"Yo, Mr. Hassan, we meet again? How many times is this for you?"
Amid a dazzling sea of stars, an invisible platform woven from starlight shimmered. Samuel sat on a chair, gazing at the heavily armored Assassin.
Hassan-i-Sabbah, known as Assassin—the name synonymous with "assassin."
Assassin's identity was never a mystery to other Masters. Curiously, nearly every Holy Grail War summoned an Assassin named Hassan, perhaps because the term "assassin" stemmed from "Hassan" or the hashish used in the cult's brainwashing.
The Assassin class itself served as a catalyst for summoning a Hassan. Thus, by orthodox summoning, Hassan-i-Sabbah always appeared.
Yet, not every Assassin was the same person. The true Hassan was the leader of the assassin cult, the Old Man of the Mountain, with multiple successors bearing the name, each with distinct abilities. This one, however, was the first—the legendary "Old Man of the Mountain."
He held a deeper identity among Heroic Spirits: a rare class.
"Grand."
The pinnacle of a class, as the name implied.
The purpose of a "Grand" was to counter threats to the Human Order, acting as its guardians.
Typically, a class like Caster had multiple Grand candidates, including "Roman" or rather "King Solomon," chosen based on circumstance.
But for Assassin, there was only one candidate.
The Assassin before Samuel was the Old Man of the Mountain.
"Hm... our second encounter. And now... you've begun."
"Yes... the Throne of Heroes exists outside time allowing access to any temporal node..."
Like a plug-in software, adjusting incompatible programs to different points. Similar to Samuel's Ark of Civilization?
"You descended, insisting on facing me. Surely not just for a chat?"
"When do you leave?"
"After dealing with you... I'll go."
"Oh... I thought you'd linger longer..."
"Does it matter? Does time really matter to me?"
"..."
Indeed, the "Ark of Civilization" was like a glitchy plug-in. Time, or anything else, couldn't hinder its operation.
If Samuel wished, he could reach any node instantly, returning whenever he chose.
The only limit? He couldn't return to his own past.
In that sense, Samuel himself was a glitch.
If the world was a computer, the "Ark" was an external plug-in, and Samuel an irreversible bug.
His every action could benefit or crash the program.
But it didn't matter to him—he held an absolute position.
"I came... to strike you down!"
Memories of the future flickered in Assassin's eyes. In a future where two fought for their beliefs, he, already gone, could only lend his power.
He refused to accept it... no grand reason, just unease. So he came, at a time when Samuel wasn't yet ready, to strike.
"The title of Grand is not my desire; it holds no meaning. Today, I forsake my Saint Graph for one strike!"
"Hear this: The evening bell tolls thy name. Feathers of death—sever the head—Azrael!"
Dong, dong, dong!
From Assassin's form came the church bells at sunset... the aura of death silently coiled around Samuel's blade.
Swish!
Time seemed to freeze. Assassin stepped forward, reaching Samuel, raising his sword for one strike.
The sword's wind roared, whispers of curses murmuring like the breeze of the underworld, withering all, death arriving as promised.
"Pointless..."
Samuel didn't move. Assassin was a Grand Servant, a guardian of the Human Order, but Samuel was a manifestation of the Human Order itself.
Thus, his blade's strike was meaningless.
He could only swing.
The underworld's wind, capable of bringing death to the earth, brushed Samuel's hair. Assassin was gone.
With that... the Holy Grail War ended...
***
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