231-235

Chapter 231: The Legacy of the Magic Crest 

Riku’s response effectively snuffed out Matou Zouken’s last shred of hope. Some things just can’t be changed—not in the short term, at least. Like personal preferences, for instance. 

“Stop! Please, stop! I have one final request! At the very least, let the Matou family’s Magic Crest be passed down!” 

Amid his anguished cries, as the Crest Worms dwindled to nearly nothing, Matou Zouken regained a sliver of clarity. He knew he was at the end of the line. If he didn’t make one last desperate move, there’d be no chance left. 

At this point, the only thing of value he had left was the Magic Crest, the culmination of the Matou family’s magecraft, which had been with him for over five hundred years. 

“You’ve lived this long, and your will to survive is still this strong? The older people get, the more they fear death, huh?” Riku quipped, pausing his actions. 

Truth be told, he was a bit surprised. The Matou family had a Magic Crest? He’d assumed Zouken hadn’t bothered with one, given how little he cared about passing down the family legacy. But on second thought, maybe this Crest had been inherited from the original “Zolgen” lineage? 

“What’s wrong with fearing death?! What’s wrong with wanting to live?!” Zouken shot back, defiant. “Is there a single human in this world who doesn’t fear death?!” 

He continued, his voice seething with conviction. “Listen well—no matter what truths you uncover or what heights you reach, you can’t overcome your own mortality! When death looms and there’s a way to extend your life right in front of you, within arm’s reach, anyone—anyone—would sacrifice the entire world to seize it! That’s what it means to be human!” 

Riku scoffed. “So, to prolong your own life, you’d throw away everything? Sacrifice anything? Even drag the whole world down with you?” 

Of course, there were people who didn’t fear death. Not everyone placed survival above all else—some things were worth more than life itself. 

Riku’s eyes fell on a single worm crawling toward him. This one was different, marked with strange patterns—the Magic Crest, the essence of all the Matou family’s magecraft research. 

A “Magic Crest” was like an auxiliary engine, a secondary magical circuit powered by its owner’s mana. The spells inscribed within could be activated with a mere flow of mana, no complex incantations needed. It was the ultimate accelerator, a piece of inherited equipment packed with skills, embodying the blood, sweat, and tears of a magecraft family. 

Yet for Matou Zouken, even this Magic Crest was something he’d discard to cling to life, even if just for one more second. 

“Human greed knows no bounds,” Zouken ranted. “Even you—if every tree and blade of grass could extend your life like some divine elixir, you’d devour an entire forest in a heartbeat, even if it only bought you one more day. You’d wipe out parts of the world for your own survival, slaughter every tree if you had to!” 

His words, though twisted, held a grim universal truth—one that might apply to most people. 

But on Riku? It was almost laughable. Riku didn’t need what Zouken so desperately craved. 

“Eternal life, huh…” Riku sighed. 

He’d seen its allure before. Think of Shusaku Kirinowaka—people might start out fearless, willing to die for honor or justice, but as they age, that changes. The older you get, the more you fear death. Time erodes ambition, grinds down resolve, and reshapes a person entirely. 

If Makiri Zolgen could see Matou Zouken now, he’d probably struggle to recognize him. The man who once dreamed of eradicating the world’s evils had himself become one. The dragon slayer had become the dragon. 

“What a tragedy, Makiri,” Riku said, using his shadow to seize the Crest Worm and destroy the rest. His senses confirmed no living presence remained. 

This time, Zouken didn’t argue back. He’d long forgotten his original ideals—or stopped caring altogether. 

As the curtain of shadows fell, the blazing Matou mansion came into view. Matou Kariya’s expression was complex—a mix of satisfaction, anger, and a faint trace of nostalgia. Say what you will, this was the place he’d lived for years, now collapsing into ash and ruin. 

“Burn it all,” Kariya muttered. “Let the flames cleanse the filth. From these ashes, we’ll build a new home—a clean one.” 

He held Matou Shinji’s hand in one and Sakura’s in the other. The two children’s reactions couldn’t be more different. 

Sakura’s face was still numb, but realization was dawning. The Matou family was gone. Had she escaped her torment? Tears streaked down her cheeks. After being thrown into the worm pit, she’d only cried and screamed for the first three days, begging for help. After that, she’d gone silent. But today, she couldn’t hold back. Kneeling on the ground, she let out a wail of pain and release, sobbing until she could barely stand. 

Kariya’s heart ached as he knelt to hold her. 

“Uncle Kariya! The house is on fire! We gotta put it out!” Shinji, on the other hand, was frantic. What was the point of crying? Their home was burning! Where would they live now?! 

At seven years old, Shinji, raised in luxury, couldn’t grasp the situation. He’d seen his grandfather turn into a mass of worms, but what did that have to do with the mansion? Why burn it down? 

“Quiet, Shinji,” Kariya snapped, silencing his nephew. He’d already called his brother, Matou Tsuruno, who was away on business but would return soon. Neither Tsuruno nor Shinji, devoid of magical talent, should be dragged into the dangerous world of magecraft. 

Shinji clammed up, spotting Riku emerging from the flames, untouched by the fire, holding Zouken’s Crest Worm. 

“Is he dead?” Kariya asked, eyes brimming with hope. 

Shinji hid behind Kariya, terrified of Riku—the man who’d burned his home. Sakura, however, looked at Riku with gratitude, her sharp mind piecing together his role in her salvation. 

“Not yet,” Riku replied, opening his shadow hand to reveal Zouken. “He’s got the Matou family’s Magic Crest. The question is, who inherits it?” 

Zouken stayed still, knowing escape was impossible. His only chance at survival was leveraging the Crest. 

Riku had no personal interest in it. The Matou family’s magecraft was diverse, especially in pursuit of immortality, but Riku lacked a magical circuit, so the Crest was useless to him. He’d already taken Zouken’s library as payment for helping Kariya—a deal he was sure Kariya wouldn’t mind, given his lack of attachment to magecraft. 

Zouken, meanwhile, was focused solely on survival, opinions be damned. 

“The Magic Crest…” Kariya blinked, stunned. All these years, no one in the Matou family had mentioned a Crest. And now here it was? 

“Give it to Sakura,” Zouken interjected. 

Kariya frowned, clearly displeased. “What about rejection?” 

