Chapter 19
As Dream and Reality are Both Illusion II
Ayaka Sajou
Why had she visited this city just as the “Fake Holy Grail War” began?
That was something . . . that even she did not know for certain.
While wandering around her hometown of Fuyuki, she had stumbled into a castle-like building in the forest.
There, she had been captured by a beautiful, white-haired woman, and something had been done to her.
Looking back on it, she thought it must have been some kind of mind-control magecraft, but Ayaka did not know much about magecraft and was not sure of the specifics.
The next thing she knew, however, she had been put on a ship to the United States with only the order to “participate in the American Holy Grail War.”
She was not sure why she had had to go by ship, but considering she had no passport, she had almost certainly entered the country illegally.
She had actually been given a fake passport and visa on the ship but had never gone through customs.
Her memories of the voyage were also hazy. Before she knew it, she had been able to speak English. That probably had something to do with magecraft too.
Ayaka had been abandoned on the west coast of the United States in that state and been forced to use what little cash she had been given to make her way toward Snowfield.
The words, “I will erase this ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ that has been seared into you.”
It might have been a form of suggestion that had led her to see hope in something so vague and come all this way for it.
Or maybe she had just been frightened by the all-too-simple—for a curse—threat, “If you run, a curse will devour your life.”
Ayaka.
I’m Sajou . . . Ayaka.
She reminded herself that it was “Ayaka Sajou” in English while repeating “Ayaka” over and over.
While attending university . . . I lived in the Senna Apartments and . . .
University . . .?
Which university?
Her memories were getting hazy.
She could not escape the feeling that all of her memories from her birth to right then were sinking into a dense mist.
No, it was not just a feeling.
Her memories were actually getting hazier, little by little.
Ayaka.
Sajou . . . Ayaka.
I’m Ayaka.
Her identity was fading like a star before the moon. To her . . . that name was a password to hold herself together.
X X
The Present, the City in the Ward-world
A wind drew closer.
A wind drew closer.
A wind of death that threatened to blow away Ayaka’s life along with the memories wavering like mist within her.
“Oh . . .”
She was not able to react.
A giant dog, bigger than a house, made a high-speed swipe with claws like the arm of an excavator and kicked up a fierce blast of wind on the street.
How much time had passed since the giant, three-headed beast—Kerberos—began to attack the police for?
Part of her felt like it had been just a few minutes, while another part felt like it had been more than half an hour.
Ayaka had followed Saber’s instructions and taken shelter inside a nearby building, but the building’s interior had begun to collapse in the aftermath of the massive beast’s attacks.
The instant that she hurriedly fled outside, she found Kerberos blocking her path as if it had been waiting for her.
Each of Kerberos’ claws reminded her of a sharpened sword.
If they touched her, she would die.
By the time that fact sunk in, the claws were already just a few meters in front of Ayaka.
No matter what she did at that point, it was too late to dodge them.
Huh?
What am I . . .?
Could the reason that the fact that her name was Sajou Ayaka had popped into her head . . . been her life flashing before her eyes because her brain had sensed that she was about to disappear?
With her memories hazy, it had been just her name that flashed through her mind and not her whole life.
“. . .”
Her body stiffened.
But in front of her . . . not a memory of the past, but the indisputable present appeared to sweep aside the approaching despair.
There was a loud crash, and the severed tip of a sword-like claw went sailing through the air.
“Saber!”
“Are you all right, Ayaka?”
Saber was holding what looked like a halberd.
It was letting off an obviously unusual light. Even an amateur like Ayaka could tell that it was not a normal weapon.
But it was not the sword Saber had originally had with him.
His original ornate sword had been confiscated by the police, and he had lost the decorative sword from the mansion in his battle with the golden Heroic Spirit.
“Hey . . . that’s mine!” A nearby policeman with a short afro shouted.
He stared wide-eyed from his own hands to the weapon in Saber’s. Ayaka realized that Saber must have snatched it from him.
“Sorry! I borrowed it! It was an emergency, so I’d appreciate it if you’d let it go!”
Saber lightly tossed the weapon back to the policeman, who hurriedly caught it and shot a sharp glance at Saber. But, seeing Ayaka unhurt, he readied his weapon to fight again without another word.
“Just this once. Next time, I’ll arrest you for theft.”
“How frightening! I wouldn’t want to be hanged!” Saber laughed as he casually picked the demonic beast’s severed claw off the ground at his feet.
“Huh? What do you . . .?”
Ayaka had barely opened her mouth before saber gripped the tip of the claw and swung it like a baseball bat.
“Ex . . . calibur . . .!”
The demonic beast claw he had picked up glowed brighter for an instant and released a band of light.
The slash of light sliced through Main Steet toward the intersection where the demonic beast held its position.
It plunged into the demonic beast’s flank and made its massive form stagger, splattering black blood.
“Did that do it?!”
“. . . No, it doesn’t seem to have had much effect,” Vera coolly answered John.
It was not just a matter of size.
Its toughness, the sharpness of its claws, and the intensity of the aura of death that shrouded it were raised far above what they had been when they encountered it in front of the hospital.
Almost as if to prove with that power that this world was the demonic beast’s proper home ground.
The nearby police officers and Ayaka expected Saber to follow up with another strike, but he stood the giant beast’s claw on the ground, still holding onto it, and, in a clear voice, asked the behemoth a question.
