, the cold concrete, the glass shards, and most of all the mountains of sweets and the monsters feasting on them had vanished without a trace.
It was as if none of those things had ever existed in the first place.
But Ayaka’s voice was not shrill because the scenery around her had been replaced.
She had only just seen the world turn inside out, after all.
Why was her pulse skyrocketing and her whole body breaking out in sweat?
Because she recognized this scenery.
“Now way. This is . . . the castle in Fuyuki. . . .”
“Where?”
Ayaka startled at the voice from beside her and turned to look.
She found Saber standing in exactly the same position he had been until a moment before.
“! . . . Thank goodness! Are you all right?!”
“Yes, but I am surprised. This is . . . even more incredible than the ‘projection mapping’ that rascal Saint Germain showed me. It’s an illusion. It’s perfectly fooling our perception—not just what we can see, but even the smell of the breeze and the temperature of the soil.”
“Illusion . . .? Not teleportation, or anything like that?”
“No, I doubt we’ve gone anywhere physically. The police aren’t here, so they must be deceiving our senses, not the space itself. My mage companion knows a lot about this sort of thing.”
“Oh really? I’m interested in this mage friend of yours.”
Ayaka heard the voice of the boy who introduced himself as Francois and looked around.
But while she could hear his voice, he was nowhere to be seen. Next came a jibe from Francesca.
“Rats. I wanted to make you think it was teleportation and have a little fun. What a letdown.”
“Oh, it’s quite a feat. I certainly never saw an illusion of this caliber while I was alive. I’m impressed. How would you like to be my court mage? It’s supposed to be Saint Germain’s job, but I called him, and he wouldn’t answer, so I could appoint you as his replacement.”
“. . . Hey, I thought my ears were playing tricks on me, but I keep hearing a name I don’t like.”
“So do I. You know, this king does seem like just the type that no-good, deviant con man would visit.”
Francesca and Francois sounded obviously less delighted than they had moments before.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” Saber continued matter-of-factly. “At worst, he’s the oddest of layabout petty aristocrats.”
“Isn’t that worse?”
Ayaka, who had seen “Saint Germain” in her dreams, did not press the point further, but it relieved her nervousness just enough to think calmly.
“I see. . . . What are you showing me a hallucination of my hometown for?”
“Huh? Oh, so you’re from Fuyuki.”
“Huh?”
Since they seemed to know Filia, Ayaka had assumed the illusion was targeted at her, but apparently not.
In which case, why Fuyuki?
As Ayaka wondered, a change occurred behind her.
No sooner did she hear the sounds of something massive approaching than “it” passed by Ayaka and Saber, trampling through the forest with a peal of thunder.
The thing speeding straight toward the large doors that led into the castle was a cart pulled by large oxen.
“Cart” was the only way Ayaka could describe it, but Richard recognized what it was at a glance.
“Was that . . . a chariot? Oxen surrounded by lightning . . . Could those be the divine oxen?! Then, that must be King Gordias. No . . .”
Saber, who had a fondness for numerous hero tales, instantly realized what that chariot was and who must be driving it.
Two men were riding in that chariot which had raced across ancient battlefields.
“I don’t believe it. . . . Saint Germain told me that he was far larger than his legends say, but I assumed he was exaggerating. . . .”
“You recognize him?”
“Yes. . . . If I’m right . . . that’s the conqueror who began in Macedonia and went on to dominate the continent—Alexander the Great . . .!
Alexander the Great? I think I’ve heard of him. . . .
Ayaka did not know much about legendary heroes. She was only aware of Alexander, like Richard the Lionheart, as a name she’d heard of before. The sight of Saber beaming with childish delight, however, told her that he was a historical figure and a hero who had lived even longer ago than Saber.
Then, is he a Servant too . . .?
Ayaka had sensed an extraordinary presence from the red-haired man, but the memory of the shrieking young man beside him made her feel a little relieved.
That may have been sympathy, because she sensed that the black-haired, baby-faced young man was, like her, “un-mage-like.”
X X
A Closed-off Town, Crystal Hill, Top Floor
“Did you say it’s raining packages of sweets . . .?”
El-Melloi II’s confused voice echoed from the cell phone speaker.
He had heard about what was happening from Flat, but he quickly grasped the situation and voiced an opinion.