A Magic Crest, nurtured through generations, was like an organ—prone to rejection if transplanted to an outsider. Sakura, adopted or not, carried the blood of the Tohsaka and Zenjou families, not the Matou. The risk of rejection was high, and Kariya wasn’t willing to gamble with her life. Even for blood relatives, transplantation was a slow, dangerous process, done gradually before puberty with medications and the aid of a “Tuner” to build tolerance. 

Shinji listened, curious but clueless, his lack of magical education leaving him in the dark. Years later, he’d likely fight tooth and nail for the Crest. 

“You’re useless! What good would it do you?!” Zouken spat at Kariya, furious at his rebellious descendant. In his eyes, Shinji wasn’t even worth a glance. 

“I’m not useless!” Kariya growled. He’d once been mediocre, but he’d transformed. A genius now, far from the “waste” Zouken claimed. 

“Give it to Kariya,” Riku decided. Rejection was a real concern, and Sakura wouldn’t benefit from it now anyway. Kariya, though a half-baked magus, could use the Crest’s cheat-like power to boost his strength significantly. 

Zouken’s opinion was ignored, but he didn’t care. He’d already sensed Riku wasn’t skilled in magecraft—a potential opening. No one here could transplant the Crest, and it needed to stay active. While Crests could last millennia, they’d eventually fade. Preserving one outside a body required rare expertise, something the Mage’s Association might have, but not those present. 

“Let me reform my body. I’ll handle the transplant,” Zouken offered. 

Riku looked at him like he was an idiot. “You think we’re that stupid? I just saw a book on this. Give me a moment to study, and I’ll figure it out.” 

Zouken’s library was vast, covering nearly everything. No wonder Shinji, despite no magical talent, later taught himself to make potions. Like Tohsaka Tokiomi without circuits, Shinji was a hard worker in his own right. 

“You?” Zouken’s worm body writhed, caught off guard. Learning on the spot? Even Kariya looked skeptical. 

Riku ignored them, flipping through the book. Moments later, he snapped it shut with a grin. “Piece of cake.” 

Transplanting to Kariya was straightforward—rejection or not, Kariya wouldn’t die. At worst, he’d just be in pain for a bit. 

Chapter 232: The Death of Matou Zouken 

“How’s it feel?” Riku asked Matou Kariya, his hands steady as he followed the steps in the book, meticulously peeling and transplanting the majutsu kokuin (magical crest). 

Matou Kariya gritted his teeth, enduring the searing pain. The majutsu kokuin was messing with his magical circuits, wreaking havoc on his body. To him, it felt like his perfectly healthy body was being forced to accept a foreign organ—one that was aggressively latching onto his other organs, greedily sapping his strength. 

Soon enough, rejection symptoms kicked in. This kind of brute-force transplant was reckless, even for a blood relative like Kariya. His body started reacting, overwhelmed by the incompatibility. 

“Tch, told you it wouldn’t work. You’re gonna kill him,” Matou Zouken sneered, not giving a damn about Kariya’s life. He just found Riku’s attempt laughable. 

Matou Shinji and Sakura watched from the side, their faces tight with worry. Both kids were anxious about Kariya’s safety. 

“Heh, relax. He’s not dying,” Riku said with a grin. Sure, Kariya looked rough, but his body wasn’t actually taking any real damage. 

“My body’s… adjusting,” Kariya managed to say. Pain was nothing new to him. The agony of being gnawed on by kokuincyo (engraved worms) for years was way worse. Plus, after becoming a ghoul, his pain tolerance was higher. Honestly, he felt okay. 

“Adjusting? With rejection symptoms that bad?” Zouken scoffed. Did Kariya think he’d lived 500 years for nothing? He’d seen it all. Most people in this state were as good as dead—acute rejection like this was beyond saving, even for the best chouritsu-shi (tuners) or fukugen-shi (restorers). 

Chouritsu-shi were specialists who tuned majutsu kokuin, harmonizing the crest’s magical fluctuations with the host’s to minimize side effects and boost efficiency. Fukugen-shi, on the other hand, could repair damaged crests or even remove ones that chouritsu-shi couldn’t handle. Both were rare in the magecraft world, especially fukugen-shi, who usually came from ancient, hereditary families. 

Zouken watched coldly, waiting for Kariya to keel over. But as more of the majutsu kokuin was transplanted, he started getting antsy. What the hell? Why aren’t you dead yet?! 

“Phew…” Kariya exhaled, his body slowly adapting to the crest. The pain was fading. His ghoul-ified body was ridiculously adaptable. 

The majutsu kokuin transplant wasn’t too invasive—it sat just under the skin, invisible until activated with maryoku (magical energy), when it would glow and surface. 

“All done,” Riku said, setting down the scalpel and peeling off his gloves. The majutsu kokuin was fully transplanted onto Kariya. 

Zouken was dumbfounded. This was insane! A guy who learned crest transplantation from a book and a half-baked mage with one year of training pulled off a majutsu kokuin transplant?! 

“Now, time for you to die,” Riku said, picking up the scalpel again. Crunch! He drove it straight into Zouken’s head, bursting the kokuincyo skull. 

“No! I… want to live!” Zouken’s will to survive was stubborn. Even with his head blown apart, he kept struggling. Riku didn’t indulge him. With a flick of the trigger, flames engulfed the worms, reducing them to a pile of ash in seconds. 

[Ding! Experience +660] 

The system chimed in, confirming the old bug was truly dead. Riku had never seen the system get it wrong. 

“Only 660 experience points? Man, this geezer was weak. Peak Zouken would’ve given way more,” Riku muttered, a bit disappointed but not surprised. Modern mages didn’t yield much experience. Still, Zouken wasn’t exactly a modern mage—back in his day, the decline of shinpi (mystery) wasn’t as severe. 

“Grandfather… is he dead?” Shinji asked, stunned by Riku’s slick execution. Kariya, too busy to fuss over his new majutsu kokuin, stared at the pile of ash. 

“Dead as a doornail. From now on, the Matou family is yours to lead,” Riku said with a nod. With the majutsu kokuin now in Kariya’s possession, he was the de facto head of the Matou family’s magecraft, even if his brother, Matou Byakuya, held the nominal title of family head. In the magecraft world, the crest determined the true heir—blood or no blood, however you got it, if you had the crest, you were legit. 

