Moonlight lay quiet. Stars scattered across the sky.
Near Fuyuki City's airport, Kayneth stepped into the final battlefield of the Holy Grail War, suitcase in hand.
Cars flowed along the roadside without pause. Now and then, horns blared; engines growled low and constant.
This time, in the name of discretion—of concealing his movements—Kayneth hadn't arranged a pickup. Nor had he made the kind of grand entrance he usually favored. He simply took a night flight, arrived a full day early, and slipped into Fuyuki without a sound.
He lifted his gaze to the city ahead, bright with lights, then to the black sky above, jeweled with stars. Drawing in a long breath, he broke the night's stillness with a voice as steady as iron.
"Follow my instructions and act as the situation demands, Lancer."
"As you command, my lord."
The knight's reply came from the darkness—but there was a hint of confusion in Diarmuid's tone.
They hadn't even reached the battlefield, yet Kayneth was already moving as if he were under immediate threat. Diarmuid couldn't read it.
"Have you noticed something, my lord?"
"I'm not certain yet. Some things must be verified with my own eyes."
Kayneth's eyes lowered as he spoke, his fingers idly rubbing the edge of the suitcase.
"Even the greatest heroes have fallen to blades in the dark. That truth has repeated itself throughout history. Vigilance in war is never excess. I refuse to die without knowing why."
He let the words settle, his voice sinking deeper—almost as if a dry, self-mocking edge had slipped into it beneath the lecture.
"Do you understand, Lancer?"
"I do, my lord. Thank you for your instruction."
Diarmuid nodded, his own posture tightening into seriousness.
He didn't believe he would be brought down by some petty villain's trick—but caution was never a sin.
"Then… what should we do now, my lord?"
At Diarmuid's question, Kayneth lowered his head and fell briefly silent.
He sifted through memories of the previous Grail War—those final moments before his own death—extracting what he needed.
Before the first night truly began, Assassin had attacked the Tohsaka estate and been "killed" by the golden hero, Gilgamesh. But that Assassin possessed a method of splitting—what died that night had been no more than bait, a performance meant to make everyone relax.
And the current time…
It was the night before he would ordinarily have Diarmuid release his presence to draw other Servants out.
Kayneth glanced at his watch. In an instant, the outline of a plan formed.
"We go to the forest near the Tohsaka estate first," he said quietly. "We'll prepare there—and give them a surprise."
"Yes."
Diarmuid didn't understand Kayneth's intent, but he accepted the order without hesitation.
…
Under Kayneth's direction, Diarmuid brought him into the forest near the Tohsaka property.
Tall trees stood dense and orderly. Their leaves swallowed what little moonlight there was, turning the woods darker still—thick with shadow.
A gust of wind slipped through, carrying a faint chill.
And then—without a sound—
a black shape condensed among the branches.
Having just arrived, Hundred-Faced Hassan, her pale skull mask fixed over her face, had come on her Master's command to assassinate Tokiomi Tohsaka.
But now she stared down at Kayneth and Diarmuid below, her brow knitting beneath the bone-white mask.
This is Tohsaka territory. Why would another Master and Servant appear here?
She held still for a heartbeat, fingers already closing around a short blade meant for murder, weighing the advantages and risks.
This was the forest. It was night.
Without question, it was her domain—the perfect place to bring an Assassin's strengths to bear.
If she could seize this chance and remove that Master, she might disrupt the enemy's entire deployment, eliminating a formidable opponent before the war even properly began.
The thought had barely surfaced when—
Kayneth's head snapped up.
His gaze locked precisely onto her position.
Then his voice—deep, forceful—detonated through the trees.
"Kill her, Lancer!"
"…Impossible!"
Hundred-Faced Hassan's mind jolted.
Her greatest pride—Presence Concealment—had been pierced as if it were nothing. She stared down at Kayneth and saw it: his left eye gleamed with an unnatural light, a strange sheen that made understanding strike like a hammer.
An artificial eye.
A sensor eye—meant to detect the surroundings.
And with Volumen Hydrargyrum assisting the calculations, it could analyze the environment even in darkness.
Kayneth already knew: this Grail War might include an Assassin who could split into multiple bodies, with concealment so strong it bordered on absurd. And once he decided to fight at full strength, he was never the sort to enter unprepared.
The jeweled artificial eye, paired with Volumen Hydrargyrum, was the perfect countermeasure.
Because it was built from his understanding of the Assassin class, this eye was specially modified. It didn't only detect magical energy—its computing capacity could also account for wind direction, temperature, terrain, and infer likely concealment points.
It was an Assassin's natural predator.
"Hmph. Foolish killers from a bygone age—do not underestimate the intelligence of modern magi."
Sensing Hassan's shock, Kayneth folded his arms, arrogance dripping from his tone.
And Hassan had no interest left in "assassinating" Kayneth.
For an Assassin, the only true advantage was concealment and the first strike.
If her cover was blown—and there was an unknown Servant present—then her options collapsed to one.
Run.
Leave immediately.
She sprang away at once, fleeing at full speed, determined to report what she'd seen.
But—
"Hmph. Trying to escape?"
Danger—!
A low, furious voice bit into her back, and Hassan's heart lurched.
