The Servant Ruler.
An extremely exceptional Servant summoned directly by the Grail only under specific conditions.
Possessing no Master, no wish for the present world, and granted the privilege to govern all Servants single-handedly, this Servant appears with the mission to oversee the Holy Grail War.
Ruler is summoned when a Holy Grail War deviates significantly from the norm, posing a risk of collapsing the world's order.
However, it was also true that the summoned Ruler—Jeanne d'Arc—was perplexed.
She was summoned as Ruler and correctly understood her role.
Ruler is summoned when the world faces potential crisis due to a Holy Grail War. But what specifically constitutes that crisis is something Ruler must judge by actually going to the battlefield.
She initially thought the cause was that the Holy Grail War in Romania had become a 'Great War' of seven versus seven, with twice the maximum conceivable number of Servants—fourteen—instead of a 'War' between seven Servants. But it seemed that wasn't the case.
After all, a battle with fourteen participants was one of the systems inherent to the Fuyuki Holy Grail, so this itself likely wouldn't lead to the collapse of the world's order.
Furthermore, an irregularity had occurred with her own existence.
Ruler, summoned not as a pure Servant but by possessing a French girl, had a physical body and thus could not turn spiritual. This body required physiological activities—primarily, food.
While it didn't hinder Ruler's activities, the inability to turn spiritual necessitated using public transportation to get from France to Romania.
If this highly inexplicable summoning was due to the influence of this Great Holy Grail War, it meant something powerful enough to interfere with Ruler's summoning was hidden behind this conflict.
Ruler harbored such a vague, yet firm, unease.
Night. Trifas was asleep, silent as death.
The townscape, exuding an archaic charm as if rejecting development, was enveloped in a darkness devoid of the bustle of downtown districts.
Fighting sleepiness, Ruler stepped outside the church where she was staying.
For a body accustomed to a regular lifestyle, staying up late was unbearable agony. However, since the Holy Grail War primarily occurred at night, she had no choice but to change her sleep rhythm.
Ruler scooped up some holy water from the church and sprinkled it into the air. Instantly, the holy water defied physical laws, moving to draw a three-dimensional map of the town. One of Ruler's privileges: the Servant detection function.
"...One 'Red' Servant in Sighișoara. A scout, I presume."
Placing a Servant in Sighișoara instead of Trifas could be seen as violating the rules, but considering Trifas itself was under Yggdmillennia's control, it was probably within acceptable limits as a special exception. Thus, the 'Black' faction having only six Servants present was likely because one was out scouting.
As Ruler observed the 3D map, the 'Black' Servants began moving hurriedly. They were heading not into the town, but towards the forest.
"I see. So the battle tonight will be in the suburbs, it seems."
For some reason, one 'Red' Servant was charging ahead deep into the forest. Two more Servants were following closely behind, making a total of three poised to attack the 'Black' faction's stronghold.
Attempting to assault a castle with half the enemy's forces was the height of recklessness. If the 'Red' faction consisted of heroes who overturned reason, the 'Black' faction were heroes too.
Was it some kind of accident, or mere brute courage?
"Well, as long as no civilians get involved..."
Muttering to herself, Ruler began moving towards the forest.
The Millennium Castle Fortress, King's Chamber.
The place meant for tactical meetings had now become the site of a splendid, lavish banquet.
A long table was lined with colorful foods, stimulating the appetites of the assembled Masters and Servants.
"I never imagined it would be to this extent," Darnic muttered in admiration.
Due to the large number of participants and variety of dishes, it was a buffet-style setup. However, only Lancer sat on a chair, having homunculi bring him food. He was the 'Black' King. It went without saying that this was his due.
"I never knew you possessed such skill," Darnic remarked.
"It's not just me. It was only possible thanks to the capable homunculi who helped," Archer replied somewhat proudly when Darnic addressed him.
The one who had prepared the array of dishes was Archer.
He had mentioned being skilled at cooking in his lifetime, which led to the suggestion that he try his hand at it now.
Of course, this wasn't done purely for entertainment.
The 'Black' faction was currently holed up in the Millennium Castle Fortress. While they held a position of overwhelming advantage, possessing the Greater Grail and the fortress's defenses, constantly being on the defensive still imposed an immense psychological strain.
Food has always been optimal for boosting soldiers' morale. And even if it was ultimately temporary... fostering interaction between the various pairs was essential.
