Even though the boy is an artificial human, the spirit and intellect he possesses are utterly insignificant in the face of the power of the wicked dragon.
The cost of forcefully modifying his body is the oppression and distortion of his spirit. If he refrains from using the dragon's power, it might still be manageable, but—
"You're awake now."
As the boy opened his eyes, a calm voice, tinged with a faint smile, reached his ears.
It was the voice of a man who had left a deep impression on the boy.
Although the boy still couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind the words, he could sense the amusement in the man's tone.
"Can you tell me your name?"
The nameless boy gazed at the man crouching before him, his eyes gradually lighting up.
Surviving this ordeal was something the boy had never imagined—it was as miraculous as him awakening his will to live and using magic to escape the nutrient pod. It was a miracle.
And being able to see Alaric again was a pleasant surprise for the boy.
"Just call me Alaric. I look forward to the day you tell me your name yourself."
Seeing the boy regain consciousness, Alaric clapped his hands and stood. He cast a glance at Jeanne, who still stood in place, and then at the figures of Vlad III and others emerging from the shadows of the night.
After completing the hunt for the Red Berserker, the Yggdmillennia clan had been pursuing Astolfo and had arrived here.
Vlad III was riding atop his warhorse, Darnic, and the other magi of Yggdmillennia, and servants like Chiron among them.
With the Saber-class Siegfried's self-destruction, it seemed Yggdmillennia's strongest servants were now limited to Vlad III and Chiron.
The Caster, Avicebron, who accompanied their group, lacked any close-combat abilities, and as far as Alaric was concerned, the Berserker Frankenstein posed no real threat.
Strictly speaking, the only servants in this Holy Grail War who could be considered Alaric's opponents were now on the Red Faction's side.
Alaric didn't dwell on this too much. His gaze swept over Vlad III, and before any of them could speak, he announced, "I won't make this long. Let the boy leave, and take Astolfo back with you."
"So your reason for joining us was this boy, then?"
Vlad III stared at Alaric's figure, seemingly understanding the motive behind Alaric's earlier allegiance during the day, as well as his disappearance during the night when the Red Berserker was being hunted.
Although he didn't understand the significance of this artificial human—who was slightly more exceptional than mere material—to Alaric, it wasn't enough to justify Alaric's rampant actions.
It wasn't just Vlad III who thought this way. Darnic wore a gloomy expression, as if personally insulted.
The sage Chiron's expression became serious. Among the Black Faction, he had spent the most time with Alaric. Even though he couldn't fully grasp Alaric's abilities, the fact that Alaric had fought Siegfried and Karna for an entire night proved he wasn't weak.
If a fight broke out here—
Jeanne's presence couldn't be ignored.
As the Ruler, Jeanne had decisive authority over servants. The Command Seals she wielded gave her a natural advantage over the servants participating in this Holy Grail War.
If Jeanne's intentions were unclear, recklessly starting a battle would only put them at a disadvantage.
"It seems you've chosen to oppose us. Ruler, are you planning to join forces with him?"
Vlad III's gaze shifted between Jeanne and the boy standing beside Astolfo.
Vlad III had no particular desire to reclaim the artificial boy. However, if Alaric chose to stand against him, Vlad wouldn't mind initiating another hunt.
"I won't interfere in your battle, but I am taking the boy. I won't let him be dragged into this Holy Grail War."
Jeanne's resolve remained firm. She adhered strictly to the rules of the Holy Grail War. Although the boy had Siegfried's heart transplanted into him, he was neither a servant nor a master and could be considered an outsider in this conflict.
Moreover, Siegfried's final promise was the true motivation behind Jeanne's actions.
She would grant the boy his freedom.
After Jeanne made her stance clear, Vlad III raised his lance, pointing it at Alaric. "If you surrender now, I might still forgive—"
"This isn't a negotiation or a trade. It's a warning."
Alaric slightly raised his eyes. With the emergence of a brilliant aurora, hundreds of Gates of Judgment manifested from the void, spread across the sky like a starry dome, covering Vlad III and the rest of the Black Faction.
Magi and servants alike—none could escape.
The forest, shrouded in the night, was illuminated by the aurora. The radiant light spilled through the dense canopy, resembling a sea of stars that shone with a dark, resplendent glow.
The overwhelming magical energy sent waves of danger coursing through every servant present.