“O watchdog, guardian of the bottomless pit! Listen, if you have sense! And answer my question!”
“Huh?”
“. . .?!”
Ayaka let out a baffled exclamation, and Vera, John, and the other police officers stared wide-eyed at Saber’s face.
Saber paid them no mind and bellowed as if he were exchanging introductions with an enemy general on the battlefield.
“We are not souls who turn our back on the underworld and struggle against judgment and tranquility! We are living men who will one day meet our deaths as we walk the righteous path! You may judge me, a Heroic Spirit, to be a soul escaped from death if you will! The rest, however, are undeniably alive! If you are the sworn and loyal companion of the lord of the underworld, I ask that you do your proper duty! What say you?!”
He cut an impossibly majestic figure.
Even the bewildered Ayaka was almost drawn in by his performance in an instant.
His bearing was just that regal. He was showing a different side of himself than when he had discussed whether to kill a little girl or when he had sworn to protect Ayaka.
If she had to compare it to something, it was closer to when he had given his speech on top of the police car, but the fact that he was giving a speech in such a dangerous situation and to a titanic beast that might not even understand words set it apart.
Despite that, Saber’s attitude was so dignified that it almost forced Ayaka and the police officers to believe that it was the only proper thing to do.
“. . .”
Kerberos stared suspiciously at Saber and slowly brought its faces closer to him.
“Hey, it stopped attacking.”
“Don’t tell me it really understands language . . .”
John and the other officers muttered to each other as they watched the situation play out. Kerberos brought its three faces close to Saber and began to sniff him.
Even with massive jaws that looked big enough to swallow a cow whole closing in on him from three sides, Saber continued to stand stock still, not moving a muscle.
Before long, Kerberos wriggled its three heads. No sooner had its heads exchanged looks . . . than its massive bulk reared back and its three heads pointed skyward and let out a resounding howl.
“Grrrrrrooooooooooaaaaaa . . .”
The trio of howls conveyed as much heat as if it were breathing fire.
Ayaka could not help flinching. Strangely, however, she felt no urge to run.
She may have instinctively sensed that the safest place in the ward-world . . . was that intersection where the most “fighting strength” was gathered.
But she still could not shake her unease.
In fact, the scene that unfolded before her eyes an instant later threatened to overwhelm her with pure terror.
The howls rang out and the space around them shook.
Then, as if in time with those vibrations, “shadows” began to rise throughout the city.
Sunless back alleys, beneath parked cars, the underground spaces that spread below manholes.
Something like a black mist rose from everywhere and began to solidify into countless clumps around the intersection.
Soon, they collected in a few places. In each of those places, shockingly, they manifested as beings identical to the Kerberos that was already dominating the area.
“What the . . .”
John broke into a cold sweat as he surveyed his surroundings.
Where a moment before there had been a single massive, three-headed beast, now there were countless more. They towered on top of buildings and over streets, completely surrounding the officers, Richard, and Ayaka.
The city that had been quiet a few minutes before was suddenly shrouded in the presence of death.
The pack of giant beasts did not rampage. They just silently watched with eyes full of deep darkness.
And that was not all. The “shadows” created at the feet of the pack also writhed and became new black mist, covering the area like clouds of flies.
“. . .” “Z . . .” “r . . .” “. . . oh.”
“. . .” “. . . z . . . Ah.”
“. . .” “. . . —” “Z.” “. . . g . . .” “. . .”
A noise like buzzing insects reverberated through the intersection.
The black mist combined with the sound reminded all of them of a swarm of flies and brought out an even thicker atmosphere of death in that world.
The next instant . . . the noise became a meaningful “voice” that beat on the eardrums of the surrounded group.
“Living ones.” “You who were living.”
“Attention.”
“There is no life” “in you.”
Then.
The “shadows” began to spread through the city.
As if to reveal that world’s true form.
Or as if to conceal its truth from “someone.”
X X
“Oh, good. It’s started mixing nicely. . . .” The figure that had been watching events from the roof of a building a short distance away from the intersection where Saber’s group was—Jester Karture in the form of a young boy—muttered with a look of ecstasy as he watched the changing cityscape.
“The guard dog of Hades was a surprise. Tsubaki’s Rider made a real find.”
Jester spoke in childish tones with a twisted grin on his face that was anything but innocent as he turned his senses to the state of the city.
“. . . Hmm. So, that’s where you’re going, Miss Assassin.”
Sensing Assassin’s magical energy moving toward the building in the center of the city through his back, Jester twisted the corners of his mouth, exposing a glimpse of sharp canine teeth.
“I guess you haven’t given up hope yet.”
“Maybe I should give you one more push.”
X X
The City in the Ward, the Kuruoka Residence
“Who’s there? Where are you?”
As if in answer, an androgynous voice reached Tsubaki’s ears from somewhere in the house.
“Hehehe. Try to find me, young lady.”
As if lured by that voice, Tsubaki began to stumble awkwardly through the house.
“Actually, I do rather need you to find me.”
“?”
“What is happening in the present world? The fact that my consciousness, which ought to have dissolved into the world, has surfaced means that it’s something extraordinary. Zheng . . . must be in either the underworld or the land of the immortals, but is there no one left who knows me?”
The voice did not seem to be speaking to Tsubaki so much as analyzing the situation to itself.
