236-240

Chapter 236: The Breakdown of Tohsaka Tokiomi 

"Can you really not understand?" 

Tohsaka Tokiomi frowned. As a classic mage, he firmly believed his actions were justified, and he found the perspectives of Matou Kariya and Riku utterly absurd. 

Ordinary people might struggle to grasp his reasoning, and Tokiomi could accept that. But for Matou Kariya, a fellow mage from a prestigious magical family, to fail to understand? Tokiomi could only conclude that Kariya was an oddity. The fact that Kariya had willingly abandoned his role as the Matou family heir only reinforced Tokiomi’s view that something was off about him. 

"Have you ever considered why he made such an unconventional choice?" 

Riku, exasperated, briefly explained the situation with Matou Zouken. 

To be fair, Tohsaka Tokiomi wasn’t a “bad person.” In fact, he could be seen as a responsible, upright individual. Though his magical circuits weren’t particularly exceptional, his relentless effort led to numerous innovations in magecraft. His magical patents at the Clock Tower generated significant wealth, earning him a reputation as a genius in the Mage’s Association—all through hard work that often went unseen. 

In the magical world, he was well-respected. When dealing with ordinary people, Tokiomi carried a sense of “noblesse oblige,” faithfully fulfilling his duties as a manager of Fuyuki City’s spiritual ley lines. His approach was innovative: he leased spiritual land for commercial use, using magecraft to shield tenants from misfortune, disasters, and spiritual disturbances. This ensured their business success, while he collected rent—a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

This model was a groundbreaking way to manage spiritual land. The Tohsaka family’s gem magecraft was notoriously expensive, practically a pay-to-win system, but under Tokiomi’s management, the family never struggled financially. The financial troubles Rin faced later? Blame Kirei Kotomine, who, having perished in an AOE attack, was clearly no good at management. 

In the eyes of the magical world, Fuyuki City, and those who knew him, Tokiomi’s reputation was impeccable: a genius mage, a reliable friend, a perfect father, an exceptional ley line manager, and a principled modern aristocrat. 

Of course, to Matou Kariya, the “perfect father” label didn’t apply. In his eyes, Tokiomi was more like a “heartless beast.” Kariya’s view was undeniably colored by personal grudges. Though he never said it outright, his feelings for Aoi Zenjou still weighed heavily on him. 

Because of this, Kariya saw Tokiomi through a biased lens. He never even considered explaining things to Tokiomi, having already decided that Tokiomi was the monster who personally threw Sakura into a pit of despair. 

“How could this be? Matou Zouken is that Marisbury Zolgen? To pursue immortality, he’s fallen this far? I… I never imagined…” 

Upon learning the truth, Tokiomi was shaken to his core. His face turned ashen, and his gaze toward Sakura filled with guilt and regret. 

To put it bluntly, Tokiomi could accept Sakura enduring some hardship to adapt her magical attributes. It might waste her rare elemental affinity, but aligning with the Matou family’s magecraft was the best way to inherit their legacy. He believed Sakura would eventually thank him for it. 

But if she couldn’t inherit the Matou legacy and was instead used as a breeding tool to fulfill Zouken’s ambitions? That was utterly unacceptable to Tokiomi. He had wanted to give Sakura a future as the heir of a magical family—a future he saw as far superior to that of an ordinary person. He could stand by that decision with a clear conscience. But now, his actions had taken on a completely different meaning. 

“You know nothing about the Matou family!” 

Seeing Tokiomi’s shaken state, Kariya continued his relentless accusations. This time, Tokiomi didn’t argue back. 

“I… I thought the Matou family could be trusted, at least as a legitimate magical lineage. Adopting an heir isn’t uncommon…” 

Tokiomi shook his head in anguish. He truly hadn’t expected the Matou family to have become so twisted. Suddenly, Kariya’s actions didn’t seem so strange—Kariya had seen through the Matou family’s corruption long ago. 

“Sakura… I’ve failed you.” 

The more Tokiomi thought about it, the more regret and guilt consumed him. He was tormented by his blind trust in Zouken, driven by his respect for tradition. 

As mages, they couldn’t simply pry into another family’s magical secrets. As an upright magical aristocrat, Tokiomi adhered to tradition and trusted the Matou family—one of Fuyuki’s three great families—without doing any background checks. 

“…” 

Tears streamed down Sakura’s face as she looked at her remorseful father. During her torment, as the Commandment Worms gnawed at her, she had fantasized countless times about reuniting with her father, imagining him coming to save her. But those fantasies shattered one by one, giving way to despair. 

Her father never came. Neither did her mother. The one who risked everything to save her was Uncle Kariya. It was Uncle Kariya and Uncle Riku who rescued her and killed the terrifying old man who tormented her. 

At that moment, Sakura could only remember that it was her father who decided to send her to the Matou family, with her mother’s support. Only her sister had cried and begged for her to stay, but Rin’s words couldn’t change the final decision. 

Sakura took a step back, hiding behind Kariya, refusing to look at Tokiomi—the father who had abandoned her. In that year, everything had changed for her. Her small action spoke volumes. 

Riku knew that Tokiomi must have felt the weight of that moment, as if hearing the unspoken question: “Was that half-step back deliberate? Such a small gesture, yet so deeply painful!” The agony was evident on Tokiomi’s face. The elegant mage, who lived by grace, had completely broken down. 

And who could blame him? First, his meticulously planned Holy Grail War ended in defeat on the very first day. Then, he learned he had personally sent his daughter into a nightmare. Misfortune piled upon misfortune, striking a man already down. Tokiomi’s carefully constructed perfect life crumbled in just two days. 

“Well, Tohsaka Tokiomi, look at you now.” 

Seeing the utterly broken Tokiomi, lost in despair, Kariya smirked. He no longer felt the need to keep targeting him. Instead, he took Sakura’s hand and left the room, leaving Tokiomi to Riku. 

Honestly, watching the ever-elegant, “life’s winner” Tohsaka Tokiomi reduced to this state was satisfying enough for Kariya. He’d gotten his revenge. 

But Kariya wasn’t heartless. Since Tokiomi had recognized his mistake, and for Sakura’s sake, Kariya decided to let it go. 

As Kariya and Sakura left, only Riku and Tokiomi remained in the room. Without hesitation, Riku acted. 

Swish! 

A drop of Demon King’s blood entered Tokiomi’s body, beginning the transformation. Tokiomi didn’t resist. For one, he was at the lowest point in his life, feeling like everything was meaningless. For another, he knew he couldn’t defeat Riku and Berserker. Resistance was futile—especially since even the invincible Archer had fallen! 

“What… what is this?!” 

But Tokiomi hadn’t anticipated what came next. Instead of killing him, Riku granted him a new destiny. 

