Kiritsugu did not doubt that the master–servant relationship between Merlin and Akuta Hinako was a sham. After all, the magi of this era still carried a particular arrogance. They might form cliques, but they would never stoop to the kind of underhanded tactics he himself had used. It was simply Kiritsugu's misfortune to have run into Aslan—someone who refused to play by the rules.
From the method Merlin had used to appear, Kiritsugu could almost certainly confirm that the man who called himself King Arthur was part of the magus faction. His own unique intelligence network had already gathered information on most of the other contestants.
I just don't know what kind of cards this sudden group of magicians is holding—or what abilities they have.
Still, since this one called himself King Arthur, he must be familiar with the true King Arthur. Even if not personally acquainted, he had to be a British magus; otherwise, how could he wield that holy sword? Kiritsugu resolved to consult Altria about it later.
As for the magician's master, he would investigate that as soon as possible. Kiritsugu had confidence in his connections as a mage killer. While most magi shunned him, others respected his accomplishments. In fact, it was precisely because of his past deeds and experience that he had met his wife.
Because of Irisviel and Illya, Kiritsugu felt genuine gratitude for the path he had walked. And yet, he still considered his life a tragedy—those who drew close to him seemed destined to face death…
"Call…"
He would not allow such a fate to claim Irisviel and his beloved daughter.
Kiritsugu clenched his fists, forcing his emotions back under control. Even if Irisviel's fate could not be changed, he would protect Illya. He had once asked Britain's strongest blacksmith, Aslan, about Irisviel's condition, but unfortunately, the summoned Aslan lacked his forging hammer.
Without the tools of his craft, the creations of Servant Aslan could not endure. At present, he could only wield the language of the fairies with difficulty. If the Servant Aslan had been summoned directly—rather than drawn in indirectly—perhaps Irisviel's body could have been restored.
What Kiritsugu did not know was that Aslan's true body was also in this world. If found, it would not be difficult to forge a new body for Irisviel.
Whether they would meet depended entirely on fate. Aslan could not be certain that this world matched the one he had known before Valhalla. After all, if one Aslan existed here, perhaps another lived in a parallel world—and in that one, "Aslan" might be named Estee Lauder and be a woman.
The Type–Moon world is like a tree, Aslan mused. I am a concept, a node—a branching point. From me, endless possibilities spread outward. If I were to ask around in the Throne of Heroes, perhaps I really could find my female self.
Thus, no matter how similar this world felt to the one before his ascension, he could not guarantee that he had been summoned from that exact timeline.
The King of Conquerors watched the other Heroic Spirits depart and shrugged. There would be no deals today. "In any case, my offer stands. If you wish to join me, I'll welcome you anytime."
He clapped Waver on the back. Seeing his young master still shaken, he sighed—there was much growing left for the boy to do.
Meanwhile, in the old worm's lair, Lancelot's delay had left the magus without a shield.
Aslan advanced step by step, the flag in his hand shining with holy light that dissolved the crawling masses. Countless aggressive insects surged toward him, but when the sacred banner swept aside, they burned away instantly.
The old worm, fleeing while monitoring his familiars' images, cursed to himself. With that paladin's holy flag and spear, his power was unmistakably saintly—yet his tone, demeanor, and ruthless actions were nothing like a saint!
If Aslan could hear him, he would simply shake his head. Look at FGO—since when is any saint gentle and harmless? They're all powerhouses.
Perhaps this was the philosophy: If words can't deter and judge, I'll crush them with my fists. Once everyone submits to the threat of force, no one will break the rules.
Or perhaps: Forgiveness belongs to God—my mission is merely to send the guilty to Him. And so every saint bore formidable strength.
Aslan's flag lit the entire underground, even driving away the stench of rot. The brighter the light, the more the insects shrank into corners, minimizing their presence.
The old worm reached a hidden exit leading to the sewers near his home. It was humiliating for a magus to escape through a sewer—but life outweighed pride.
Unfortunately, the barrier that had sealed the main entrance now stretched underground as well. Through its translucent surface, the old worm could see his escape route, but he could not reach it.
"Run—why aren't you running? If you won't, then I declare the game of cat and mouse over."
The old worm pounded the barrier twice. When it held firm, he gritted his teeth and glared at Aslan, eyes blazing with fury.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector