Fuyuki – Port District, Midnight
Zoth stood in the middle of the shattered scene, eyes still fixed on Lancer in front of him—but the corner of his eye twitched slightly.
Wait, what did he just hear?
"Demon Sword King?"
Zoth: loading… 67%... 85%... ERROR.
"Uh… sorry, come again? You just called me what now? Demon Sword what now?" he forced a grin.
Diarmuid lowered his spear, but his eyes stayed sharp—his tone as serious as if he were passing down judgment:
"You don't remember? Or are you pretending? 'Demon Sword King'—it's not a rumor. It's carved into history."
Zoth: "…"
"Wait, blyat… Since when the hell did I get a chuunibyou title like that?"
Zoth crossed his arms and went into full dramatic mode, his dark-brown eyes looking at Diarmuid with pure, innocent confusion:
"Really now~ You sure about that? I'm just a normal high school student, black hair, brown eyes, loves grilled meat. 'Demon Sword King'? Sounds like some final boss title or something…"
Diarmuid wasn't buying the act. His eyes narrowed, voice deepening:
"Zoth Vari-El… also known as the Demon Sword King – the Moonlit Knight."
"One of the three ancient heroes of France—alongside Saint Jeanne d'Arc and Baron Gilles de Rais. You once fought for justice… but in the name of that very justice, you fell."
Zoth flinched.
"Wait… That actually sounds kind of badass… But don't tell me I'm really an anti-hero?"
Diarmuid pressed on, every word like a blade tearing through the midnight air:
"At Tours, you were a wandering knight who fought under Jeanne d'Arc's banner. But when she was captured by the Burgundians… you didn't choose diplomacy."
"You chose blood."
"You butchered your way from France to England. You beheaded King Charles, threw half of England into hell. You razed cathedrals, executed hundreds of priests, crucified them on Montmartre hill… You slaughtered nobles and rebels alike. In the end… it was Saint Jeanne herself who struck you down."
Zoth stood still.
Inside his mind—a storm of chaotic fragments.
"Killing kings? Wrecking churches? Roasting priests like kebabs? … Okay, that does sound a bit intense…"
He pressed a hand to his forehead and muttered:
"At worst… I may have tried to trigger a large-scale plague once… Then again… that's not helping my case, huh…"
Before Zoth could process it all, Diarmuid suddenly lunged forward!
"—Die, betrayer!"
Both hands gripped his twin spears—[Gáe Dearg] and [Gáe Buidhe]—crimson and gold swirling into two rings of deathly fire.
Zoth flinched, but reacted just in time—activating [False • Omni Visions], predicting Lancer's next move.
"A-ha! Gotcha~!"
With a swift gesture, he summoned a blazing inferno, forging it into a molten-red sword—Kaenken Rekka—then slashed:
[CLANG—!!!]
[Gáe Buidhe] shattered into pieces!
Zoth followed up with a powerful kick to Diarmuid's gut, launching him off the container and into a steel beam nearby with a sickening thud.
"Oi, sneak attacks are my thing. Don't go stealing my trademark~" Zoth strode forward, sword resting on his shoulder, preparing to strike again—
[BOOM—!!!]
A deafening thunderclap shook the entire port!
Zoth paused, frowning, turning toward the distant horizon...
From within the shroud of night—a flash of lightning tore across the sky, trailing behind it… a war chariot charging forth with unstoppable force!
But those weren't horses.
They were bulls.
Bigger than trucks.
Hooves trampling midair, roaring like wild gods, pulling a golden-engraved chariot radiating a majesty that seemed to defy time itself.
On the chariot stood a crimson-haired giant of a man, his frame like a mountain, eyes blazing like wildfire. His voice thundered across the battlefield:
"Cease your blades, both sides! The King has arrived—mind your manners!"
Time itself seemed to pause.
"My name is Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! One of the Heroic Spirits summoned in this Holy Grail War—class: Rider!"
Zoth: "…Okay?"