“I see. . . . Kerberos is a foreign element in that faceless underworld. They must have taken advantage of its characteristics. . . . Still, whatever school of magecraft they employed, it would take quite a high level of mage to cause such a ridiculous phenomenon over such a large area. . . . There’s a strong possibility that we’re dealing with a Servant.”
In contrast to El-Melloi II’s calm analysis, Jester’s grimacing double was shouting angrily.
“Illusionists?! Damn them! This is none of their business!”
That divine beast ought to get closer to its original strength if it takes in multiple dead people, Jester mused to himself. It depends on the magical energy resources available in this ritual site, but if I’m lucky, it’s combat abilities could be a match for a high-ranking Servant. . . .
The corners of his mouth crept upward again.
“After all this effort to set the table, I suppose I’ll lend a hand. Just a little.”
“What are you plotting, fiend?!” Assassin bellowed as she cut through the grotesqueries that had come through the windows.
“Nothing fancy. For starters, I’ll just murder all the cops at the intersection down there, then stuff them into Kerberos’ belly instead of all that candy.”
“I won’t let you . . . Ngh . . .”
Assassin rushed at Jester, but the countless smoky, black grotesqueries blocked her path.
“Oh, it looks like these things—this whole world, really—are going after Servants first. Be careful, now. And the same goes for the renowned murderer over there,” Jester added, looking at Flat’s wristwatch. There was a hint of something like respect and affection in his voice, but Jack himself was the only one to notice it.
“. . . I appreciate the warning.”
What’s our next move, Flat? Can you do it? Jack called out telepathically to Flat, mentally clicking his tongue over having been discovered.
Hmm. I’ve almost got it.
Jester, who had no idea what Berserker and his Master were saying to each other telepathically, continued to taunt Assassin with a look of ecstasy on his face.
“Hee hee. Would it bother you if I killed those cops? Didn’t you fight them yourself, at the police station? So, why try to stop me from having a little fun with their lives? It doesn’t look like your problem is with me giving Kerberos a power-up.”
“. . . I won’t let you have your way. That’s all.”
“No, I don’t think so! You found out that those cops are trying to protect Kuruoka Tsubaki, and now you show them some respect, even if they are your enemies. Am I wrong? Yes, I know. I know everything about you. You, however, don’t understand mages yet.”
“Silence!”
She threw a concealed dagger, but it just passed through Jester’s body like it had before, serving only to reconfirm that Jester’s main body was not there.
“Mages are the ultimate pragmatists. In the end, they’ll choose to kill Kuruoka Tsubaki. But that’s the right choice, Assassin. This ward-world is out of control, and before long it will spread outside the ward . . . into the real Snowfield! Any hero that sides with humanity ought to choose the option with the fewest sacrifices, and quickly! Sacrificing just one girl could save 800,000 people—maybe even the whole human race!
“Yes,” Jester’s double continued gleefully, “that mercenary you had your eye on might kill little Tsubaki before anyone else gets the chance! That has its charms! I’d love to see you bound for anger and despair, betrayed by the man you trusted!”
“. . .”
She was already showing him anger, Assassin’s murderous glare seemed to say as she hurled the last of the grotesqueries clinging to her out a broken window.
The wrathful, silent Assassin and the gleeful, loquacious hematophage faced each other. The two of them were almost in their own world.
Hansa, however, disregarded the mood and broke his silence.
“Hey, corpse.”
“. . . What, executor? Stay out of this. It’s just getting good.”
“Back at the police station, you said you’d deny the human order,” Hansa continued in spite of Jester’s obvious irritation. “That Dead Apostles exist to defile human history.”
“? And? Something that obvious should be common knowledge to an executor like you.”
“That Assassin’s part of human history. Aren’t you going to deny her? You are defiling her, but that contempt doesn’t come from denial. You’re trying to defile her with that twisted lust of yours because you were charmed by her, because you couldn’t deny her. You’re trying to corrupt her. Am I wrong?”
“. . . What’s your point?”
Jester erased all trace of expression from his face. Hansa ignored his question and coolly changed the subject.
“By the way, I told you before that bringing down you high-level Dead Apostles takes consecrated weapons, a singularity-user, or a high-level mage. . . . Remember that?”
“So what? What are you buying time for? You’re the ones who are short on—”
A Black Key sailed through Jester’s double.
Just as it embedded itself in the wall behind him, Hansa said:
“My consecrated weapons can’t reach your main body when it’s not here . . .”
“?”
“But luckily . . . I’ve got a high-level mage to help with that, Dorothea.”