“No. . . . I can sense several presences reminiscent of the Age of Gods. . . . In the sky is . . . oh, an incarnation of the ‘watcher,’ who is an ancestor, stranger, and dependent to me. Is another a god of the west? A nature deity . . . No, a part of one . . .? I also sense an incredible volume of water approaching from far to the west, but is it all coincidence, or inevitability?”
“? ?”
“Do you mean to test me? Very well, world mingled with the Human Order. O world of man, incomplete yet flawless, I accept your challenge! Wait, myself—do not be hasty; do not lose! All things in heaven and earth, be elegant and refined as a burbling brook. . . .”
“??? Umm . . . I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Tsubaki was confused by the words. The “voice” fell silent for a moment, seemingly troubled by her lack of comprehension, before continuing.
“Oh, pardon me. . . . I’m in a fix. Would you help me?”
“Help you how?”
“Let’s play hide and seek! If you find me, you win. OK?”
“Hide and seek!”
“All right. One, two, three, four . . . I’m ready now. If you find me, I’ll give you sweet, sweet syrup, all right?”
“! . . . OK!”
From a normal perspective, it sounded like nothing so much as a shady kidnapper.
Tsubaki might not know much of life, but even she would normally have been frightened and gone to call her parents. For some reason, however, she obeyed the “voice.”
Tsubaki still felt certain that the voice was a “friend.”
It was a gentle voice that envelop her.
Almost like the voices of her parents that she had been longing for all this time.
Tsubaki walked around the house as she was guided and ended up standing in front of a wall.
“? But you sound like you’re over this way . . .”
Tsubaki perceived the “presence” of the voice’s owner by mistakenly believing that she could hear the voice coming from its direction. She came to a stop there, confused, when . . .
“Yes, it’s fine. . . . Try asking the wall to let you through.”
“Huh? Umm . . .”
“Don’t worry. Your mommy and daddy can use magecraft, can’t they? You can use it to.”
“! Yeah!”
Tsubaki gave a firm nod, then faced the “wall” and made a wish.
“Umm . . . Please, open sesame!”
She shouted words from a folk tale from a far-away land that she had read in the past few days.
Then, Tsubaki felt her whole body grow hot.
It ran along her back—right where she had felt intense pain a long time ago, when her parents had done something that they called an “experiment” with her. Tsubaki was surprised for a moment, but there was no pain, just a warmth like gentle sunshine that coursed silently through her body.
Magical energy began flowing out of Tsubaki and into the wall without her even realizing that the feeling was her Magic Circuits responding.
The next instant, the wall squirmed like a living thing and spread open, revealing a staircase down into the house’s basement.
“Wow. . . .”
Tsubaki’s eyes sparkled at the mysterious scene before her.
“Now, do you think you can find me, princess?”
Guided again by the voice, Tsubaki slowly began to descend the stairs.
Then, after passing through several more wards, all of which were automatically lifted in the same way, she found . . . a mage’s workshop decorated with numerous books and Mystic Codes and a variety of experimental apparatus.
“Ah . . .”
Tsubaki shivered with surprise.
No.
She remembered this place.
This place is . . .
Deep inside this room was where she had always gone to “help out.”
No. No.
To “help out” with her mother and father’s “experiments.”
The memory of pain raced through her brain again.
“Eee . . .”
I have to hold it in.
I have to be a good girl. I have to hold it in . . . or Mom and Dad won’t smile at me.
It was like a backlash.
For the past few days, she had experienced the “happy times” that she had childishly continued to dream of.
The pain that the young girl had only been able to forget because of those joyful experiences came back to her.
Tsubaki’s negative memories and emotions flooded out like a dam had burst and her eyes filled with tears, when . . .
“Hi.”
A voice.
A voice sounded in the room where she was on the verge of being consumed by her past trauma.
It was just one word.
But that one word was enough to make the fear welling up out of Tsubaki’s heart dissipate like mist.
It was the voice that, until just then, Tsubaki had only heard in her mind.
But now it was different.
The clear voice definitely making the air in the room vibrate.
“It looks like you found me. Here, have some candy syrup.”
The graceful hand stretched out to Tsubaki held something like honey stored in a bivalve shell.
The owner of the hand was . . . a beautiful being.
They had an androgynous appearance and Tsubaki could not tell if they were a man or a woman.
If she had seen Enkidu, she might have gotten a similar impression.
Unlike the plainly dressed Enkidu, however, this being was shrouded in an aura of opulence produced by their distinctive makeup and glamorous red clothing. The moment Tsubaki laid eyes on them, she wondered if they were the king or queen of some foreign country.
“Uh, umm . . . Are you an important person?” Tsubaki could not help asking in the face of the dazzling being who was so out of place in that room.
“Not quite,” the beauty answered. “I was important a long time ago, and I’m not a person, either. You see, I was in a place divorced from questions of social status and . . .”
“?”
“Oh, I started talking about difficult subjects again. I’m sorry. It’s been two millennia and a few centuries since I spoke with a human, you see. Actually, I’m something like an echo, so that’s not strictly true. . . . Oh, I said something you probably can’t understand again! Things like this are why I could never get along with humans and ended up being driven both from dreams and from the water and ebbing away . . .!”
The beauty made a show of collapsing in a corner weeping.
“U-Umm, are you OK?”
Tsubaki forgot her fear and rushed to the beauty and patted their back.
“Thank you, human child. You’re kind.”
