Fujimaru Ritsuka had gone through numerous adventures, overcoming countless hardships, and, under the watchful eyes of the greatest heroes in human history, achieved the great feat of reclaiming the future.
Through countless battles and farewells, witnessing numerous stories, she had never once wavered in her original resolve.
If she were to take a step toward the future, she would rather open a bakery with the person she loved—
Of course, no one knew the thoughts in her heart.
For her, this was still a distant dream, one whose realization remained uncertain.
As the final note of the melody faded, Fujimaru let go of Alaric's hand before her, without lingering even a moment on its warmth.
At some point, the air had begun to heat up, making Fujimaru, now dressed in formal attire, feel a slight chill, as if a raging fire was about to sweep through the entire hall.
With the belief that everyone should find happiness, Alaric took slow steps toward the witch. As he was about to speak, looking into the astonished eyes of the Dragon Witch—
The noise from a distance interrupted the harmonious atmosphere.
The unrestrained laughter was unmistakable, belonging to that familiar ruler. Surrounded by a group of guards, the Ruler appeared, dressed in formal attire, looking exactly like Salter, who stood not far from Jeanne Alter.
If not for the servant contract with Salter, Fujimaru Ritsuka might not have been able to distinguish between the two based on appearance and spiritual signature alone.
The moment he saw that face, Alaric immediately rushed forward, stopping Salter, who was about to unleash her holy sword, pressing down firmly on her arm to prevent her from raising the blade.
"Hey… that face looks really, really familiar."
Even as her holy sword was forcefully restrained, Salter continued to glare at the counterfeit surrounded by nobles and subordinates, her pale golden dragon eyes burning with an almost explosive fury.
"Calm down, calm down."
Alaric sighed helplessly and chuckled, "You need to wait for the right moment to strike."
"I am very calm, but this holy sword cannot forgive—"
Salter, her expression cold and composed, showed no intention of backing down. Meanwhile, the counterfeit, still surrounded by the crowd, was gradually approaching their location.
Perhaps due to the extravagant atmosphere of this place, the one intoxicated by this world of indulgence had failed to notice Fujimaru Ritsuka and the others. His subordinates and the nobles around him continued to flatter him.
"Now that Berserker is gone, hmm, then we shall rule Kabukicho, give them everything they desire, strip them of their dignity, love, and courage, and ask them if they would still kneel and swear loyalty."
The counterfeit laughed heartily and declared, "Make sure they no longer have the option to resist. That way, everyone will be happy—I'll be happy, you'll be happy, and the whole world will be filled with happiness!"
"I understand!"
A subordinate standing beside him responded with utmost reverence. Even with a mask covering his face, the deep admiration and submission in his gaze toward the counterfeit were evident.
"Haha, then let us fully indulge in this luxurious feast!"
With a triumphant laugh, the counterfeit reveled in his supposed control over everything. Beside him, his ever-attentive subordinate offered a timely suggestion:
"There are many beautiful women here. Would you like to take a few back with you?"
"Oh? Women, huh…"
The counterfeit showed a hint of interest and said, "Though I lost interest in that sort of thing long ago, I suppose I can at least take a look—"
As he spoke, his gaze naturally swept across the room, landing on Salter who was staring right back at him.
Dressed in formal attire, Salter exuded a beauty distinct from before. However, this was not something the counterfeit cared to admire.
"Hah?! Wait, no way… No, no, no…"
Snapping out of his initial shock, the counterfeit immediately shouted:
"Summon the Hornets! That one is a Servant—deal with her here and now. Also, send the sponsors away. Judging by her stance, she'll drag them all into this mess.
And quickly, find out if there's another one who looks just like her nearby!"
If it were just Salter, that would still be manageable. But if that person was here too—
"Isn't she right behind you?"
The casual remark struck the counterfeit like a bolt of lightning.
"Hah?!!!"
As the counterfeit let out a startled cry, a figure had already slipped behind him, silently revealing the gleaming blade of a holy sword.
The frigid sword light cut through the air soundlessly.
No trace, no presence—
The pressure of the attack was so overwhelming that the counterfeit did not even realize someone had approached.
Once, he had played the role of the Mountain Assassin, Hassan of the Cursed Arm. But now, he would be forced to experience what it meant to be assassinated by an assassin's assassin.
To detect an approaching assassin under such conditions, one would need either direct visual contact at close range or the aid of Noble Phantasms.
The counterfeit possessed neither.
Slash!
Even with A+ agility, and despite instantly reacting the moment he sensed someone behind him, the counterfeit could not entirely evade the strike.
A dazzling spray of blood erupted as the slash nearly tore him apart from head to toe. The sword mark was mere millimeters from a fatal strike—had it been just slightly higher, even if he had barely dodged the attack, death would have been inevitable.
As the strike landed, the illusion that had cloaked his spiritual foundation dissipated due to the severe injury, revealing his true form.
A tall figure, his body adorned with floral patterns, stood exposed. His antique clothing and distinctive traits made Alaric recognize his true identity at once.
"Yan Qing, huh? I didn't expect you to be a Phantom Spirit."
Yan Qing was a character from the Water Margin, also known as Yan Xiao Yi, with the nickname "The Wanderer." A native of Beijing, he was originally a trusted servant of the wealthy Lu Junyi and later followed him to join Liangshan.
His entire body was covered in elaborate tattoos, and he was skilled in archery, sumo wrestling, and martial arts. Agile and quick-witted, he was both loyal and highly intelligent.
He was also multi-talented—skilled in music, dance, various regional dialects, and all sorts of arts. Among the 108 heroes of Liangshan, he ranked 36th, corresponding to the Heavenly Skill Star.
Though a fictional character, his name lived on beyond Water Margin, as he was also regarded as the founder of the Yan Qing school of martial arts.
In this gathering of Phantom Spirits in Shinjuku, his appearance was not unexpected.
"Well played!"
Now exposed, Yan Qing clutched his chest, while the nobles and subordinates around him had already scattered. The sponsors fled in terror, and his subordinates had also perished—cut down by Alaric's blade along with him.
Unlike Yan Qing, they lacked the necessary attributes to survive such an attack.
As a result, Yan Qing now stood completely alone. Even if he tried to disguise himself and blend into the crowd, it was no longer an option.
Step. Step.
Fujimaru Ritsuka, Salter, and Jalter approached, blocking his escape route.
Dressed in formal attire, Fujimaru Ritsuka's mobility was somewhat restricted, but that was not an issue. Salter and Jalter, on the other hand, were entirely unhindered by their outfits.
At any moment, they could summon their battle armor through Spiritron construction and engage in combat.
Even though dozens of Hornet were now en route, they were insignificant in the face of Alaric and the others.
At this moment, Yan Qing was truly cornered.
Realizing his predicament, Yan Qing forced a weak smile and said, "Is it too late to surrender?"
Standing a short distance away, Alaric smiled back.
"It's too late."