Staring at the girl before him, who bore the same appearance as Artoria, Alaric's mind drifted back to those six months—a time he would never forget. For Alaric, it was an unforgettable memory of a lifetime.
Not only that, but Alaric had once personally ended the rebellious knight Mordred's life in the Sixth Singularity, putting an end to her miraculous yet sinful second life.
That warm sensation in his hand… even now, Alaric could recall it.
Alaric had no regrets about killing Mordred. After all, it was a matter of differing positions. Mordred would never betray the Lion King or her father again.
And as for Alaric—he could never stop moving forward.
No matter what had happened in the past, Alaric would not look back. His destination was a golden future.
And in that future—Mordred's figure could exist.
Alaric wasn't sure how long he would remain in this world, but he could ensure that Mordred could truly possess a body and live her life in this world.
Although Mordred's wish was not to gain a physical body or live a second life, but rather to try pulling the Sword of Selection and fulfilling the lifelong desire she had in her previous life: proving her worth as a king.
Even though Mordred knew she could never pull the Sword of Selection, she still wanted to try.
And Alaric wasn't sure if the Holy Grail could grant that wish. All he could do was choose to give her a physical body.
When Alaric finally spoke, Mordred made a disgusted face, as if he'd said something outrageous. "Even that idiot gorilla Gawain wouldn't say stuff like this."
"Sir Gawain? He'd probably say something even purer," Alaric replied with a laugh as if speaking to an old friend. "After all, Sir Gawain is like a white knight in shining armor. But I doubt you'd like that kind of talk either."
"Exactly! That big dumb Gawain is such a pain!" Mordred nodded emphatically, saying, "But honestly, you don't seem much better than him."
"How can you compare me to Sir Gawain?" Alaric waved his hand, trying to dismiss Mordred's strange metaphor, then added, "I should be the better one here. Ah, I'm getting sidetracked. Let's save the chit-chat for later."
As he noticed the night sky that had fallen without knowing, Alaric was surprised to realize how much time he'd spent talking with Mordred. It had been a long time since Alaric had a carefree conversation with her, and the ease of their interaction left him both surprised and relaxed.
Six months of being together was enough to make Alaric and Mordred like close friends.
Even though Mordred had no memory of those six months, she was still the same Mordred—the lion personality she had never wavered.
This made it easy for Mordred to get along with Alaric.
Perhaps this was what people called chemistry.
No matter how the world changed or how eras shifted, as long as humanity persisted, Heroic Spirits who transcended time could still offer a wandering soul in the world a singular response.
The echoes of the past were not rooted in regret or obsession; they were equally tales of love and hope.
He was not alone.
The closeness of hearts was what Alaric cherished most about his time spent with others.
Temporarily suppressing the yearning in his heart, Alaric gazed warmly into the eyes of his friend beside him and smiled. "Want to team up? I need your help, Mordred."
"Huh?"
Mordred's mouth gaped wide in disbelief as she looked him up and down as if he were an idiot. Her expression made it clear even Alaric could understand what she was thinking.
Still smiling, Alaric calmly met Mordred's gaze.
His request to team up with Mordred wasn't because he lacked strength, nor was it because he needed her combat abilities.
After all, just with Tiamat, Alaric's Servant roster was already more than enough to meet his needs.
The reason he wanted to team up with Mordred was simple: he just wanted to fight alongside her.
This time, there was no need for him to be her enemy. Naturally, they could be allies instead.
"I just want to do this."
That was what Alaric thought as he waited for Mordred's response.
Not far away, Kairi Sisigou silently watched as Alaric tried to recruit his Servant. Lighting a cigarette, the smoke curling around him, the sharp gleam in his eyes behind his sunglasses seemed to flicker.
How much of what Alaric was saying to Mordred was genuine? Sisigou couldn't confirm, nor did he need to.
That wasn't his job. All he had to do was relay Alaric's words back to Lord El-Melloi II at the Clock Tower. He would figure out the truth.
As for whether Alaric would succeed, Sisigou already had the answer in his heart.
"I—don't—think—so!" Mordred declared, turning her head away with each word. "This is the Holy Grail War. If you want to win, you've got to rely on your strength! Team up with you to win? Don't even think about it!"
Like a little lion bristling with indignation, Mordred glared at Alaric, her expression ready to pounce on him if he said one more word.
Fully aware of this, Alaric simply smiled and said, "I expected as much. That's a bit disappointing. I was hoping we could fight side by side again."
He wasn't surprised by Mordred's answer.