The beauty regained their composure and steadied their breathing as they addressed Tsubaki.
“Oh, but you needn’t be so concerned. I can only speak with you for a short time. Still, it’s only you, the ruler of this world, with whom I can make a connection. . . .”
“What’s a ‘ruler of this world’?”
“It’s . . . something like the main character of a fairy tale. . . . Oh, this won’t do. The clumps of ‘death’ are becoming active. . . .”
Tsubaki stared worriedly at the beauty’s look of anguish as she continued to stroke their back.
The beauty forced themselves to smile at the young girl as they pointed to a section of the room.
“Don’t worry. You just need to get that thing.”
Tsubaki saw what their finger was pointing at and looked confused.
Tsubaki could not tell what it was for.
She thought it looked a lot like the “bows” that people used in picture books.
It had a more complicated shape, though. She thought that the hunter who beat the wolf at the end of her picture book of Little Red Riding Hood might have had one.
“That thing there is called the God-Felling Crossbow. It’s a scary, scary weapon that belonged to a whimsical human who was a very important king a long time ago. . . . Actually, he was the first one to call himself a king among kings, an ‘emperor.’”
“A weapon. . . . Did he beat bad guys with it?”
“I’m the one he beat with it . . . but I suppose he did, according to the values of humans at the time.”
The beauty answered, sounding embarrassed and looking away from Tsubaki, who was staring bright-eyed at the crossbow.
“Well, that doesn’t matter,” they continued, as if to gloss over the point. “As long as you keep it with you, I’ll be able to help you for the brief time until a disappear. I just want to know what’s happening. If you bring me outside, I’ll grant you a wish as thanks.”
“. . . OK!”
Tsubaki did not understand what everything they had said meant, but she did understand that a strange person who made her feel safe, like family, was saying that they would grant her wish.
Memories of picture books like Cinderella danced through Tsubaki’s head as she innocently tried to lift the crossbow . . . but it was heavier than it looked, and she staggered and fell on her bottom.
“Oh, that was a close one! You’re not hurt, are you?”
“. . . No,” Tsubaki answered with a little difficulty.
She tried to stagger to her feet, but Tsubaki was small even for her age, and it looked like it was all she could do just to drag the crossbow behind her.
“You can’t walk carrying it . . .? Ugh . . . I hadn’t counted on how weak humans are. . . . Damn Zheng! He piled on too many Mystic Codes and decorations to shoot me! This is clearly overkill! Between this, the Great Wall, and the Epang Palace he was building, did he think everything needed to be big and showy? Honestly . . .”
The beauty was lambasting someone or other when they suddenly seemed to get an idea.
“Wait. In this world, you’re the ‘ruler’ . . . so if you believe it’s light, you should be able to carry it easily. . . . But still, does this girl not realize she’s in a dream yet . . .?”
The beauty kept their last words to a whisper so that Tsubaki would not hear them.
“I know, you should call someone to help you. It can be your father or mother. I’m sure they’ll help you if you ask them.”
“Are you sure . . .?”
“Look, someone’s here. Try asking them,” the beauty proposed, hearing footsteps from the direction of the stairs.
“OK. . . . Ah.”
Tsubaki expected her mother or father, who had been very nice to her for the past few days, and was ready to ask them . . . but the person who appeared on the stairs was neither of her parents.
“So, this is where you were. . . . Is this your family’s workshop . . .?”
The mercenary dressed all in black, Sigma, first caught sight of Tsubaki . . .
“. . .! Who are you?”
And then noticed the beauty behind her and assumed a defensive posture and watched to see if they were hostile. After seeing their magnificent red outfit, however, he doubtfully muttered:
“The inquisition . . .?”
X X
The City in the Ward, Crystal Hill, Top Floor
“Oh, hello, Professor! It’s me! You know, me!”
“Flat?! This response is . . . What’s going on?! Where are you calling from?!”
A cell phone rested atop a makeshift “altar.”
It was on speaker mode, and a man’s voice, in tones of mingled relief and confusion, emanated from it.
“Oh, sir! Sorry I took so long to call you. I’m, umm, not really sure. It’s almost like I’m in a dream, or . . .”
“. . . What? Don’t tell me you actually overslept and forgot to call me?!”
“What?! No! What do you mean?! That’s not what I meant! I meant I’m, umm, in a ward. Yes, I’m inside a ward! It’s kind of like the ‘repeat of the past’ you and Gray got trapped inside in that cemetery in Wales, only this one is a ‘repeat of the present.’ . . .”
“. . .? Wait, hold on a moment! Calm down and explain the situation from the beginning.”
Flat broke into a delighted grin when he heard the voice of the man—Lord El-Melloi II—return to the normal tone he used to reprimand students.
He smiled because he knew that despite the situation—or because of the situation—he would be able to hear an El-Melloi School “lecture” in top form.
He also smiled because he had faith that the lecture would lead to a way out of his current predicament.
Of course, whether Flat could make that way succeed or not would depend on him.
Once he had heard the whole story, the Lord of the Clock Tower made an enigmatic pronouncement.
“Most likely . . . an underworld.”
Flat was visibly confused by El-Melloi II’s statement.
“H-Hang on, sir! Wouldn’t that mean we’re already dead?!”
“Be quiet for a moment, Flat. And . . . may I take it that you will be cooperative with regard to escaping, overseer?”