"Archer. What is this dish called?" Lancer, from his throne, pointed to his own food and inquired.
"That is grilled beef loin with seasonal vegetable étuvée. I tried making French cuisine to suit Rider's tastes. Does it suit your palate?"
"Ah, it is most delicious. Being able to taste foreign dishes I never could in life is one of the pleasures of the Holy Grail War, I suppose." In high spirits, Lancer partook of the dish. "By the way, Archer. You, who possess such culinary skill, who are you? Has your memory returned?"
"My apologies, Your Majesty. Perhaps due to the irregularity of the quadruple simultaneous summoning, my memory remains unclear. However, I can tell you that I am a relatively modern Heroic Spirit."
"I see, a modern Heroic Spirit. Then it's not strange that you can cook foreign dishes. The movement of people transmits culture. In modern times, there would be more opportunities to learn of other countries' cultures."
"My apologies. I, too, wish I could at least remember my True Name."
"Think nothing of it. Your high combat skill is proven. I shall have no complaints as long as you apply that power in battle."
"I am grateful, Your Majesty." Archer bowed and took his leave from Lancer's presence.
It was true his memory was unclear. But he had already remembered his True Name. The memory loss wasn't due to a summoning error but stemmed from something inherent to his nature.
My apologies, Lancer.If hiding one's name is basic for a Servant, then like Saber, Archer would also hide his.
Although it was a Great Holy Grail War, the rule remained that the Grail granted ownership only to the last one standing. After dealing with the 'Red' faction, they would have to face the other 'Black' Servants.
Therefore, one should not rashly reveal their name, even to allies.
As long as he had a reason to keep it hidden, he should maintain the secret.
"Faa-faa. Fe fa ni fi nai to omotta fa, hyuu hou rattan fa ne. Amu amu." (It's way more delicious than I expected, this French cooking. Nom nom.)
"Swallow before you speak, Rider."
"Gulp. Pwaah. Wow, all of these are super delicious! And you made dishes matching our countries of origin? That's totally awesome!"
"I'm glad you think so. That said, I didn't account for the eras. Even with French cuisine, there are probably many dishes you don't know."
Archer had prepared dishes from each Servant's country of origin, but since they were active in different eras, he hadn't matched the dishes to their specific time periods. His repertoire didn't include ancient cuisine, and the homunculi in charge of cooking could only make modern food.
Lancer Vlad III received Romanian food. Rider Astolfo got French cuisine. Caster Avicebron, Spanish. For Saber Siegfried, who couldn't be strictly assigned to one country, he prepared dishes from the Netherlands to Germany. For Berserker Frankenstein, he wasn't sure if she even ate, but he served Swiss food just in case.
Due to her low Mad Enhancement rank, Berserker could engage in higher thought and seemed to understand taste. She just lacked the means to verbalize it, but apparently had preferences. She followed behind Caules, trying to grab and eat any dish that caught her eye, which Caules repeatedly flusteredly stopped, instead putting food on a plate for her.
The misanthropic Caster clearly didn't prefer such an environment. He took the minimum amount of food and was conversing with Roche by the wall.
Saber also remained behind Gordes, maintaining his position as his knight without breaking form.
"He's quite stubborn."
"That's the Master's fault, really." Rider's assessment of Gordes was rather harsh.
Saber faithfully continued to obey Gordes's command of 'Do not speak a single word.' No words were exchanged between them.
"Does Saber intend to affirm all of his commands?"
"Probably. For better or worse, he's the Knight of Self-Sacrifice, after all." Rider stuffed his cheeks with more food. "Still, isn't it a problem that you're practically the only one I can have a proper conversation with?"
"Caster's a misanthrope, Saber doesn't talk, Berserker can't speak, Lancer is the king. Hahaha, I'm in trouble here, really."
The 'Black' faction was an environment where communication was very difficult. Rider was the only one with a bright and cheerful personality. That alone would be manageable, but the reality was that many Servants were extremely passive in their interactions, not initiating conversation.
They each had their own thoughts and were heading towards the same goal, so it wasn't a problem per se. But since they were in the same faction, one would think they could at least try to have some contact.
"Well, I shall head over as my Master is calling me. And, Rider. Take this with you.""Hm?" Archer handed a Tupperware container to Rider."Chances are, there will be leftovers with this quantity. You should take it to 'him'.""Ooh! Thank you, Archer!"