After all, she was Mordred.
Even Kairi Sisigou, who had only been with her for two days, could predict her response. For Alaric, who had spent six months alongside her, it was only natural to expect this.
But knowing the outcome and taking action were two different things.
Without forcing the issue, Alaric smiled and said, "Well, then, let's meet at the top, Mordred."
"Oh! Let's see who's better!" Mordred grinned, her iconic fang gleaming in the night as her bright smile showed no trace of doubt or shadows.
As she spoke, Mordred even raised her hand toward Alaric.
Clap.
Responding to Mordred, Alaric raised his hand and bumped fists with her. The collision of their large and small hands was simply a testament to their promise.
The rebellious knight of the Round Table and the final knight of the Round Table had, in this distant future, formed a fleeting pact—a testament to their friendship.
"I'll be the better one!" Alaric laughed. "This time, I'm feeling confident. You'll just be a spectator, Mordred."
"That's not for certain! We can't decide the victor so early!" Mordred said, brimming with confidence. She didn't pull her hand back but continued, "Now, how about you tell me the name of your Servant? It's not fair if only my name is known!"
"Listen carefully, Mordred," Alaric said with a grin. "The supreme god of Sumerian mythology, the Mother of Origins, the Sea of Life, and the second Beast embodying the principle of Return—the Beast of Creation."
When Tiamat was mentioned, Alaric's expression became even more relaxed:
"As you can see, a bona fide goddess in her infant form, materialized as a Servant. Even if you know her true name, there's nothing you can do about it.
After all, Tiamat is invincible!"
"Huh?"
Mordred, dumbfounded, instinctively gaped and shifted her gaze to the blue-haired girl who had been silent all this time. No, now she should be referred to as a goddess.
"I'm your mommy!"
The girl, radiating maternal benevolence, blinked and said cheerfully with a smile: "Want a hug?"
A goddess?
Are you serious?
Thanks to the knowledge provided by the Holy Grail, Mordred naturally understood how absurd it was for a deity—especially a supreme one—to materialize as a Servant.
Leaving aside the question of whether the Greater Grail could even accomplish such a thing, the fact that Alaric could summon a deity was utterly ridiculous.
It wasn't just Mordred; even Kairi Sisigou, observing from not too far away, was utterly stunned.
If what Alaric said was true, then this development was beyond outrageous.
In a world where the Subspecies Holy Grail War had spread globally, Heroic Spirit summoning had become commonplace, and the upper limits of Servant summoning were common knowledge within the Magecraft community.
But gods were fundamentally different from Heroic Spirits. They were not recorded in the Throne of Heroes. After all, deities were immortal beings by their very nature. Connected to the Root itself, they existed in a state of neither life nor death. Moreover, could gods even be summoned in the first place?
Sisigou couldn't confirm the truth of this and could only temporarily accept Alaric's claims.
Verifying the matter could be left to Lord El-Melloi II.
Unlike Sisigou's relatively composed reaction, Mordred couldn't sit still.
"No fair! That's cheating!"
Mordred, who looked as if she was about to throw a tantrum, even forgot about the loaf of bread she was holding. She immediately dashed up to Tiamat and began scrutinizing her from head to toe, disbelief evident in her gaze.
At such proximity, combined with the fact that Tiamat wasn't concealing her divinity at all, Mordred finally sensed the immense power hidden within the goddess's petite frame.
This was undeniably an existence that exceeded all limits.
This was—
Exciting!
Grinning broadly, Mordred didn't lose her confidence. On the contrary, her fighting spirit flared even brighter.
Even if her opponent was a god, she wouldn't back down.
If she, a Knight of the Round Table, refused to fight just because she feared her opponent's strength, what sort of knight would she be?
Seeing Mordred's unyielding determination, Tiamat, who stood before her with the demeanor of a noble young lady, narrowed her eyes in delight. Her starry pupils seemed to radiate a soft, gentle light.
"Good luck, human."
With that, Tiamat reached out and patted Mordred on the head.
'!'
"What are you, some kind of mom?!"
Mordred instantly flinched, leaping backward to escape Tiamat's affectionate head pat.
"Didn't you like it?"
Tiamat, looking slightly dejected, gazed at Mordred and said, "I thought this would feel nice."
"It's not that… It's just too sudden!"
Unable to stand seeing that expression, Mordred shifted uncomfortably and replied, "Next time… Next time, warn me before you do it!"
The brief episode ended. Just as Alaric was preparing to leave with Tiamat, he suddenly remembered something and said:
"Your target is that Black Assassin, right?"