Tokiomi felt his magical circuits change. Not only did their quality improve, but their number increased as well. Once mediocre, he now possessed truly remarkable talent. The transformation left him dumbfounded. 

As a traditional mage, this change was far more shocking to Tokiomi than to someone like Kariya, a half-baked mage. It was even more astonishing than the concept of immortality. The Tohsaka family had encountered immortality before—through their gem magecraft, inherited from Kishua Zelretch Schweinorg, the “Ancestor of Gem Magecraft” and the “Second Magic User,” one of the oldest mages still active since ancient times, standing at the pinnacle of the magical world. 

Tokiomi didn’t know how Zelretch achieved immortality, but the enhancement of his magical circuits was something entirely unprecedented. Even the greatest mages, including Zelretch, couldn’t alter one’s innate talent. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be called talent. 

The Tohsaka family’s founder, Nagato Tohsaka, who had been fortunate enough to meet Zelretch, had poor talent himself. Nagato wasn’t even a formal disciple of Zelretch, merely a student of sorts, taught a few things in passing. Yet, this spared him the fate of Zelretch’s disciples, who were often “broken” by their master—a small stroke of luck. 

Now, Tokiomi felt as fortunate as his ancestor. Just as Nagato had met Zelretch, Tokiomi had encountered Lord Riku. And Riku had given him even more than Zelretch had given Nagato—though, to be fair, the Tohsaka family had never managed to replicate Zelretch’s “Gem Sword,” and their lineage hadn’t produced any truly exceptional mages. 

But destiny’s gifts always come with a price. Now, it was a matter of what Lord Riku wanted from him. Zelretch had asked for nothing, merely staying with the Tohsaka family for a time. But Riku didn’t seem as carefree as Zelretch. 

[Ding! Special Ghost Servant “Tohsaka Tokiomi” acquired.] 

[Ding! Special Trait “Error of This World” acquired. 

“Error of This World”: When activated, enemies will attribute all mistakes to you.] 

The transformation was complete. As expected, Tokiomi was a special ghost servant, but the trait made Riku pause. 

“A scapegoat, huh?” 

Riku’s mouth twitched. The trait was absurdly abstract, but on second thought, it seemed to pair perfectly with Kariya’s “Rebellious Spirit.” 

[“Rebellious Spirit”: When fighting those with opposing views, overall abilities increase by 5%.] 

With “Error of This World” active, “Rebellious Spirit” would almost certainly trigger. Talk about a perfect combo! Kariya and Tokiomi, lifelong rivals, even had complementary special traits. 

“Lord Riku, what does the Tohsaka family need to do?” 

Having reviewed the “contract,” Tokiomi quickly accepted his new identity. His mood had improved significantly. The enhancement of his talent and the gift of immortality were transformative. They gave him the potential to reach the pinnacle on his own, much like the immortal Zelretch. 

As a driven overachiever, Tokiomi had always lacked raw talent. Now, with talent and time, his future seemed bright. Even without the Holy Grail, he could aim for achievements like Zelretch’s. And with immortality, he could participate in the next Holy Grail War in sixty years, pursuing the Root, mastering magic, and grasping the essence of the world. A glorious future beckoned. 

“For now, nothing. Tokiomi, you should understand that you can only move forward. If you don’t achieve greatness or attain extraordinary status, you’ll face a sealing designation or even pursuit by the Holy Church.” 

Riku looked at Tokiomi, unsurprised by his change in attitude. He had given Tokiomi hope—the hope of reaching the Root. 

For a mage, especially a traditionalist like Tokiomi, this was the ultimate lure. It struck at the core of his being. 

The Root, also known as the “Vortex of Origin” or “Akashic Records,” appeared in many works, like the “Gate of Truth” in Fullmetal Alchemist. In simple terms, it contained ultimate knowledge, the cause and effect of everything, a cosmic database of life and mystical knowledge, recording every thought, word, and action, as well as the fundamental laws of the world. 

Few ever reached it—almost none. But now, Tokiomi had a sliver of hope, enough to shift his entire perspective. He would do anything to seize it. 

“I understand, Lord Riku.” 

Tokiomi, as a respected mage and inventor in the Mage’s Association, was far more aware of the risks than Kariya. If the Association discovered the changes in him, a sealing designation was certain. They’d dissect him to uncover the secret of his enhanced circuits. Unless he reached Zelretch’s level, untouchable even by the Association, strength was the only truth. When you’re strong enough, others have to reason with you. 

This gave Tokiomi even more drive. He had to seize this opportunity and grow stronger. 

Chapter 237: A Great Battle on the Verge of Breaking Out 

"You don’t need to force things with Sakura. Let the kid decide for herself. Kariya Matou will take good care of her." 

Looking at the self-assured Tokiomi Tohsaka, Riku spoke bluntly. When it comes to who a child stays with, it’s always best to respect their wishes. A forced melon is never sweet. 

"...I understand." 

Tokiomi nodded, his expression tinged with helplessness. Clearly, he was thinking about how Sakura had just rejected him. As her biological father—one who believed he loved her dearly—this rejection stung.  

Still, he understood now that Kariya Matou must also be one of Riku’s subordinates. With Sakura by Kariya’s side, her safety was assured. 

Taking a step back, Kariya actually had an advantage over him. Tokiomi was a prominent figure in the Clock Tower and the Mage’s Association, always in the spotlight. If he stayed alive too long, the Mage’s Association would take notice, putting him in dangerous situations. 

Kariya, on the other hand, was practically invisible. Like his predecessor, Zouken Matou, he could quietly hide in Fuyuki City. As long as he kept a low profile and covered his tracks, no one would pay him any mind. 

"I suppose I should avoid contacting Kariya too much from now on. That way, if something happens to me, he won’t get dragged into it." 

Tokiomi’s words pleased Riku. This man was indeed exceptional—as long as he wasn’t making critical decisions. When it came to avoiding pivotal choices, Tokiomi was a paragon, outshining most. 

"Do well, and I won’t let you down. No need to rush. At your age, you could live another seventy or eighty years without raising suspicion. That’s plenty of time to accomplish great things. And if you can’t reach the Root on your own, I’ll help you get there." 

Riku started painting a grand picture, projecting decades into the future, confident in his words. 

If, in seventy or eighty years, he couldn’t casually help Tokiomi reach the Root and master magic, wouldn’t that mean he’d been wasting his time? The only way that could happen is if he met an untimely end. 

"Please rest assured, my lord. I’ll work hard to grow stronger, amass wealth, fame, and influence, and serve you wholeheartedly." 

Tokiomi swallowed the grand promises whole, his attitude dripping with respect. If he’d been this deferential with Archer, he wouldn’t have fallen so quickly. 

But what could he do? His deal with Archer was a short-term "partnership contract," while with Riku, it was a true "contract of servitude." The difference was night and day. 