Rider, receiving the container, gleefully and stealthily began packing food into it. He couldn't let anyone see and find out he was hiding a homunculus. Especially his own Master and Caster.
Fortunately, neither was looking at Rider. Celenike was discussing magecraft with Gordes, and Caster had no interest in Rider to begin with. Furthermore, Archer discreetly used his larger frame to hide Rider's actions, allowing Rider to secure the food successfully.
Once he confirmed Rider had packed the container, Archer left his side and went over to Fiore.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Master?""Yes, thanks to you."
Caules, standing next to Fiore, looked at Archer curiously."Tea, the internet, and now cooking? Just who are you, really?"
"Well, if I knew that, I wouldn't be troubled. As I told Fiore, I have a memory of acting as a butler in my lifetime. This is just a skill I picked up then."
"Hiring Archer, huh? That's impressive in its own way."
If you had an Archer who could handle everything by himself, you'd save on labor costs. In the mage world, which leaned heavily towards aristocratic sensibilities, Caules was a boy with such commoner-like thoughts.
"That's true. I'm curious about what kind of person your Master was back then. Can you remember?" Fiore asked.
Archer furrowed his brows slightly at Fiore's words. It was the kind of memory he'd rather not recall, but Fiore and the others seemed to interpret his expression as related to his lost memories.
"You don't have to think too deeply about it.""...No, don't mind me. It's just that there are some memories one would rather not recall.""Ah, I'm sorry."
She had asked out of curiosity, but Fiore remembered he had said something similar before.
"A previous Master?... Yes, well, the most vivid one would be that. Being thrown into the River Thames in the dead of winter is something I can't forget even if I wanted to.""...You're kidding, right?""Who knows? You should practice swimming too. One never knows what might happen.""I definitely don't plan on being forced into midwinter swimming."
Perhaps imagining what would happen if he fell into a river in deep winter, Caules grimaced.
"Swimming? With my legs as they are, I feel a little envious, actually.""That's not the point, Sis," Caules said to Fiore with a sigh.
Just as the banquet was reaching its peak, Darnic whispered something into Lancer's ear.
Afterward, Darnic slowly stepped forward and, using a voice-amplifying magecraft, spoke loudly.
"Everyone, I trust you have enjoyed the feast Archer prepared. I hope it served as a modest diversion amidst the war."
Darnic looked around, confirming his voice reached all. "However, that being said, we are still in the midst of battle. Our indulgence here is not something the enemy need consider."
Instantly, the room darkened. Then, a white light was projected onto the wall. It was the feed from the golems Caster had deployed for surveillance.
Displayed in the image was an overwhelmingly massive lump of muscle.
"According to Caster, this Servant has been advancing towards the Millennium Castle Fortress day and night. I believe this is the Berserker-class Servant. Most likely, its Mad Enhancement rank is so high it has run amok."
In the footage, a large man with bluish-white skin was charging through the forest.
Charging an enemy castle alone was an act of insanity, but expecting sanity from a Berserker was pointless.
"What are your orders, Uncle?" Fiore asked."Needless to say, we cannot let this opportunity slip. Sending out three Servants should suffice. But I believe this is a unique, unparalleled chance in this Great Holy Grail War. If handled well, we might be able to turn this Servant into our own piece."
At Darnic's words, the room began to buzz.
The 'Black' side had started the war one Servant short, as Assassin hadn't joined. Even if it's Berserker, or rather, precisely because it's a Berserker lacking reason, capturing it would allow them to use it as a powerful bomb.
That was a much easier and more certain task than stealing a noble knight.
"Then, let us hear your plan, Darnic."
"Yes, my lord."
Thus, the operation to capture the 'Red' Berserker quietly began.
The large man was moving relatively slowly, albeit in a straight line, and was estimated to take a day or two to reach the fortress.
In that time, they would prepare and capture Berserker with certainty.
Under Darnic's instructions, the Servants began moving all at once.
The 'Red' Berserker's advance was unstoppable.
Over a hundred golems and combat homunculi had sallied forth from the Millennium Castle Fortress. It was an excessive quantity to face a single enemy—but for a Servant, it was mere child's play. Worthless chaff.
Although the golems were creations of Caster, even they could not stop Berserker.
Bronze giants were sent flying, bisected, crushed.
Sheer strength. The monstrous figure with peerless brute force swung the sword in his right hand, annihilating the enemy.
Berserkers are supposed to be mad, but even so, this level of madness is rare.
He received the falling axe-swords and bronze fists with his own body, without evasion.
His super-compressed muscles were so hard they rendered armor unnecessary, defending against the attacks of golems and homunculi. The surface might get scratched, but such marks were mere grazes.
With a body that robust, wearing armor truly was meaningless. It would only hinder movement.
But even so.
His actions, deliberately exposing himself to attacks, made everyone feel dizzy.
And to smile while doing it...
"Hounds of the oppressor. At least find your rest within my arms."
Defying the Berserker trait of lost language ability, he spoke clear words.
The 'Red' Berserker could converse. However, his thinking was fixed; he would never change his mind. His thought process, akin to fanaticism towards 'overthrowing the oppressor,' left no room for any other extraneous thoughts.
That was indeed madness.
Berserker continued advancing, mowing down a hundred enemies.
Heading towards the 'Oppressor' that awaited ahead.
The 'Black' Servants were not surprised by the 'Red' Berserker's swift advance.
Golems and homunculi were mere foot soldiers. Destroying thousands of such things was not worthy of praise. For a Servant, it was only to be expected.
The one intercepting the 'Red' Berserker with his monstrous strength was the 'Black' Rider. To the slender, petite Rider, that Berserker looked like a rocky mountain.
A single blow from him would likely be fatal to Rider.
Rider had no confidence in his endurance to withstand that monster's fists.
"Well, I've just gotta do it, huh."
A Servant's duty is to fight. Even if a large man who charges forward smiling, no matter how much he's hurt, stands before him, he must face him.
It's a little—no, very—unpleasant, but it can't be helped.
"Here I go—! Oof!"
Pumping himself up, Rider dashed at bullet-like speed. In his hand was a lance that had appeared at some point. Holding aloft the golden-glinting weapon—
"Wahhh!" —he was pitifully sent flying.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Hound of the oppressor, I finally see you!"
Identifying Rider as an enemy, Berserker struck the ground with a powerful blow using his robust body to the fullest. Rider had misjudged the distance against the unexpectedly agile Berserker.
"Danger, danger. That was almost the end for me."
Brushing the sand off his hair and shoulders, Rider regripped his lance.
"I can't beat that thing," he muttered. It was a fact; Rider's firepower was questionable in terms of how much damage it could inflict on Berserker.
Of course, if he activated his strongest Noble Phantasm, he might manage something, but it was doubtful. Servants who prided themselves on sturdiness would laugh off petty tricks, and above all, he didn't want to use a Noble Phantasm that consumed vast amounts of magical energy.
Nevertheless, Rider was assigned to handle Berserker because he was judged more suitable than any other Servant.
"Ah well, I don't need to defeat it. Let's just get this over with and go home."
And so, Rider charged at Berserker again. What seemed reckless, Rider performed with nonchalance.
"That arrogance. Impressive. Come, then. Try to toy with me."
Rider lightly evaded Berserker's attack. Then, he thrust out his golden lance.
Naturally, Berserker received it with his own body.
Whatever it was, the Berserker, a Heroic Spirit of martyrdom, received the opponent's attack and then counterattacked.
The small lance Rider wielded could not inflict fatal wounds on Berserker's body, and receiving his counterattack would bisect Rider's body.
Before that imminent moment of ecstasy, Berserker felt his vision sway unsteadily.
"Here goes, 'Trap of Argalia!'!" Rider shouted the name of his Noble Phantasm.
The lance's true power was to make any enemy it touched fall down. This lance, which had achieved numerous military exploits in splendid jousting tournaments, when used against a Servant, had the effect of temporarily severing the magical energy supply to the lower body, forcing spiritualization.
On the battlefield, losing mobility meant death.
For a Berserker who simply received all attacks with his body, 'Trap of Argalia!', which took effect merely upon touch, was truly his natural enemy.
"Losing my legs will not stop me."
Even so, Berserker did not stop. Stretching out his arms, he dragged his body forward, approaching the fortress.
"Whoa, that's some serious guts. Well, not my problem anymore, though."
Yes, Rider's role ended here. Depriving Berserker of his mobility was Rider's task.