On a rooftop nearby, Waver—Rider's Master—clutched his head and screamed like he was having a mental breakdown:
"OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON—!!!"
"Making your entrance like a bandit boss, bringing BULL GODS into the city?! ARE YOU A SERVANT OR A WALKING THEATER TROUPE?!"
Zoth just chuckled under his breath.
His eyes met Iskandar's—not with fear or anger—but with… recognition. As if he saw something familiar in this man.
"Oh… Rider, huh? Now that's interesting. Been a while since I've seen someone with the same 'go big or go home' energy as me."
Suddenly, Zoth frowned. His gaze darkened as Rider stood between him and Lancer, interrupting their little "bonding session through violence."
"Tch. I was just starting to have some fun with Lancer, and you had to ruin it… what a buzzkill."
He rotated his wrist slightly—Kaenken Rekka dissolved into flickering embers—and raised his hand high.
"Bassac! Fall back!"
"AURRR—!!"
From the shadows, Berserker Lancelot instantly retreated, abandoning Saber and leaping back like a wild beast. He came to a stop behind Zoth, still growling, eyes glowing blood-red, body trembling with unspent rage.
On the other side of the battlefield, Irisviel rushed to support Saber, panic in her voice:
"Saber! Are you alright?!"
Artoria gave a slight shake of her head. Blood stained the corner of her lips, but she forced herself upright, clutching her Invisible Sword tightly.
"I'm fine… It's just— that last strike caught me off guard…"
Her eyes narrowed, voice low:
"That man… he's unlike any Servant I've ever encountered…"
Iskandar, still standing imposingly on his chariot, raised his hand to signal everyone to stop.
"Enough! You're turning all of Fuyuki into a battlefield!"
He turned to Zoth, his voice carrying an air of authority, his gaze like a sovereign descending from Olympus:
"Boy. For my sake, spare Lancer. He has already lost."
Zoth raised an eyebrow, looking directly at Rider as if weighing something unworthy.
"Perhaps... But..."
He smirked. A twisted grin spread across his face:
"I refuse."
[THUD—!!]
A clean kick landed on Lancer's chest — Diarmuid fell unconscious to the ground, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
Iskandar's veins bulged. He said nothing, drew his sword, and roared like thunder:
"Insolent! Anyone who disgraces a warrior under my command — shall pay!"
The chariot roared! The divine bulls stomped mid-air, and Iskandar charged straight at Zoth!
"GRÁHH—!!"
Berserker leapt in at the same time, seizing a broken steel beam from the container yard, roaring like a beast as he rushed forward to clash with Rider!
The Fuyuki harbor shook.
Steel clashed against steel. Fire met thunder.
Two forces, like gods from ancient times, collided — unleashing waves of power that devastated everything around them.
Zoth, meanwhile, stood silently — as if he were watching a tragic opera unfold.
He turned his head toward Saber's group, his gaze now cold as ice.
He raised his hand and summoned Caladbolg — the sacred sword twisted by energy. Without warning — he swung it down!
"—!!!"
A golden sword wave tore through the air, shrieking like a tormented soul, slashing straight toward Artoria and Irisviel!
[BOOM!!]
Saber reacted immediately — dashing out to shield Irisviel, raising her invisible sword to block. The shockwave tore up the ground.
"Who are you...?!" Artoria roared — her eyes on Zoth as if trying to recognize a phantom from her own history.
Zoth walked slowly forward, his gaze cold, his voice echoing like a judgment:
"Saber – Artoria. Withdraw."
Artoria froze.
"...You know my name?"
Zoth paused for a step, then raised his head, speaking in a voice as deep as an ancient bell:
"I know all of you."
Artoria instantly raised her sword in a defensive stance, her pupils contracting.
"Who are you?! Why are you attacking us?! What is your Class?!"
Zoth was silent for a moment.
Then, he pointed directly at Irisviel — expressionless, voice like snow and ice:
"I am Ruler."
"And the reason I attacked..." — his gaze sharp like a scalpel dissecting history — "is because I intend to destroy the Holy Grail — that vessel."