That’s why Tohsaka Tokiomi sent Sakura to the Matou family. He wanted her to inherit the Matou majutsu kokuin after Zouken’s death, no matter how much pain she endured. Did Tokiomi love Sakura? Absolutely. That’s why he made such a seemingly heartless choice. To outsiders, it looked cruel, but non-mages couldn’t grasp a mage’s mindset. To Tokiomi, letting someone as talented as Sakura live as a mundane was the cruelest fate. Becoming a mage and inheriting the Matou crest was worth any suffering. 

“The Matou family…” Kariya muttered, dazed. Everything had happened so fast. His original plans were in shambles. Not only did he not have to fight in the Holy Grail War anymore, but he’d become the Matou family’s magecraft heir overnight. 

Kariya wasn’t dumb. He knew who made this possible. Sure, he could be impulsive and a bit of a simp, but he was a decent guy who knew gratitude. “My lord, whatever you need, just say the word,” he said earnestly. He didn’t go for dramatic “I’ll walk through fire” nonsense—he wasn’t that type—but his sincerity was clear. 

Riku had saved his life, saved Sakura, and killed the old bug. That was enough for Kariya to pledge his loyalty. Plus, as Riku’s ghoul servant, he didn’t have much choice if he wanted to keep living. 

“First, get these two kids settled. Then we’ll dive back into the Holy Grail War,” Riku said, glancing at Sakura and Shinji. Dragging two kids into battle wasn’t ideal, but then he reconsidered. Why not toss them into the Shadow Realm? Problem solved. 

“We need to wait for my brother, Matou Byakuya,” Kariya said. He’d lived in this old mansion forever and had no clue about the family’s other assets. Either Zouken controlled them, or Byakuya was managing them. 

“Leave it to me,” Riku said, not wanting to waste time. With the other Grail War participants still reeling, now was the perfect time to stir things up. He reached out toward the kids. “Don’t resist, just relax. Your Uncle Kariya and I have business to handle, so we’re sending you somewhere safe first.” 

Riku’s voice was soft, laced with a subtle hint spell. It wasn’t super effective, but with his high charisma, the kids stopped being scared and calmed down. 

Buzz! 

The shadows quivered, and Sakura and Shinji vanished. Kariya’s eyes widened, panic flaring. 

“Chill, I sent them to my little world. Think of it like a koyuu kekkai (inherent barrier). It’s super safe,” Riku said, waving off Kariya’s concern. Seeing Kariya still looked uneasy, he enveloped him in shadows. “Don’t fight it. Go check on them.” 

The warning was unnecessary—Riku could pull his ghoul servant into the Shadow Realm whether he resisted or not. 

“Where… is this?” Kariya asked, appearing in the Shadow Realm. If there was one obvious downside to this place, it was the lighting. For ghouls, darkness was no issue—they could see just fine. But for regular humans, the Shadow Realm lived up to its name. 

As a ghoul, Kariya had no trouble seeing. He quickly spotted Sakura and Shinji huddled by a small fire, looking lost. The fire, one of the few light sources, was lit by shadow mechanical guards standing nearby, their glowing eyes flickering. 

“Uncle Kariya!” Sakura and Shinji ran to him, clearly spooked by the strange environment. 

“It’s okay, Sakura, Shinji. Just wait here for a bit. Once your dad arrives, my lord will let you out,” Kariya said, calming them. The kids nodded obediently. 

Then Riku yanked Kariya back out. Berserker was solid muscle—they’d need him for what was coming. 

“Let’s hit the Holy Church first and take out Assassin,” Riku decided. Start with the softest target. That meant Hyakumo Hassan (Hundred-Faced Hassan) of the Assassin class. 

Hyakumo Hassan’s Noble Phantasm, Mousou Genshou (Delusional Illusion), let him manifest his multiple personalities as separate entities. He could split into a ton of bodies, but their individual combat strength was mediocre—the more he split, the weaker each got. He was a pro at intel and assassination, not frontline fighting. 

In Fuyuki’s Holy Grail War, unless something went screwy, summoning an Assassin usually meant getting one of the Hassans. The word “Assassin” supposedly came from “Hassan,” so the Assassin class itself acted as a catalyst to summon a Hassan-i-Sabbah. Which one you got was a toss-up, since every leader of the Assassins’ Order took that name. Hyakumo Hassan was one of them, and a weaker one in direct combat. If you drew him, your best bet was targeting enemy Masters. 

Boom! 

The Holy Church’s doors were kicked open, and a pitch-black Berserker charged in, startling the priest inside. 

Father Kotomine Risei hadn’t been sleeping. Word of the Matou family’s destruction had already reached him. As one of the “Big Three” families of the Grail War, the Matou estate was under surveillance by plenty of shikigami (familiars). No one knew who did it, but the Matou estate was clearly burning to the ground. 

This was a big deal. As the Grail War’s overseer, Kotomine Risei had to act. So did the Mage’s Association—they’d want a say in the Matou family’s succession. They weren’t about to let the Holy Church handle it alone. 

Tohsaka Tokiomi was freaking out. His daughter was still with the Matou family. If Zouken was dead and Sakura was alive, he’d want to ensure she inherited the Matou majutsu kokuin. 

“Kirei, what’s Tokiomi playing at?” Risei asked his son, Kotomine Kirei, as they pondered how to handle this mess in the church’s back room. 

“Sensei, he…” Kirei started, only to be cut off by a loud crash. 

“Who’s that?!” Risei shot to his feet, his face darkening. Someone was invading his turf—the overseer’s base, and the Holy Church’s territory. Did they think the Church was a pushover? 

“It’s Berserker,” Kirei replied. Assassin was already outside, moving to intercept. 

“We’ll need to call Tokiomi for backup. Assassin probably can’t take him,” Kirei said calmly. In theory, Assassin countered Berserker—nimble Assassins could toy with a maddened Berserker. But this Berserker was different, still wielding his pre-death skills like a cheat code. 

“Then we yield,” Risei said without hesitation. No point digging in their heels. Their alliance with Tokiomi was solid, and he respected the man. 

“We need to move fast. That mystery guy’s here too,” Kirei said, his usually stoic eyes flickering with emotion as Riku and Kariya entered the church. Kirei’s Servant was Assassin, so he knew Riku wasn’t a Servant. 

“That guy?!” Risei froze, shock on his face. The Church’s headquarters had already sent agents because of Riku. After Risei’s report, they suspected he was a Dead Apostle—possibly even an Ancestor-level one. An Ancestor appearing was a big deal. True Ancestors, Dead Apostles, and vampires were the Holy Church’s main enemies. An Ancestor-level Dead Apostle would trigger a full-on manhunt. 

Riku’s face was unfamiliar, but he could be a new Ancestor who’d taken out his predecessor. His ability to fight Servants on equal footing was too dangerous to ignore. 

“Too bad the Burial Agency’s Executors haven’t arrived yet,” Risei sighed. The Burial Agency, technically under the Holy Church, actually outranked it in authority. Packed with the Church’s strongest fighters, their main job was hunting True Ancestors, Dead Apostles, and vampires. Risei and Kirei, part of the Eighth Sacrament Assembly, handled holy relics, not the same department. The Burial Agency had only given Risei a heads-up as the local contact, with no intention of involving him further. 

Chapter 233: Kirei, Run! Archer’s About to Go All Out! 

“Assassin, you’re not running?” Riku asked, standing in the church. 

“Run? Why would I run? Isn’t this our turf?” The response came from an elderly woman, her voice raspy with age. This was Hassan-i-Sabbah, the “Hundred-Faced” Hassan, who had already split into five or six distinct forms—tall, short, fat, thin, male, female, young, old, all wearing eerie skull masks. Some of these Hassans didn’t exactly scream “assassin material.” 

Riku couldn’t help but chuckle. “Your turf? You sure about that?” 

The absurdity of a Hassan-i-Sabbah standing in a church, claiming it as their domain, was almost too much. Shouldn’t the Holy Church summoning an Assassin-class Servant feel, well, wrong to both sides? Their compatibility ought to be terrible—different beliefs, different everything.  

Hassan’s sect, the “Hashashin,” was an extremist group known for assassination. As the leader, Hassan wasn’t just a killer but a ruler, reigning over the fortress of Alamut and a network of strongholds, essentially founding a theocratic state, the “Nizari Ismaili.” A figure like that, working for the Holy Church as a glorified guard dog? It was almost comical. Sure, most of Hassan’s assassinations targeted the Seljuk Empire and internal rivals, but during the Crusades, they weren’t exactly friendly with outsiders either. 

“For the Holy Grail, we set aside distractions. The past is gone. We’re fighting for ourselves now,” Hundred-Faced Hassan replied coolly, unfazed by Riku’s taunts. In life, they’d given everything to the Hassan-i-Sabbah title. In death, they wanted something for themselves. 

“So, all you Hassans… do you regret becoming Hassan-i-Sabbah after death?” Riku sighed. This Hundred-Faced Hassan’s wish was simple: to be remembered as an individual, not just “Hundred-Faced Hassan,” and to unify their fragmented personalities into one. Essentially, to heal. 

It reminded him of Cursed Arm Hassan, summoned a decade later, who also regretted losing his face and name to the “Hassan-i-Sabbah” title, wishing to reclaim both. These Hassans shared a kinship with Saber, who wanted to undo her kingship. They didn’t want to be “kings” either—just themselves. 

“You know nothing!” Hundred-Faced Hassan snapped, clearly stung. Several daggers flew toward Riku and Matou Kariya. 

Clang! A black-and-purple sword flashed, deflecting the daggers. The Black Knight’s mist cleared, revealing Lancelot, wielding his “Arondight,” the Unfading Light of the Lake. This elven sword, a counterpart to Excalibur with matching origins, was forged by the Lady of the Lake and inscribed with elven runes. Once a holy sword, it lost that status after Lancelot used it to slay his fellow Round Table knights, now classified as a demonic blade. Its once-lake-like shimmer was gone, replaced by an eerie glow. 

Yet its indestructible edge remained, and with it, Lancelot’s abilities surged, his peerless martial skill making him a near-broken existence. Thanks to Kariya’s expanded magical circuits and the Matou family’s Magic Crest, he could finally sustain Berserker’s immense mana demands, unleashing Lancelot’s true power. 

Assassin, ill-suited for head-on fights, felt their skin crawl facing Berserker. He could probably cut them down one by one. 

“No need for Berserker to step in. I’ve got this,” Riku said, halting Lancelot. He couldn’t let Berserker steal these kills—he’d come specifically for Assassin. Lancelot could save his strength for the chaos ahead. 

“Fine.” Lancelot didn’t understand Riku’s words—he barely understood anyone’s—but Kariya did, and since Lancelot followed Kariya, he stopped. 

Hundred-Faced Hassan didn’t underestimate Riku. His feats—taking down Caster and his sea monster, not to mention holding his own against Archer—demanded respect. Several Hassans closed in, a motley crew of old, young, male, and female. Riku, facing this bizarre encirclement for the first time, didn’t hesitate. 

Voom! Sandevistan activated, and Riku’s form flickered. His longsword, wreathed in flames, lightning, and wind blades, struck like a thunderbolt. 

Assassins thrived on stealth, not frontal assaults. Charging head-on was suicide. Hundred-Faced Hassan’s original fate was to be wiped out, and even now, facing just Riku instead of Iskandar’s army was only a slight improvement. 

The Hassans met Riku’s attack with fearless acrobatics, undaunted. Assassins sometimes had to fight head-on, and courage was never their weakness. A lanky Hassan dodged Riku’s blade with a sidestep, then twisted unnaturally, his dagger aiming for Riku’s throat in a sneaky strike. 

But Riku vanished, a shadow flickering to reappear in front of the Hassan. His blade pierced the assassin’s throat in a single clash. The Hassan’s eyes, visible through the skull mask, widened in shock—he hadn’t expected to fall so fast. 

“Said!” The other Hassans froze, realizing the gap in combat prowess. 

This guy had blocked Archer’s Noble Phantasm barehanded. Mortal or not, he was no pushover. The defeated Hassan’s body dissolved into energy, vanishing to wherever fallen Servants went. 

Hundred-Faced Hassan’s split personalities were independent, each a distinct entity under their Noble Phantasm. Killing one didn’t return its power to the main body. Even if the remaining personalities unified, they’d never regain full strength. 

After losing “Said,” the other Hassans grew cautious, circling Riku to avoid direct clashes. Their agility was impressive—slippery as an acrobatic troupe. But Riku didn’t play fair. He unleashed his Shadow Prison, trapping them in a dark cage. 

The sudden shift made the Hassans’ faces—hidden behind masks—pale. “An inherent barrier?!” They felt an instinctive dread, as if this shadowy domain was their natural counter, threatening to crush them. 

“Behold my Gate of Babylon!” Riku mocked, slashing his blade. Shadow tendrils emerged from the walls, wielding an array of weapons—Noble Phantasms pilfered from Gilgamesh—hurled at the Hassans. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! The barrage rained down. Trapped in the church’s confined space, the Hassans had nowhere to hide, barely deflecting the onslaught. Some split into new personalities, others gave up dodging, accepting death. 

Now they understood how Riku had survived Archer’s Noble Phantasm. This wasn’t something most could evade—least of all them. 

Splitting preserved some clones, but it weakened them further, a slow death spiral. 

Riku charged, cutting through the resisting Hassans. They split into every personality they had, but Riku didn’t even need to transform or take a hit. He dispatched them effortlessly. 

[Ding! Experience +1650] 

Riku clicked his tongue. Hundred-Faced Hassan was weak. Pitting an Assassin against a tanky, time-stopping, teleporting warrior was unfair. No Hassan in history had likely faced such a lopsided fight. Talk about bullying the honest folk! With Hassan-i-Sabbah gone, Riku figured backup was due—or there’d be no one left to fight. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! Explosions interrupted his thoughts. Someone was attacking his Shadow Prison. No need to guess who—Kirei and his father’s ally. 

Riku dispelled the barrier, revealing a gleaming Heroic Spirit clashing with Berserker Lancelot. Wielding Arondight, Lancelot danced through a rain of Noble Phantasms, his masterful technique deflecting them with ease. His “Infinite Martial Discipline” unified mind, body, and weapon, channeling every ounce of strength even in his maddened state. With Kariya’s boosted mana supply, Lancelot’s stats were off the charts, a glimpse of the “strongest Round Table Knight” in his prime. 

“You mad dog! Who permitted you to look upon me?!” Gilgamesh roared, frustrated. Missing shot after shot felt like facing a cheater in an FPS game. Lancelot’s skill was a bug, a hack, and Gilgamesh’s patience was gone. He drew his “key,” summoning the infamous “Ea,” the Sword of Rupture. He was done playing. 

“Assassin’s down. That guy’s too strong,” Kirei mused in the church, oblivious to the escalating chaos, as was his father, Risei. 

“Kirei! Get your father out of here! Archer’s about to lose control!” Tohsaka Tokiomi’s frantic voice cut through. Known for his elegance, Tokiomi sounded panicked. 

Since using a Command Spell to restrain Gilgamesh last time, their relationship had soured. Now, as Gilgamesh drew Ea in a rage, Tokiomi’s instincts screamed to intervene, but he held back. Using another Command Spell would shatter their bond, leaving him with just one—too risky. To reach the Root, some sacrifices were necessary. 

“What?!” Kirei and Risei were stunned. What was Tokiomi pulling?! 

Without a word, they bolted out the church’s back door, sprinting to escape the epicenter. 

“Hey, you sure we’re worth pulling that out?” Riku teased, unfazed by Gilgamesh’s “stick-sword.” 

“Hmph, you two mongrels aren’t worthy, but today, this king is merciful. I’ll send you both off,” Gilgamesh sneered, brimming with arrogance. Ea could solve anything—one swing, maybe two. Nothing survived it. 

He acknowledged Berserker and Riku’s strength, though. Annoying as they were, they were formidable—far better than Assassin. 

“Pretty confident, huh, Archer?” Riku grinned, shaking his head. People might think Gilgamesh could destroy the world, but mystic powers were heavily suppressed in reality. Anti-city or anti-world Noble Phantasms? Their actual impact was underwhelming. Ea could wreak havoc in an inherent barrier, a true anti-world weapon, but in the real world? It just made a big crater when clashing with Enkidu. Hardly world-ending. 

Flood-causing Noble Phantasms were arguably more destructive, capable of wiping out cities. Heroic Spirits were just hired hands, after all. If someone like Gilgamesh truly held world-destroying power, no one—not even Tokiomi with a hundred chances—would summon him. Every faction would band together to stop him, or take him out first. 

Chapter 234: Justice in a 2-on-1, Time for the Strongest Archer to Exit! 

"Enough talk, mongrel! Tenchi Kaibyaku no Hoshi!" 

Facing Riku’s taunts, Gilgamesh’s choice was simple: blast him with the big guns! Gilgamesh was confident that any defiance, any resistance, would crumble to dust under the radiance of his Enuma Elish. These mongrels were nothing but frogs in a well, clueless about the vastness of the heavens! 

Its purple-black light, like glitching data, blanketed the sky. The reason EA was so effective against “worlds” was likely because its attack was designed to tear through the very fabric of space itself. 

So, Gilgamesh didn’t even need to aim precisely. His attack targeted the entire space around his opponent. 

“Bzzzzt!” 

A terrifying force poured out, unstoppable by human means. Its range might not be the widest, but within its reach, EA’s destructive power was unmatched. Probably only Altria’s “turtle-shell scabbard” could withstand it—everything else would simply be annihilated. 

As the dust settled, a massive crater appeared where EA had struck, as if a meteor had crashed from the heavens. The church, the flowers, the trees—gone. Nothing remained but a barren pit. 

“Hmph, is that all?” 

Floating in the air, Gilgamesh let out a cold sneer. He had absolute faith in EA’s power. One strike was enough to send both Berserker and that weird guy packing—no chance of survival. 

“Scary stuff, scary stuff.” 

Yet, from the depths of the crater, a shadow flickered. Riku’s form reappeared, muttering to himself, his face showing no trace of fear, his body completely unscathed. 

“How is this possible?!” 

Gilgamesh tightened his grip on his Deviance Sword, unable to believe this guy was untouched. But he quickly realized Riku must have some ability to escape combat swiftly. 

EA required a charge-up, which gave the opponent time to flee. If they didn’t try to clash head-on but instead dodged, escape was inevitable. 

“Cowardly fleeing in the face of battle.” 

Gilgamesh mocked, his mind clear. This guy wasn’t some reckless fool who’d stand there trying to tank. He’d have to pin him down first, then execute him. 

“What, you expect me to just stand there and die?” 

Facing Gilgamesh’s accusations, Riku played innocent. “You can’t hit me, so you blame me for dodging too well?” 

“Reflect on yourself, Hero King. All these years, have you even trained? Or are you just leaning too hard on EA?” 