“Yeah, although I won’t interfere in factional conflicts. Besides, the Holy Church owes you a few favors. You saved Sister Illumia, who I seem to be stuck with, and . . .”
“No, if we’re talking about personal debts, I was also saved by Father Karabo. But it would be unbecoming of both of us to discuss those as obligations between our organizations. In this case, I will be satisfied if you assist my student in your capacity as overseer. I have no intention of asking you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
Hansa answered with a wry smile and a shake of his head.
“Flat, the rumors about your teacher were right—he doesn’t act much like a mage. I can’t believe he survived in that den of demons you call the Clock Tower acting like that.”
“. . . I was simply blessed with good fortune and connections. I don’t need anyone to tell me how lacking my own powers are.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was a compliment. That attitude of yours is probably what convinced some of my colleagues and predecessors to lend you a hand. A debt is a debt, even if you try to deny it. I’ll pay back what I can on my own. If you ever turn into a hematophage, I’ll try to look the other way as long as you don’t do any harm.”
“. . . I see you’re a bit atypical for a priest of the Holy Church yourself. Although of course, I have neither the inclination nor the ability to become a hematophage,” El-Melloi II answered in apparent exasperation before resuming his explanation.
“When I said ‘underworld,’ I of course did not mean that you really died. I was describing the nature of the area within that ward.”
“What do you mean? It doesn’t seem much like hell or heaven to me.”
“I’m well aware that you didn’t pay attention in class, Flat. Now, get rid of those commonplace preconceptions. Remember that this is partly guesswork, but I believe that area has its origins in the Magic Circuits and mind of the girl Kuruoka Tsubaki. If the demonic—or possibly divine—beast that Father Cervantes saw at a distance, that Kerberos, was invigorated in that world, then it probably has the ‘nature’ of an underworld.”
“You mean, they match each other?”
“When Flat it was like he was ‘in a dream,’ he hit the nail on the head. There are also cases in which dreams are perceived as an afterlife, in a mystical sense. The Servant of the comatose girl Kuruoka Tsubaki created a pseudo-underworld using her dreams as a catalyst. . . . There are other conceivable explanations, of course, but adding the information I’ve gathered to what you told me, I think it’s fair to say that that’s the most likely.”
At that point, Hansa, who had kept silent thus far, asked a question.
“Hmm . . . Given my position, I can’t discuss the plurality of ‘afterlives’ . . . but do you mean that this is an underworld that mirrors the real city?”
“There are any number of underworlds that resemble the living world. In fact, the tombs of pharaohs, emperors, and the like are themselves rituals to carry a city with them to the underworld. There are numerous accounts of people who saw their ancestors engaged in an identical way of life in identical locations after death. And the fact the creator of this ward-world made it an exact duplicate of the place inhabited by the living suggests that it is an extremely systematic entity, even for a Servant. The fact that it took Kerberos into that world suggests that it may be continuing to evolve as we speak.”
“Evolve? What do you mean, sir?”
“That Heroic Spirit is likely the concept of death itself. An embodiment of the underworld. A deity of the underworld such as Hades, Hel, Nergal, or Ereshkigal . . . No, it’s not possible to summon a Spirit Origin of that caliber . . . or it shouldn’t be. Besides, the ruler of an underworld would make that ward-world more closely resemble their own domain. It’s probably something less tied to an underworld . . . and closer to the concept of death itself.”
El-Melloi II then proceeded to dissect the ward-world he had never seen as smoothly as if he were reading a predetermined conclusion off a blackboard.
“That Servant’s personality has likely continued to learn since the moment it was summoned by adapting to its Master Kuruoka Tsubaki’s reactions. It’s possible that it could become a completely different entity each time it’s summoned. Given that the summoning of a Ghost-Liner is already a rare event, however, we have no basis for comparison. But now that you have entered its world as new, foreign entities, it may display a different type of learning.”
“But why aren’t we brainwashed, sir?” Flat interjected.
They had passed people in an apparently brainwashed state on their way to that building.
Both Flat and Hansa had been wary of them and prepared defensive measures, but there was as yet no sign of a brainwashing spell being directed at them.
“There must be some difference. There are so many different methods of brainwashing that it’s impossible to guess, but we can narrow it down by focusing on the question of why it doesn’t brainwash you.”
“Yes! A whydunit, right?! It’s your catchphrase!”
“Oh, a ‘whydunit,’ huh? True, we already know ‘whodunit,’ and as long as magecraft is involved, ‘howdunit’ is pointless. Still, if that’s your catchphrase, you sound like more of a detective than a mage.”
El-Melloi II stammered for a moment at Hansa’s remark, then coughed and continued:
“Don’t. I’m simply using the knowledge I’ve acquired for analysis. If I had a detective’s insight or inspiration, my life would be rather different. . . . In any case, I believe that the reason you haven’t been brainwashed lies in the reason you were taken into that world.”
El-Melloi II proceeded to highlight the phenomenon of people who left the city returning while behaving strangely, the mysterious disease infecting animals, and other strange occurrences.
According to information from Flue, a mage of his acquaintance, while there were individual differences, there were cases of symptoms resembling internal bleeding among both humans and animals.
Based on that information, El-Melloi II theorized that there was “a distinction between those infected with a disease-like curse, who had only their minds brought to that world, and those who were dragged into it by force, body and all.”