"Huh? You saw him?"
Mordred raised an eyebrow. "Hurry up and tell me!"
"He's dead. I killed him."
Alaric chuckled. "Well then, see you next time."
As Alaric departed, Mordred and Sisigou exchanged glances but didn't leave immediately. Instead, they continued exploring the small town further.
Although they couldn't find any trace of the Black Assassin, they did encounter Black Faction Servants who had arrived, which led to a skirmish. But that's a story for another time.
...
The third day arrived quickly.
To investigate the mysteries surrounding this Holy Grail War, the Ruler, who had been searching for answers all along, finally stepped into a particular church.
This triggered a binding spell designed specifically for her, preset within the church.
'!'
If it were merely magic of this caliber, Jeanne wouldn't have been concerned. But the moment she came into contact with the spell, she received a revelation.
The face of a certain man flashed before her eyes.
At the same time—
A man named Shirou Kotomine awoke from his dream. Resting on the lap of the Empress of Assyria, the first thing he did upon waking was naturally meet the Empress's gaze.
"You're awake, Master."
The Assyrian Empress, her expression gentle, looked down at her Master and smiled softly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Why am I on your lap?" Shirou asked matter-of-factly as he sat up. "What if someone sees us?"
"No one will see!"
The Empress of Assyria pouted slightly. "I rarely get the urge to do something a Servant is supposed to do, and yet you're complaining?"
While adjusting his attire, Shirou replied, "It's just a little embarrassing."
"Hmph."
Seemingly annoyed by Shirou's lack of appreciation, the Empress turned her head away, refusing to look at him.
After finishing his adjustments, Shirou stood and smiled. "But—thank you."
Looking at the man's smile, the Empress, who had been feeling annoyed, couldn't help but smile faintly as well. "Whatever you say. For now, let's set this aside. It's time."
Knowing what she meant, Shirou extended his hand toward her. "Yes. Let's go."
The conversation that took place at the heart of the garden was known to no one else. What the world witnessed, however, was the birth of a great undertaking.
The earth trembled as a city-state, accompanied by a deafening roar, defied the natural order of the world and rose from the ground, soaring into the boundless sky.
A structure worthy of being considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World, a symbol of architectural grandeur—Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
A false miracle of vanity that should not have existed. Even within the context of the Holy Grail War, the conditions for its appearance were extraordinarily stringent. And yet, at this moment, the ultimate flying fortress proudly proclaimed its presence to the world!
This scene shocked not only the Red Faction's Servants but also every living being within Romania who could see the fortress, as well as every magus aware of its existence. They were all left in awe and astonishment.
"The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?"
Jeanne suddenly turned pale, completely unprepared for the emergence of such a fortress.
What a testament to an extraordinary feat—so… breathtakingly beautiful.
"Ah, ah, the time for the grand opening has arrived—this calls for thunderous applause!"
The playwright, unable to contain the excitement surging within, burst into laughter. "How magnificent this is!"
"Hey, hey, is this some kind of joke?"
Even Achilles, the great hero of Greece, couldn't help but mutter a rhetorical question as if to ask, Are you serious?
Beside him, Atalanta was equally stunned.
Noticing the astonishment on the faces of the Red Faction's servants, the Assyrian Empress Semiramis chuckled. "Shocked by my Noble Phantasm, the Hanging Gardens? This fortress doesn't exist for defense—it's effectively an aerial stronghold."
"So that's how it is. You're planning to use that to launch an offensive, huh?"
Leaning against the railing, Achilles gazed toward the distant horizon, quickly coming to terms with the existence of the Hanging Gardens. After all, as a great Greek hero, his experiences were vast and extraordinary.
Standing silently behind the group, Karna also spoke up. "This is truly remarkable."
"At this speed, it won't take long before those in the Millennia Fortress see us."
Standing beside the Empress, Shirou's expression remained calm. "Well then, everyone, prepare for battle."
Aside from the Black Faction, Shirou's only concern was Ruler, whose motives continued to remain unclear.
But now, with the fortress complete, victory would ultimately belong to Shirou.
The true Holy Grail War was about to begin.
The grand gardens moved slowly across the heavens. Though they seemed to drift leisurely, their speed was astonishing—more than sufficient to circle the globe.
"Indeed, the opening ceremony has finally arrived, but—"
Watching the gardens ascend into the celestial realm, Alaric, still standing firmly on the earth, slowly clenched his fingers into a fist.
"The Greater Grail belongs to me."