"Cough... cough... Father, thank you for using a Command Spell to transfer me back. I was reckless."
"It's alright." Descending the steps, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada shook his head gently, his tone calm and forgiving. "However, Archer, you should know—your three Command Spells have all been expended."
"In other words, Archer, the only connection left between you and your Master is the mana supply. You no longer have access to the Command Spell's teleportation or amplification abilities. Nor can your Master force you to obey."
Previously, Semiramis had ordered the Masters of the Red Faction to use Command Spells to summon back Rider Achilles and Archer Atalanta when the Yggdmillennia Servants, led by Lancer of Black—Vlad III, launched their assault.
However, at that time, both Achilles and Atalanta were trapped within Selene's Noble Phantasm—Honkai Dimension. The transfer spells couldn't activate. Unaware of this, Semiramis panicked and used two Command Spells.
Through Achilles' desperate rescue, Atalanta was successfully recalled by the second spell. But Achilles himself was completely consumed by the Honkai Dimension. Even when Semiramis spent all three of Rider of Red's Command Spells, there was no response.
Sensing both Achilles' and the Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper's—disappearance, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada knew they were beyond saving. Achilles had fallen.
The only sliver of hope was Berserker Spartacus, who was apparently still being held by the Black Faction. His Noble Phantasm's unique properties presented an opportunity—one that, if used well, could yield unexpected results.
"Ah... I understand. In the next battle, I've already accepted that it may be my last. The decisive war has begun, hasn't it?"
Clutching her abdomen, Atalanta coughed a few times before slowly rising to her feet, her gaze sweeping the surroundings.
"So this is the Noble Phantasm Assassin has been preparing all along? Our trump card... it seems complete," she murmured in awe.
Before them stretched an immense, empty hall. Its architecture was arched and grand, with gold and silver constructs arranged in perfect geometric precision—diamond and V-shaped patterns gleaming in the dim light. The floor was smooth, dark, and polished, exuding solemnity and regality.
At the center stood a towering, conical pyramid platform. Thick silver threads crisscrossed its surface, forming intricate designs. Red carpets covered the dozens of steps leading up to the top—where a throne carved in lavish, dark-toned splendor awaited.
Seated upon it was the woman in black attire—Assassin herself—regal and serene, overlooking all below like a queen.
And indeed, she was. The Assassin of Red—Semiramis—the Queen of Assyria.
"Yes, our trump card is ready. Now it's our turn to strike back." Amakusa Shirou Tokisada nodded and looked toward the elegant noblewoman upon the throne, smiling faintly.
"Well? How do you find my domain—Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"
At that, Semiramis chuckled lightly, a queen's laughter echoing through the chamber. "Though I am but a half-trained Caster, knowing only a fraction of magecraft, my Hanging Gardens of Babylon shall certainly meet your expectations."
"Let's hope so... Father," Atalanta interjected with a serious tone. "I hate to dampen the mood, but I must warn you—Rider of Black hasn't even revealed her full strength. The one who defeated Achilles and me only showed a fraction of her power."
Glancing around at the others gathered in the throne room—Masters and Servants alike: Kairi Sisigou, Saber Mordred, and Lancer Karna—Atalanta's expression hardened.
"Exactly," Amakusa said softly. "That's why we must unite against her."
Clap, clap—
"Archer, tell us everything you know—about Rider of Black's most recent movements."
Clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's expression grew solemn.
"Now then—based on confirmed intelligence, besides that enormous lance, Rider of Black possesses at least four other Noble Phantasms. First—an advanced Reality Marble capable of completely suppressing Assassin of Black—Jack the Ripper's own."
"Second..." Atalanta lowered her head, one hand resting thoughtfully against her chin. After a moment of silence, she continued, "That silver and blue battle attire of hers... if my guess is correct, it's a defensive Noble Phantasm equal to—or even superior to—Lancer's own divine protection."
"The same as mine?" Arms folded, Lancer Karna—who stood tall and unmoving like a spear—opened his eyes slightly in surprise.
"Yes." Atalanta nodded toward him. Recalling the nightmarish battlefield she had witnessed inside the Reality Marble, her voice deepened. "Third—an army-summoning Noble Phantasm of enormous scale. And fourth... well, considering her Rider class, what do you suppose her mount might be?"
"I highly doubt that a divine being—or a god-king—would ride anything ordinary. Most likely..." Her expression tightened as the memory of Selene's regal, overwhelming presence surfaced. "No... without a doubt—her mount is of divine beast rank!"
"What a troublesome opponent," Kairi Sisigou sighed heavily. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he glanced sideways at his Servant, who was still eating without pause. "This Holy Grail War is completely absurd—so many combatants above standard class limits..."
When he first drew the Saber card—typically the most powerful Servant class—Kairi had felt rather confident. But looking around now, both allies and enemies were monsters.
