[Fuyuki City, Hyatt Hotel]
The spacious living room was paved with dark marble flooring, with the glittering night view of the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Classical-style furniture filled the room, while a crystal chandelier cast a soft light, the air faintly infused with sandalwood fragrance.
The top floor of this high-class hotel in Fuyuki City had now been completely remodeled by Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald into his workshop and base of operations.
The entire space was covered by layer upon layer of magical barriers, as if separate from the real world. It was both an impregnable fortress and Kenneth's absolute battlefield for magecraft.
On the sofa opposite Kenneth, particles of mana shimmered like starlight, gradually condensing into a human form.
With green hair and golden eyes, Achilles released his spirit form, revealing his bold and heroic figure. He wore shining silver armor, still faintly marked by the traces of battle.
Lancer's face was strikingly handsome, with a hint of unrestrained confidence between his brows.
Achilles' most compatible classes were Rider and Lancer. If summoned as the former, his speed and Noble Phantasm [Troias Tragoidia, the Immortal Chariot of Raging Winds] would be strengthened; as the latter, his power, endurance, and his Noble Phantasm [Diatrekhon Aster Lonkhe, the Spear-tip that Rides the Skies] were enhanced.
"I'm back," Achilles sprawled casually across the sofa, his tone light and easy.
"Good work, Lancer," Kenneth elegantly lifted a bottle of wine and personally poured him a glass of red.
Achilles took it without hesitation and downed it in one gulp.
At first, Kenneth's chosen catalyst had been a fragment of the cloak belonging to the King of Conquerors, Iskandar. However, that relic had been stolen by his student Waver Velvet, forcing him to reconsider his summoning target.
His backup choice was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the "Radiant Face," chief warrior of the Fianna in Celtic mythology, famed as "peerless in the world." But when word spread of a deity descending in Fuyuki, Kenneth realized he needed an even stronger Servant.
After careful thought, Kenneth decided to change his catalyst. At great expense, he purchased from Greece a newly unearthed stone tablet recording the Trojan War, aiming to summon the mightiest hero of ancient Greece, Heracles.
The actual summoning deviated somewhat, but the Servant that appeared was another top-class figure: the swiftest hero of Greek myth, Lancer Achilles.
Kenneth was very satisfied with this result. Achilles' straightforward, bold, and cheerful personality was likable, his pride without arrogance made Kenneth feel an unexpected affinity.
More importantly, Kenneth saw in Achilles traits similar to his own. The confidence and brilliance belonging to a natural-born genius.
In strength, too, Achilles fully met Kenneth's expectations. In his eyes, Achilles' power absolutely surpassed that of Rider, the King of Conquerors Iskandar.
Especially Achilles' Noble Phantasm [Diatrekhon Aster Lonkhe], which created a dueling field for single combat between heroes. An arena that rivaled a Reality Marble, cutting off time and space until one side fell.
In terms of matchups, it directly countered Iskandar's [Ionioi Hetairoi].
And today, Kenneth was in excellent spirits, because Rider Iskandar had already exited the war.
Standing atop the Hyatt's workshop, gazing down at Fuyuki's nightscape, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
It wasn't that with Rider gone Kenneth now thought victory was guaranteed.
But that his unruly student Waver Velvet and his Servant Iskandar had been the first to fall. That result did indeed vent Kenneth's pent-up frustrations.
Yet as Kenneth savored this small triumph, one remark from Lancer Achilles made his brow rise.
"Rider's out. That probably makes me the weakest of the six remaining," Achilles chuckled lightly.
There wasn't the slightest trace of self-mockery or discouragement in his tone. Rather, a faint hint of fighting spirit.
Kenneth blinked, then frowned.
'Lancer Achilles the weakest among the six? That sounds like a joke.'
But it had come from Achilles himself.
"Berserker's identity is already confirmed, it's the Gorgon," Lancer said.
As a fellow figure of Greek myth, Achilles had no trouble recognizing her.
"Medusa, the serpent witch…", Kenneth murmured.
"Normally, yes. But this time, her Saint Graph is unusual," Achilles replied, "The scale of her mana is immense."
Though his skill far outstripped hers, that terrifying A++ strength and endurance made her a serious threat even to Achilles.
Gorgon clearly exceeded the scope of a normal Heroic Spirit. With her oversized Saint Graph, her strength rivaled Achilles'. Perhaps even surpassed it.
Still, while Achilles could not easily defeat Gorgon, neither could she simply overcome his top-class speed and defenses.
After Rider was slain by Assassin, realizing further fighting would yield no result, Achilles had withdrawn.
"As for Assassin… honestly, he's not the sort to show himself lightly in a Grail War," Achilles continued.
Today's battle had revealed four Servants: Lancer Achilles, Berserker Gorgon, Rider Iskandar, and Assassin, the Old Man of the Mountain.
Each bore distinct traits that made their identities easy to judge.
Among them, Assassin was the strongest, and strangest.
The Old Man of the Mountain might not have stood out in history, his fame not shining like the greatest heroes, but Achilles knew well the peculiarity of that existence.
Leaning back on the sofa, golden eyes narrowed in thought, Achilles mused,
"The remaining Servants, Saber, Archer, and Caster… My gut tells me they're on Assassin's level."
Kenneth's tongue clicked in surprise, "In that case…"
"Mm. Master, your workshop likely won't be of much use," Achilles said.
The Grail War was Master and Servant together, yes, but compared to Servants, magi were far weaker.
And this time, the Servants' powers were beyond standard.
That the weakest of the seven was the King of Conquerors Iskandar said it all.
In such conditions, Servant battles became everything. Even the strongest mage had no influence, couldn't even participate, in these top-class clashes.
The magi would likely hole up in their workshops, avoiding direct encounters with enemy Servants. No one dared leave their fortress, for once caught on an enemy Servant's battlefield, death could come in an instant.
And if their hiding place were found, and their Servant couldn't hold the enemy, then even a Clock Tower Lord like Kenneth, with top-tier resources and a fortress of a workshop, would find his defenses nothing but paper before a Heroic Spirit like Achilles.
Achilles shrugged, offering comfort, "Sorry, Master."
Kenneth's expression flickered through shadows, then smoothed. He smiled faintly, voice calm, "It's fine, Lancer. Do your best."
"No matter what, I believe in you."
His tone was level, though his heart was not entirely undisturbed.
As the gifted heir of a great house, Kenneth had inherited the El-Melloi magic crest and his own extraordinary talents to match.
Such an arrogant mage had long since taken success as natural, never imagining himself trailing behind in any field.
Still, he held some respect for fellow Lords of equal rank.
Losing to equals was bitter, but not wholly unacceptable. The power gaps of Servants could be seen as a force beyond his control.
Of course, no matter how strong the opponent, Kenneth would never admit defeat easily. His arrogance and confidence came from absolute faith in his own strength, and his relentless pursuit of magecraft. Even against godlike foes, he deemed himself worthy to try.
Besides, as a magus, Kenneth couldn't help but feel curiosity now, who exactly was Caster in this war?
———
Caster rubbed his eyes and withdrew his gaze from the Tohsaka estate.
Since they had already noticed him, continuing to look would be discourteous.
Sitting upright in his workshop, Caster seemed lost in thought.
His long white hair was loosely tied into a ponytail, falling over his shoulder. His handsome face was sharply cut, sculpted in perfection, with brows hinting at extraordinary presence.
His skin was a healthy bronze, his robe of exquisite weave, ancient runes and intricate magical patterns faintly inscribed.
But the most striking feature was his eyes. Deep jade-green, clear as autumn water. Looking into them was like seeing all laid bare, with nothing hidden.
This Caster's true identity was King Solomon, the legendary ruler praised as the pinnacle of wisdom and magecraft.
Caster Solomon closed his eyes, then reopened them. Stars seemed to wheel within their depths.
Softly, he murmured, "As I thought, I'll need to meet them."
As a Heroic Spirit with the highest-rank [Clairvoyance], Solomon could see fragments of past and future.
Yet in this war, he was not alone in possessing that rank.
Three pairs of [Clairvoyance]… If it came to a standoff, the future would become exhausting, and troublesome.
Fortunately, as Solomon's vision had shown, the other two shared the same thought.
As for a meeting place, there were few suitable spots. Mainly because one difficult individual cared greatly about the location and setting of their descent.
"The Assassin Master's castle, then…", Lowering his eyes, fragments of the future unfurled like a scroll.
He saw, within the ancient castle in the mountain woods, three kings meeting and conversing.
Though he did not know why that place was chosen, the vision's existence meant all three EX-level clairvoyants had accepted it.
"Clear the board first, then we settle between ourselves… Fine by me."
Rider was gone. Six Servants remained, three with [Clairvoyance].
Lancer, Berserker, Assassin… they would be eliminated first. On this, the three who could see the future had agreed.
Solomon rose calmly, leaving his workshop to step into the endless night.
———
Fuyuki City, a remote street.
Emiya carried young Tohsaka Rin through a dark alley.
The girl's twin black pigtails were a bit messy, strands stuck to her pale cheeks, giving her a fragile look. Her eyes, usually proud and confident, now held confusion.
The post-rain streets smelled damp, distant lamps hazy and yellow in the mist.
"Don't run off again, Rin," Emiya spoke as gently as he could.
"Yes," Rin answered softly.
Her gaze wandered the ground, not daring to meet his eyes. Her fingers trembled, still haunted by the danger just past.
Ryunosuke Uryuu, the serial killer, the deranged performance artist, Fuyuki's most dangerous fugitive.
Just moments ago, the girl had nearly been kidnapped by him. If not for Emiya "happening" to pass by, the outcome was unthinkable.
Rin had been saved. As for Ryunosuke, outside of Rin's sight, he was pinned to a wall by a flash of swordlight.
The madman who had long sought the essence of death, in his final moment, stared at the hole through his chest as if he had finally understood.
Emiya gently set Rin down at the Zenjou residence doorway. The lamplight spilled over her, catching her uncertain yet stubborn expression.
"All right, this is far enough," Emiya said, "Go back in now. Don't let your mother worry."
With that, he turned and walked off into the night.
The girl stood, fingers curling as if to grasp something, her eyes fixed on his back, her heart stirring strangely.
As his figure receded into the distance, Rin felt a sudden impulse. She drew a deep breath and shouted, "Excuse me, what is your name?"
His steps faltered, but he did not turn. He only waved casually, as if to say, "No need."
Yet just as Rin thought he would not reply, a voice quietly echoed in her heart.
"Emiya Shirou."
Rin started, instinctively clutching her chest.
When she looked up again, his figure had melted into the night, gone at the street's end.
———
A faint ripple of mana shimmered beside him, the air rippling. Then Saber, Artoria Avalon, appeared.
"Want supper?", Emiya asked calmly, turning his head.
Artoria blinked, then nodded earnestly, "Yes."
Emiya smiled, "I left a stew simmering in the hotel room, it should be ready now."
Artoria's eyes lit up, her lips curving in rare delight, "Then we…"
"You go on ahead," Emiya said, "I have a few things to do."
"All right. Come back soon."
"Mm. You can start without me."
Saber faded again into spirit form. After she left, Emiya turned toward the direction of the Einzbern castle.