It was as if each Gate of Judgment could unleash an attack rivaling that of a Noble Phantasm!
And at the very moment the Gates of Judgment appeared, Alaric moved.
The great sage Chiron reacted almost simultaneously, nocking arrows to his bow and firing several in rapid succession!
Clang!
A steel dragon tore through the forest, obliterating the incoming arrows into fragments!
Meanwhile, Alaric himself, wielding a false holy sword, struck Vlad III off his warhorse with a single blow!
Vlad III, barely catching his balance, grinned and summoned countless iron stakes from the ground. The stakes erupted with greater intensity than during his battle in the Sixth Singularity; in an instant, hundreds of stakes shot forth from the earth.
[Kazikli Bey (Lord of Execution)]
Paired with the [Protection of the Faithful] skill, this allowed Vlad III to deploy up to 20,000 stakes across his claimed territory, utilizing them for offense, defense, and movement control.
Due to the cultural influence of Romania, the territory Vlad gained through [Protection of the Faithful] was the largest in this Holy Grail War!
But against the hundreds of iron stakes stood—destructive auroras!
Chiron had no chance to react. Even he couldn't destroy all the Gates of Judgment in such a short time!
Buzz!
Starlight began to rain down. The auroras accelerated, launching beams of divine judgment like spears of light. Hundreds of them, numbering in the terrifying hundreds, pierced the night forest.
BOOM!!!
The dark iron stakes, along with the forest, were obliterated. The impaling Lord's authority was vaporized in the face of the starlight without lasting even a moment.
Chiron and the others were forced to retreat.
This wasn't necessarily because they feared the power of the Gates of Judgment. Rather, it was because their masters were nearby.
The masters couldn't survive on a battlefield of this magnitude.
While Chiron and the others tried to relocate their masters and avoid the Gates of Judgment—
Alaric finally engaged Vlad III in close combat. With the equivalent of a rank A Madness Enhancement, Vlad III's strength in this territory rivaled even Karna's!
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sword and Lance clashed. Arrows flew through the gaps left by the steel dragon's defenses, hurtling toward Alaric!
Chiron's arrows, imbued with divine energy, carried enough force to wound Alaric.
In the moment Alaric was distracted by the incoming arrows, Vlad III found an opening. His lance struck Alaric's arm, tearing a bloody gash!
If it had been just a simple wound, it wouldn't have been too concerning. However—
Splat!
Iron stakes erupted from within Alaric's body, extending outward in all directions!
Vlad III's damage from his stakes not only accumulates but becomes overwhelmingly destructive with the sheer number of twenty thousand stakes striking in rapid succession. This unrelenting assault vividly brings to life his infamous title, The Impaler.
Though a single stake's power is relatively weak, being struck by one temporarily inflicts continuous damage caused by piercing. Furthermore, once the tip of the stake pierces an enemy, additional stakes can form from within the enemy's body, delivering more penetrating blows!
Even Alaric couldn't avoid such a fate!
As Vlad III's iron stakes impaled Alaric, he did not stop his assault. Instead, he generated even more stakes, striking Alaric from all directions and causing the stakes within his body to multiply with devastating force.
"You're strong, but this is the end!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Vlad III thrust his spear forward, aiming to pierce straight through Alaric's heart.
However, as the stakes shattered and collapsed, a bloodied hand grabbed the tip of Vlad III's spear.
Alaric's gaze, tinged with a hint of madness, gleamed like a precious gemstone.
Screech.
But Vlad III's threat was something Alaric had long anticipated. And his countermeasure was already prepared—
A pitch-black aurora surged forth. This was not a simple magical defense flowing over Alaric's exterior, but a devastating force that covered every part of his body, inside and out, leaving no blind spots. It was destruction in its purest form!
By obliterating the very conditions that allowed the stakes to manifest, Vlad III's attack was rendered useless.
The terrifying black aurora roared through Alaric's body, erasing every stake that had tried to form.
"Now it's your turn to end!"
At the same time, a powerful slash swept out, accompanied by the activation of the Gate of Holy Judgment.
The Gate manifested beside Vlad III, not to unleash its arsenal of holy judgment, but to directly sever the lines of death with its weaponry!
Slash!
Even someone as agile as Vlad III couldn't avoid such an attack!
Clang! Clang!
As if foreseeing the future, arrows shot from the distance, narrowly shattering the Gates of Holy Judgment surrounding Vlad III. Though this intervention prevented Vlad III's immediate demise, it couldn't erase the cost—
A burst of blood erupted as a severed arm holding a spear flew into the air. Vlad III's shocked expression betrayed his inability to comprehend what had just occurred.
Yet, instincts took over as his body retreated frantically.
He sensed the looming threat of death. He couldn't afford to die here!
Meanwhile, Alaric stood in place, calmly dispersing the stakes around him with a faint ripple of magical energy.
The piercing wounds caused by the stakes, which would have been fatal to ordinary humans or even most Servants, healed within moments.
Alaric cracked his neck, evaporating the bloodstains on his body, and reconstructed a magical armor to conceal his form.
Thud.
Kicking aside the severed arm on the ground, he casually picked up Vlad III's spear.
"Just one arm, huh?"
Alaric raised his eyes slightly. In the distance, Vlad III clutched the stump of his severed arm, blood gushing endlessly.
Alaric had thought he could kill him, but Chiron's brief clairvoyance had shattered the Gates of Holy Judgment, allowing Vlad III to escape his most efficient killing blow.
Not dwelling too much on this, Alaric spun the spear in his hand and gazed at Vlad III.
"Want to try again? Even if all of you come at me together, I'm ready."
As he spoke, Alaric glanced at Chiron, Frankenstein, and the others in the distance. He hadn't used the Gates of Holy Judgment to attack them directly. Instead, Chiron had continuously destroyed the Gates as they appeared, leaving only a few dozen remaining within seconds.
But this wasn't an issue. If Alaric wanted, he could easily manifest thousands more.
Faced with Alaric's challenge, a one-armed Vlad III spoke in a deep voice:
"Next time we meet, I will claim your head!"
"Boring. See you next time, then."
Seeing that no one else intended to fight, Alaric waved dismissively and turned away. He glanced at the boy being supported by Astolfo and said:
"I won't take you with me. Things might get a bit more complicated when we meet again, but good luck."
In the end, Alaric chose not to take the boy with him.
If Alaric were to bring him along, the future developments would not align with what Alaric desired. The boy's potential would also be extinguished.
What Alaric hoped for was a more chaotic unfolding of events.
Alaric left, and Vlad III's group refrained from recklessly stopping him.
It wasn't just due to Alaric's overwhelming abilities, but also because Tiamat had yet to appear.
Chiron had deemed Tiamat, the divine Servant, extremely dangerous. If she were on their side, it would be one thing, but standing on the opposing side required far greater caution.
As for what would happen next, Alaric no longer cared. As long as Jeanne d'Arc was present, she would honor her agreement with Siegfried and ensure the boy wouldn't be taken by Vlad III's group.
Of course, Astolfo wasn't under her protection.
...
The next day.
The Yggdmillennia clan was forced to allocate significant resources to attempt to heal Vlad III's severed arm, which proved impossible to restore.
At the same time,
Kairi Shishigou, who was staying at Trifas, received information from Lord El-Melloi II about a serial killer targeting magus from the Clock Tower.
The victims were all magecraft users.
Additionally, Kairi obtained information about Alaric. Since he had seen Alaric at the Clock Tower, there had to be records about this enigmatic individual.
"A mysterious figure who appeared a year ago with no history or background, like a primitive man. He tried to participate in the Holy Grail War as a Master of the Red Faction but failed."
Kairi relayed Lord El-Melloi II's information to Mordred, who was playing with a kitten on the bed.
The previous night, they had been resting in a necropolis, but now they had relocated to an inn.
"There's nothing here!"
Mordred scratched her head in frustration. For the past few days, she had been preoccupied with figuring out who Alaric was.
Finally, some information arrived, but it was disappointingly sparse.
"Even as a failure, he still has a Servant. That's suspicious."
Kairi's eyes gleamed as he reflected. Aside from the large battle caused by the Ruler Servant, their skirmishes, and the confrontation with the Red Berserker, there had been no sign of Alaric.
What was he planning?
As a seasoned mercenary, Kairi had a gut feeling that Alaric was plotting something big.
Not only was Alaric a mystery, but the serial killer targeting the Clock Tower magus also needed to be dealt with.
After all, this violated the First Rule of Magic: concealing the mysteries of magecraft.
Still, compared to the killer, Alaric's intrigue captivated Kairi more.
