Fortress of Millennia.
The throne room reeked of thick metallic blood. Before the jeweled seat, Vlad III lay with eyes tightly shut—his right arm severed at the shoulder, his chest flayed open to reveal the faint pulsing of his exposed heart.
Through magecraft perception, the Servant's spiritual core resembled a shattered glass bead, its radiance utterly extinguished.
Darnic knelt before Vlad III, his long hair pooling on the floor as it concealed his clenched right fist. On his hand remained only two fading Command Spell marks.
Had he not impulsively gathered the Yggdmillennia Masters to witness their Servant's might, even if Vlad III had fallen to the Assassin's scheme, Darnic wouldn't have reacted in time to save him.
Yet seizing the precise moment between clashing Servants proved near impossible for a magus—by the time his Command Spell recalled his Servant, the spiritual core had already been pierced by the assassin's blade, delivering a near-fatal blow.
Should he use a Command Spell for recovery? No, not yet. The Caster had long been summoned. If even he proved incapable, then would be the time to decide.
To preserve Vlad III as a combatant, expending two Command Spells was a necessary sacrifice.
Back turned to his uneasy Yggdmillennia subordinates, Darnic failed to suppress the dark fury twisting his features. His right hand's nails dug bloody crescents into his palm.
Losing two Command Spells before the war even began made his heart bleed.
That Assassin... just what was their origin?
How did they possess such intimate knowledge of Vlad III?
If someone else had summoned a Servant, why had the Greater Grail revealed nothing?!
Suppressing the turmoil once more, Darnic turned to face his Masters with an impassive mask.
"You've witnessed the arrogance seeking to tarnish Yggdmillennia's glory. Now, they shall pay for their insolence!"
"Yes!"
With their patriarch's decree, the Yggdmillennia clan mobilized into frantic preparations.
***
"Farewell. Give Lord El-Melloi II my regards."
At an airport near Romania, Sakatsuki bid goodbye to the cleanup team he'd worked with for barely half a day before their near-total annihilation.
Their captain's severe injuries had hospitalized him, the redheaded magus lay dead, and a female magus now led the remaining five onto a London-bound flight with cold professionalism.
Their mission complete, the rest fell to Sakatsuki and the Clock Tower's Masters.
Watching their awkward procession through the terminal, Sakatsuki withdrew his gaze. Rather than leave, he remained seated in the lobby, eyes closed in meditation.
For his debut Servant battle as Assassin, Sakatsuki considered it a qualified success.
His sole regret was the opposing Master's underhanded last-second Command Spell locking Vlad III's health, denying Sakatsuki's finishing blow.
As for the assassination opening that emerged—it was a case of the very strength becoming the fatal flaw.
Demonic Defender of the State: EX
By preemptively securing the ley lines, a specific area could be designated as "his own territory." Within this domain, Vlad III, as the ruler, would receive combat power corrections rivaling Rank A [Mad Enhancement]. His Noble Phantasm "Kazikli Bey" could only be deployed within the boundaries established by this skill.
Though a Turkish hero, his legend was not particularly widespread. The reason Vlad III reached the pinnacle of Servant strength lay in Darnic's actions—prior to Yggdmillennia's declaration of war, Darnic had already claimed all of Romania as the territory required for the "Demonic Defender of the State."
Sakatsuki's order to the "Cleanup Team" was to use ritual arrays to sever this forest's ley lines from Romania's network. Thus, in the final moment, Vlad III's power plummeted, his stake barrier crumbling at the slightest touch, allowing Sakatsuki to strike effortlessly and wound his vitals.
Of course, before this, Sakatsuki had avoided the conceptual affixation of "Impaling" by abandoning assassination and instead severing Vlad III's arm, preventing him from wielding his spear. This, in a way, tipped the scales of battle in his favor.
An Assassin with Rank A Presence Concealment was dangerous enough, but what made this one truly terrifying was his possession of intelligence surpassing even that of the Ruler class.
Even as a lone Servant, he posed an immense threat in this Holy Grail War.
Both the Mage's Association and Yggdmillennia were likely tracking Sakatsuki's movements with vigilance. Yet none could have anticipated that, at the critical juncture of war's outbreak, someone would use a false identity to purchase yet another plane ticket.
["Attention passengers, Flight MUXXX bound for Japan is now boarding. Please proceed to..."]
The time had come.
Concluding his calculations and preparations for the future, Sakatsuki opened his eyes and stood.
His destination: the Far Eastern island nation. There, he would summon his Servant—the second Servant of the Blue Faction.
This was Sakatsuki's final preparation before all parties assembled.
***
One day later, as Sakatsuki's journey finally reached its destination.
Clock Tower, Department of Summoning, Director's Office
"...'Eight-Tongued' Darnic?"
"Indeed. Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, head of the Yggdmillennia clan. A third-rate lecturer, second-rate magus, and first-rate swindler."
The afternoon sun was fierce and unrelenting, stealing all shadows from the room and illuminating the twisted, angry expression of the Department Director, Belfeban, whose face was contorted with displeasure.
"—He has summoned a Servant for the Holy Grail War. In response, we must gather seven Masters and Servants to engage Yggdmillennia in battle and emerge victorious."
Speaking with the elderly man was a burly figure clad in a black jacket and dark sunglasses, his rugged features resembling those of an American fugitive.
It's worth noting that due to his excessively intimidating appearance, he had been stopped and questioned by security magi within the Clock Tower, with no students willing to provide directions... Had it not been for the intervention of a certain golden-haired problem child, reaching the Summoning Department would have required considerably more effort.
His name was Kairi Sisigou, a former student of the Clock Tower, now a necromancer and mercenary, as well as one of the Masters designated by Lord El-Melloi II.
In another world's Fourth Holy Grail War, Kiritsugu had specifically sought him out to craft specialized necromantic bullets to counter Sakatsuki, who had shattered the Winter Castle.
"Hmm..." Faced with the detailed mission briefing, Kairi stroked his unkempt beard, lost in thought.
Belfeban made no attempt to conceal—or perhaps couldn't conceal—the fact that only six members remained from the "cleanup team" of fellow mercenaries after being slaughtered by Servants, and had relayed everything to him.
Though Kairi understood the reasons for their failure, for the sake of his own survival, he had to carefully consider his options.
"And if we win, what happens to the Greater Grail?"
"Naturally, we'll secure it after victory. With the path to the Root right before their eyes, who knows if the surviving magi will remain rational."
Recalling Lord El-Melloi II's instructions, Belfeban replied without batting an eye.
I see. Kairi nodded in understanding.
In other words: "After annihilating Yggdmillennia, whatever happens next is your own responsibility." Whether it's fulfilling wishes, preventing them, or—destroying everything.
Of course, this old fox surely had countermeasures prepared. Most likely, retrieval teams would be deployed the moment the war ended.
But, but! If he could just get ahead of them—there would surely be a chance to realize his own wish!
A shiver of excitement raced down Kairi's spine. Perhaps noticing his agitation, the old man nodded as if everything had gone according to plan and asked, "Do you accept the commission?"
Still, it wouldn't do to answer immediately. A hasty reply would reveal his eagerness.
With this in mind, the battle-hardened mercenary and necromancer engaged in a second round of negotiations with Belfeban, agreeing to participate while securing better terms.
***
Prompted by Sakatsuki's warnings, the Mage's Association gathered their chosen Masters at an accelerated pace. Meanwhile, on the side of the Yggdmillennia, also influenced by Sakatsuki's presence, Darnic summoned the faction's Masters to the throne room of the Fortress of Millennia as night fell, seeking new power.
After confirming the four summoners had taken their designated positions, Darnic bowed respectfully toward the empty throne.
"Then, my king, let the ritual commence."
"...Very well."
A voice devoid of arrogance rang out as particles of light coalesced upon the throne, taking the form of the Voivode of Wallachia. From his aura, it was clear his injuries had fully healed.
The cost, however—was the increasingly faint red marks on Darnic's hand.
Whatever Darnic might have thought, his expression remained reverent, for the one seated upon the throne was Romania's greatest hero of Transylvania, the commander feared by Ottoman soldiers as Kazikli Bey—the Impaler.
Indeed, here in Romania, his fame was nearly unmatched, rivaling even Heracles in Greece or King Arthur in England.
It was precisely because of Vlad III's value that Darnic had willingly expended a Master's greatest privilege to cover both the Heroic Spirit and his own miscalculations.
Lancer cast a glance at Darnic, his most loyal subordinate, and let his commanding voice resound through the throne room:
"Hurry, summon the heroic spirits who would become my limbs."
"As you command."
After offering a respectful bow, Darnic announced to the four:
"Then let us begin. We, the proud magi of Yggdmillennia. When this ritual concludes, we shall embark upon a path of no return in battle. — Are you prepared?"
The four Masters silently displayed their unwavering resolve, each taking their positions at the forefront of the summoning circles.
Apart from the large-scale summoning by the 'Black' faction at the Fortress of Millennia, and Kairi Sisigou's summoning using a fragment of the Round Table in the Stavropoleos Church cemetery in Bucharest, there was also a young man on a distant island who removed his cloak and stood at the very center of a summoning circle.
From different locations, yet identical incantations rose:
"—I declare!"
***
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