“It’s highly probable that the latter is the result of treating you as enemies. The former also appears to be a hostile act . . . but those affected suffer no physical harm, and there’s no indication that it’s using them in the Grail War. It’s probable that it’s simply using unusual means and has no hostile intent.”
“Oh, you see that all the time at the Clock Tower. People who think they’re doing the right thing when, from everyone else’s perspective, it’s just a huge nuisance.”
“I’d like to yell that you’re one to talk, but I’ll refrain for the time being. In any case, there are several conceivable ways to exit that world . . . but I suppose waiting for it to run out of magical energy isn’t realistic. Judging from the circumstances, defeating the Servant and Master should be the quickest option. But given that you’ve formed an alliance with the police to take the girl Master under your protection, you can’t do anything that would endanger her.”
Even if there weren’t an alliance, wouldn’t he have found some excuse to eliminate that option? Both Jack and Hansa wondered. Even if they tried to point that out, however, they felt certain that El-Melloi II would just dodge the question, so they simply shrugged and continued to listen. Half of the nuns, on the other hand, were wondering, far more logically than El-Melloi II, why they didn’t just eliminate the Master.
“Negotiating with the girl Tsubaki without harming her and convincing her to open a way out for you herself . . . is a possibility, but the question is whether she’s even aware that she’s a Master. If you use suggestion or other means to force her, her Servant may perceive it as a hostile act and make a more active attempt to eliminate you.”
“Should we negotiate with the Servant, then?”
“I already told you—it’s mostly likely closer to a system than a being with a distinct personality. Whatever it is, it would be best to avoid making contact with it before we can be certain of the result. That also applies to combat, of course. You got a good look at how frightening that Servant can be last night.”
After reminding them not to be reckless, El-Melloi II was far more wary of the being that controlled the space Flat and the others currently occupied than anyone actually present.
He had, after all, accompanied the Heroic Spirit who had once fought alongside him into his Reality Marble, and the awesome sight was seared into his memory.
“If that world corresponds to the underworld and the Servant is something associated with it, then you have nowhere to run, at least within that ward. Death is everywhere, not just in the land of the dead. Mystically speaking, the concept of death exists even in air, water, stone, and earth. That room is no exception.”
Once he had finished that grave pronouncement, El-Melloi II drove his point home by urging Flat and the others to be cautious.
“In other words, that place has always been inside the Heroic Spirit’s body. You’re like Pinocchio swallowed by the whale.”
“In a whale’s belly, huh? That’s great!”
“What’s ‘great’ about it?!”
Flat’s wild remark drew a shout from El-Melloi II, but Flat continued, his eyes sparkling.
“Didn’t you tell us in class that a hero’s return from certain death is a kind of return to the womb? And about the ritual themed around death and rebirth that everyone goes through when they reach the rank of Pride. And about someone who got eaten by a giant fish then spit out and awakened to faith and became superhero and saved a city . . .”
“Don’t tell me you mean the prophet Jonah and Leviathan. It’s true that heroic tales such as giant fishes, labyrinths, and the land of the dead have frequently been linked to return to the womb . . . but I hope you don’t plan to turn in a report with that sloppy understanding! Oh well, your supplemental lecture on that can wait.”
The exasperated El-Melloi II changed the topic to concrete examples of escape.
“The fact that the room you’re in is linked to the outside probably means that there’s something that harmonizes well with that world in the same location in reality. The most likely possibility is a corpse, but I doubt the influence of an ordinary corpse would extend inside the ward. It must be a corpse under some kind of mystical influence . . . or else the conditions must be right to make it harmonize better with the Servant that’s creating this world. You said that room looks like a workshop. What are its characteristics?”
“Well, there are a lot of decorations and things that look Mesopotamian.”
“. . .! I see. If that workshop does belong to that Heroic Spirit’s faction, then asking the chief of police to go there for us would be asking him to go to his death. . . . In that case, we should investigate the Heroic Spirit’s characteristics from within. I don’t like using them as decoys, but if you’re right that a hero from another faction is doing battle with Kerberos in the city, then I suggest you take the opportunity to visit the girl’s hospital room or the home of the mages called Kuruo—”
When the voice from the speaker reached that point, one of the nuns keeping watch in all directions shouted:
“Hansa!”
“What is it?”
“Something’s climbing from below! I think it’s a Servant!”
An instant later . . .
One of the glass walls shattered into tiny fragments and a figure stole into the room from outside.
“Uwawah?!”
“What is it, Flat?! What happened?!”
A frantic shout came from the speaker.
Hansa neatly cleared away the flying shards of window glass by striking with his arms at high speed, then addressed the figure that had appeared through the window.
“Whoa there. . . . So, you ended up here too.”
“I saw you in the guardhouse. . . . Are you a foreign priest?”
The newly arrived Assassin shot a glance at Hansa, then surveyed her surroundings as if to say that she would deal with him later before focusing on Flat, who had what looked like Command Spells on his right hand.
“I ask you.”
“Oh, um, hi! Oh, are you a Servant, by any chance? Wow!”
“Are you another of the mages who seek the Holy Grail . . .?”
The question puzzled Flat for a moment. He pondered briefly before answering.
“Hmm. I’m not sure. At first, I wanted it because it was cool, but now . . . my Servant is in trouble, so I guess it would be nice if I could use the Grail to fix that. I wonder what I should do in the end. It’s supposed to be valuable, so do you think I should donate it to a museum or something?”
