The war chariot that crashed down with thunder was driven by a red-haired giant of a man.
His face carried a trace of surprise as he looked upon Saber's stern gaze and her radiant Noble Phantasm, then glanced at the expressionless black-clad Servant nearby. Stroking his red beard with hands like gnarled branches, he prepared to speak.
"King of Conquerors, Iskandar?" Satsuki's Tenseigan flicked over him indifferently. "As Rider, to forgo the chance for a charging assault and instead place your chariot squarely between Saber and me—clearly, you did not come here seeking battle."
"Oh? So you possess the ability to pierce a Servant's true name? That spares me a great deal of trouble."
The red-haired Conqueror King sat proudly upon his chariot. His features were of a classic European mold: red hair, beard, and eyes, his rugged muscles barely contained even beneath a great crimson cloak.
His temperament matched his appearance—boisterous and open. He cared nothing for his true name being spoken aloud before all.
On the battlefield of the Grail, a Servant's true name was critical intelligence. It revealed their abilities and Noble Phantasms. If the Conqueror King truly possessed the strategic cunning history attributed to him, such carelessness would have been unthinkable, no matter his character.
Was this kingly bearing? To Satsuki, it seemed more akin to willful arrogance.
But in this world of fantasy, she held no illusions about the intelligence of its people—just as in the shinobi world of her past.
She herself was the embodiment of emptiness, and so her perspective was already far removed from theirs.
Yet that did not mean this giant intruder lacked charisma.
"What are you thinking? Why did you suddenly rush in here?"
His Master, Waver, was visibly uncomfortable with the giant's antics. But clearly, the Conqueror King had no time for his small Master. Instead, the bulls harnessed to the chariot snorted thunderously, silencing Waver's protest. Then the giant's booming voice rose once more:
"Though fate decrees we vie for the Grail, I must ask one question." He lifted his head high, his voice overflowing with vigor as his cloak billowed wide. "Will you join me, surrendering the Grail to my hand? If so, I shall treat you as comrades, and together we shall revel in the joy of conquering the world!"
Satsuki suddenly found her breath stifled. The entire shore seemed choked with the stench of something called 'foolishness.'
Did the Conqueror King share blood with some shameless trickster? To dress up blatant mooching in such righteous words—rare indeed. Worst of all, he seemed utterly convinced of himself.
"You interrupted our battle to spout such nonsense?" The Knight King's fury was provoked at once. "As a knight, this insult is unforgivable."
"Is that so?"
With slight regret, his gaze shifted toward Satsuki, whose brow furrowed faintly. Just as he was about to speak, a deadly killing intent skimmed along his throat. The bulls pulling his chariot reared in panic, their thunderous power nearly lashing back upon their own master.
But the Conqueror King merely reached up with grave composure, brushing a lock of red hair at his temple—where a razor-thin mark now lay.
"Before you speak, best consider the consequences first."
The cold, ethereal voice that shattered the tension belonged to Satsuki, who had unleashed the killing intent.
Though her state of mind had neared emptiness, her distaste for 'foolishness' was etched in her very bones, impossible to erase.
"A harsh rejection. Quite unlike your outward appearance." Iskandar muttered under his breath. "Very well, it seems this carefully prepared negotiation has failed."
"What careful preparation!?" Waver stuck his head halfway out from behind a wheel. "Are you really the Conqueror King of history? Rider!!"
"Could such a man truly have conquered the world?" Even the distant observer was left speechless by this ridiculous interloper.
Aside from conquest, war, and plunder, perhaps this Conqueror King ought to consider a career in comedy during his leisure time.
But just then, another voice intruded upon the scene.
—"Lady Satsuki! Are you here?"
All present turned toward the source of the voice—it was the Chaldean group that had been with Kayneth earlier.
"Kayneth went to the Church?" Seeing that both Karna and Kayneth were absent, Satsuki immediately guessed their intention.
By principle, the Holy Grail War should not involve ordinary people. It was a contest between magi and magi, between Servants and Servants. Yet Kiritsugu Emiya's methods utterly broke that rule.
It was like deploying 'weapons of mass destruction' on the battlefield. Not because others lacked the ability, but because doing so would set disastrous precedent.
