Near Fuyuki City's seaside park, the atmosphere had grown heavy.
Six Servants—each clearly different, yet with half of them "sharing" the same Classes—had converged by a chain of coincidences so absurd it felt deliberate. The result was a scene so awkward that even Iskandar, who'd been ready to proclaim something grand, found himself unable to get a word out.
As one of the original "cosplay plan" participants, Diarmuid had already reached the stage of spiritual resignation.
Fine. Whatever. Let it burn. I'm tired.
Meanwhile, aside from the "golden Saber" and the "golden Caster" fighting like two rabid stars colliding on the side, the one laughing the hardest was still the Blue Lancer—Cu Chulainn.
His whole body was trembling.
Not from fear.
From holding back laughter.
He'd been through a Grail War before. He knew the "fight over the cup" game inside out—he was a veteran. But even then, he'd never seen anything like this.
Other than the male Knight King and the Conqueror King, everyone here was "dirty": hiding True Names, faking Classes, playing information gaps, counter-feinting with counter-feints… and now even the most troublesome bastard of them all—Gilgamesh—had joined the roleplay.
No matter how you looked at it, it was—
hilarious.
As Chaldea's ace muscle recruited back in the prologue singularity, Cu Chulainn honestly hadn't expected that his first mission—saving the last Master—would devolve into something this entertaining.
If there weren't so many eyes on him, he would've been laughing out loud.
Hold it. Hold it. Not now.
He had no Master. He wasn't one of the official seven. He was a pure wildcard.
The Masters watching from afar would assume all pieces were on the board, right?
But the truth was worse:
There was still one unknown Servant who hadn't shown themselves.
If that unseen Servant was also watching, they'd be wondering why the hell there were eight.
And yes—someone here did notice the problem.
Unlike the other Servants who were mostly confused but rolling with it, Silver Lancer—Gilles de Rais was straight-up stunned.
He counted the figures.
"One, two, three, four, five… add myself makes six… plus the Assassin from earlier makes seven. All Servants present. Complete set."
But in reality—
His Master didn't just have him.
His Master had a Caster too—one whose face was indistinguishable from Jeanne's.
Add the Master's own presence in the web of contracts, and suddenly there was an eighth.
Eight Servants in one Grail War?
Who was the extra?
Who was the "surplus"?
The thought made Gilles shiver.
His mind tangled into knots.
And while the Masters in the shadows didn't know the truth, every single one of them was trying to squeeze every drop of intelligence out of the scene as fast as possible.
Tokiomi's Perspective
Inside the Tohsaka mansion, Tokiomi Tohsaka was shaking with restrained fury.
He watched Gilgamesh barge into a standoff where the situation was unclear, then immediately pick a target—an equally dangerous "Gold Saber"—and start a fight.
Tokiomi was nearly trembling.
Kirei's Assassin plan had already collapsed: in one night, Rider and Black Saber had erased more than twenty of Assassin's bodies. That was a catastrophic loss.
But even so, Assassin's sacrifice had brought multiple Servants into one place.
And for a moment, Tokiomi saw an opening.
A crowd of Servants meant a brawl was likely. And in a brawl, the best outcome for him was clear:
Let them bleed each other.
Then, at the right moment, let Gilgamesh—the strongest—intervene and take the largest payoff with the smallest cost.
That could even compensate for Assassin's losses.
But—
The board was finally in a position where patience would win.
So why did Gilgamesh choose the one move that ruined patience?
Why jump in at the worst possible time?
Why strike first and make himself the centerpiece?
Did he not understand the most basic battlefield logic—that the one who stands out first becomes the first target?
And because Tokiomi knew Gilgamesh's power, he feared something worse:
If Gilgamesh displayed too much, the other Servants might decide to eliminate the greatest threat immediately.
A coordinated dogpile.
A "remove the boss monster" strategy.
If Gilgamesh fell—
everything ended.
That fear gnawed at Tokiomi until his carefully polished composure was cracking.
"...My teacher," Kirei's voice broke the tension beside him.
Kirei was uneasy too. This first night had already brought a full lineup of Heroic Spirits into one place, and the air felt like it was tipping into a decisive battle before the war had even begun. After their earlier plan failures, maintaining perfect calm wasn't easy.
He looked at Tokiomi and spoke bluntly:
"Teacher. Are we truly going to allow the King of Heroes to wage war so openly?"
"The other Servants aren't committing. They're watching."
"And that Gold Saber is no ordinary opponent. Even the King of Heroes cannot win without cost."
"If it becomes a mutual injury—or one dead, one crippled—then the King of Heroes could be swarmed by the others and forced out."
"At that point we have only two choices: let him fall, or spend a Command Seal to forcibly recall him."
"Either choice is disastrous. Either gives the other factions the advantage."
Kirei, as a Church executor with battlefield instincts far sharper than most magi, mapped out the branching futures in under a minute.
Tokiomi didn't even disagree.
He just felt the knot in his chest tighten.
Yes—Kirei was right.
The King of Heroes had already stepped onto the stage. Five Servants were holding back, almost certainly waiting to harvest the aftermath.
Any way you cut it, the situation was bad.
The "correct" move was also obvious:
Call Gilgamesh back. Tell him to withdraw. Preserve strength. Hide. Do not become the target.
But—
That assumed Gilgamesh would listen.
And Tokiomi and Kirei couldn't help recalling the summoning.
That first moment.