"What do you want to know from him?" Kairi asked curiously.
"I want to ask him what his connection is to King Arthur… to my father."
Mordred fell silent for a moment, stroking the kitten before saying:
"I can feel it. His body holds the blood of the Red Dragon. It's not some diluted inheritance or atavism—it's blood stripped directly from King Arthur. Though it's changed somewhat, I can still tell."
"Arthur's blood…?"
Hearing this, Kairi Shishigou lit a cigarette and began to ponder.
As the Master who had formed a contract with Mordred, he was fortunate enough to experience the extremely rare phenomenon of a Servant's memory flowing back into their dreams.
The memories of the Servant's life appeared in his mind like a dream, giving Kairi Shishigou a deeper understanding of Mordred—her obsession with the King, with King Arthur.
...
Daylight hours passed swiftly, and it seemed that both the Black and Red factions had tacitly agreed to the unspoken rule of not engaging in battle during the day. As dusk approached—
Knock knock.
White, slender fingers curved slightly, tapping on the wooden door and producing a crisp sound.
"Hi hi, just a moment!"
Responding to the knock was the innocent voice of a child. Wisps of mist seeped out from the door, carrying a chilling, eerie air.
A white-haired girl holding two knives in her hands stood there, smiling sweetly at the white-haired young man knocking at the door. "Big brother, is there something you need?"
As the girl spoke, the dense gray mist thickened, engulfing the entire floor until it was impossible to see even an inch ahead.
Only the white-haired girl and the sound of footsteps behind her were discernible. The overlapping echoes suggested dozens of small figures were standing in the hallway.
Looking at the girl before him, Alaric raised an eyebrow.
The Black Assassin, Jack the Ripper—the infamous London serial killer.
In general, serial killers fall into two categories: those with order and those without.
Some killers retain some degree of rationality and order, and some are completely irrational, whose actions defy human understanding.
In terms of avoiding capture, the former group is overwhelmingly more successful. The latter often leave behind evidence and rarely hide their crimes. Jack the Ripper belonged to the latter group.
Yet despite leaving behind much evidence, Jack the Ripper was never caught.
Perhaps it was due to the limited forensic capabilities of the time, or perhaps the victims being sex workers caused police investigations to lack urgency.
On the other hand, the chaotic Jack the Ripper also sent letters to the media, spreading fear. While these letters may have been fake, there was no evidence to prove they were entirely forged.
In a certain sense, the reason Jack the Ripper remains so famous is due to the overwhelming mystery surrounding the case.
Depending on the circumstances of the summoning—such as the class or the territory—Jack the Ripper can manifest differently. For the Holy Grail, unless the true Jack the Ripper is defined, the summoned Jack will continuously change form.
In this case, Jack the Ripper summoned as an Assassin class Servant was a collective of vengeful spirits: the fetuses of children aborted by sex workers in London's Whitechapel district.
These children, who never had the chance to live, were killed in an attempt to return to the womb. To put it simply, Jack the Ripper was a heretical entity born from the perspective of the victims.
The most important point was that an out-of-control Jack the Ripper was unnecessary to Alaric.
Despite Jack the Ripper possessing an extremely high level of Presence Concealment, Alaric used his own skills to locate her Master, Reika Rikudou.
Buzz.
A cold blade of light tore through the gray mist, killing it entirely.
As the mist dissipated, the white-haired girl who had opened the door to Alaric earlier reappeared in his vision. Before she could lift her dual blades, she was bound tightly by dark iron chains.
The chains were inscribed with magic specifically designed for spiritual entities, preventing the girl from escaping in a short time and giving Alaric the opportunity to act.
"Don't move. This will only take a second."
Without giving Jack the Ripper a chance, Alaric reversed his grip and thrust his blade through her line of death.
Even though Jack the Ripper was made up of many vengeful spirits, severing their shared line of death brought about the same result.
After delivering a single fatal strike to Jack, Alaric glanced at Reika Rikudou, who was inside the room and said indifferently, "No need to thank me. I don't leave my name when I do good deeds."
Thud.
Reika Rikudou collapsed onto the floor, staring blankly at the scene before her. Her mind seemed unable to process the information.
This was a battle unknown to outsiders. Only Jeanne d'Arc, as the Ruler, and Kirei Kotomine, as an observer, were aware of Jack the Ripper's elimination at the first moment.