Most importantly, Riku had already paid him handsomely and offered a dazzling future—things Tokiomi couldn’t bear to give up. Naturally, he could only serve with utmost loyalty. 

"Good. Let me take a look at your family’s book collection or anything like that." 

Riku nodded, satisfied. He liked subordinates with ambitions—they were easier to control and more reliable. 

How to put it? Riku felt a touch of an emperor’s mindset creeping in. If a subordinate acted all saintly and desireless, what were they really after? 

Of course, this was just a fleeting thought. As an eternal ruler with absolute control over his subordinates, Riku didn’t need to worry too much. Their thoughts couldn’t overturn his authority—life and death were his to decide. 

If a ghost king was too petty, Muzan Kibutsuji’s fate was a cautionary tale. Riku took it as a warning and trusted in his own strength. 

Tokiomi eagerly complied, leading Riku to his study and small magecraft workshop, where he brought out the family’s various books. 

Among them, the most valuable was undoubtedly the "graduation project" left to the Tohsaka family by the "Jewel Mage" Zelretch. 

"The Jewel Sword, the pinnacle of magical equipment, utilizes the Second Magic to harness the mana of infinite parallel worlds." 

Looking at the Jewel Sword’s blueprint, Riku narrowed his eyes. This magical equipment offered a glimpse into the immense power of Zelretch, the "Jewel Mage." The so-called Second Magic was essentially "the magic of traversing parallel worlds." 

The Jewel Sword was a conduit to parallel worlds, created by Zelretch. Through it, one could draw nearly limitless mana, tapping into the great source of mana from countless parallel worlds. 

This "great source mana" was essentially mana converted from the life force permeating the world—the planet’s life force. It was similar in nature to "small source mana," but vastly more abundant. 

However, this conversion was limited by one’s magical circuits and couldn’t be pre-stored in the body. It had to be converted on the spot, a complex process that was harder to control. In practice, using small source mana was often more convenient. 

Small source mana came from a mage’s own life force, offering many advantages but harming the body if overused. Mages typically generated and stored mana bit by bit. The more skilled the mage, the more they could store; weaker mages filled up quickly. 

With the Jewel Sword, the drawbacks of great source mana vanished. It allowed free access to the great source mana of other parallel worlds without needing to convert it oneself. The only risk was bodily harm from overuse, as the mana still had to flow through the body. An ordinary person recklessly using it could be overwhelmed and "burst" by the great source mana. 

"The Second Magic… quite interesting." 

Riku was intrigued by this Second Magic. Though it also involved "world traversal," Zelretch’s version was clearly limited to the Type-Moon universe, confined to parallel worlds within its framework, unable to transcend the influence of the Akashic Records. 

Zelretch could maintain his identity while freely moving through multiple parallel worlds. His method involved transferring to "jewels" on different Earth timelines. As long as a world contained minerals or gems, Zelretch could go there. 

For example, when moving from World A to World B, the gems in World B would gather to form Zelretch’s body, and his soul would transfer into it. Meanwhile, his body in World A would revert to its original gem mountain form. 

Since he had only one soul, he couldn’t operate in multiple worlds simultaneously. 

As the founder of mineralogy and the developer of jewel magic, the "Jewel Mage" no longer relied solely on a physical body. Moving through parallel worlds with a gem-composed body was far more convenient and reduced unexpected risks. 

Beyond "parallel world traversal," the Second Magic also encompassed "time travel," memory alteration, phenomenon rewriting, and other abilities mastered by Zelretch—the true power of "magic." 

Countless mages pursued the Root, hoping to attain such near-transcendent power—or even something greater. 

"I wonder if this power would still work outside the Type-Moon universe’s framework. It seems heavily tied to its concepts." 

Riku made a copy of the Jewel Sword’s blueprint. He wouldn’t take the original—it belonged to the Tohsaka family. He planned to do the same with the Matou family’s books: copy them and return the originals. 

"Alright, you don’t need to get involved in the Holy Grail War anymore." 

After organizing everything, Riku gave his instructions and left the Tohsaka residence. Three big rewards were still waiting for him. 

Outside, Kariya Matou and Sakura were waiting, chatting. Kariya was a bit lost about the future. He hadn’t even considered what to do if he succeeded, as he never thought success was likely. 

"Call your brother over." 

Riku didn’t hesitate to issue orders. Kariya complied without delay. If he didn’t know what to do, he’d just follow Riku’s commands. 

Kariya contacted his brother, Tsuruno Matou, who rushed back. Tsuruno’s face was full of disbelief. He couldn’t fathom how his younger brother had managed to take down the old bug, Zouken. 

"雁夜… what’s going on?" 

Tsuruno looked much like an adult version of Shinji Matou, with the same blue-purple hair. As the nominal head of the Matou family, he held little real power, which had always been in Zouken’s hands. 

"As you can see, I’ve dealt with the old man. The Matou family is free from his control now." 

Kariya spoke up. His relationship with his brother wasn’t particularly close, but it wasn’t distant either. Tsuruno had no notable talents and had been a nobody before Kariya left home, completely ignored by Zouken. 

In truth, if Kariya hadn’t rebelled and left, Tsuruno would never have had a chance to shine, let alone become the family head. 

"Want to take over as family head?" 

Tsuruno was quick to step back. Even with Zouken gone, it was clear he still wasn’t the one calling the shots. 

Truth be told, Tsuruno had no desire to be the family head. The pressure was suffocating, and the only perk—access to the family’s wealth—paled in comparison. He’d been drowning his stress in alcohol lately. 

"No, brother, you keep being the family head. Manage the family’s businesses. I’ll handle passing down the Matou family’s magecraft." 

Kariya declined Tsuruno’s offer. He had no experience managing the family’s assets. Tsuruno, despite being Zouken’s lackey, had at least some experience in business management, making him the better choice. 

"This…" 

Tsuruno hesitated. Great, the old tyrant was gone, but now a new one had taken his place. He was still just a worker. 

Seeing Tsuruno’s expression, Kariya knew he’d misunderstood. "Brother, take Shinji and Sakura and leave for now. Come back after the Holy Grail War. We’ll talk more then." 

Shinji and Sakura had been released by Riku. Technically, Tsuruno was Sakura’s father now, as she’d been adopted under his name, especially since Kariya hadn’t been around. 

"Alright, I’ll take them and go." 

Tsuruno nodded without hesitation. His gaze toward Sakura was complicated. As her nominal father, he’d failed her, while his brother Kariya had saved her. 

But what could he do? He was just an ordinary man with no talent, powerless against Zouken. He thought Zouken’s treatment of Sakura was cruel, but he didn’t dare utter a word. 

In short, Tsuruno was an ordinary person, his only mistake being born into the Matou family. The same went for his son, Shinji. In another family, Shinji might have had a brighter future. The kid was smart, quick to learn, good-looking, and socially adept. 