On their side stood Assassin—the Queen of Assyria, Semiramis; Lancer—Karna, son of the Sun God Surya; and Rider—Achilles, one of the mightiest heroes of Greek legend. Even without seeing him, Kairi knew his strength from fame alone—he was beyond reason.
And their enemies? Rider—a mysterious divine king. Saber—the dragon-slayer Siegfried. Archer—the great sage and mentor of heroes, Chiron...
Gods above... this Romanian Grail War really was a clash of gods. In any other war, summoning even one of these figures would've all but guaranteed victory.
"Hmm? Master? Do you want some too?" Mordred tilted her head in puzzlement, noticing her Master's gaze.
"No, Saber, you go ahead. If that's not enough, I'll buy more later... your appetite's impressive."
Waving off the pastry Mordred offered with earnest generosity, Kairi sighed and lit a cigarette, looking even more resigned.
Why did this feel like raising a daughter? Among all the Masters and Servants, he seemed to be the only one buying his Servant clothes and snacks. A babysitter disguised as a magus.
"Mmm... really don't want any? Then I'll finish it."
After devouring her snack, Mordred casually tossed the empty paper bag into the air—right in the middle of Semiramis' royal hall.
"Hey! Master, my only hobby is eating! I finally got a real body, can't let it go to waste, right?"
"How ill-mannered," Semiramis hissed, sitting on her throne with one hand clutching its armrest, the other pointing sharply at Mordred, a vein pulsing at her temple. "Did your parents never teach you not to litter in another's palace?!"
"Alright, Assassin—calm down," Amakusa intervened quickly, stepping up the stairs to the throne. "Saber's just... spirited, that's all." And completely incompatible with you...
"Hmmph!" Semiramis looked away, fuming.
Wiping imaginary sweat from his brow, Amakusa turned back to address the gathered Servants. "Now then. Our target remains the same—Trifas. We'll strike with precise timing. Our first objective—Rider of Black's Master."
If Servants couldn't be taken down directly, then another route had to be found—strike at their Masters instead. Perhaps, if fortune allowed, they might even seize control of Rider of Black herself. With the arrogance of a god, all it took was finding her weakness... her desire.
At that very moment, Celenike had no idea that not only was her clan leader, Darnic, plotting behind her back—but now the entire Red Faction had turned its attention toward her as well.
Their coordination was impeccable. As Amakusa Shirou Tokisada calmly explained his strategy, Semiramis raised a hand.
Instantly, three live images appeared in the air—Selene and Jeanne; Selene's Master, Celenike; and the Black Faction's stronghold, the Fortress of Millennia. Each scene projected clearly into the throne room of the Hanging Gardens.
With the completion of her Noble Phantasm, Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Semiramis' capabilities within this palace—her temple-like workshop—had multiplied severalfold.
Her sensory range, too, now rivaled Selene's. She no longer needed to rely on familiars to share sight; observation magic alone granted her an omniscient reach, comparable to the Complete Book of the World.
After all, the Hanging Gardens' Noble Phantasm was ranked EX. And since Selene hadn't extended her domain to cover the Fortress of Millennia, blocking external observation, being watched by Semiramis was only natural.
"This woman gives me bad vibes..." Mordred muttered, frowning at the image of the gray-haired woman wearing black-framed glasses—beautiful, mature, but exuding an unmistakably sadistic aura.
Even from a mere projection, Mordred's instincts screamed that this woman was trouble—a personality thoroughly rotten.
"Hmph," Semiramis scoffed, clearly unimpressed by Mordred's shallow comment. "Shouldn't we be more concerned with the giant golden soldiers stationed all around the fortress?"
"They've been confirmed as Rider of Black's summoned troops... truly magnificent warriors," Amakusa said thoughtfully.
As expected of the Age of Gods, such towering figures were commonplace. Those giant warriors who had previously attacked the Church on the Hill must have been her summoned army as well.
In his era, men barely reached one and a half meters. To see human-like beings towering at three meters tall was beyond comprehension.
And then—
"Ahh, as beautiful as the darkest night of hell itself! I see such brilliance in your shadow—it is divine!"
Caster of Red—Shakespeare—burst through the open doors with his trademark theatrical flourish, spreading his arms wide and declaiming at the top of his lungs.
The sudden intrusion left Kairi Sisigou and Mordred both staring blankly. Was this man insane? Every fiber of him radiated unreliability. The two glanced at Amakusa, clearly asking, Is this guy for real?
Amakusa sighed, covering his face with one hand. Dear Lord... even pigs would make better allies.
"Fin!" Shakespeare concluded dramatically, bowing with an elegant flourish.
"...Are you talking about me?" Semiramis asked wearily, massaging her temple.
"Of course," Shakespeare replied without hesitation. "Who else could inspire such muse? The Queen of Assyria herself! Ahaha! Forgive me, everyone—I simply found myself overcome with inspiration. My quill itches to write again!"