As for what had happened, they knew nothing.
This was a story that would unfold later—
...
To pass the time while waiting for nightfall to act, Kairi Shishigou and Mordred sat on a bench.
While eating snacks, Mordred, looking impatient, complained, "Ugh, seriously, I thought I'd get to do some sightseeing, but this town has nothing—no skyscrapers, no amusement parks, nothing! Are you sure this place is a thousand years ahead of my era?"
Looking at the city, which seemed no different from medieval times, Mordred grumbled while digging into another snack from a bag.
Kairi Shishigou, feeling equally helpless, replied, "Well, this is a tourist town that uses that as its selling point. Also, you sure eat a lot."
Watching Mordred devour her third bag of food, Kairi couldn't help but think about how his food expenses had multiplied several times since summoning her, as though he were feeding several people.
"Well, eating is my hobby!" Mordred said proudly, completely unconcerned. "After all, it's rare to have a body again!"
As the two chatted idly, the crisp sound of footsteps gradually approached.
Mordred's eyes narrowed coldly as she glanced toward the end of the path. A white-haired young man and a goddess slowly came into view.
"!"
The moment she saw Alaric, Mordred immediately stood up and, holding the snack in her arms, strode toward him. "Where have you been hiding?!"
From Mordred's perspective, Alaric, who had been absent for several days, was shirking his responsibilities.
It was ridiculous. As a participant in the Holy Grail War, he had been hiding with his Servant—disgraceful.
"I wasn't hiding," Alaric replied with a perplexed expression. Without hesitation, he reached into the bag of snacks Mordred was holding, pulled out two buns, and handed them to Tiamat, completely ignoring Mordred's annoyed expression.
"You—!"
Mordred bared her fangs like an angry cub guarding its food. If Alaric didn't give her a satisfactory explanation, she seemed ready to pounce and tear him apart.
Knowing her temper well, Alaric smiled and said, "Calm down, calm down. Let me explain."
As he spoke, Alaric raised his hand and conjured a folding fan, opening it with a flourish.
"Huh?"
Seeing Alaric's sudden change in demeanor, Mordred, who had been prepared to argue, instinctively took a few steps back, narrowing her eyes in case he tried anything.
"I'll keep it brief. To put it simply… it's a long story."
Alaric raised two fingers in the style of a storyteller he had seen on TV as a child and began dramatically, "I was just an ordinary man, but who could have guessed that fate would take such unexpected turns…"
In the time that followed, the idle Alaric recounted his embellished version of the Sixth Singularity's events to Mordred.
However, the more Alaric spoke, the more Mordred's lips curled downward, as though she completely doubted his words.
"You're not messing with me, are you?"
Mordred stared intently at Alaric, trying to find the slightest hint of unease or guilt in his expression.
It wasn't just Mordred. Even Kairi, who was eavesdropping nearby, had to admit that the tale Alaric spun was incredibly far-fetched, utterly lacking in credibility.
After all, aside from his bloodline and appearance, Alaric had no evidence to back anything up.
Seeing this, Alaric casually slung an arm over Mordred's shoulder, pulling her into a friendly gesture.
Completely at ease with this posture, Alaric grinned and said, "Trust me. See, here's the proof."
Surprisingly, Mordred didn't push him away. Instead, she followed his gaze as he spoke.
A radiant light began to shimmer, forming a spear that Mordred knew all too well. It was the spear that had ended her life—the Spear of Endowed Ends.
One of her father, King Arthur's, ultimate weapons: the holy spear Rhongomyniad.
"You're serious?"
"Dead serious."
"The... holy... spear?"
"The holy spear. You know, the one that stabbed you."
"And it's... in your hands?"
"That's right, it's mine now."
After this brief exchange, Mordred held the holy spear in her hands. The memories of her final moments in life came flooding back. She never imagined she'd one day be holding the spear herself.
As a Knight of the Round Table, Mordred could instantly tell that the holy spear was genuine.
As for whether this was just a lost holy relic that had fallen into Alaric's hands, with him fabricating such a story around it—Mordred couldn't say for sure.
But she preferred to believe that Alaric was telling the truth.
"Why are you willing to tell me all of this?"
Handing the holy spear back to Alaric, Mordred asked, "A few days ago, you didn't want to say a single word. Now you're spilling everything."
"I'm bored, and I can't just ignore you, Mordred."