"Well… if we can summon powerful and unusual Servants, that would be ideal. Speaking of which… Roche, it's rare to see you away from your workshop."
Darnic's gaze turned to the youngest boy among them.
He had already summoned his Servant two months prior—a Caster, currently within the castle's workshop producing golems for the upcoming war.
"Of course! This is the ritual of summoning Heroic Spirits. To witness it even once in a lifetime is lucky enough—so of course I want to see it again."
Though Roche's voice tried to sound like that of an adult, his tone carried undeniable excitement.
He was a magus with some renown in puppet engineering, though his creations prioritized function over appearance or artistry—an approach somewhat lacking in refinement.
"And Caster?"
"Busy refining a Noble Phantasm design, but 'Master' said he'll be here shortly."
"Give Caster my apologies. For now, stay and witness this mystery."
"Ha! I know~"
Roche shrugged, his face bright with excitement as he stared at the summoning circle shimmering faintly with particles of light.
Buzz~
The next instant, Caster materialized beside him—cloaked in blue, clad in a skintight suit, and wearing a mask devoid of eyes or mouth.
"Master!"
Roche called out happily.
Caster gave a silent nod, bowing courteously to those present.
Once Darnic confirmed the four Masters' positions, he turned toward the empty throne and bowed deeply.
"Then, my king… let the ritual begin."
He spoke with solemn reverence.
"Mm."
A deep, echoing voice suddenly resounded in the hall, drawing everyone's gaze.
Particles of light gathered upon the throne, forming the figure of a man. He wore noble black garments that blended seamlessly with the night. His pallid face contrasted starkly with his long, unkempt white hair.
The moment he appeared, the atmosphere grew taut. Simply standing there, he exuded a suffocating pressure.
This was the Black Faction's Lancer—Vlad III, the "Impaler." Known worldwide by another name: "Dracula," the infamous vampire count. Yet before them stood not the vampire, but the great hero of Romania.
"..."
Fiore's fingers clenched the fabric of her trousers. Was this the oppressive aura of a powerful Servant?
She instinctively pressed her palm over the Command Spells on her hand, as if the gesture could steady her heart.
Vlad's sharp gaze swept across them all, his voice ringing with authority.
"Good. Now summon the Heroic Spirits who shall serve under me."
"As you command."
Darnic bowed like a vassal, then turned to the four Masters before him.
"O noble magi of our house! This is your moment of brilliance—to witness the gathering of heroes from ages past! We have no retreat! Have you steeled your resolve?"
The four remained silent, but their expressions were resolute.
Darnic smiled, satisfied.
"Then… begin the ritual!!"
"!" ×4
All four—Fiore among them—fixed their eyes on the circle, stretching out their arms marked with Command Spells toward their respective catalysts.
"Let silver and steel be the essence.
"Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
"Let black be the color I pay tribute to."
Gordes intoned first.
"Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall."
Celenike followed.
"Let the four cardinal gates close."
Caules was next.
"Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate!"
Finally, Fiore's own clear voice rang out, steady and strong.
All four chanted the verses, long committed to memory, in unison.
Buzz buzz~!!
Whoooosh!!
With each line, the circle's glow intensified, surging with mana that radiated outward. The fierce gale lifted their hair and garments.
"Let it be declared now; your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
"Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
"Answer, if you would submit to this will and this truth." ×4
Fiore felt the magic circuits in her arm flood her mind, hammering at her spirit. The searing pain clenched her teeth tight!
"An oath shall be sworn here.
"I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven; I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell." ×4
At the end of this line, the other three paused in unison, almost as if rehearsed—save for Caules.
"Yet, though serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who command these chaos!"
Caules seized the moment, perfectly inserting the line, syncing the rhythm seamlessly with the next verse.
Buzz buzz!!
The magic circle's outpour of mana grew fiercer and fiercer!!