"You... ugh, whatever. Stay out of the way, just don't cause trouble," Semiramis groaned, waving him off irritably.
"Now then, back to business," Amakusa said, lowering his hand and turning toward the throne. "Lancer, your task will be the most demanding. You must not only breach the Fortress of Millennia's defenses but also be prepared to intercept Rider of Black whenever she appears. Can I trust you with this?"
"No problem. I will fulfill my duty to the end." Standing tall upon the white-and-platinum floor, Karna's golden spear shimmered into existence. His heterochromatic eyes burned with fiery resolve.
"Ha ha ha! How exhilarating! The clash of legends—the curtain rises at last!" Shakespeare cheered, his voice echoing grandly through the hall.
...
Sighișoara.
"What is that—"
Jeanne gazed at the massive fortress floating in the night sky—an entire airborne city gleaming like a constellation. "The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"
As a Ruler, her True Name Discernment activated instantly, allowing her to discern the Noble Phantasm's identity at a glance. She spoke the name in disbelief.
"Assassin of Red—Semiramis..." Jeanne muttered. Such an audacious floating citadel could only be the work of a mad queen.
"Honestly... with tactics like this, the Red Faction can forget about concealing the existence of magic," she sighed. The scale was absurd—no form of secrecy could possibly hold.
Weren't Holy Grail Wars supposed to be hidden affairs?
Selene's previous destruction—though immense—could at least be passed off as gas explosions or industrial accidents. But Semiramis' airborne fortress? Impossible. Not just magi—even ordinary civilians would notice.
One could only imagine the chaos erupting across the outside world. Whoever handled the cleanup would be in for a nightmare.
"Well, it's none of my concern," Selene said coolly, landing atop a nearby rooftop. Arms crossed, she looked up at the airborne garden. "...A magnificent creation, truly."
Beautiful—yes. But the next moment, it would be hers.
Selene smirked inwardly. Her own palace complex wasn't nearly so grand... that wouldn't do. Whether by Sebas' craftsmanship or by conquest, she would have one too. She refused to feel envious forever.
"Semiramis, hm? I'll have to find a chance to rip out her Spiritual Core. The garden's array structure and anti-gravity magic seals... they'll be quite useful." Her tone grew thoughtful, eyes gleaming covetously.
"Rider, Your Majesty, aren't you at all concerned?" Jeanne asked, puzzled by Selene's relaxed demeanor. "The Red Faction has already departed Sighișoara—they're heading straight for Trifas."
"I've prepared a welcoming gift for them."
Indeed, Selene had been waiting for this moment. Within the Fortress of Millennia, she'd left behind a 'present'—a surprise for the Red Faction's bold counterattack.
Her generals and armies hadn't even begun to march yet.
If Selene truly wished to end the Holy Grail War quickly, she could have. One precise order—three stacked Command Spells from Celenike—and a single blast of Frozen Sun, God's Wrath, would've reduced Sighișoara to ashes, ending the war on day one.
But that wouldn't do.
She had come here not merely to win—but to leave her mark, to establish the foundation for her second invasion. And above all, to enjoy the process.
"I see..." Jeanne murmured, understanding dawning. "But... how do we get up there? That Master—Amakusa Shirou Tokisada—is inside the fortress, isn't he?"
"I'll bring you there myself... hmm?" Selene paused as a transmission flickered through the Complete Book of the World. "Darnic? What is it now?"
"Your Majesty," came Darnic's strained voice, "though you've eliminated the traitorous Assassin—Jack the Ripper—the situation has worsened. The scale of the aftermath far exceeds the original killings. I fear the Holy Grail War can no longer remain secret."
"The Red Faction's actions have surpassed all expectation. Judging from their movements, they appear to be heading straight for our fortress—to initiate a final confrontation."
"Should I order Celenike to use a Command Spell to summon you back at once?"
Within the Fortress of Millennia's great hall, Darnic stood before a massive screen showing the looming airborne palace. Behind him, several towering giants had appeared—each radiating fierce power. His breathing was heavy.
To face down a fortress the size of a military city floating overhead—it was enough to shake even a man like Darnic, no matter how old or cunning he was. Victory was near, but so was death.
If he died before claiming the Grail, all his ambition would be wasted.
Even surrounded by elite Astartes Legion warriors, Darnic couldn't suppress his fear. He needed Selene close—only her presence would ensure his safety.
"No need," Selene replied curtly. "Those Command Spells will serve another purpose later. Don't waste them. I'll return on my own."
"As for the fortress defenses..."
Extending her will through the link, Selene's voice echoed across the Fortress of Millennia's hall. "Budo, Liver, Alex, Hak Foo... I'm leaving it to you."
"Understood, Your Majesty—!" ×N