Gilgamesh's look—disgust and contempt, as if staring at trash.
"Why is it you two mongrels again?!"
The words made no sense at the time, but the feeling did:
They had been seen through.
Tokiomi had tried to play the elegant vassal.
Gilgamesh cut him off with a single sentence:
"Stop the farce. I'm not interested in playing your little theater this time."
Then Gilgamesh looked to the sky and muttered something even stranger:
"Still not the right time… and there's a familiar one here. Calling him might be more suitable."
And before they could respond, he returned to the summoning circle and began "modifying" things with treasures from his vault.
What emerged afterward wasn't the same.
A version that looked seven or eight years younger, a brash golden punk with a more chaotic vibe—yet still thoroughly Gilgamesh.
This new Gilgamesh also didn't respect them.
After hearing the situation, he said coldly:
"End the vassal act. I have no interest in you."
"I have no obligation to accept your loyalty."
"And if you behave and provide me mana, I might toss you something you want at the end."
"But—if you dare command me, or use Command Seals on me… you can guess what happens."
Tokiomi understood that threat perfectly.
If he tried to "advise" Gilgamesh too far—
Gilgamesh would kill him.
Right there.
No hesitation.
The entire mansion had fallen into suffocating silence.
Two pieces of "good news" had stacked—Kirei's cooperation, Gilgamesh's summoning—yet Tokiomi only felt an oppressive complexity that resembled none of his ideal vision.
What sin had he committed to summon a "living disaster" like this?
Even Kirei—who rarely felt anything resembling sympathy—couldn't help but feel a flicker of it for his teacher.
The Choice Tokiomi Makes
Tokiomi's thoughts drifted to his wife and daughters—still not yet safely removed from the battlefield's shadow.
He looked toward the deepest room of the mansion and exhaled.
In the end, he lowered the hand bearing Command Seals.
He decided—for now—to let Gilgamesh act on his own.
Tokiomi had accepted that he might die pursuing the Root.
But he couldn't accept dragging his wife and children into that death.
Even if it meant wasting Command Seals.
Even if it meant losing.
He would not allow Rin and Sakura to be exposed to the same risk.
So he turned to Kirei.
"Kirei. There is something I must ask of you."
"Please speak, Teacher."
Kirei heard the weight in that voice and asked carefully:
"Is this a new tactical arrangement… or something else?"
Tokiomi gave a bitter smile.
"You can see it too, can't you? The situation has slipped beyond my control. A disgrace."
Then he continued, voice steadier.
"You know my daughters' situation."
"Yes."
Tokiomi had two daughters: Rin and Sakura—both rare talents.
One held five elements. One held the scarce attribute of the Imaginary.
Both carried over seventy Magic Circuits.
Gems in the craft.
But the Tohsaka foundation was too thin to properly inherit two heirs.
If nothing changed, the future would force them into a cruel contest over the Crest—like the tragedies of other mage families.
Kirei understood that burden.
"Have you found a solution, Teacher?"
Tokiomi nodded.
"Yes. It pains me. Our families have history, and not all of it pleasant. But at this point, there is no other path."
"I will send Sakura to the Tohsaka's northern relatives—the Edelfelt family."
He met Kirei's eyes.
"I cannot guarantee victory. I cannot even guarantee survival."
"And now that Assassin has been exposed, your role is diminished. There is no need for you to continue risking your life alongside me."
Kirei froze.
"Teacher… what are you saying?"
Tokiomi's expression softened into something almost unimaginable from him.
"You are beyond apprenticeship, Kirei."
"I have always called myself your teacher, but in truth—I taught you little."
"If anything, you have carried me."
He lowered his head.
A proud magus bowed.
Kirei's heart trembled.
He had never truly respected Tokiomi before—not in his core. The "teacher" relationship had always felt like structure and obligation.
Yet in this moment, he felt something close to real recognition.
Tokiomi continued:
"I have one more request."
"...Please speak, Teacher."
"I want you to take my wife and daughters to the Church for protection."
"After the war ends, deliver one of them to the Edelfelt family."
He handed Kirei a letter—prepared in advance.
"I am sorry, Kirei. I have asked you to do things you should not have to do."
"Now withdraw."
"This war is no longer something I can control."
"You have no duty to die for my sake."
"The battles ahead… I will walk them alone."
He paused—then spoke again, voice rougher.
"And if I fall…"
Before Kirei could react—
Tokiomi dropped to his knees.
A man who valued dignity above almost everything had abandoned pride, arrogance, and height.
In that instant, he wasn't a magus.
He was a husband.
A father.
"Please," Tokiomi said, looking up at his former student, "protect my wife and daughters."
Kirei stared, stunned.
To force a man like Tokiomi into this posture meant only one thing:
His resolve had reached the point of no return.
Kirei helped him up, eyes complicated—torn, conflicted, and faintly envious.
"I accept, Teacher."
"Thank you, Kirei."
Tokiomi turned away, heading toward the storage room as if searching for something.
Kirei watched his back—and felt his own mind slipping again into the familiar void.
Even Tokiomi had found a resolve.
Then what about him?
What was his wish?
And before he discovered that answer—
Should he really withdraw?
Kirei lowered his gaze to the three scarlet Command Seals on the back of his hand.
And in that silence, his heart wavered.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 90)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 80)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter70)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter70)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter50)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter60)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 20
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 20
My patreon : patreon.com/queen_sin