Kayneth examined the magic contract laid out before him, raised his eyebrows, and finally shook his head slightly. He pointed to the section where his own name and that of Lancer were written and said,
"Here—replace all of these with the Lancer team."
A glimmer of shrewdness flashed in Kayneth's eyes. At this moment, he was nothing like the gullible fiancé from the original events. He was, after all, the leader of a faction. How could he fail to notice the traps and loopholes hidden in such a contract?
He didn't believe for a second that the differing terminology in the clauses was the result of a careless oversight. Still, Kayneth had no intention of exposing the ploy right now. The people across from him were here to form an alliance. While they might have their own schemes, this was still a war, and only one faction would emerge victorious in the end.
The Saber team might not be trustworthy forever, but for the short term, there was no harm in working together to deal with Gilgamesh.
After Kayneth pointed out the oversight in the agreement, Irisviel displayed a blank, uncomprehending look before nodding—an expression that suggested the error had been nothing more than an innocent mistake. In truth, she really didn't know her husband had deliberately left such a loophole in the contract's wording.
Such an expression fit perfectly with Irisviel's outwardly simple demeanor. Even Kayneth, for a brief moment, wondered if he might be overthinking things. If the woman before him had been the one to draft this document herself, such a slip would indeed be entirely plausible.
Once the agreement was amended, Kayneth nodded and signed his name. From that point on, the alliance between the two factions was official—though not without its vulnerabilities.
After all, if Kiritsugu were to remove Maiya from his team, she would be free to eliminate the Lancer's Master without breaking the contract. Similarly, if something happened to Artoria and Kiritsugu later signed with a different Heroic Spirit, the agreement would be void.
Irisviel did not linger. That night passed in relative peace—partly because the fierce battle of the first day had consumed so much of everyone's magical energy, and partly because the emergence of such a powerful common enemy had shifted priorities. Most Masters were quietly seeking allies.
Of course, Kariya—completely passed out from exhaustion—wasn't counted among them.
After leaving Kayneth's hotel, Irisviel headed toward Waver's location, following intel Kiritsugu had gathered.
Meanwhile, Aslan allowed Merlin and Akuta Hinako to act independently. Since he had decided to keep a low profile for the time being, the fewer times he appeared, the better. The beam of light from his Noble Phantasm had already made enough people wary.
Akuta Hinako, for her part, made no attempt to hide herself. She strolled brazenly into a KTV lounge, unable to find an all-night bar to vent her frustrations. Even a thousand-year-old woman needs to dress for the occasion, and she had prepared an outfit for herself—complete with a special mask to preserve her dignity.
Inside a private room, Merlin listened to Hinako's wailing vocals and couldn't help curling his lips. How to describe it? This was a voice steeped in a millennium of resentment—love, hate, and vengeance woven into every note. It practically screamed single and carried such venom toward happy couples that it was almost a curse.
Even the couples in other rooms, unable to hear the song directly, began to feel an unnatural chill. Their plans for a romantic night crumbled under this invisible malice, and they left one by one. The expressions they wore upon leaving were pale and weary, a stark contrast to the excitement with which they had arrived.
The KTV owner, puzzled, wondered why so many customers looked so strange tonight. Could something supernatural be at play? There was, after all, that rumor about a young couple committing suicide here—though that was supposed to have happened somewhere else.
As for why the owner himself was unaffected by the performance, the explanation was simple: he was still single.
Amid this soul-torturing serenade, several dark figures slipped into the KTV. The moment they crossed the threshold, they froze, clutching their chests and gasping for air.
They exchanged uneasy glances. To think that such a horrifying sound could affect even beings like them! The voice was unmistakably female—so the one singing must be the Master of the Magician faction. Could she have mastered a sound-based curse?
After a moment's recovery, the intruders nodded to one another and pressed on. They advanced toward the private room, blades drawn. There was no gleam from their weapons; both their gear and clothing were crafted from non-reflective materials, the metal treated with special paint. Only a novice assassin would give away their position through a careless reflection.
In the dim light, their presence was betrayed only by the briefest flickers of shadow. They wore black clothing and white skull masks—unmistakably Hassan of the Hundred Faces… or, more accurately, one fragment of him.
No one in the lounge noticed the assassins' approach. Guests were distracted, staff bustled about, and the killers came not through doors or windows but via the air vents—bodies contorted to slip silently through the narrow ducts.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector