Although the light from the released treasure shot up into the sky, fortunately, not all of the barriers were broken. To ordinary people, it was nothing more than a loud bang and a flash of light—something they could easily mistake for a gas explosion.
What? You say the flames from a gas explosion aren't pure white but orange-red?
It doesn't matter. There are always people willing to believe the story. At worst, the Church will have to make a few extra excuses. If that doesn't work… well, there's always magic.
Old man Kotomine, who had been estimating the damage at the docks for the Church, widened his eyes when he saw the sacred light. He instinctively made the sign of the cross over his chest and murmured that a saint had descended upon this small town. Still gazing at the rising light, he couldn't help lamenting that their Church's logistical workload had just increased dramatically.
Each one of these "logistics" tasks costs money—money the Church already spends in quantities equal to several years' budget during every Holy Grail War.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kotomine felt an ominous premonition: this war might drain more funds than any before in the Holy Grail's history. Contrary to popular belief, the Church was far from united. Where there are people, there is politics, and the older an organization becomes, the more entrenched its factional disputes.
After all, the Holy Sepulchre Church had existed for over a thousand years. Internal conflicts were inevitable. Now the old man's only hope was that, whatever trouble arose, their budget wouldn't be slashed. Passing off such an incident as a gas explosion required a great deal of funding—both for shaping public opinion and for subsequent cleanup and personnel arrangements.
Without enough money, even draining their private vaults wouldn't cover the cost. Yet they couldn't allow the existence of magecraft to be exposed to the mundane world.
Adults have their own frustrations and worries. Still… why did the location of that sacred light feel so familiar? Wait—that was the Matou estate! One of the three great families of the Holy Grail War! Could someone have attacked them?
This was big news.
Kotomine stepped out of the church and stared toward the rising black smoke in the distance.
Meanwhile, in the Tohsaka household not far from the Matou estate, Tokiomi was enduring the icy gaze of his Servant, Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh was actually forcing him to act using a Command Seal. Call it "advice" if you like, but at heart it was still a compulsory order.
Did this mongrel truly think him so unrestrained? Worse, it felt like a challenge to his dignity as a king.
As for the sacred light, Gilgamesh found it amusing rather than alarming. It added spice to the game, after all. Only surprises beyond the plan could make the experience truly interesting.
In the Matou estate's basement, Aslan put away the magic spear in his hand and began searching for the girl who should be there. With the death of the insect colony's leader, the remaining bugs had gone berserk, swarming aimlessly through the corridors.
Maintaining a ring of fire around himself, Aslan had no intention of letting these disgusting creatures touch him—especially since they might have been bred using humans as fertilizer. In some sealed rooms, he caught glimpses of bones gnawed half-clean.
One by one, he kicked open the doors, casting small bursts of flame to incinerate the insects. In chambers used for breeding, human remains lay scattered, and the sweeping holy light washed over them.
Though he was not a devout man, he thought to himself: If I save these lost souls, perhaps the Lord above will forgive me someday—for posing as His light to deceive people. After all… I am technically registered.
Elsewhere, a little black-haired girl slowly pushed open the basement door. She had been too afraid before, but when the holy light seeped through the gap earlier, a voice had whispered in her heart: You are free now.
The bugs clinging to her body had scattered instantly. These were the same insects that had tried to burrow into her flesh—creatures that never would have fled while her grandfather was alive. Could it really be… a miracle?
There was no one pushing her back into the darkness. No scolding voices. Was she truly free?
The emotions she had suppressed for so long burst forth. She seized a nearby bug and smashed it against another, crushing both into a foul-smelling pulp. A strange smile curled across her lips.
Torture had changed her. Watching insect blood seep onto the floor, she felt as if some of her pent-up hatred had finally been released. She stood, stomping on bug after bug.
"Go to hell! Go to hell! Go to hell—!!"
Her voice naturally drew Aslan. What he found was a girl venting her rage with the wild energy of a little lunatic.
The light from the holy spear pendant at his neck spread across her, calming her frenzied state. Covered in insect gore, she finally stilled.
Her eyes were devoid of pleading or joy as she stared at Aslan. If he helped her, that would be fine. If not… she wouldn't regret it. She was only one person, after all.
She was far more mature than her age should allow.
Looking at the girl, Aslan sighed. Considering all he had learned over his life, perhaps it was time to find a successor.
"Matou Sakura… I'll call you that for now. I need a disciple. If you have nowhere else to go, then come with me."
-End Chapter-
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