Shinji and Sakura joined Tsuruno. Sakura wasn’t close to her nominal father but wasn’t afraid of him either. She could tell he’d always pitied her situation. 

Even Shinji was decent to her now. He didn’t know about her ordeal or the complexities of magecraft inheritance, so his personality was still normal. 

Tsuruno drove off with Sakura and Shinji. Rolling down the window, he gave Kariya a worried, "Be careful," before starting the car and leaving with the kids. 

"Alright, the baggage is gone. Time to get back to the fight." 

Riku stretched, ready for action. Saber Artoria, Lancer Diarmuid, and Rider Iskandar were all formidable opponents. They might help him level up a couple of times. 

And to make the most of it, he’d face Berserker Lancelot last, turning all six Heroic Spirit Servants into experience points. A few days to gain several levels? That’s some serious grinding efficiency. 

With that in mind, Riku and Kariya headed to Fuyuki City’s port. The wide-open space was perfect for a battlefield. 

"Berserker, draw them in." 

Kariya summoned Berserker Lancelot and gave the order. 

"Roar!" 

Lancelot let out a furious bellow, releasing a burst of mana. To the other Servants, he was like a beacon in the night, taunting them with his presence. 

"It’s Berserker!" 

Saber Artoria sensed him immediately. She and her proxy Master, Irisviel, moved out at once. They’d already allied with Rider Iskandar to take down Berserker and Riku first. 

As for Lancer, his Master was too arrogant and had a feud with Rider’s Master, Waver, making cooperation unlikely. Still, Artoria figured Lancer would show up. No matter how you sliced it, he wouldn’t sit idly by. Whether their group or Riku’s won, Lancer would be in a dangerous spot. 

Meanwhile, Rider Iskandar was already on the move, driving his chariot with a boisterous "Hya hya hya!" His Master, Waver, huddled in the chariot, trembling, clearly not used to this mode of travel—weak, pitiful, and helpless. 

On Lancer’s side, Kenneth had already grasped the situation and issued his orders. 

"Lancer, go. Bide your time and strike when they’ve worn each other out. That’s our only shot at winning." 

Diarmuid’s expression grew complicated. This order clearly clashed with his knightly code. 

Chapter 238: Iskandar's Path of the King 

At the docks of Fuyuki City, Riku stood side by side with Kariya Matou, while Berserker Lancelot unleashed his magical energy with reckless abandon. It wasn’t long before guests arrived. Rider Iskandar, the Conqueror King, and his young Master were the first to show up, rolling in on a divine ox-drawn chariot, sparks and lightning trailing in their wake. The chariot came to a halt not far from Berserker Lancelot. 

“Rider! We’re too early! I told you to slow down!”  

Weber poked his head out, only to see that Saber Artoria hadn’t arrived yet. His face fell, and he started tugging at Iskandar’s cloak, grumbling under his breath. Great, now they’d have to face Riku and Berserker alone! 

Pop! 

Iskandar flicked his young Master away with a playful thump to the forehead, then turned his attention to Riku and Kariya. 

“You guys are impressive, taking down that Archer,” Iskandar said, his tone carrying genuine admiration. By now, everyone knew Riku wasn’t a summoned Heroic Spirit but a modern-day human—a remarkable feat. For a contemporary mage to fight on par with Heroic Spirits of that caliber, he was undeniably a standout figure of the era. 

Iskandar, who dreamed of gaining a physical body to conquer the world anew, saw Riku as a rare talent he wanted to recruit on the spot. “Hey, kid, join me! Let’s conquer the world together!”  

His eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he extended the offer, utterly sincere. He’d give Riku the best treatment, a place to share in his glory. 

“How about you join me instead? I’ll lead you to conquer the world,” Riku shot back with a smirk, flipping the recruitment pitch. Iskandar was getting ahead of himself, talking about world conquest when he hadn’t even won the Holy Grail War or secured a body. 

“Guess we’re at an impasse, then,” Iskandar said, shaking his head with a hint of disappointment. Meanwhile, Weber was silently hoping his Servant would keep chatting with Riku to stall until Saber arrived. 

“Enough talk. Let’s see what you’ve got, Iskandar. Prove to me that this ‘world conquest’ of yours isn’t just some made-up legend,” Riku said, cutting through Weber’s hopes. He unsheathed his flaming longsword and issued a direct challenge. 

Hiss! 

The words sent a ripple through everyone present. Riku had just thrown a blatant insult, questioning the authenticity of Iskandar’s legend right to his face. Who could tolerate that? 

Weber glanced at his Servant. Sure enough, Iskandar’s expression had turned grave. After learning his Servant was Alexander the Great, Weber had done his homework and knew there were always skeptics who claimed Alexander’s deeds were exaggerated or outright fabricated. 

“You’re gonna say that? Then I’ve got no choice but to show you,” Iskandar said, his voice low and serious. “I can take someone doubting my abilities, but I won’t let anyone deny what my warriors, my friends, and I built together. That glory isn’t just mine—it’s ours.” 

Riku grinned, unsurprised by the reaction. This was a calculated move. Iskandar had arrived first, and Riku seized the opportunity to hit his sore spot, goading him into action before Saber could show up. Iskandar’s pride and values were clear as day, making him easy to provoke. 

If Saber Artoria had arrived first, Riku’s plan would’ve been different. He’d have had Berserker Lancelot lift his helmet, revealing his identity for a dramatic reunion with his king. Seeing Lancelot like this would throw Artoria into disarray, but Lancelot, unbound by sentiment, would attack without hesitation. 

“Rider,” Weber started, logic urging him to stall until Saber arrived. But seeing the solemn resolve on Iskandar’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. This was a matter of his Servant’s honor—a battle to defend the legacy he shared with his comrades. There was no avoiding it. 

“Go, Rider! Let’s show them!” Weber, usually timid and hesitant, found his courage. Standing beside Iskandar, he felt infected by his Servant’s indomitable spirit. As Iskandar’s acknowledged Master, he had to step up. 

“Rider! By my Command Seal, I order you to win this fight!”  

Caught up in the moment, Weber activated a Command Seal, boosting Iskandar’s power. It was a rare move—Command Seals could enhance a Servant, but most Masters saved them for more critical purposes, as the effect wasn’t always ideal or precise. No amount of Command Seals could guarantee victory, not even all three. 

“Hahaha! That’s the spirit, Weber! Now you’re acting like a warrior. This way, I can introduce you to them!” Iskandar laughed heartily, feeling the brief surge from the Command Seal. It symbolized his Master’s trust, their bond. But his words left Weber confused—introduce him to who? 

“Here we go! Witness the path of the Conqueror King, Iskandar! The power that can conquer the world!”  