Getting a question for an answer, Assassin narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Flat.
“. . .”
He did not look like he was lying or trying to provoke her.
It was difficult to believe, but he appeared to be genuinely wondering if he ought to donate the Grail to a museum.
“Are you . . . a mage?”
Assassin glared at Flat for a short while with an expression that said she could not decide if she ought to eliminate him.
As if to help Flat out of that predicament, Hansa loudly clapped his hands and drew her attention to him.
“I believe you seek the way of another faith than mine. I’m here to oversee this Holy Grail War, but it doesn’t look like they have any intention of fighting it. Not until we make it out of this ward-world, at least. I told you that to mediate in my role as overseer, but of course that doesn’t limit your actions,” Hansa said with a shrug.
If Assassin seriously came after him with the intent to kill, then he was probably doomed. He could take on hematophages due to affinity. Against a martial Heroic Spirit, however, he would be the one at a disadvantage.
Nevertheless, he made no move to shrink or hide. He boldly addressed Assassin in order to carry out the orders of the master who had been like a father to him and do his duty as overseer.
“. . .”
Assassin eyed Hansa warily, but not with enmity.
Fortunately for Flat and Hansa, she currently felt indebted due to having manifested using the magical energy of an “evil fiend” and had made a pact with someone who was not one of her brethren—with “The Lionheart” of all people. Those circumstances must have made her view other with greater tolerance than she had on the first day.
Even so, there was a line that she was unwilling to cross.
“. . . One question: How do you plan to open a way to the outside?”
Her question was posed in a solemn tone.
Even flat sensed that, “Oh, this is one of those questions that raises a death flag if you get it wrong.” He hesitated to answer for a moment . . .
But the answer came from the phone on the altar, which had been left on speaker mode.
“We had just agreed on a policy of avoiding violence as much as possible. If you want to escape even if it means harming a young girl, we have no means of stopping you, but allow me to explain that there is another way.”
“. . . Who are you?”
“Something like that boy’s guardian. I realize that it’s selfish of me to ask you to believe what I say when I’m not there myself, but . . .”
“. . .”
Assassin considered for a while, then, still somewhat warily, asked:
“If there is a way for her life to be saved, then that is the Lord’s will. I will at least hear you out.”
Flat and Berserker, who was in his wristwatch form, were relieved to see that Assassin was willing to listen.
But as if to smash that atmosphere, a young voice wafted into the room on the mild breeze.
“It’s hopeless, Miss.”
“!”
They all turned to face the voice.
They saw a cloud of smoke, like a black mist. It soon began taking the shape of a human figure as a variety of colors emerged from it.
“That ‘way’ doesn’t exist in this world that little Tsubaki made.”
It was the slight form of a young boy.
The sinister magical energy that surrounded his body, however, showed that he was not what he seemed.
When Hansa saw that, he affectedly clicked his tongue and then raised the corners of his mouth.
“What have we here? Are you sure you don’t want to hide your magical energy, like you did at the hotel? You must be confident to come here in person and spoil your trick.”
“I had a feeling I was being watched earlier. I won’t let down my guard with you, executor. I doubt the same trick would work twice. Besides . . .”
The boy stifled a sinister chuckle and shifted his gaze to Assassin before continuing with a look of ecstasy.
“I want to see all sorts of looks on Miss Assassin’s face as soon as possible. . . . See?”
By the time he said that, Assassin was already in motion.
One look at his expression and the magical energy that surrounded him told her that he was the hematophage who had summoned her—Jester Karture.
Her black cloak glided around the ground. A knife-hand shot out of its folds, aimed at the boy’s neck.
But while her blade-like fingertips did indeed pierce Jester’s body, she could feel no resistance.
“?!”
The boy’s body dissolved into mist and reformed a short distance away.
When it reformed, however, it was no longer the boy, but the young man hematophage who had appeared at the police station and in front of the hospital.
“Hahaha! Did you really think I’d come to meet my enemies in person like a simpleton? You’re adorable, Assassin. Of course, I did want to come myself! You’re correct! You might even say our hearts are in sync. I’m sorry to let you down, my dear Assassin! But can’t you understand that heartache it cost me to send a false body to see you?”
Jester continued to ramble narcissistically with a mixture of ecstasy and sorrow.
Hansa guessed that it was not just provocation—he probably meant it. From behind him, the concerned voice of El-Melloi II sounded over the phone.
“Oi, Flat, what am I hearing right now?!”
“I’m not really sure . . . but I think it’s a confession of love!”
Jester did not seem to hear the banter between teacher and student. He kept his attention fixed on Assassin as he excitedly spread his arms wide with the broken window behind him.
Jester bowed deeply with the air of a conductor greeting his audience before a performance. Just then . . .
Behind him, the world twisted.
X X
A Closed-off World, Central Intersection
“What happened?!”
Surrounded on all sides by Kerberos and black grotesqueries, Saber and the police officers found themselves locked in a stalemate.
They had been holding the line against the beasts that repeated what sounded like an eerie chant, now advancing, now retreating. Ever since Saber had asked his questions, however, the things had stopped actively attacking them and shifted to preventing them from leaving the intersection.
But less than a minute earlier, that situation had changed.
It was not just their circumstances—the whole world seemed to be starting to transform.