Riku grinned cheekily, then pulled out a tactical nuke. You hit me, I hit back—my turn! 

“Eat my tactical nuke!” 

With a stylish flick of his arm, Riku hurled the nuke straight at Kinpika (Golden Sparkle). 

Gilgamesh frowned at the incoming projectile, clearly not too concerned. Sure, Heroic Spirits got a crash course in modern concepts upon summoning, but knowledge and practice are worlds apart. More importantly, Riku’s weapon was from an era far beyond this one. 

“3, 2, 1.” 

Riku counted down silently. He saw Gilgamesh swing EA, ready to casually slice the strange object apart. 

BOOM! 

A mushroom cloud erupted, the shockwave spreading instantly. Luckily, the church wasn’t in a busy area, so by the time the blast reached populated zones, its impact was minimal. 

Above the crater that obliterated everything, a torrent of terrifying energy poured toward Gilgamesh. Caught off guard, he fully unleashed his Gate of Babylon, pulling out every defensive Noble Phantasm he had, desperately blocking the explosion’s devastating force. 

Gilgamesh’s personality flaws were glaring. His arrogance and pride meant he looked down on every enemy. He had the capital to back it up, but against a crowd of heroes, that attitude made him a prime candidate for a spectacular crash-and-burn. 

If he’d just played it steady and strategic, winning the Holy Grail War would’ve been a breeze. But no, that’s not his style. 

BOOM!!! 

Amid the deafening roar, Gilgamesh’s figure crashed to the ground. He was battered but alive, thanks to burning through countless defensive Noble Phantasms. 

Of course, Riku hadn’t used a high-yield nuke either. He was wary of the so-called Alaya—the Counter Force. If he flattened Fuyuki City with one blast, he’d probably drive the Counter Force nuts. Outsiders like him could be tolerated if they were useful, but causing massive destruction? That’s a one-way ticket to pissing off the planet’s landlord. 

And if this weren’t the Type-Moon universe but a standalone Fate world, the Human Order would be even stricter, with zero patience for non-human interlopers like him. 

What Riku didn’t know was that, under the Counter Force’s subtle influence, the Church had already dispatched agents to target him specifically. 

To the Church, this wasn’t some grand Counter Force plot—they were just doing their job. Spotting a non-human entity and taking it out was their duty. No external force needed to nudge them. 

It’s like how True Ancestors, Dead Apostles, or vampires instinctively attack humans—it’s just what they do. They don’t see it as “saving the planet.” 

That’s the Counter Force for you. Outside of special cases like Guardians contracted to handle specific tasks, its influence is silent, unnoticed by individuals, organizations, or groups. 

“Looking pretty rough there, Gilgamesh.” 

Riku’s voice rang out, dripping with obvious mockery as he eyed the Hero King, blasted from the sky to the ground. 

“Mongrel!” 

Gilgamesh spat, his face twisted with rage. Being knocked out of the air by Riku was a massive humiliation. But he had to admit, he’d underestimated this guy. 

“No more talk! Go, Berserker!” 

Riku was done chatting. With a wave of his hands, Berserker was unleashed. When dodging EA earlier, Riku had taken both Matou Kariya and Berserker with him, having already told them not to resist his spatial recall. 

Berserker Lancelot, wielding Arondight, charged forward, engaging Gilgamesh in a flurry of blows. Against Lancelot’s peerless martial skill, the grounded Archer struggled to keep up. 

Clang! Clang! Clang! 

Chains shot out from the Gate of Babylon, aiming to bind Berserker. Gilgamesh knew he couldn’t fight Lancelot in close quarters—he’d get sliced to ribbons. 

Buzz! 

The Gate of Babylon opened wide, countless light points appearing in the sky, raining Noble Phantasms down on the ground. Berserker dodged the pursuit of the Chains of Heaven while evading the barrage, taking a few hits and looking increasingly battered. 

“Die, mongrel!” 

Gilgamesh’s grin returned, but Riku was about to wipe it off. Using Berserker to draw Gilgamesh’s attention, Riku slipped through the shadows, appearing right beside the Hero King. 

BOOM! 

A massive demonic form materialized, a blazing flame sword slashing down. Gilgamesh instinctively raised his sword to block. 

Despite his infamous moment of getting his hand chopped off by an “ordinary Japanese high schooler” (cough Shirou Emiya), Gilgamesh’s melee skills weren’t actually that bad for a Heroic Spirit. Not top-tier like Berserker Lancelot’s monstrous stats and technique, but a cut above Caster or Assassin—only slightly below Saber Altria or Lancer Diarmuid. 

So, when Riku got in his face, Gilgamesh didn’t immediately lose a hand. Riku didn’t carry a plot-induced stupidity aura to make Gilgamesh lose his wits like he did against Shirou. 

“Pity.” 

Riku sighed. He’d have loved to reenact that plot-kill moment. Guess he’d left too deep an impression—Gilgamesh was on guard. 

Zzzzt! Whoosh! 

Lightning crackled, winds howled. Riku flapped his wings, unleashing a combo of lightning, wind, shockwaves, and sonic attacks. 

Having burned through most of his defensive Noble Phantasms blocking the nuke, Gilgamesh was stretched thin. Riku pressed the advantage, swinging his alien flame blade again. 

Roar! 

With Gilgamesh’s focus split, Berserker broke through the onslaught, charging forward. 

Gilgamesh’s strength lived up to his legend. Even under Riku and Berserker’s combined assault, he held his own for a while, multitasking like a pro. 

But now, he was finally cornered. His melee weakness was exposed, the Gate of Babylon couldn’t keep up, and EA needed a wind-up he didn’t have time for. Even a small opening was deadly. 

Clank! Clank! Clank! 

The Chains of Heaven locked onto Berserker Lancelot, narrowly saving Gilgamesh from a fatal blow. 

Splurch! 

But while he dodged Berserker’s strike, he couldn’t evade Riku’s. An arm flew into the air—Gilgamesh had finally reenacted his hand-losing legacy. 

“Mongrel! Mongrel!!!” 

Losing an arm, Gilgamesh lost it, screaming. Two-on-one? What kind of heroic duel was this? Fight him one-on-one if you dare! 

“Why’s it two against one? Ever think maybe it’s because you don’t have any friends? Oh, right, hard to make friends when you’re yelling ‘mongrel’ all day.” 

Riku poured fuel on the fire, rubbing salt in the wound, hitting Gilgamesh where it hurt. 