Thunder rang out again — this time, not from the sky, but from deep within the hearts of all present on the battlefield.
Irisviel... took a step back in shock.
Saber... clenched the hilt of her sword tightly.
Waver... was frozen.
Iskandar... stopped mid-swing.
Zoth still stood there.
Not a regular Servant.
Not a madman.
Not a hero.
He was something that history had rejected… but destiny could not erase.
Artoria's eyes widened… she trembled as she turned to Irisviel, unable to believe what she had just heard.
"Iris…"
Irisviel stood frozen as well.
That man — he not only knew her true identity...
He knew every layer of secrets behind the Holy Grail War.
"You—"
"Shut your mouth." Zoth coldly interrupted, his voice like a blade cutting straight into the heart:
"I will burn you. Burn the entire Einzbern family. You people... are the root of countless innocent deaths."
He began walking slowly — like a god of vengeance, showing no mercy.
"So... Irisviel von Einzbern. As one of the Einzberns — you are no exception."
Zoth closed the [Omni Force].
From his waist, [Omni Force] roared with mechanical fury.
[OMNIMUS LOADING!!]
He smiled…
No longer a human smile.
But a devil's grin.
"This ends now." Zoth activated his Driver.
[SOLOMON BREAK!!]
Black and red energy burst out, wrapping around Caladbolg, like blood mixed with ash from the underworld. He swung the sword down.
"—GRAAAAAHHHH!!!"
A destructive wave of energy exploded toward Saber and Irisviel like a hellfire that could consume the entire world.
Luckily… Avalon — the final holy relic hidden inside Irisviel — activated just in time, shielding them both in a pure blue light.
Without it… this place would have become a burning ruin.
Zoth watched it all and frowned, as if he had just remembered something.
"Ah… right, forgot that move can bypass Avalon too…"
He scratched his helmet lightly, then slowly raised Caladbolg to the sky, beginning to gather energy while chanting in ancient incantation:
"Blood and curse shall paint the skies!
Chaos and corruption rise forth!
Let the Sword Seeds emerge – to annihilate all!
Sword of the Golden Saint King–
(Gods Sword Crown – Caladbolg)!!"
The sky split open.
A massive black void tore through the clouds — from within stepped out two colossal golden-armored figures (Kings of Solomon), like divine war machines, raising their giant blades toward Saber's group.
"Hahahaha!!" A mocking, arrogant laugh rang out amid the bloody storm.
From atop a lamppost, golden light poured down like the sun itself.
Gilgamesh – the Archer of this Holy Grail War – had arrived.
The ancient King of Babylon spoke, his gaze like a viper from the heavens:
"Mongrel... This king is entertained. This farce... is truly amusing."
Zoth shot him a glance, narrowing his eyes.
"Shut your damn mouth, bastard king."
—The entire battlefield went silent.
Even Saber, Rider, and the rampaging Berserker paused for a beat.
Gilgamesh stood frozen.
"...What... did you just call this king?"
"Bas. Tard. King." Zoth shrugged, his face expressionless as if reading a newspaper.
"You're two-thirds god, one-third human. Just look at your bloodline analysis. The only mongrel here— is you."
Gilgamesh roared in fury, losing all composure.
"MONGREL!! YOU DARE SEEK DEATH?!"
Dozens of Gate of Babylon portals burst open!
Noble Phantasms rained down like a meteor storm, bombarding the entire area where Zoth stood.
[—BOOM!!]
The ground shattered. Dust billowed into the sky.
But when the smoke cleared...
Zoth was still standing.
Left hand bracing Caladbolg, right hand spinning the [Book Gates] idly like he was fiddling with an iPad.
"Is that all?"
The words were soft — but landed like a slap across Gilgamesh's pride.
"A nouveau riche who only knows how to spam antiques? Don't you get bored?"
He smirked, his voice dripping with mockery:
"Oh right, quick question... Bastard king, how much stockpile of Noble Phantasms do you have left?"
"Because tonight... I'm planning to buy out your entire national treasury."