“—”
For an instant, time stopped for Jester.
Flat slipped into that momentary blank and activated his magecraft.
“Begin interference!”
The next moment, magical energy raced through the room in all directions, reflected off the Mystic Codes of the nuns hiding in scattered positions, and created a simplified current of magical energy.
It finished by concentrating into the Black Key that Hansa had thrown, and the spell activated.
“Gah?! . . . Wha . . . Gwaaah!”
In an instant, Jester shuddered from head to toe. He was supposedly just a double, but he groaned with a look of agony on his face.
“?!”
Assassin was the one confused.
Not by the spell itself, and not by its ability to actually damage Jester.
The moment the priest called Jester “Dorothea,” the hematophage had taken his attention off her completely with a look of obvious shock.
Jester fell to his knees and glared at Hansa with bloodshot eyes.
“Damn you. . . . What did you . . .?”
“Oh . . . Flat, give us the rundown.”
“Right! You’re a double, so I just followed the currents of magical energy and attacked the real you!”
“Impossible,” Jester spat at the nonchalant Flat, his face still contorted in pain. “My doubles are no ordinary . . .”
“Oh yes, I know that! You prepare a soul, or maybe I should say a core, for each one and transform by wearing them on your real body like Mystic Codes, right? So, you also make each double think and act independently, right? Then, you switch between them in a complicated way while basically running jamming—or you do something like jamming to confuse us, and . . . Man, I had a hard time spotting the pattern! It took a while, but it was really fun!”
“You . . . saw through it? In this short a time . . .?”
Consternation trumped pain on Jester’s face.
“Who the hell are you? No mage should be able to . . . Damn it. First that mercenary knew about my transformations, now this. . . . I guess I shouldn’t expect a Holy Grail war to be easy. . . .”
If the double’s in as much pain as he looks, Hansa decided, the real one might be immobilized by now.
He was curious about what kind of spell Flat had sent the main body, but it was not the time for questions. He held his peace and observed.
As he did so, Jester shifted his attention to him.
“But that’s not important. . . . What matters now is you, priest.”
“What did I do? It’s an honor to get such a shocked reaction just for calling your name. Oh, you don’t have to hide it anymore: You were getting just a little full of yourself, weren’t you?”
“Don’t play dumb!” Jester roared in a voice deeply tinged with hatred and agitation. “You bastard. . . . How did you know . . .?!”
“So, that info was legit,” Hansa answered with a sigh. “Will I have to give official thanks for this? . . . That wouldn’t look good if it got out, considering my position.”
“. . .?”
Jester looked confused. A moment later, however, a different voice filled the room.
“We have no need of your gratitude, bitter foe of ours.”
The voice came from the pocket of Hansa’s cassock.
He reached into it and pulled out a cell phone.
It was not the phone connected to a Lord of the Clock Tower; it was Hansa’s own.
It must have been taking a call on speakerphone the entire time, and the caller whose voice issued from it must have remained silent throughout.
The owner of the voice, which was elegant but gave an impression of incredible depth, stated their reasons for working with Hansa.
“I merely invested in a descendent of an old friend, not in you.”
“That voice . . .”
A dizzying array of expressions flashed across Jester’s face.
Confusion, agitation, anger . . . and then despair.
“As compensation, I request the disposal of waste. That’s all there is to it. You have no cause to thank me.”
Mentally breaking out into a cold sweat at the “voice” that paid him no attention whatsoever, Jester could not help muttering:
“Why . . .?”
“Let me introduce you,” Hansa coolly explained by way of pouring salt in his wounds. “This is the ‘high-level mage’ who agreed to lend me a hand.”
“I don’t believe it. . . . Why would you do this . . .?!”
Jester groaned at the agony coursing through every inch of his body, his face a mask of confusion.
“Oh, that’s simple!” Flat answered without a hint of tension on his face.
“What . . .?”
“I figured a hematophage as strong as you must be pretty famous among other hematophage people, so I figured I’d ask one I know!”
“. . . Huh?”
Jester let out a dumbfounded exclamation. Flat’s tone was carefree that he even forgot the pain he was in.
“And there was only one hematophage I know that I’d exchanged phone numbers with.”
Flat gave a thumbs up, delighted that his prediction had been correct, and announced the name of the person on the other end of the phone call.
“And . . . bingo! I just knew Mr. Van-Fem would know about you!”
Originally Posted by Deathhappens
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