If one could win by any means—today it might be a bombing strike on an enemy's base. Then tomorrow, one could simply summon all Masters into the radius of a nuclear blast, build a personal shelter in advance, and detonate at the appointed time. The Servants might survive—but what of the Masters? Wouldn't that make victory far easier?
Thus, if Kayneth reported Emiya's actions to the Church, the arbiters of the rules would be compelled to act against him. Even though with Satsuki's intervention no great casualties had occurred, the sheer malice of the act had already surpassed any tolerable limit.
Though the Holy Grail War was a battlefield of life and death, maintaining certain boundaries was not weakness. It was, in its way, protection of the greater whole.
"Yes, Lady Satsuki," Ritsuka Fujimaru answered loudly. After learning from Kayneth that the earlier events had been Satsuki's doing, his view of her shifted drastically. From seeing her as a cold and ruthless Servant, in a blink he now regarded her as a stern but kind protector. He even willingly began to address her as 'Lady.'
The lingering waves of mana in the air did not dissipate so easily. The sea, split open by the clash of sword pressure, only now began to slowly close again.
"Senpai, were you fighting here?" Mash, clad once more in her armor and carrying her great shield, rushed to Satsuki's side. Her eyes stayed wary as they flicked between the Rider on his chariot and Saber.
"Fou~ Fou~"
The little white creature scampered up onto Satsuki's shoulder, as though pleased with her earlier actions.
But then, to everyone's surprise, El-Melloi—usually calm and calculating—suddenly seemed to spot something that filled him with fury.
His face twisted with anger as he glared at the dejected Waver seated on the chariot, and shouted: "You fool! Did you really think with such third-rate abilities you could surpass other Masters?"
Waver looked around in bewilderment, only realizing after a moment that the long-haired, effeminate man was pointing at him. Still dazed from the jolting ride and Rider's antics, he hadn't yet regained his bearings.
"You… you… who even are you? What gives you the right to start cursing me the moment we meet!?"
What followed left everyone present utterly bewildered.
El-Melloi glared at the timid youth standing nervously beside Rider with an expression of bitter disappointment, as though hating iron for not becoming steel. "Shouldn't you be scolded? Don't you realize how reckless it is for you to be here? A single stray aftershock from a battle like this could kill you dozens of times over. Who do you think you are, barging straight into the center of the battlefield?"
"You… you, you, you, you…"
The young man stammered, unable to find words to retort. His darting eyes betrayed his own guilty conscience. As a Master, of course he understood how dangerous this was. From the beginning, he had opposed Rider's reckless intrusion into the battlefield.
But—what could he do? In the face of the giant called Iskandar, his opinions had always been ignored. His so-called rational actions had been dismissed outright.
Faced with a Servant so utterly incompatible with himself, one who acted on his own code of conduct, this half-trained magus had no means to restrain him.
"Not just this time—before and after as well! Every danger you survived was thanks only to your ridiculous luck!"
"And every time you had the slightest success, you naively mistook it for your own ability!"
"Always the same! No wonder you've never grown at all! Don't tell me you haven't realized this yourself, huh?!"
Three blows straight to the heart.
It wasn't only Waver, the one being berated, who was stunned. Even the surrounding Servants, Ritsuka Fujimaru, and Mash were left dumbfounded by El-Melloi's tone. Only Satsuki, with her Tenseigan and keen mind, quickly discerned the true reason behind this strange outburst.
But she said nothing, silently standing by, watching the spectacle. After all, this development was rather amusing.
Anyone with sense could hear it—behind those harsh words lay something far more complex.
But the young and inexperienced Waver, caught in the middle of a dangerous battlefield, simply couldn't keep his composure.
"Wait a second! Why do I have to be lectured the moment we meet? Who even are you!?"
His childish response only further enraged El-Melloi. "Are you stupid? With that attitude, you dare waltz into a Holy Grail War? Ahhhhh! How can anyone be this foolish? You're so stupid, you deserve to choke to death on unagi tamago don!"
"Uh…" Mash, leaning on her shield, muttered in a small voice to her Master with an expression that seemed unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Senpai, it seems… Lord El-Melloi has flipped some strange switch. His personality's completely changed…"
"Fou↑ Fou↓." Even the little white beast's cry carried the tone of an exasperated aside.