Hordes of rats burst out of every nook and cranny in the brand-new concrete cityscape, and what looked like clouds of black dust became visible in the gusts of wind between the tall buildings.
Murders of crows flew around the area. Symbols of death were overtaking not just the intersection, but the entire cityscape.
At the same time, the demonic beasts’ attacks intensified . . . and the groups of words chanted out of every shadow in the city was becoming a deafening roar in Ayaka and the other’s ears.
It was as if that whole world were screaming in pain.
Or as if it were a newborn letting out its first cry.
“This is” “the path of death.”
“The underworld.” “The road to Hades.”
“Its judgment,” “Its gospel,”
“is eternal peace.” “is suffering.”
X X
A Closed-off World, in the Sky
The ward-world linked to Kuruoka Tsubaki.
It was a closed-off, limited space on the scale of a city. Even its sky had a boundary.
The blue of its sky was merely the real world projected on the border of the ward. Anyone on the ground who attempted to escape in an airplane or helicopter should have been turned around by the same distorted space that stopped anyone who tried to leave the city on foot.
But that “sky” was being silently invaded.
Like a stain spreading on the ceiling of an old house with a leaky roof, that “abnormality” continued to spread slowly but steadily.
Soon, a section of sky was cut away . . . and a man and woman emerged from it hand in hand.
They immediately entered freefall.
“Oh! Were we a smidgen late? Hurry up!”
“True, true! It looks like the party’s already underway!”
The two new figures—the True Caster faction, Francesca and Francois—were clasping each other’s hands like lovers as they continued to plummet upside down.
Before their eyes was a Snowfield recreated like a mirror image.
But that world was already in the process of becoming completely detached from Snowfield.
Beginning in the city center, it was gradually losing its color, and a jet-black darkness was beginning to spread across it.
Black shadows that rose from the ground became black clouds that began to cover the city.
The two Prelatis continued to laugh with delight as they plunged into the midst of the rising jet-black cumulonimbus clouds.
As they laughed within the cloudbank, instead of thunder, they heard the cries of the ward-world itself.
“Be at peace.”
“Suffer torments.”
“With the road to Hades in my thrall.”
“I shall defend my master.”
“The Holy Grail.”
“The Holy Grail.”
“Deliver it to my master.”
“To my friend.”
“The Holy Grail.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?! This sounds like a world worth tricking!” Francesca shouted amid the clouds, her eyes blazing.
Before long, the pair’s fall abruptly slowed until at last they were floating lightly in midair.
Using the highest caliber of illusion wielded by Heroic Spirits, they had performed the nearly rule-breaking feat of fooling the world’s physical laws.
“Ahaha! Fooling this world’s a piece of cake! I knew it must be built on a dream!”
“But you’d better not get careless,” Francesca answered Prelati with a smirking word of warning. “If it’s based on a dream, then that means it can turn into anything depending on the girl who’s having it.”
They burst out of the clouds, and Francesca laughed with the face of a child looking forward to an event as she looked down on the night-dark world below.
“I hope the Lionheart’s still alive and kicking! That big King Arthur fanboy!”
The pair spoke their last lines in perfect unison.
“Will you just despair, or will rage consume you? . . . We can’t wait to find out!”
X X
A Closed-off World, Crystal Hill, Top Floor
“I am swords.” “I am beasts.” “I am thirst.” “I am hunger.”
“I am the bearer of death.” “I am the player of death.” “I am death.” “I am death.” “Death.” “Death.” “Death.”
The emotionless screams completely filled the space around the top floor.
The world itself was screaming as if it were a single organism and dyeing the city in black.
Assassin’s eyes widened. Flat’s eyes sparkled as he kept up a shouted conversation with the wristwatch and the cellphone. Hansa directed the nuns into formation with gestures as he grimly muttered:
“The way it talks . . . I can’t believe it, but . . .”
Given his position, Hansa could not help but think of a certain passage from The Book of Revelation.
He also considered that it might be a historical person associated with a similar anecdote, but what El-Melloi II had just said about “concepts” flashed through his brain, and he arrived at a guess.
“An embodiment of death . . . Could it be the Pale Rider, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse . . .?”
Assassin, meanwhile, shouted at Jester’s double, who continued to laugh happily.
“What did you do . . .?”
“Hm? Oh, this isn’t something I did. You must realize by now. I didn’t create this world. Therefore, the one responsible for this beautiful transformation must be . . .”
“I’m not asking about that!”
Assassin already knew what Jester was getting at.
The fact that he was there naturally meant that he understood and wanted to provoke her.
Even knowing that it was provocation, however, Assassin could not help directing her rage at him.
“What did you do to that girl?!”
At the sound of her angry roar, Jester touched one hand to his chest and made a respectful bow, his eyes brimming with desire.
“Oh, thank you. . . . I am truly, truly delighted! Your emotions, your true feelings as a human being, were in that cry. It doesn’t matter that it was hatred. Right now, beyond a doubt, you are looking at me. You seem to be glancing at Kuruoka Tsubaki, but I’m sure that won’t last much longer.”
“I’m asking you what you did!”
“Nothing much,” Jester told Assassin with an unpleasant curl of his lips.
He delivered his answer with all the emotion of a declaration of love. All the while, he watched her every movement.
“I just gave her a little encouragement.”
“To help her chase grand dreams, like a child should.”
Originally Posted by Deathhappens
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