Golems swarmed towards Berserker. Golems weighing a ton each piled onto Berserker's body, trying to stop his movement.
But even that, for him, was joy, not pain.
The fact that he advanced while shattering golems with his two arms was astonishing.
"Do not belittle yourself, Caster. Your golems are performing admirably. It is merely that this Berserker is a heretic."
And then, the 'Black' Lancer appeared before Berserker.
Bearing the presence of what Berserker most hated, most despised, and sought to overcome.
The capture of the target, the 'Red' Berserker, was executed without issue.
Lancer releasing his Noble Phantasm and impaling Berserker decided the match. All that remained was for Caster to perform the ritual to temporarily act as his Master and command him.
"So the Berserker situation is settled." Archer muttered beside Fiore.
True to his class as an Archer, he was in charge of rear support.
Archer's power wasn't needed for Berserker's capture. The potential problem was 'Red' Servants who might intrude pursuing Berserker.
Losing even one Servant was a significant loss.
They wouldn't just let him be killed off, so it was anticipated that other Servants would accompany Berserker.
"An unexpected element is the enemy's strength," Archer mused.
"That's right. I never thought Saber and Berserker together wouldn't be able to win." Two Servants had appeared in support of Berserker.
One of them was fighting evenly against their own Saber and Berserker.
"Has Archer pulled back?"
"It seems so. He's completely concealed his presence. At the very least, I cannot locate Archer." That state, perfectly merged with the forest, was truly the mark of a hunter.
The essence of an Archer, one might say.
"There's a possibility of a snipe. You should fall back."
"What about you?"
"I told you before, didn't I? I will take down the enemies that Saber cannot finish off." Saying this, Archer turned spiritual.
He had moved to the sniping point he had determined.
Not wanting to worry Archer, Fiore maneuvered her wheelchair and retreated further inside.
'Say, Master. Can I ask a favor?'
"What is it?" A telepathic message came from Archer.
'Can you connect me via telepathy to Saber and Berserker?'
"Yes, it's possible."
'I'm going to use my Noble Phantasm. They need to pull back at the right moment to avoid getting caught in it.'
"I see, understood. I'll establish the telepathic link immediately."
Receiving Archer's words, Fiore sent a familiar towards the battlefield.
Archer had scouted out sniping points in all four directions since being summoned here.
Naturally, these included locations for sniping into the forest.
"A Noble Phantasm of immortality? Troublesome to have as an enemy." The opponent seemed to call himself Rider.
A mounted warrior who fought without a horse, in what could be called light attire and with a simple spear, he was battling both Saber and Berserker.
The 'Black' Saber's defensive Noble Phantasm boasted sturdiness that nullified B-rank and below attacks. For now, he was perfectly weathering the 'Red' Rider's assaults. The 'Red' Rider was also unscathed. Neither Saber's slashes nor Berserker's strikes had any effect.
If that seed of immortality was simple sturdiness like Saber's, it would be fine. But if it was a conceptual defense, it was slightly problematic.
If it was 'nullification unless specific conditions are met,' they had to find those conditions. And if those conditions were unattainable for their side, they might not lose, but they couldn't win either.
To find the enemy Master, whose location was unknown, they would have to abandon the advantage of their fortress and venture out. Without Assassin, that would put them at a greater disadvantage.
But thinking only pessimistic thoughts was useless.
First, they had to determine the nature of the enemy's immortality.
"I am the bone of my sword."
He nocked a sword-arrow onto his bow.
The twisted sword devoured the surrounding magical energy, sharpening its fangs
A familiar from Fiore appeared very close by. It was a kind of telephone, conveying his voice to the others.
"Saber, Berserker. Listen as you are." He would send his telepathic message to Saber and Berserker through the familiar.
"I'm going to use my Noble Phantasm. I'll count down. Pull away from Rider at the right moment."
Berserker responded with a growl, and since Saber didn't respond, he took it as assent. Even if they were caught, Saber's sturdiness should protect him. He started the countdown. Three.
"2"
Berserker used Rider's kick to push himself back.
"1"
Saber slammed a sword strike into Rider and simultaneously created significant distance.
"0"
Rider noticed him a moment too late.
"My core contorts and rages — Fake Spiral Sword, Caladbolg II!"
Releasing the True Name, a flash of lightning that twisted space itself erupted.