With a roar, Iskandar raised his Sword of the Cyprians. Without chanting, his Reality Marble unfolded—not a mere spell but a manifestation of his bond with his followers. The world around them shifted. Gone were the docks, replaced by a vast desert under a scorching sun, with swirling sands and an ancient army assembling on the plain. 

This was the land Iskandar’s army had once thundered across, etched into the hearts of every soldier. The Reality Marble was a collective creation, sustained by the mana of the entire army—a unique Noble Phantasm centered on Iskandar himself. 

“This is my greatest treasure, my path as a king, my ultimate Noble Phantasm—Ionioi Hetairoi,” Iskandar declared, astride his beloved horse, Bucephalus, now a Heroic Spirit itself. 

“Is this the invincible army of the Conqueror King?” Weber stood among the ranks, overwhelmed by the presence of warriors, generals, and kings—Heroic Spirits who’d left their mark on history. Their reverent gazes fixed on the sword-wielding figure leading them, the heart of their bond. 

This was Iskandar’s army, his loyal followers who’d stood by him in life. Ionioi Hetairoi, an EX-rank Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, was composed of his former subordinates—genuine Heroic Spirits with renowned names, some even founders of future dynasties like Seleucus, Ptolemy, Antigonus, or Lysimachus. Riku wasn’t sure about Cassander, though—most of these successors were traitors in the end, but few were as ruthless as Cassander. 

“This is way too much!” Kariya, dragged into the Reality Marble alongside Riku, was dumbfounded. Any one of these figures could compete in the Holy Grail War! How was Iskandar summoning an entire legion of them? 

“Don’t worry, they’re not at full strength. If they were, we’d just hand over the Grail and call it a day,” Riku said with a chuckle, calming Kariya. Iskandar’s Ionioi Hetairoi was intimidating—an army of Heroic Spirits, even the weakest stronger than Assassin. Some, if summoned at full power, might outmatch Iskandar himself. 

While Iskandar’s achievements were legendary, his personal combat prowess wasn’t exceptional. Many in his army surpassed him in martial skill. However, these Spirits weren’t at their peak—they couldn’t use their Noble Phantasms, and their stats were reduced. The Noble Phantasm was formidable but not unbeatable. Anti-World or Anti-City Noble Phantasms could counter it, and Anti-Army ones could hold their own. 

No Heroic Spirit was truly invincible. Even those deemed unbeatable had flaws, like personality quirks, that could be exploited. For Riku, defeating Ionioi Hetairoi was simple: a nuclear bomb would do the trick. 

“Charge!”  

After a brief rallying cry, Iskandar led his army forward. Against an ordinary Servant, this onslaught would be overwhelming. Even Berserker Lancelot would likely fall to the sheer numbers, no matter how fiercely he fought. 

“Lord Riku! What do we do?” Kariya asked, panic rising. He knew he and Lancelot stood no chance alone—only Riku could save them. 

“Relax, I’ve got this,” Riku said, whisking Kariya into the Shadow Realm for safety. A nuclear blast was too much for a mage like Kariya, who’d be vaporized in seconds, no different from an ordinary human. 

Without hesitation, Riku faced the charging army. His Rc cells surged, demonic wings unfurled, and he launched into the sky. From high above, he hurled a nuclear bomb. 

BOOM! 

Riku had chosen a high-yield warhead, and the explosion was spectacular, clearing the field almost instantly. Without their Noble Phantasms, the Heroic Spirits had little defense against such power. A mushroom cloud rose, the desert plain amplifying the blast’s devastation. Not a shred of its force was wasted. 

This was Ionioi Hetairoi’s greatest weakness: it had no answer to enemies with high-output weapons. Iskandar’s own combat abilities were modest, lacking the firepower to counter such an attack. 

His personality also limited the Noble Phantasm’s potential. If he’d pulled enemies into the Reality Marble and dropped them amidst his army, it could neutralize most high-output Noble Phantasms, which often required a wind-up. In close quarters, his warriors could overwhelm foes before they could act. Even someone like Gilgamesh would struggle in melee against Ionioi Hetairoi’s martial heroes, unable to unleash Ea. 

But Iskandar’s pride demanded a fair, open clash, giving enemies like Riku the chance to unleash their trump cards. 

Crack! 

The Reality Marble shattered, the scene shifting back to Fuyuki’s docks, with containers scattered around.  

“Is this the power that defeated Caster and Archer?” Iskandar asked, his voice tinged with awe as he looked at Riku. Weber had explained it was a modern nation’s weapon, not a unique Noble Phantasm. Iskandar had studied the era and realized conquering the world now was a far greater challenge than in his time—an ambition even he hadn’t fully achieved. 

“So, what do you think, Iskandar?” Riku asked with a nod. His nuclear arsenal wasn’t exactly from this era—set in 1994, this world was decades behind his tech. His weapons were from a future time, giving him an edge. 

“Not bad at all,” Iskandar said with a sigh, his form beginning to fade into light particles. In protecting Weber within the Reality Marble, he’d taken heavy damage. 

“Spare the kid, as a personal favor,” Iskandar said, tossing his sword to Riku and summoning his chariot to hand over as well. He knew Riku and Berserker could claim others’ Noble Phantasms, and this was his price to ensure Weber’s safety. 

“Quite the considerate king. The kid’s lucky,” Riku said, accepting the offer. Weber was a small fry, worthless in terms of experience points by the system’s judgment. Killing him served no purpose. 

“Rider!” Weber, still conscious despite some radiation exposure, broke down. Seeing Iskandar trade his Noble Phantasms for his life, the young Master sobbed uncontrollably. 

“Be a warrior, Weber. You’re my chosen vassal,” Iskandar said with a smile before fully dissolving—not truly vanishing but being absorbed by the Lesser Grail as fuel for its ultimate purpose. With that, Rider Iskandar officially exited the Holy Grail War. 

With Caster, Assassin, Archer, and now Rider gone, the Lesser Grail was starting to stir. 

Chapter 239: The Truth About the “All-Powerful Wish-Granting Machine” 

“My king, I swear I’ll be brave!”  

Weber Velvet made his vow, tears and snot streaming down his face. Though their time together was short, he was already completely won over by Iskandar’s overwhelming charisma.  

“One down, the others should be showing up soon,” Riku muttered, glancing at Weber before dismissing him. The kid wasn’t important anymore. Once he was done crying, he’d better scram.  

“I wonder how things are going with Saber. She wouldn’t skip out just because Irisviel didn’t show, would she?”  

Riku was waiting for Saber to make her entrance, but there was a chance the Knight King wouldn’t show. Something could’ve gone wrong on her way here. After all, Iskandar’s soul had probably already been absorbed. With four Servants’ souls sucked into the “Lesser Grail,” Irisviel was likely at her limit.  

When four Servants exit the stage, the “Lesser Grail” starts to change. And the so-called “Lesser Grail”? That’s Irisviel herself.  

Irisviel is a homunculus, a “human vessel” crafted by the Einzbern family for the Holy Grail War. The entire Holy Grail War system is built on three components: the Grail system, the Command Seals, and the battlefield, each provided by one of the three founding families.  

The “Grail system” is split into the “Greater Grail” and the “Lesser Grail,” both created by the Einzberns.  

The so-called “all-powerful wish-granting machine”? It’s nothing but a lie. The true purpose of the Holy Grail War is to reach the Root—the ultimate goal of every magus. From the Age of Gods to the modern era, countless magi have tried every method under the sun to touch the Root.  

Sure, granting wishes isn’t entirely a lie—it’s just a side effect, and not nearly as “all-powerful” as they make it sound.  

When the Holy Grail War reaches its climax and the six Heroic Spirits’ souls return to the Throne of Heroes, a “hole” opens between the world and the Root. The souls of the Servants absorbed by the “Lesser Grail,” combined with the mana accumulated in Fuyuki’s ley lines over sixty years, reinforce this “hole.”  

At that moment, the mana flowing from the Root through this “hole” is practically infinite compared to the mortal world. With that kind of power, a wish-maker who knows the right method can indeed make almost any wish come true. It’s like how having enough money can get you most things you want.  

But here’s the harsh reality: even with all the money in the world, you can’t buy something that doesn’t exist. Same with infinite mana—you can’t make a wish come true unless you know how to make it happen. The mana’s just a tool to pull off the miracle.  

This one condition makes most people’s wishes impossible. Take Emiya Kiritsugu’s wish, for example. Even with the Root’s massive mana, he has no clue how to achieve world peace or make justice prevail everywhere. If he knew how, he wouldn’t be banking on some “all-powerful wish-granting machine.”  

Or take Saber Artoria’s wish. If someone like the “Jewel Wizard” Zelretch were here, he could probably pull it off easily since he knows how to manipulate time and space. But Artoria? She’s got no idea.  

In short, the Holy Grail can only grant wishes where you know what to do but lack the power or means to do it.  

SCREEECH!  

The sound of screeching brakes echoed through the docks. Saber Artoria slammed the car to a stop by the warehouse, her face full of panic. Irisviel’s condition had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.  

“Irisviel! What’s wrong?!”  

Artoria jumped out to check on her, too frantic to even think about Rider’s exit. Irisviel’s state looked dire, and it had all happened so fast.  

As the “human vessel,” Irisviel’s job was to collect and hold the Servants’ souls until the war’s end. To open that “hole” to the Root, you need at least six Servants’ souls—letting them return to the Throne one by one won’t cut it.  

But after storing three or four Heroic Spirits’ souls, Irisviel, as the vessel, starts losing her sense of self, gradually turning into a pure container. That’s exactly what was happening now.  

She’d taken in too much and couldn’t spit it out. No wonder she was suffering.  

“What’s up with this Einzbern?”  

Matou Kariya, standing nearby, was baffled. He clearly didn’t know the ins and outs of the Holy Grail War, so Irisviel’s pre-battle breakdown confused him. She was this sick and still showed up to fight? Were the Einzberns that desperate for manpower?  

“Let’s go check it out,” Riku said casually, stepping closer.  

This caught Saber Artoria’s attention, and she shot him an angry glare, gripping her “Curry Stick” (her sword, Excalibur) tightly. She didn’t say anything about “taking advantage of the situation,” but her stance screamed it.  

“Hold it right there, mister way-too-strong-for-your-own-good.”  

Before Artoria could speak, another Servant appeared—Lancer Diarmuid, wielding his twin spears. Stepping in front of Saber and Irisviel, Diarmuid’s expression was dead serious. The “Shining Visage” wasn’t about to let anyone take advantage of this moment.  

“Thanks, Lancer,” Artoria said, her eyes showing a flicker of gratitude and respect. Though they came from different eras, she genuinely admired the dual-wielding knight. If they’d lived in the same time, they probably would’ve gotten along great.  

“No need to thank me, Saber,” Lancer replied with a smile. “Rider’s already out of the game. If we want to win, we’ve got to team up against this guy and Berserker.”  

He’d stepped in partly because he couldn’t stand by and watch, and partly because he’d read the situation. His Master wouldn’t object to him acting now—letting Saber get taken out would leave Diarmuid alone against Riku and Berserker, both of whom were ridiculously strong.  

“Hey, hey, don’t make me sound like some big bad villain, okay?” Riku said, exasperated. “What is this, a team-up to take down the final boss? Am I the raid boss now?”  

He chuckled, pointing at Irisviel. “You guys don’t know what’s going on with her, do you? I happen to know a thing or two. Sure you don’t want me to take a look?”  

Riku’s confident smile made Artoria hesitate. Irisviel was completely out of it, and Artoria had no idea what to do or what was even happening.  

“You…” Artoria stared at Riku, torn. She considered stalling for time, reluctant to admit she might need to contact her true Master, Emiya Kiritsugu. As Irisviel’s husband, surely he’d know what was going on with her.  

“Call me Devil,” Riku said smoothly, stepping closer to Lancer Diarmuid. For some reason, Diarmuid didn’t feel the need to attack. He didn’t peg Riku as the type to stoop low, so he let him approach.  

“Devil, do you really know what’s wrong with Irisviel?” Artoria asked, softening her stance and hoping for answers.  

Riku didn’t beat around the bush. He laid out the brutal truth of the Holy Grail War.  

“It’s inevitable. She’s part of the Holy Grail War itself.”  

After explaining the war’s true nature, Riku shook his head and delivered the grim verdict on Irisviel’s fate.  

“How… how could this be?!”  

Artoria was stunned. The truth about the Holy Grail War was too cruel for her to process—it basically meant her wish was impossible.  

And then there was her Master, Emiya Kiritsugu. Did he know about this? If it was true, had he been willing to sacrifice Irisviel, his own wife and Illya’s mother, for his dream? How could he be so heartless?!  

Lancer Diarmuid, standing nearby, didn’t react much. For him, wishes didn’t rely on the Grail. In fact, the nature of the Holy Grail War suited his Master, Kenneth, just fine—reaching the Root was exactly the kind of thing a traditional magus like him would chase.  

“Then what’s the point of this Holy Grail War?!”  

The furious shout came from Emiya Kiritsugu, who’d rushed out from the shadows. His wish, like Artoria’s, had just been shattered.  

Kiritsugu looked lost, unable to muster even a hint of doubt. Riku’s explanation was too logical, too airtight, leaving no room for skepticism.  

Riku had laid out the truth in such detail it was as if he’d witnessed the creation of the Holy Grail War system himself. A lot of what he said lined up with what Kiritsugu already knew.  