Ritsuka, at least, kept his wits about him. Having survived multiple time-travel ordeals, he had seen far greater storms. This was nothing but a small scene.
Still—
"Mash, this looks interesting. Let's not interfere—just keep watching." A mischievous smile crossed his face. "Look, even Lady Satsuki seems entertained."
Among those present, only Waver failed to notice. Even the King of Knights sensed that between the scolder and the scolded lay a subtle, intricate bond. No doubt her Instinct played some part.
But for the hapless Waver, being so thoroughly scolded left him no rationality to cling to.
"You… who the hell are you? What right do you have?" In a fit of anger, Waver tried to use his Master's ability to analyze Servants. "From the look of you, you're just a Caster, aren't you? Is it you? Are you the one we've been ordered to fight against?"
Convinced he had found his opponent's weak point, Waver puffed up proudly. "It's because you keep breaking the rules of the Grail War and committing foul acts that the Overseer has marked you, isn't it?"
"Bullshit!"
El-Melloi exploded in fury, swearing outright. "If you can see attributes, then at least pay attention to the fact I'm a pseudo-Servant! Ahhhhh, how shameful! The Command Seals etched on your hand must be weeping from being so utterly wasted!"
"Pseudo-what?"
Waver faltered, embarrassed.
"Hold a moment, boy. Though his class may be Caster, I, Iskandar the Conqueror, who have met countless men, can say this one is not the sort of Heroic Spirit who would stoop to such deeds."
"Eh? Why not?" Waver's voice turned petulant. "Just look at him—so strange! A man with such long hair, it's suspicious!"
"Hmph!"
Perhaps because Rider had spoken, El-Melloi's furious expression softened somewhat, though he still seemed unwilling to meet Rider's gaze directly.
And once Rider began speaking, it was clear he had seized the rhythm of this absurd exchange.
"That gloomy-faced fellow over there."
"W-what is it?"
In an instant, El-Melloi's tone lost all the confidence it had carried when he was scolding Waver.
"From the start, you've been picking fights with my boy."
A dangerous grin spread across the Conqueror King's face. "Does that mean you're prepared to face me in battle?"
"Wha…? How did you reach that conclusion?" El-Melloi's expression twisted into aggrieved frustration. "Surely even you can see who's really in the wrong here."
"Hahahaha!"
The Conqueror King roared with laughter. "Because all those reckless acts you berated him for were my doing! But no matter what, he is my Master. If you pick a fight with him, how could I, his Servant, possibly stand by?"
As his words fell, a crushing aura burst from his blazing eyes, bearing down on El-Melloi. Fortunately, Mash stepped in, planting her shield before him to stem the pressure.
Waver, hearing Rider's declaration, stared in shock at the giant beside him as though meeting him for the first time.
"Damn it…"
El-Melloi swallowed his protest in silence.
"Lord El-Melloi, surely your plan here was not to pick a fight with Rider," even Mash remarked, sensing the subtle bond between the two.
"Withdraw—we can't afford to escalate this."
"Che, how boring. I thought you had more backbone."
The Conqueror King rubbed salt into El-Melloi's wound. Meanwhile, Waver puffed himself up proudly beside Rider, as if to say, I have a Servant, therefore I am strong.
"Hmph! Big words, but in the end you run. Coward~."
Truly, what one cannot have always stirs unrest; what is favored grows arrogant.
But Iskandar was Iskandar. He immediately turned and scolded his own Master. "Don't get carried away, boy."
Then with a snap of his fingers, he flicked the smug Waver into unconsciousness on the chariot bench.
"Enough. This farce has dragged on long enough." At last, Satsuki spoke. "This battle has gone on for quite some time. With such immense surges of mana, it's inevitable other Servants will be drawn here."
Her cold gaze turned toward the top of a tall streetlight. "You there. You've been watching for quite some time. Will you not descend and join this feast? Or has your self-assessment led you to wisely remain in hiding?"
In response to Satsuki's provocation, another Servant appeared in a blaze of golden light.
Clad head to toe in magnificent golden armor, his hair was gold, his face strikingly handsome—but his words cast doubt on whether his homeland might secretly be Zaun:
"Unknown mongrel… your gaze displeases me."