As evening approached, a clear and fiery aura of battle rose from the docks into the sky. Almost every magician and hero could sense it. If they couldn't, it simply meant their level was too low.
Aslan, sitting in his hotel room, glanced at the moon overhead. It was a night with only the moon, no stars. Truly, a fitting night for battle. It seemed Kayneth had taken the initiative, just as planned. In that case, as his ally, Aslan needed to make an appearance.
"Merlin, let's head to the docks. I don't want to show up in person just yet."
He made himself a cup of coffee to keep warm on this winter night and turned on the television to catch the news.
"Oh, by the way," he added casually, "can you pretend to be Merlin's Master for a while? Senpai, this is part of the fun of our long lives. When something this interesting happens, it would be a shame not to join in."
Merlin, who had been clad in armor and holding his holy sword for more than a day, nodded. Of course, he wasn't using the holy sword as a weapon right away—it was sheathed in the scabbard Aslan had made for him.
Since they had decided to disguise Merlin as a Saber-class Servant, it only made sense for him to possess a scabbard of exceptional craftsmanship. After all, no one walks onto the battlefield with their sword already drawn—what do you think this is, a cosplay rally? Sprinting forward with a torch? Merlin scoffed inwardly; he wasn't such a tasteless person.
Meanwhile, Akuta Hinako curled her lip in disdain. What could she say? Compared to participating in this damned Holy Grail War, she'd rather find a band and play some death rock. Music, at least, was a genuine outlet for emotion.
And yet, before she even woke up properly, she'd been drafted by this junior of hers and flown directly back to the East from distant Europe. Of course she had heard about the Holy Grail War before—but after learning it had failed three times, she stopped paying it any attention.
As if sensing the contempt on her face, Aslan smiled and stepped forward until he stood directly before her.
"The Holy Grail really can grant wishes," he said. "If you win the war and obtain the Grail, you may be able to realize the wish you've held for more than two thousand years."
Akuta Hinako's expression changed. She reached out and grabbed Aslan's wrist, her blood-red eyes boring into him. Those eyes conveyed a single emotion: suspicion.
It was the first time Aslan had ever seen her so serious. Her crimson gaze was like a rope binding him tightly—as if a single wrong word would cause it to strangle him.
Under that intense pressure, Aslan nodded.
The moment she received confirmation, Akuta Hinako removed the hairpins from her twin ponytails, letting her long black hair fall freely behind her. The fitted outfit she wore accentuated her figure. At the same time, two swords materialized in her hands. Blood flowed from the backs of her hands, forming a special pattern indistinguishable from a genuine Command Seal.
She examined the mark with satisfaction and gave a slight nod. Very good—this forged Command Seal could pass for the real thing.
"Let's go, Merlin."
The serious aura that had surrounded her vanished, replaced by uncontainable excitement.
Meanwhile, at the harbor, Balin gently stubbed out the cigarette he'd been smoking, tossed it to the ground, and crushed it beneath his boot. His once-lazy posture straightened at once as he strode to an open space, hand resting on the hilt at his waist.
"Huh. I didn't expect anyone to show up for a fight. I thought the first day would end in failure."
His red-handled sword left its sheath with a hiss, its blade glinting coldly beneath the moonlight. Balin's eyes sharpened, his gaze fixing on a shadow concealed behind a container.
"Seems I underestimated the heroes of the world. But I hope you're worth the effort. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to laugh at the so-called champions outside of Great Britain. Come on—show yourself! Let's have a proper duel!"
The clank of armored footsteps echoed through the docks, followed by a laugh Balin knew well.
Because the Servant Aslan was entwined with the legend of King Arthur, his manifestation was not that of the triumphant king but rather from the earlier part of his legend—the time before the blood of the White Dragon had begun to boil.
For that reason, he had not manifested with the full extent of his parameters or the full number of his treasures. The fact that his current skill, Blood of the White Dragon, remained at A++ rank was already a miracle.
"Long time no see. It seems we were fated to meet again, Sir Balin… But I must correct two of your assumptions. First, I am not someone you can laugh at. Second, I am not a hero from outside Britain. All the legends I embody originated in Great Britain."
Light golden hair, sky-blue eyes, silver-white armor with golden trim and blue gemstones—the golden holy sword gleaming with divine sharpness. The voice, the aura, the smile—it was unmistakable.
Balin's eyes lit up. A grin slowly spread across his face.
"Aslan!!"
Hidden nearby, Kayneth stiffened the moment he heard the newcomer call out the name of his own Servant. But when the hidden figure stepped forward into view, Kayneth was stunned.
They looked far too similar—no, they looked identical. Was this Servant really not the Aslan he knew?
Even the name was the same.
For a moment, Kayneth didn't care that his Servant's name had been exposed. All he wanted to do was pull out his phone and call Aslan, just to confirm the one in front of him wasn't the man he knew.
Meanwhile, Balin laughed in pure delight.
"Haha… hahahaha! A miracle! This is a miracle! Never did I imagine that, 1,500 years later, I would meet you on this foreign land—and in this Holy Grail War, no less!"
But in the next moment, his smile faded.
"…But—are you really Aslan?"
-End Chapter-
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