A battle-hardened spear radiating fearsome might; a divine spear tempered by godly flames, unparalleled in this world.
Before these two heroic spears, most would surely be terrified out of their wits.
But Shakespeare clearly wasn't among that majority. Even with both spears pressed against his neck, he still feigned helplessness by spreading his hands, his expression the very picture of innocence.
"Does communicating with former Black Saber Siegfried violate some taboo?"
Beside him, Siegfried watched the aggressive approach of Achilles, Amakusa, Semiramis and Karna, hesitating to speak.
How did these four end up together? Like SHIELD and Hydra assembling?
From Siegfried's perspective, he'd just been invited by Shakespeare for an interview when suddenly the FBI kicked open the door. Their high-alert demeanor completely threw him off.
While Siegfried remained baffled, Amakusa cleared his throat and began the formalities:
"Caster, we've gathered evidence against you. You'd best confess honestly."
"Evidence? Wait wait, Father, what are you talking about?" Shakespeare sat in his chair, appearing genuinely shocked. Semiramis had no patience for his act and coldly stated:
"All the Command Spells belonging to your Master—or should I say former Master—have disappeared. Who was responsible?"
"And what was that person's objective?"
Faced with Semiramis's interrogation, Shakespeare remained silent while Siegfried instinctively glanced at the great playwright, unexpectedly stumbling upon major gossip.
Just as Amakusa and the others recognized the vanished Command Spells as proof of someone's meddling, all present were heroes with first-rate intellect and martial prowess (Shakespeare: ?). But unlike them, Siegfried knew more and understood deeper.
After all, he'd only been forced to join the rebellion yesterday. For some reason, Sakatsuki and Reika had told him nothing, leaving Siegfried unaware that Shakespeare was also a mole. The playwright had intended to confess, but was apprehended before he could speak. Semiramis's words now explained why Shakespeare had suddenly approached him.
Incredible—had Red Faction's Caster also been recruited by Sakatsuki? No, it made perfect sense. With Sakatsuki in Black Faction and Reika in Red Faction, this was precisely their strategy all along.
Truly terrifying scheming from that Assassin.
Only one question remained: would Shakespeare answer truthfully?
Siegfried's concern was justified. As a jester at heart, Shakespeare held no particular loyalty. If one had to describe his sole reason for joining the Holy Grail War, it would be this:
"I'm bored—I want to see rivers of blood!"
For the sake of a compelling story, he could betray Amakusa without hesitation, just as he could stab Sakatsuki in the back.
Pinned to his chair, Shakespeare's expression didn't change, but his eyes darted about, gleaming with calculation.
—Without doubt, events had followed the path of a masterpiece thus far. Yet a predetermined conclusion held no excitement whatsoever.
He was well aware of Sakatsuki's plan. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the Blue faction completely eroded both the Red and Black sides. Once Sakatsuki shed his disguise and revealed his ferocious true nature, neither Amakusa nor the Yggdmillennia would be able to turn the tide.
For the mastermind behind this scheme, the more overwhelming the victory, the more exhilarating the triumph. But Shakespeare was different. As a writer, he longed for twists and turns—a hard-fought victory carved into perilous cliffs.
A protagonist must endure countless hardships. A life that sails smoothly from beginning to end? Leave that to ordinary folk elsewhere. What he sought was the dramatic essence—whether comedy, tragedy, or any other ending—extraordinary individuals deserved lives befitting their stature.
So, let the storm rage even fiercer!
"Ah, it seems I cannot deceive you all..." Under Siegfried's razor-sharp gaze, Shakespeare shrugged nonchalantly. "Very well, then I shall confess—among us, there is indeed one who has reached covetous hands toward the Holy Grail! Beneath the shroud of blood and night, an azure shadow weaves lies!"
Truly befitting the great playwright, his trembling beard punctuated each word of the brief allegorical verse, rising and falling like the slow unfurling of a stage curtain. A mysterious shadow flitted through, leaving behind a chilling, dangerous smirk.
"So, who is it?" Achilles demanded in a low voice. In response, Shakespeare burst into mischievous laughter.
"Before death, endure pain for love, and revere hope! In other words... I shan't tell you. Oh—!"
With a metallic clang, Siegfried deflected Achilles' spear and stepped protectively in front of Shakespeare, sighing. "My apologies, but please calm down, Red Rider."
"Are you shielding a traitor, Black Saber?" Achilles, long irritated by the riddles, naturally refused to back down. "Step aside!"
"But you are now a servant of the Black faction as well," Siegfried pointed out coolly. Achilles fell silent at that. Just then, Karna lowered his spear and turned to Siegfried.
"I promise not to harm Red Caster, but would you accompany me for a walk, Black Saber?"
Under the gaze of those noble eyes, Siegfried hesitated briefly before lowering his weapon and following Karna out of the study. Achilles, now calmer, leaned against the wall in frustration, while Amakusa sighed at Shakespeare's unyielding demeanor.
Achilles wasn't wrong—a traitor deserved execution. But Shakespeare was currently the only known source of information on the mastermind behind the scenes. Until every scrap of intel was extracted, he remained useful.
As Amakusa pondered this, he suddenly noticed Shakespeare watching him, eyes brimming with amusement, as if to say:
Well then, what will you do, priest?
"...It's merely a three-way standoff. Surely you know the story of the three gunslingers?"
"The worst shot among them, the third, was the one who survived, wasn't he?" Shakespeare chuckled. "It seems the priest knows his place well."
"No." Amakusa shook his head, not sparing Shakespeare another glance as he turned and walked away.
"I mean, the first to die will always be the strongest one."
As Amakusa left, Achilles saw no reason to stay either. He turned to go, but Shakespeare called out to him:
"Rider, I will surely write your story one day. So let me ask you—should it be a tragedy or a comedy?"
"...We're no longer on the same side. Even so, you'd still write it?"
"Of course." Shakespeare smiled, his gaze sweeping over the freshly inked manuscripts on his desk like a king surveying his domain.
"But in the end, it's just a story. No matter how precisely the words capture it, your life remains yours alone. So whether it's comedy or tragedy makes no real difference."
"Hmph. You can say some decent things when you want to." Muttering this, Achilles felt scenes from his past flash through his mind—being born as the son of a hero and goddess, separated from his mother in childhood, then training, fighting, loving, hating, and finally dying in battle.
That life could certainly be rendered in words. Whether it was joyful or sorrowful depended entirely on Achilles' own perspective.
In the end, the half-giant warrior hefted his spear and laughed boldly as he strode toward the door.
"Make it a comedy—the kind of absurd tale that leaves readers roaring with laughter. Honestly, keeping just my heel human only to get shot there and die? There's probably no more ridiculous ending in this world!"
Faced with Achilles' cavalier dismissal of his own life, Shakespeare wiped the smile from his face and bowed deeply.
"—That will surely be a fine story indeed."
The door closed, completely severing the connection between the two men.