If Riku claimed he’d been there when the system was built, everyone present would probably believe him—at least a little. Otherwise, how could a modern magus know this much? That’d be even crazier!  

“Even if you’re nicknamed the ‘Mage-Killer,’ you’re still a magus, and the son of Noritake Emiya, a guy who got himself a Sealing Designation,” Riku said, smirking at Kiritsugu’s disbelief. “You’re really asking what the point is? Reaching the Root—that’s the whole point of being a magus.”  

Kiritsugu’s father, Noritake Emiya, was a true genius. The Emiya family was only in its fourth generation, but Noritake had pushed their magecraft to a level worthy of a Sealing Designation. Pure talent.  

Compare that to Weber, a third-generation magus with a goofy expression, who’d never get the Velvet family’s magecraft to that level, no matter how many decades he had. His kids wouldn’t either.  

“…”  

Kiritsugu froze, then nodded slowly. It was all about the Root. His father had been the same—researching vampiric immortality just to have enough time to reach it.  

That’s what magi do. They’ll stop at nothing to reach the Root. Spinning a lie about an “all-powerful wish-granting machine” to keep the Holy Grail War running? That’s nothing.  

“Your dad was one of the better ones, you know. He kept to himself, buried in his research, not bothering anyone,” Riku said, sounding almost fond of Noritake. “He was one of the more principled magi. When things went wrong, it was an accident—he didn’t mean for it to happen. Compared to most crazy magi, he had some integrity.”  

The Emiya family’s magecraft was a type of Reality Marble, a bounded field that manipulated time within a small area, speeding it up or stopping it. In anime terms, it’s like a magical version of “Sandevistan” from Cyberpunk.  

Noritake’s plan to reach the Root was to accelerate time infinitely within a tiny bounded field, observing the end of the universe to find the Root that should appear afterward.  

Genius? Absolutely. His theory had a real shot, but it’d take centuries to pull off, which is why he looked into vampiric immortality.  

Honestly, Noritake should’ve been the one in the Holy Grail War. His was the kind of wish where he had a clear method but lacked the means. With the Grail’s infinite mana, he could’ve made it happen.  

“…”  

Riku’s words left Kiritsugu silent. He’d only inherited about 20% of Noritake’s magical crest. The dutiful son who shot his own father had taken the scraps, while the Mage’s Association claimed the real treasures. That’s why no one kept tabs on Kiritsugu.  

He had no regrets about killing his father. In Kiritsugu’s worldview, Noritake had been a good dad, but his research into vampirism made him a criminal. It had gotten an entire island killed and could’ve endangered more. Killing him was the only way to save others.  

“Kiritsugu, you knew Irisviel was the Lesser Grail?”  

Saber Artoria caught the implication in their exchange. It was clear Kiritsugu knew about Irisviel’s role—maybe even from the start.  

That realization hit Artoria hard, fueling her anger and confusion. She and Kiritsugu were a terrible match as Master and Servant, with zero understanding of each other.  

From the moment Kiritsugu killed his father, he’d been consumed by his ideals. After killing his mentor and adoptive mother, he’d gone completely off the deep end. Sacrificing Irisviel for his dream? That was nothing to him. His heart only had room for his grand sense of justice.  

Chapter 240: For a Glimmer of Hope 

Faced with Saber’s question, Emiya Kiritsugu could only stay silent. Deep down, he knew exactly who he’d hurt and what he’d sacrificed.  

Killing his father, his adoptive mother, and now betting his wife’s life—every time he chose to save the many by sacrificing the few, it tore at his heart. He’d pinned his hopes on the Holy Grail, believing it could end the need for such choices.  

But now, Riku had ripped away the Holy Grail War’s façade, shattering his dream. Everything he’d done was for nothing.  

“You…”  

Artoria stared at the broken Kiritsugu, unsure what to say. The man was clearly devastated, and her own emotions were a tangled mess.  

This Holy Grail couldn’t fulfill her dream of returning to the past—not even to stop herself from pulling the “Sword in the Stone.” She didn’t know how.  

“Oh, and one more piece of bad news,” Riku said with a sigh. “Even if you knew the method, it wouldn’t matter now. The Holy Grail War’s system is broken. There’s a poor soul squatting inside it—a Bug that’s wrecked the whole thing.”  

Before the Third Holy Grail War, the system worked as Riku described. But now, the Grail was corrupted. A pitiful young man, branded as “All the World’s Evil,” would twist every wish, granting them in a distorted, destructive way.  

The Third Holy Grail War’s rule-breaking summoning of an Avenger-class Servant had tainted the Grail and its mana. What was once a pure, colorless force had turned into black mud. The corrupted Grail now interpreted wishes through the lens of “evil,” always granting them in ways that brought ruin and disaster.  

“…”  

The group was stunned again. So, all their fighting up to now was pointless? The Holy Grail War was just a farce? Not only could it not grant wishes properly, but the wishes it did grant might be a punishment?  

Someone slow to catch on could easily get screwed over by this twisted Grail.  

“Then what are we even fighting for?”  

Kenneth’s voice echoed from above. The Clock Tower magus, who’d been lurking in the shadows, finally stepped out. He couldn’t sit still anymore.  

Dressed in a blue robe, his golden hair meticulously combed, Kenneth stood tall with his hands behind his back, his face showing clear annoyance.  

“Master.”  

Lancer Diarmuid immediately bowed in greeting, but Kenneth didn’t acknowledge him. Their Master-Servant relationship was clearly strained, mostly because Kenneth’s attitude sucked.  

To be fair, Diarmuid was also just unlucky. He’d ended up with Kenneth, a guy who brought along his fiancée—a woman he had no emotional connection with. It was like a perfect storm of bad luck for the Lancer, whose infamous E-rank Luck stat was living up to its reputation.  

Kenneth’s appearance hit someone else hard: Weber Velvet, who’d just lost his Servant. Weber had stolen Kenneth’s holy relic to join the war, so facing his former teacher now made him shrink.  

Young and prideful, Weber had joined the Holy Grail War to prove himself. He didn’t have any malicious intent—just a desire to show his worth.  

Weber despised the Mage’s Association’s obsession with bloodlines. He’d spent years writing a thesis on the topic, only for Kenneth, his teacher, to glance at it and tear it to shreds. That crushed Weber’s pride.  

To be fair, if Weber knew more about the Mage’s Association, he’d have realized Kenneth was a diehard “magus aristocrat.” With his elite lineage, Kenneth wasn’t about to challenge the system that favored him.  

Tearing up Weber’s thesis without bothering to deal with him further was Kenneth’s arrogance at play—he didn’t see Weber, a small-fry magus, as worth his time. Anyone else might’ve just made Weber disappear. For the Mage’s Association, erasing an unknown magus was child’s play.  

