1989, Fuyuki City.
The head of the Matou family—one of the two great magician families in this city—Matou Zouken, seemed to be in an unusually good mood today.
Every sixty years, a mysterious magical ritual takes place in this city. Seven teams, each composed of a Master and a Servant, battle one another, with the defeated ultimately being sacrificed to summon the legendary Holy Grail.
Of course, this was merely a ritual system created by magi. The object summoned was not the divine relic of the Son of God.
Nevertheless, its function was no less miraculous. Though a magical construct, the Grail was a true wish-granting machine—capable of fulfilling any desire.
By now, it was nearly time for the Fourth Holy Grail War.
There was still about a year left before the official commencement.
Yet Matou Zouken no longer held out hope for this coming war. The Matou family—or rather, the Zolgen family, as it was originally known—had arrived in Fuyuki as outsiders. Magic, being intimately tied to one's living environment, had evolved across the centuries. Only in this generation had the family begun to adapt to their new land, and as a result, their magical potency had waned.
This was to be expected.
After all, no one had foreseen that even after several hundred years, the Grail ritual would remain incomplete.
So much time had passed that the magician bloodline itself had nearly died out. Worse still, the next generation—descendants of Zouken's own son—had been born with completely blocked magic circuits. They were incapable of becoming magi.
Thus, for the Fourth Holy Grail War, the Matou family could produce no new pawns. They had no means of participation.
But—
The old man, his form so twisted by time that he appeared grotesque, turned his gaze upon the little girl beside him. A look of satisfaction glimmered in his eyes.
"Yorimasa's descendants have yielded something decent, at least. The bloodline strengthens with each generation. Still, being too exceptional isn't always a good thing, don't you think, Sakura?"
Since he had missed his chance this time, he would leave things to the next generation.
Hmm... "sustenance" feels a bit inaccurate.
It would be better to say that the planning for the next Holy Grail War begins now.
"—!"
At those words, the little girl named Sakura trembled.
She was clearly terrified of the old man. Subconsciously, she shrank back. But bound by her timid nature, and by a deep-seated fear and unease, she froze in place—head lowered, lips sealed, motionless.
"Tsksksk~ Don't be afraid, Sakura. From this day forth, you are my granddaughter. I believe you'll come to love your new name—Matou Sakura. Isn't it far more pleasing than Tohsaka Sakura? But before that, we have a small ceremony to perform."
Matou Zouken chuckled eerily as he pulled Sakura toward the depths of the mansion, whose outer appearance belied its true purpose.
Despite leaning on a cane and hunched over in apparent frailty, the old man moved with disturbing agility.
He dragged Sakura along so quickly that she stumbled several times, nearly falling. Though she should have been able to keep up, his grip was so powerful that it hurt her wrist. Regardless, he forced her onward.
His demeanor had grown noticeably rougher, increasing the girl's unease.
"Grandpa, where are we going?" she asked weakly.
"We're here, Sakura. Don't be afraid," he replied, his tone dark and low.
But that voice only heightened her dread.
As they reached the foot of the stairs and she saw what lay below, Sakura's eyes widened. The sheer terror in her face could no longer be concealed.
Even without any explanation, anyone would know that something terrible awaited.
There were insects. Countless. Tens of thousands. Twisting, crawling, writhing. The grotesque mass would be enough to overwhelm not just any woman—but any human being. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually.
Nausea?
This transcended mere disgust.
"All right, Sakura. Down you go."
"Huh?"
The girl froze at the old man's command. Perhaps due to her panic, she lost her balance and fell sideways—
—directly into the writhing swarm.
Well, he hadn't even needed to push her.
"Tsksksk... Let's see how long the esteemed Tohsaka bloodline can endure in the insect pit," Matou Zouken muttered, raising his hand to direct the swarm. After all, Sakura couldn't be allowed to die—not yet. That would be a waste.
He wanted to refine her. Not kill her.
Cheap feed was abundant. High-quality vessels, however, must be used to their fullest potential.
But in the very next moment, he froze.
"This is—"
A look of unprecedented astonishment overtook him. Even the insect swarm halted, sensing his sudden emotion. The only sound in the chamber was the girl's frightened cries.
It was caused by the appearance of twisted red sigils on the back of Matou Zouken's hand.
The Holy Marks.
The Command Seals.
Crystallized magic power—proof of qualification for the Holy Grail War.
And yet, the war was still a year away.
No. Wait. The Grail had accumulated sixty years' worth of magical power. It made sense for it to begin selecting candidates early. It always sought the magus with the strongest desire.
But if he were to be chosen by the Grail... should it not have happened sooner? Why now, with only a year left and no initiative taken?
It was bizarre. Unnatural.
Zouken could not grasp the reason behind it.
But from the moment the Command Seals branded his hand, the situation had already escaped his control.
In an instant, sacred light filled the chamber.
Space bent. Overlapped. A golden object flickered into existence, then vanished.
It was as if countless unseen worshipers were chanting solemn hymns in chorus—voices full of divine blessing. In that moment, every insect within the chamber—whether mature familiar or unhatched egg—was judged as evil, purified, dispersed, and obliterated into ash.
Even Matou Zouken's own body showed signs of disintegration.
Power.
Divinity.
The overwhelming sacred aura forced Zouken to his knees with a heavy thud. A massive quantity of magical energy drained from his body. He couldn't even cast a basic spell.
"Servant Caster—King Arthur—has descended into this world. Mortals, upon witnessing this King, may bow down and worship."
An indifferent voice rang out.
As the light faded, Matou Zouken saw Sakura kneeling on the ground. Her tears had stopped. Her eyes now glimmered with a faint light—hope.
And standing beside her was a blond boy.
A boy whose very presence seemed to reshape reality.
A boy who stood at the center of the world.
A boy whose eyes now flashed with unmistakable killing intent.
-End Chapter-
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