Though all four were wracked by the pain of their circuits and the fear of losing control, none of them hesitated. This ritual was like a gamble—for greater mysteries, for their wishes—it was worth the risk.
"—!!"
Fiore felt agony beyond what the others endured, so intense she nearly collapsed. Her free hand clutched at her chest, her body drenched in sweat as if her very lifeforce were being drained by the other side. Yet she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to endure.
"From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power, come forth from the ring of restraint, Protector of the Holy Balance!" ×4
At their proclamation, the winds roared, forcing the homunculi to crouch, and Roche shielded his face. Vlad, Darnic, and Caster alone stood motionless amid the storm, their gazes fixed ahead.
And then… in the next instant, they appeared from the circle!
After a blinding flash of light, three figures emerged.
A slender girl in a white dress, bearing a massive war hammer on her back.
A beautiful, androgynous youth dressed in ornate attire.
A young man with bow in hand, clad in a green cloak.
Each in their own manner, they knelt on one knee, one hand to the ground, bowing before their Masters.
"In response to your summons, we are the Servants of Black. Our fates shall be bound to Yggdmillennia, and our blades shall be yours." ×3
"!" ×3
The others looked upon their Servants with excitement—but Fiore alone lowered her head slightly, lips pressed together in dismay.
Had she failed? Perhaps… In that moment of unbearable pain, she had faltered, the link severed. It had felt like a needle piercing her very heart.
"Ho~!"
From afar, Roche cried out with excitement at the sight of the summoned Servants.
"…But? Isn't one missing?"
Caules frowned, puzzled. Four Masters had summoned, but only three Servants stood before them. Who was absent? Could it be—!
His eyes darted frantically to his sister.
Fiore sat silently, alone, her hand trembling as it gripped the armrest of her wheelchair.
"So? Did Fiore fail?"
Darnic stroked his chin, gazing at the girl. The others followed suit. Even the Servants rose slightly, the androgynous youth curiously watching the wheelchair-bound girl.
"…Yes."
Her lips parted slightly as she answered.
"Wait!! My sister must have slipped somewhere! Can't she—"
Caules hurriedly tried to defend her, but Fiore, hearing him, wanted to stop him. This was her failure, her own weakness… but—
Just as she was about to speak, a familiar sensation flared from the back of her hand.
"!"
Her eyes widened in shock. The Command Spell etched with its three-pronged crest now glowed with violet light. The connection she had lost was being restored.
Her gaze shot to the magic circle—empty only moments before.
Rumble!!
A thunderclap shook the skies outside the castle. The circle flared once more—yet this time, not in ordinary light, but in radiant violet. Lightning particles shimmered into existence, spreading outward.
Crackle!!
The current surged violently, purple light distorting the very air as the circle twisted and trembled.
Buzz!!
Mana surged like a tempest, flooding the chamber.
Crack.
At the center of the magic storm appeared an eye, glowing violet. Within its pupil spun the pattern of three tomoe, gazing down upon all like a judgmental eye.
The tomoe whirled faster and faster, until it burst at its limit.
A deafening thunderstorm exploded outward, forcing everyone to shield their eyes—even the Servants themselves.
"This mana…"
Vlad narrowed his eyes, his voice grave. This power was overwhelming.
Moments later, as the magic stabilized, a figure emerged within the sea of mana—
A beautiful woman, seated cross-legged in midair, as though in meditation. Her flawless, goddess-like face bore no expression. Her eyes remained closed, tranquil, as though in slumber.
Fiore stared in wonder, dazed by the sight.
A cherry blossom petal drifted between them, briefly obscuring her view. When her vision cleared again, the woman slowly opened her eyes, glowing with violet light—locking directly with Fiore's.
"!"
In that instant, Fiore felt her very soul tremble, touched by something profound.
All eyes now turned to the woman.
She gazed coldly at Fiore, her violet eyes unfathomable.
"…Are you the one who calls for me?"
Her voice was cool yet captivating, resonating in every ear—and piercing straight into Fiore's heart.