Kenneth didn’t even glance at Weber. From Iskandar’s demeanor, he knew the Conqueror King wouldn’t have suited him. They’d likely have clashed constantly.  

In comparison, Lancer Diarmuid, for all his faults, at least followed orders.  

“I never imagined the Holy Grail War would end like this,” Kenneth said, visibly disappointed.  

He hadn’t joined for the Root. He just wanted to add “Holy Grail War Victor” to his résumé.  

As a genius magus who’d achieved more by his twenties than most manage in a lifetime, Kenneth was confident—borderline arrogant. He believed he could reach the Root on his own, without relying on something like the Holy Grail War.  

“So, what, you guys giving up?”  

Matou Kariya looked confused. Having studied magecraft for only a year, this was all a bit beyond him.  

As he spoke, Kariya mentally kicked himself. Gotta brush up on my knowledge, he thought. Even if he didn’t use it often, he needed to be prepared for trouble.  

As the heir to the Matou family’s legacy, he might run into issues. Once you’re in the world of magecraft, there’s no going back. For Sakura’s sake, he couldn’t afford to be clueless and get played.  

Plus, he had to serve Riku-sama. He needed to keep improving so he wouldn’t fall behind Tohsaka Tokiomi.  

Kariya’s mind wandered. What if Tokiomi pleased Riku-sama and asked to take Sakura back? No way he’d let that happen. He had to step up and prove his worth.  

“No. I’m going to see it for myself!”  

Whether to keep fighting the Holy Grail War was a question, but some people wouldn’t give up until they saw the truth with their own eyes. Riku’s explanation was airtight, but Kiritsugu had to check for himself. He’d already paid too high a price—he needed to see the outcome, even if it was a dead end.  

Irisviel, born just nine years ago, had first met Kiritsugu in an amniotic tank in the Einzbern workshop. Homunculus or not, she’d started as an adult. Otherwise, Kiritsugu would’ve been a bit too creepy.  

They’d lived together for nine years, raising Illya for eight. Irisviel, the “mother” at nine years old, and Illya at eight—it was almost comical.  

At first, there might’ve been no real bond, but nine years of living together and raising a child—no, raising two children, since Kiritsugu practically raised Irisviel too—had forged genuine love.  

Kiritsugu’s grief now was no act. It softened Artoria’s view of him, just a little.  

“Saber, you have a wish you need to fulfill, right? Then stand and fight!”  

Kiritsugu turned to Artoria. Though their ideals clashed, he had no choice but to rely on the Knight King’s strength now.  

“Fine. I have to try.”  

Artoria stood decisively. Kiritsugu was right—she had to see it for herself. What if Riku was lying?  

BANG!  

A gunshot rang out, the bullet streaking toward Matou Kariya, who’d been quietly watching the drama unfold. Caught off guard, Kariya had no idea why he was the target. Luckily, Berserker reacted in time, materializing to deflect the bullet.  

Kariya stared at the bullet, split by Berserker’s blade, his heart pounding. That was too close.  

The shot came from Kiritsugu’s assistant, Hisau Maiya, who’d been lurking in the shadows, aiming at the Masters. On Kiritsugu’s orders, she’d targeted Kariya first.  

Kiritsugu’s plan was simple: take out Kariya, and Berserker would vanish. Then Saber could deal with Lancer, or he and Maiya could handle Lancer’s Master. That would end the Holy Grail War.  

As for Riku? No need to bother. He wasn’t a Servant, and he wasn’t even a Master. He had no claim to victory.  

Too bad for Kiritsugu, Kariya and Berserker weren’t going down so easily. Berserker roared, glaring at Saber Artoria. His guttural cries clearly shouted “Arthur”—the name of King Arthur.  

“Ser Lancelot of the Lake… Is that you? How… how did you become like this? Did I, your king, drive you to this?”  

Seeing the sword in Berserker Lancelot’s hands, Artoria was dumbfounded. She never imagined this Berserker, this Black Knight, was her strongest Round Table Knight.  

Click, click, click!  

Berserker’s helmet retracted, revealing a face twisted with madness—the face of Lancelot, a man Artoria knew all too well.  

Her former vassal, her knight, now stood before her as a crazed Berserker, obsessed with her. For Artoria, a king already plagued by self-doubt, this was a crushing blow.  

She’d always felt she was a poor king, wanting to pass the crown to someone better. Seeing Lancelot, the perfect knight, reduced to this only deepened her conviction. Even he had been broken by her rule!  

BOOM! CLANG!  

Lancelot couldn’t speak beyond roars. He charged at Saber Artoria, and the battle erupted. With Saber and Lancer left, Lancelot naturally targeted Saber—his story’s connection to her made it inevitable.  

Poor Lancer Diarmuid, whose legend inspired Lancelot’s, was at a natural disadvantage.  

“Let’s have a go, then.”  

With Berserker facing Saber, Lancer’s opponent was Riku. Truth be told, Riku wasn’t the best match for Lancer—Diarmuid’s “Gáe Buidhe” (the Yellow Rose of Mortality) was a bad matchup for Riku’s regeneration-based abilities. This fight would test his endurance. He couldn’t let Lancer break through his defenses.  

Summoned as a Lancer, Diarmuid wielded two magic spears: “Gáe Dearg” (the Red Rose of Exorcism), which negated magic, and “Gáe Buidhe,” which caused unhealable wounds. Both were effective, but they lacked raw destructive power.  

Diarmuid was actually more famous for his swordsmanship and two magic swords. As a Saber-class Servant, he’d have been far stronger. But no what-ifs here—summoned as Lancer, he was stuck with his E-rank Luck.  

VMMM!  

Two long blades materialized in Riku’s hands. His Rc cells surged, enveloping him in a demonic aura. The night was his domain. As long as “Gáe Buidhe” didn’t hit him, Diarmuid had no chance.  

CLANG!  

Lancer charged, their dual weapons clashing in a symphony of steel.  

In pure skill, Riku couldn’t match a legendary hero like Diarmuid. But Riku’s advantage was clear: his wild, all-out attacks ignored defense, his speed overwhelming. This unorthodox style closed the gap in martial prowess.  

Diarmuid, as a proper Heroic Spirit, had one life to lose. He had to be cautious, healing any injuries. Riku, on the other hand, fought like he had nothing to lose.  

Diarmuid was stunned. As a Heroic Spirit, he should be the one fighting recklessly—death meant little to him, since his true self was already gone. But Riku, a living human, fought with even less regard for his life. How was that possible?  

CLANG CLANG CLANG!  

As the Servants clashed, the Masters weren’t idle. Kariya, alone and outmatched, became the target of both Kiritsugu and Kenneth. Sweat poured down his face. A rookie with one year of magecraft training, up against two heavyweights? What chance did he have?!