Jotoku Mai stared at the massive block of ice, a flicker of amazement passing through her eyes.
"So this is the power of a Servant?"
She murmured under her breath, her voice laced with barely concealed awe. "It's so convenient—being able to ignore physical limitations entirely, to dive straight into the depths of the ocean thousands of meters below. To haul up a shipwreck that's almost impossible to salvage by freezing it whole and lifting it up intact."
Everything before her was thanks to the Servant that Zero had summoned earlier.
Just this morning, the boss had issued a new mission, codenamed "Abyss Project – Speedrun Version."
He hadn't explained what "speedrun" meant, only that he'd arranged for Su Enxi to temporarily take control of and seal off Pier No. 4 at Tokyo Port for one night. He told Jotoku Mai to bring Zero and her newly summoned Servant there to retrieve a sunken ship named the Lenin from the Abyss Trench.
At the time, Jotoku Mai had still been muttering in her heart, Boss, we don't even know if we can get a Master's slot yet, and now you're pulling some weird speedrun stunt?
But only a few minutes later, a strange crimson mark—like the seal of fate itself—appeared on the back of Zero's hand.
Following the boss's instructions, Zero drew the summoning circle and began chanting in an ancient tongue. With a burst of dazzling multicolored light, a silver-haired girl in a long Russian robe slowly emerged from the array, stepping from the unreal into reality—
The last Grand Duchess of Russia, Anastasia.
Time returned to the present.
"—Freshly reborn from the land of the dead, and immediately ordered to do such crude labor. So this is what it means to be a Master… truly lofty indeed."
Her spiritual form dissolving above the massive ice, the princess's cool voice echoed in the night, carrying a faint trace of mockery.
Jotoku Mai looked up at Anastasia, wisely choosing to keep silent. The Master in question was Zero, not her. Still, she couldn't help but think:
Right now, isn't the one on the highest ground… you?
"Caster, good work." Zero's voice was just as cold, blending with the chill of the night.
She took no offense at Anastasia's seemingly mocking remark; rather, she caught a faint note of complaint in it… This pair, both nicknamed "princess," seemed to share a silent understanding that Mai could never quite grasp.
"What's next?"
Anastasia stepped lightly atop the great ice, her silver hair swaying gently in the night wind. Her gaze swept over the battered hull below, her tone edged with cold caution.
"It seems something troublesome is nesting in this wreck. Should I crush the entire ship along with the ice?"
"No, no, no!" Jotoku Mai quickly raised a hand, panic in her voice.
This Lenin, said to have sunk over a decade ago, contained an ancient dragon embryo the boss had specifically ordered retrieved. According to him, it was the embryo of a noble First Generation dragon. Even the slightest harm to this ancient king would be an unforgivable mistake.
With that in mind, Mai turned to Zero, her voice tinged with resignation. "Have your Servant melt the ice over the deck. After that, I'll go in myself to retrieve the embryo."
She had no choice—Anastasia was Zero's Servant, so she had to ask her first.
Inwardly, she sighed. This Servant had been a pampered princess even in life, precious enough to rival the boss's "little cotton-padded jacket" Zero. It was safer for Mai to do the grunt work herself.
Zero nodded slightly and signaled to Anastasia.
The princess said nothing. With a graceful leap, she descended from the ice, landing beside Zero as lightly as a feather.
At that moment, half the massive ice block shattered, pieces splashing down with crisp crashes.
Exposed before them was the battered hull, crawling with countless parasitic gastropods—lung snails. Thick black-and-red veins, like hideous tentacles, spread from the ship's interior, looking especially terrifying in the dark.
Mai had witnessed the princess's agility firsthand and couldn't help but think she'd been foolish not to ask for her help from the start.
But what was said was said. Swallowing her regret, she stepped onto a small motorboat and slowly steered toward the Lenin, still encased in broken ice.
———
While night deepened over Tokyo like ink, on the other side of the globe—
In the sunny morning on the slopes outside Chicago, North America, the Cassell Academy basked in golden light.
Hilbert Jean Angers, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with a red rose on his chest, looked every bit the "Living Legend of Dragon Slaying" and "Most Beloved Headmaster" to the students… and, unofficially, "the man with the best office afternoon tea."
Of course, the first title had largely been stolen by Shirou in the public eye.
Today, he strolled into the student dormitory. Passing students in green uniforms gawked in surprise at the rare visitor before quickly greeting their headmaster.
Angers smiled and nodded, but their excitement quickly drew a crowd, soon filling the dormitory entrance with people.
By the time they looked around again, their headmaster had vanished as if he'd never been there.
He hadn't come for a casual visit.
Like a silent assassin, he pulled out a card, unlocking the door to Room 303 in Block 1… only to find it wouldn't budge.
Peering through the crack, he saw a small mountain of KFC buckets, chicken bones, and empty soda bottles blocking the way.
"…"
After a moment's silence, Angers forcefully shoved the door open, sending bottles clattering and waking the boy snoring on the top bunk.
"What the hell! Who's ruining my sleep at this hour—"
The disheveled youth rubbed his eyes, only to freeze in shock when he saw the visitor.
"P-Principal!?"
"Fingle, good morning." Angers smiled his signature smile.
But Fingle sensed danger in it.
"Good morning to you too, sir! Give me three minutes! I'll be fully dressed and have this place spotless!" he blurted, scrambling off the bed.
"Once you're ready, come with me," Angers said calmly.
"Uh… where to?" Fingle asked warily.
"The attic."
Ten minutes later, Fingle had made himself barely presentable and followed Angers to the bell tower attic.
Inside sat an old man in a cowboy hat and boots, lounging like a giant potato as he watched the western High Noon.
This was the Academy's vice principal and "Watcher of the Night," Professor Flamel—also Fingle's mentor.
"Watching people shoot each other first thing in the morning?"
Fingle's wisecrack instantly ruined the atmosphere.
Flamel grabbed a beer bottle and pointed it at him. "Hey! Angers! You didn't tell me we were adding a grizzly to this meeting!"
"Relax, old friend, Fingle's just joking," Angers said with a smile, taking a seat.
With no chair left, Fingle awkwardly stood aside.
"Alright, alright," Flamel muttered, turning off the movie and pulling out two VHS tapes.
"So, he's watching too, and joining you on this mission?"
He slid one into the player.
Hearing "watching" and "joining the mission" made Fingle's stomach sink. With both principal and vice principal involved, this had to be something dangerous. His legs trembled, his stomach churned, and he prepared to make an excuse and bolt—
"Watch the VCR!"
The deep voice startled him into looking at the screen.
It wasn't a western shootout, but security footage—
A veiled girl, looking like a porcelain doll, casually wielded a torrent of mercury, swatting aside attackers like flies.
The footage cut to a tall blonde woman in a nun's habit, sword in hand, charging forward, deflecting bullets and smashing foes through walls.
Fingle blinked. What is this? Some kind of magical beauty reality show?
But the two old men's faces were deadly serious. They both looked at him, voices low and grave:
"Fingle, have you… heard of the Holy Grail War?"
(End of Chapter)
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