In the middle of her retreat, her view snapped forward—
A black-haired knight in armor stood in her path, handsome and composed beneath the moon. She saw the beauty mark beneath his eye, the clear light in his gaze—and then, cutting in like a flash of doom—
a crimson blade.
A surging-tide sword.
Shhk—!
The sound of flesh being torn came faster than the sword's arc through the night.
A searing red light flared.
The knight's crimson magic sword came down with the weight of a crashing wave, and Hassan's head flew free in the same instant.
Then a dusky-yellow spear followed—piercing what remained and pinning the body to a tree trunk.
Her breath ended there.
A single strike. Clean. Absolute.
Diarmuid withdrew his sword and turned, looking back at Kayneth with eyes full of reverence.
Hassan's concealment had been superb—so superb that even he hadn't spotted her immediately.
Yet Kayneth had seen through her first, marked her position, and guided the killing blow with flawless precision.
Vision. Capability. Decision.
Kayneth's performance was peerless.
It reminded Diarmuid of the great hero he had once served a thousand years ago.
His respect rose from the depths of his soul—and with it, a fierce sense of honor at being allowed to fight beside such a Master.
"My lord. The enemy has been beheaded. Assassin has been eliminated."
With the battle over, Diarmuid sheathed his weapons and reported.
"Good work."
Kayneth watched the body dissolve into spirit particles, then activated the artificial eye again, scanning the area.
Only after confirming there were no further traces did he allow himself to relax.
"Don't celebrate yet," he said coolly. "This is far from over."
Diarmuid looked at him sharply.
Then Kayneth added, calmly:
"That Assassin did not truly die."
"What? She's still alive?!"
Diarmuid's eyes widened. He pivoted instantly, guard snapping back into place, expecting an ambush.
"Don't panic. The one you killed is dead. What I mean is—the main body of Assassin didn't die."
"The main body…?" Diarmuid frowned. "So that was a clone?"
"Exactly." Kayneth nodded. "No wonder she felt weak at close range."
Kayneth continued in a measured tone.
"Assassin is the origin of the 'assassin' legend—the Hassan order. Each generation's leader bears the name 'Hassan,' and each possesses abilities that defy common sense. The one we encountered appears to have a division ability."
"As for how many bodies she can produce, I don't know. But stay alert. Don't let those sewer rats catch you from the shadows. Understood, Lancer?"
"As you command, my lord!"
Now Diarmuid finally understood why Kayneth had spoken earlier of dying to unseen blades.
And more than that—
Diarmuid couldn't help but feel shaken.
Before the war had even properly begun—while Diarmuid himself knew nothing—his Master had already gathered enemy intelligence and prepared a perfect counter.
Kayneth only seemed deeper, more unfathomable with every step.
So Diarmuid asked, almost instinctively:
"My lord, what next? Do we attack the Tohsaka estate?"
"No."
Kayneth shook his head, glancing toward the illuminated mansion—and in his mind, the image of the golden hero rose again.
In his previous life, the power Gilgamesh displayed had been enough to make Kayneth feel small. That Servant's might surpassed nearly any other.
In the end, Gilgamesh had only been driven out after a brutal, coordinated battle: a strange Servant calling himself Lord El-Melloi II leading the effort, an Demi-Servant named Mash providing cover, Diarmuid himself participating, and a black Berserker joining the dogpile.
Even then, victory had been hard-won.
And the decisive factor had been El-Melloi II's terrifying ability to seal Noble Phantasms.
Without those conditions, even a strengthened Diarmuid could never defeat Gilgamesh alone.
Kayneth had no intention of smashing an egg against a rock.
"We withdraw. We rendezvous with Waver."
He turned without hesitation, issuing the new order with cold, decisive clarity.
"Assassin comes first—those rats that hide in the dark. Only after we clear them out can we commit fully to battle."
"And the situation is still unclear. I need to collect and integrate intelligence on every team in this Grail War. The golden Archer—Gilgamesh—is not a target we should challenge tonight."
"So fall back, Lancer. This is not the hour of决战."
He stroked his chin, continuing his analysis with the calm rationality of a strategist.
"While the enemy still hasn't reacted, we join Waver and Iskandar, focus fire on Assassin, and erase as many bodies as possible."
"The rest… we consider afterward."
"As you command."
Diarmuid listened, stunned.
Kayneth spoke the enemy Servant's True Name as if it were trivial.
And for the first time, a thought took firmer root in Diarmuid's mind:
Is my lord… truly the reincarnation of the hero I served a thousand years ago?
Was this foresight the work of a wisdom that bordered on prophecy?
Under such command, Diarmuid felt as though he'd been thrown back into the old days of conquest—marching beneath a leader whose plans never failed.
He didn't press the matter.
A knight's duty was simple: obey and fight.
So Diarmuid escorted Kayneth away without question.
…
The night wind swept through the forest again.
The darkness returned to its quiet.
In the distance, the Tohsaka estate still blazed with light, as if waiting for something to arrive.
But Tokiomi Tohsaka could never have imagined—
that his "brilliant" plan had already, silently, begun to collapse.
To break fate. To rewrite the routine. To step beyond the endings assigned to them.
The war had only just begun—
yet Kayneth could already feel it.
This Holy Grail War would not be ordinary.
Join here to read ahead.
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