Truth be told, Gilgamesh wasn’t entirely friendless. Without the Chains of Heaven, he’d have been chopped up already. You could argue the chains were his real trump card. 

Buzz! 

The Gate of Babylon opened again, but Riku was too close. Before Gilgamesh could fire, Riku was on him. 

But the Hero King was done playing nice. If he was going down, he’d take one of them with him! The Gate’s Noble Phantasms fired at the chained Berserker Lancelot. It was rushed, but he had no choice—Berserker was about to break free. 

Crack! Crack! Crack! 

The chains were snapping. Despite being raised by the Lady of the Lake, Lancelot had no divinity, so the Chains of Heaven—designed for mythical beings—were just sturdy chains to him. Against his insane stats, they couldn’t hold long. The moment was fleeting, but Gilgamesh seized it. 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! 

Yet, his desperate counterattack was thwarted—by his own Noble Phantasms, no less. Or rather, ones that used to be his. 

Riku hurled shadow Noble Phantasms, clashing with Gilgamesh’s barrage, buying Berserker enough time to break free. 

“Mongrel! You dare use my treasures like that?!” 

Gilgamesh’s eyes burned with rage, as if betrayed in the worst way. His treasures, used against him! And mimicking his Gate of Babylon style! 

“My treasures now!” 

Riku laughed, his blade flashing in a brutal strike, cleaving a massive gash across Gilgamesh’s body, nearly splitting him in two. 

“AAAAGH!!!” 

Fury and pain drove Gilgamesh wild. When had he ever faced such humiliation? This was before his defeat by an “ordinary Japanese high schooler,” so his tolerance for shame was low. If this felt bad, imagine how he’d feel losing to Shirou. 

Splurch! 

Riku didn’t let up, moving like a blur, closing in for another slash. 

Splurch! 

Gilgamesh’s head flew skyward, his eyes still blazing with rage and unwillingness. He clearly didn’t believe he’d lost. One-on-one, he was sure neither could beat him. 

“Tough luck. You look down on everyone, so when you need help, no friends show up, huh?” 

Riku saw the defiance in Gilgamesh’s eyes and shrugged. Whose fault is that? Blame your own attitude. In this world, you gotta play nice sometimes! 

Chapter 235: Kariya Matou's Face-Off 

[Ding! Experience Points +3300] 

[Ding! Experience Points Maxed Out, Level Up to Lv18, Current Experience: 1100/3100.] 

[Obtained 1 Attribute Point.] 

[Obtained 1 Skill Point.] 

The notification from the [Limit System] popped up. After taking down Archer Gilgamesh, the experience points gained were unprecedented. Looking at it this way, facing the Hero King with Riku's current strength was indeed quite risky. 

The summoned Heroic Spirits were far weaker than their original selves, and those with exaggerated abilities were suppressed even more. Yet, even with such a heavily nerfed Gilgamesh, Riku, alongside Berserker Lancelot, managed to defeat him and gain a whopping 3300 experience points. This was a testament to Gilgamesh’s strength, as it was the highest single-time EXP gain Riku had ever achieved. 

“We actually beat that guy…”  

Kariya Matou, tossed out by Riku, could only describe the outcome as surreal. That overpowered Archer, Tokiomi Tohsaka’s Servant, had really been taken down by them! 

“Tokiomi Tohsaka… I’d love to see the look on your face right now!” 

For Kariya, this was the most important thing. The “Holy Grail War” meant nothing to him now that Sakura was safe. Thwarting Tokiomi Tohsaka was his ultimate goal—he had to make that cold-hearted man return empty-handed! It was his punishment! 

“Defeating Gilgamesh was only natural. He never took us seriously as opponents.” 

Riku didn’t think much of it. Archer Gilgamesh’s arrogant personality practically destined him to fall due to his own pride—it was just his character. If Gilgamesh had taken his enemies seriously, that would’ve been out of character. A mere “Holy Grail War” could never make him bring his A-game, especially without a Servant named Enkidu around. 

“Uh…” 

Kariya felt a bit awkward. He didn’t know Gilgamesh’s personality and thought their victory was hard-earned—a true, direct blow against Tokiomi Tohsaka! 

In a way, Kariya wasn’t wrong. Even Tokiomi himself didn’t fully understand Gilgamesh. He was likely the most shocked by his Servant’s sudden defeat. 

“How could this be… Archer, he actually…” 

Tokiomi’s face darkened, his usual air of control and elegance gone. His body trembled, not out of fear but from a mix of disappointment and despair.  

“The invincible Archer… defeated just like that?!” 

After years of scheming and preparation, everything Tokiomi had planned crumbled with Gilgamesh’s defeat. In that moment, he felt his life had lost all meaning—his hope of reaching the Root was shattered. 

“Phew!” 

After a long silence, Tokiomi took a deep breath, finally accepting reality. 

“No! I have to pull myself together. I may have failed this time, but I still have Rin and Sakura. I may never reach the Root, but they still have a chance!” 

At that moment, Tokiomi thought of his two daughters, both prodigiously talented—the future of the Tohsaka family. Even if he couldn’t reach the Root, if his daughters could, it would fulfill the Tohsaka legacy. He couldn’t afford to wallow in despair; he had to raise them to succeed. 

“But right now, there’s trouble to deal with.” 

Calming down, Tokiomi began to feel a headache. Archer Gilgamesh, whom he had placed such high hopes on, was gone. And with him, his allies from the Holy Church—Risei Kotomine and Kirei Kotomine—had also vanished. 

Indeed, despite Tokiomi’s timely warning, the Kotomine father and son couldn’t escape in time. When Gilgamesh unleashed EA upon the world, they were obliterated along with the Holy Church and everything nearby, without even a chance to leave last words. 

To Gilgamesh, the Kotomines were insignificant, crushed as easily as ants. But for Tokiomi, this was a massive headache. Archer’s defeat was one thing, but causing such a huge commotion without the Holy Church’s help meant the Mage’s Association would have to handle the cover-up alone. 

As the responsible manager of Fuyuki’s spiritual land, Tokiomi couldn’t just ignore the city’s current state. Thankfully, Risei Kotomine had already used the Church’s influence to cover up the battle by the Mion River. Now, Tokiomi only had to deal with the “explosion incident” at the Church. 

