Outside Berlin, Germany — the Einzbern Castle.
"Um… Your Majesty King Arthur—here. Coffee."
"Thank you, Mr. Lucius."
In a spacious, well-lit European-style study, a young man with tousled blond hair—dressed in a white suit—sat at the desk, seriously organizing资料 for the upcoming Holy Grail War. Beside him stood a white-haired servant in a black suit, moving with the practiced ease of an experienced butler. He carried a tray and respectfully presented a freshly brewed cup of black coffee.
He also set down a plate of desserts that looked genuinely delicious, politely indicating that His Majesty should enjoy them.
"About that…"
Arthur's gaze drifted from the coffee to the desserts. Then he looked up at the white-haired attendant standing quietly at his side—calm, capable, and impeccably attentive.
His expression turned… complicated.
Because it felt familiar. Too familiar.
This sensation—being taken care of in every detail, with everything done properly and without a single wasted motion—dragged Arthur's mind back to the days when he had ruled Britain. Back then, Bedivere had looked after him in exactly this way.
And in all the years since his death—years spent endlessly pursuing the Beast—Arthur had not experienced this feeling in a very long time. Newly summoned, that sudden familiarity nearly made him think he had come home.
But the moment he focused on the man's face—handsome though it was—he was forced to accept reality.
This wasn't the silver-haired knight from his memories.
Arthur let out a helpless sigh.
Of course it wasn't possible.
Britain had already been destroyed. And that foolish wish he once made in a certain world—to revive Britain—had brought catastrophe beyond measure. Since then, even the words Holy Grail War carried a psychological shadow for him.
Still, as a summoned Servant, Arthur would not drag his old emotions into this war. If he had answered the call, then he would do his utmost—help his Master obtain the Grail.
Even so, when the silver-haired attendant introduced himself as Lucius, Arthur's expression almost broke.
Lucius… Lukius…
Why was that name starting to sound more and more familiar?
He had a bad feeling.
And it wasn't only the name.
From this white-haired attendant, Arthur could sense an aura that felt extremely familiar—yet it flickered in and out, as if something were interrupting it. It made Arthur uncertain, unable to grasp the truth.
He had also confirmed carefully: Mr. Lucius was not a Servant. He was flesh and blood.
Which only made the whole thing harder to understand.
So, driven by curiosity, when the "butler" returned to his side again, Arthur finally asked:
"Mr. Lucius… are you Roman, or English?"
"Me…?"
The man froze for a beat. Then, facing Arthur's curiosity, he answered:
"If I must say… I suppose I'd be considered English."
"English…"
Arthur nodded, lowered his eyes, and pondered for a moment. Then he looked back up at the silver-haired attendant, struggling with his words.
"Then Mr. Lucius… could it be that your ancestor was…"
Just as he was about to ask the question that would confirm the suspicion forming in his heart—
Tap. Tap.
Light footsteps approached.
The door opened, and in stepped Irisviel, white-haired and red-eyed, wearing a long white dress.
"Oh my. You two seem to get along quite well."
Seeing them talking the moment she entered, Irisviel smiled, then looked between Lucius and Arthur.
"Do you want to go out and have some fun together? It's rare for Acht to let me go out at all—but he insisted the two of you must accompany me."
"Sorry, Miss Irisviel."
Lucius shook his head. His expression turned serious.
"King Arthur and I still have work to do. If we're going out to play, it will have to wait until we finish organizing the Holy Grail War materials."
"I see… alright."
Irisviel looked a little disappointed, but she didn't throw a childish tantrum. She obediently found a seat and waited quietly.
"..."
And that scene made Arthur feel even more familiarity clawing up his spine.
It was exactly like the old days—more than a thousand years ago—when he tried to sneak out of court duties to have fun, only for Bedivere to catch him and drag him back.
Especially the phrase "King Arthur, Your Majesty." It almost pulled him straight back to Britain.
At this point, Arthur was nearly certain:
Mr. Lucius had to be a descendant of Bedivere from this world.
They weren't from the same world, and they weren't the same person… but the legends of old companions and the Knights of the Round Table had long since faded into the past.
It made Arthur's heart feel strangely wistful.
Britain truly had become history.
"What's wrong, Your Majesty?" Lucius asked, perceptive as ever. "Is something troubling you?"
"No… nothing," Arthur said softly, shaking his head. "I was just reminded of the past."
Then he looked at Lucius again.
"Lucius—please don't keep calling me King Arthur. Britain ended long ago. King Arthur has become history."
"Right now, I'm simply Arthur."
"And in a Holy Grail War, exposing one's True Name is dangerous."
"Call me Saber… or Arthur."
"I understand…"
At the mention of Britain's fall, Lucius's eyes stirred. But after so many years of travel, he seemed to have already accepted that cruel reality. He nodded gently.
"Alright. Understood, Mr. Arthur. I look forward to working with you."
"And I with you, Mr. Lucius," Arthur replied, then straightened, returning to business. "Now then—how much intelligence have we gathered on the Holy Grail War?"
The two of them immediately set aside their complicated emotions and grew serious again. Off to the side, Irisviel smiled quietly and took a sip of her coffee.
Not long ago, after finishing a conversation with that "strange old acquaintance," Acht had returned to the Einzbern household and handed the legendary Avalon to Irisviel as the relic for summoning.
And as expected—using Avalon as a catalyst, and locking onto the three Knight Classes—the summoned Servant had to be King Arthur.
However, when Lucius first saw the summoned King Arthur, his expression had been… strange.
Surprise. Disappointment. Relief. Loss.
So many emotions had surfaced in his eyes, as though this King Arthur was different from the one he had been hoping to meet.
And that was the truth.
After being summoned, this King Arthur had carefully confirmed the nature of the world he was in, then explained:
Yes—he was King Arthur, without question.
But he was not the King Arthur of this world.
He came from another Britain, another world.
He had responded to the call this time partly because Avalon and the Grail served as catalysts—but more than that, he had heard this world's call, guided by the Holy Sword itself.
He didn't yet know why he had been summoned. He was searching for the reason.
As for a wish—
He said he no longer had one.
He had already moved beyond the dream of restoring Britain.
If he had to name something, it would be: to protect the peace of the world.
So Arthur made a solemn promise:
He would fulfill his duty as a Servant, help Irisviel win, and in the meantime seek the reason behind his summoning.
For Irisviel, the words "other world," "King Arthur," and all the rest were far too complicated. She didn't understand any of it.
But in the end, hadn't she summoned an incredibly powerful knight?
The only thing that left her feeling slightly uneasy was Lucius's expression.
A long time ago, Acht had told her that Lucius stayed with the Einzberns and agreed to assist because he wanted to meet King Arthur.
Now he had met him… but clearly, this was not the King Arthur he had wanted to see.
That made Irisviel feel a little apologetic.
Still, the important part was: Lucius hadn't gotten angry, and he hadn't left.
Even though the King Arthur she summoned wasn't the one he'd hoped for, Mr. Lucius still chose to stay by her side and participate in the Holy Grail War.
That made Irisviel genuinely happy.
Because to her, Lucius was no longer just a servant.
He felt like a senior… even like a guardian.
As long as he was around, she felt an inexplicable sense of safety—of stability.
Now, as the discussion turned to gathering and reviewing intelligence, Lucius—who had once served as Britain's royal steward—moved immediately. He laid out the Einzbern-collected资料 that Acht had provided, arranging them neatly on the desk.
Irisviel, sitting on the sofa, scooted over to their side, blinking with curiosity.
"All the information we've gathered is here," Lucius said. "Let's go through it one by one."
"First—the participants. The three families that originally established the Holy Grail War: Einzbern, Tohsaka, and Matou. They're guaranteed to participate."
"According to Acht, not long ago the Matou head—Makiri Zolgen—visited the Einzbern household and borrowed a relic."
"Makiri Zolgen?!" Irisviel gasped. "I know him!"
"Is something wrong, Master?" Arthur frowned, then quickly understood. "Right—he's one of the founding families. It's normal you'd know the name."
"No, not that," Irisviel shook her head.
"I don't know the Matou head personally."
"I know the name Makiri Zolgen because… he's one of the original three who founded the first Holy Grail War."
"He was close friends with Justeaze—the previous-generation Winter Saint of the Einzberns. I saw him in our family history."
"But… wasn't he someone from over two hundred years ago?"
"How could he be here now?"
"Two hundred years ago…?" Arthur's eyes widened. "A magus who lived through the First Grail War? Then he's at least over two hundred years old!"
"Yes—but there's something you're both missing," Lucius corrected, shaking his head. "According to Acht, it isn't merely two hundred."
"He should be five hundred."
"He's been alive since the Renaissance era—right up to the present."
"Five hundred…"
Both Arthur and Irisviel inhaled sharply.
How long was a nation's lifespan? An era's?
How long had human history existed?
And yet a magus had lived five centuries—crossing ages like that.
What kind of monster was he?
And among mages there was a rule: the older the Mystery, the deeper it ran—and Mystery yields only to greater Mystery.
So just how powerful would a five-hundred-year-old magus be?
Even Arthur's expression hardened.
He hadn't expected to hear something this explosive right after being summoned.
It seemed this Holy Grail War truly was anything but ordinary.
Seeing their reactions, Lucius wasn't surprised—he himself had been shocked when he learned it.
So it wasn't only he who had crossed an impossible span of years.
There were others like that in this world.
Yet Lucius had only made it this far through the Holy Sword, unwavering loyalty to his king, and Merlin's help. Even then, his soul, will, and body were nearly shattered.
So he couldn't help wondering—how had that man endured until today?
A five-hundred-year journey required an obsession—something that must be completed.
What did Zolgen look like now?
What kind of fixation could keep him standing?
But this wasn't the time to dwell on that.
There were more urgent matters.
"More than the fact that he's lived five centuries," Lucius said, cutting through their thoughts, "I'm concerned about something else."
"The relic he borrowed recently…"
"Saber—you'll find it very familiar."
He handed a photograph to Arthur, placing it on the desk and gesturing for him to look.
"...That?" Arthur murmured.
The moment Arthur saw the photo, his eyes widened, and his hand began to tremble uncontrollably.
Because Lucius was right.
Not only was he familiar with it—
he was painfully familiar with it.
Even when he was alive, he had been tormented by that golden dagger more times than he cared to count.
And as for who owned it…
That didn't need saying.
Arthur could only think one thing:
Why is that thing here?!
Staring at the familiar corrosive golden blade, Arthur's head started to ache, and a deep, ominous premonition rose in his chest.
Perhaps it was because of his connection to that "king sister" of his—
but the more he thought about it, the more he felt this Holy Grail War was going to unleash something horrifying.
Just imagining the possibility of facing that terrifying "king sister" again made Arthur regret answering the summons.
He closed his eyes in pain.
The fall of Britain—and everything that "king sister" had done—still played vividly in his mind.
"…Sigh."
In the end, Arthur exhaled deeply.
At this point, he knew he had no choice but to face it.
All he could pray for now was this:
May the Morgan le Fay of this world not be as mad as the Morgan of his own.
One, two—
he was truly sick of insane women.
Join here to read ahead.
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Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 80)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 80)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter50)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter50)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter50)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter50)
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