But thinking about the destruction caused by Gilgamesh, Tokiomi’s headache worsened. How was he supposed to explain this? A gas leak causing such catastrophic damage? No one with a brain would believe that! 

Riku, of course, couldn’t care less about Tokiomi’s troubles. He had already left the battlefield and was happily allocating his points. The secrecy of magecraft had nothing to do with him. 

Without hesitation, Riku put the attribute point into Strength, bringing his base Strength to 20. 

[Strength Reached 20, Special Trait Unlocked.] 

[Available Special Traits:  

• Monstrous Strength Lv1: Increases strength by 1.5x.  

• Charge Lv1: Accumulate power for high-damage attacks; longer charge time, higher damage.  

• Berserk Lv1: Triples strength for 30 seconds, followed by a 50% debuff to all stats.] 

Looking at the three options, Riku pondered briefly but didn’t choose right away. 

Monstrous Strength offered a steady 1.5x boost, reliable and safe. Charge had high potential but was impractical—enemies wouldn’t just stand there while you powered up. Berserk was a one-shot burst, perfect for ending fights quickly but risky with its heavy debuff. 

After some thought, Riku chose Monstrous Strength. It was the safe, steady choice with a consistent percentage boost. 

He was tempted by Charge’s seemingly limitless potential, but considering even EA’s long wind-up was hard to pull off in battle, Charge wouldn’t be ideal. No one’s dumb enough to let you charge a super move uninterrupted. 

With attributes sorted, Riku put the skill point into [Ultimate Being]. 

[Ultimate Being Lv14: A special physique from fusing Demon King’s Blood and Rc Cells. Strength, Agility, Constitution +18. Grants Blood Demon Arts and Physical Alteration State.] 

With continuous upgrades, [Ultimate Being] finally shed its negative Charisma effect. Moving forward, Riku could look forward to Charisma boosts as the skill leveled up. After all, what’s an [Ultimate Being] without being a charming, enviable figure? Otherwise, it wouldn’t live up to the name! 

“Is this the Tohsaka residence?” 

Standing in front of a grand mansion, Riku asked Kariya. It was the night of the next day, and after a day of rest, the Holy Grail War was heating up. 

With Caster, Assassin, and Archer out of the picture, the situation had shifted dramatically. Saber Artoria, Lancer Diarmuid, and Rider Iskandar were all wary, especially of Riku and Berserker’s bold, aggressive moves. They were starting to form alliances, knowing none could take on Riku and Berserker alone without being picked off one by one. 

Riku didn’t care. He and Kariya had come to the Tohsaka residence to stir up trouble for Tokiomi. After all, they had Sakura with them, and it only made sense to meet her father. 

Riku was considerate of his allies’ wishes. Having dealt Tokiomi a “heavy blow,” Kariya naturally wanted to rub it in his face, and Riku was happy to indulge him. 

Plus, Riku had his own ideas. Tokiomi Tohsaka was a walking meme goldmine. Converting him would undoubtedly yield a special ability—Riku had no doubts about that. 

“This is the Tohsaka residence. That guy Tokiomi is definitely here.” 

Kariya’s eyes gleamed with excitement, barely containing himself. But holding Sakura’s hesitant hand, he didn’t rush in. Despite his desire to confront Tokiomi, his gentleness kept his impulses in check. 

“Let’s go meet this traditional mage.” 

Riku nodded, sensing Tokiomi’s presence. The ever-elegant mage hadn’t fled—likely because he never imagined anyone would chase him to his home to gloat after his defeat. 

Boom! 

Berserker Lancelot easily broke through the Tohsaka family’s gemstone magic defenses. Lancelot might lack magic resistance, but raw stats? Stats were true beauty. 

Inside the mansion, Riku, Kariya, and Sakura found Tokiomi in his study. The group’s appearance clearly caught him off guard—things were, once again, not going as he’d predicted. Seeing Sakura, though, brought him some relief. She hadn’t died in the Matou family’s incident. 

Still, this Holy Grail War had defied nearly all his expectations, making his initial confidence seem like a joke. 

“Tokiomi, how’s it feel to lose?” 

Before Tokiomi could speak, Kariya couldn’t hold back, smirking as he threw out a direct taunt. 

“…” 

Tokiomi frowned, not wanting to discuss this in front of his daughter. As a father, he always presented himself as an infallible superhero to Rin and Sakura—no wonder Rin idolized him. 

“Yan Ye, so you inherited the Matou family’s Magic Crest?” 

After a brief silence, Tokiomi changed the subject. Seeing Sakura alive, his biggest concern was the Magic Crest. 

“Magic, Magic Crest! That’s all you care about! You don’t even ask about Sakura’s safety or how she’s been treated at the Matou house!” 

Kariya exploded at Tokiomi’s question, fed up with his “magic-first” attitude. To him, mages were all lunatics, and he’d never let Sakura return to the Tohsaka family! 

“Since Sakura was adopted into the Matou family, I had no reason to interfere or contact her. Otherwise, it’d look like I was coveting the Matou’s magic. I had to keep my distance, Yan Ye. Don’t you get that?” 

Tokiomi saw nothing wrong with his stance and even mocked Kariya’s lack of mage common sense. In his eyes, Kariya was beneath him. 

For an adopted daughter, if he kept meddling, how could the Matou family trust her with their legacy? It’d be like handing their inheritance to an outsider. Tokiomi understood this and, despite missing Sakura, stayed away. 

“Your stupid ‘keeping distance’! You cold-blooded bastard!” 

Kariya didn’t buy it. Their perspectives were completely at odds, and they couldn’t see eye to eye. 

“If you despise mages so much, why come back to take over the Matou family?” 

Unfazed by Kariya’s insults, Tokiomi pressed on about the Magic Crest. He’d assumed it would go to Sakura, but Kariya had swooped in. 

“I came back to save Sakura! You have no idea what she went through at the Matou house, Tokiomi. You know nothing!” 

Kariya gritted his teeth, unable to stand Tokiomi’s smug face. 

“No matter how much she suffered, it’s better than being an ordinary human.” 

Looking at Sakura, Tokiomi spoke, hoping she’d understand his intentions were for her own good. 

“Oh, wow, the classic ‘it’s for your own good,’ huh?” 

Riku, watching from the side, couldn’t help but clap sarcastically. He could barely hold it together. Clearly, Tokiomi had no clue about the Matou family’s true situation. If he did, he wouldn’t dare say something like that. 

(End of Chapter)