"Thank you—truly. For what you did, I'm deeply grateful!"
Just as Ritsuka stepped out of the restaurant, ready to regroup with Irisviel and Saber, the two black-clad figures who had been facing them at the entrance suddenly put their weapons away.
Then, without hesitation, they dropped to the ground in a full prostration—forehead to the pavement.
Saber and Irisviel had been braced for a trap, fully prepared to draw steel in broad daylight if needed. Seeing this, both of them froze in bafflement. They didn't understand why the Hassans were here in the first place—much less why they were kneeling to Ritsuka.
Ritsuka, meanwhile, just felt a headache coming on.
"Why are you… face-down on the ground like this?"
"We're expressing our gratitude!" said the black-haired girl with a single purple ponytail, lifting her head with dead-serious sincerity.
"But the way you're doing it looks more like begging for mercy—or worship," Ritsuka said, his expression turning delicate in the worst way. "Is this… a cultural gap?"
"Apologies. In our era, this was a common way of offering thanks," she replied with equal seriousness. "However, according to modern etiquette, isn't it customary to… expose one's—"
"Stop. Stop. Please stop right there!" Ritsuka barked immediately.
Because as she spoke, she was already reaching for her clothes as if she intended to demonstrate.
"Those are lies. All lies!"
Even Irisviel and Saber visibly flinched at the sheer wrongness of what was about to happen.
"…So it was a deception?" the Hassan girl said, nodding as if she'd just learned a useful fact, then looking oddly remorseful that she didn't know how to properly thank him.
"Alright, don't look at me like that," Ritsuka sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't do anything that deserves gratitude in the first place."
"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "What you did does deserve it."
Then she raised her gaze again. Behind the mask, her eyes—clear and unwavering—locked onto Ritsuka.
"We understood the moment our Master summoned us. There is a similarity between him and us."
"We are flawed beings… but our flaws are not the same."
"As Hassan, I bear defects in my very self—my personality is fractured. Because of my ability, I can switch personas at will." She paused, then spoke as if choosing each word carefully. "But Master cannot."
"Once he chooses, he cannot change. He must become… the one true 'himself.'"
Her tone carried a deep, unmistakable dissatisfaction when she mentioned a certain king.
"That vile King of Heroes—dissatisfied with his own Master—wanted to use your hands to indulge his cruelty. He wanted to turn Master into a toy, something to amuse him."
"We witnessed it. And yet, as assassins, we could not guide him. That helplessness… was unbearable."
"So we are grateful—truly grateful—that in the final moment, you gave Master the right guidance."
"You prevented him from falling… from ending up like we did in life."
She lowered her head again, deeply.
The resemblance between Hundred-Faced Hassan and Kirei Kotomine wasn't a metaphor. It was real.
In life, she had split herself into a hundred to seize the title of Hassan—and in doing so, she had carved a fatal defect into her own existence.
Because her self was split into a hundred, she stopped being "herself."
She could be anyone.
She could become every kind of person in the world.
But as mission followed mission, her sense of self wore away. Gaps formed. A terrifying emptiness swallowed her whole.
And from that emptiness, she began searching for "pieces" to fill the void—yet unlike what Ritsuka had told Kirei, she didn't seek forward.
She tried to retrieve what was lost.
She never asked what she truly lacked. She only wanted to plug the hole.
So desire grew.
She filled the emptiness with desire—
and fell.
Until the bell in the valley rang.
In Hassan's eyes, the one who gained an answer today wasn't only Kirei.
It was her, too.
And that gratitude came from a place far deeper than politeness.
"Yeah… the King of Heroes, huh." Ritsuka scratched his chin, then smiled faintly. "That is a pain."
"But even if it's a pain, we still have to deal with it. He's an enemy I'll have to face sooner or later."
He waved casually and turned to leave.
"Alright, Miss Hassan. I've got other things to do. Whatever happens between you and your Master after this… isn't my business anymore."
"Please rest assured," she said solemnly. "In the name of Hassan, I swear upon the First Founder."
"Whatever decision Master makes from this point on, we will not do anything that could harm you."
"This is the guarantee of the Hassan Order."
And this time, she invoked the First Hassan by name—an oath spoken with absolute seriousness.
Even Ritsuka couldn't help feeling it.
"Swearing by King Hassan…" He exhaled, then nodded. "Alright. I hear you. Thank you."
"There is no need to thank us," she replied. "The one who should be grateful… is me."
"Please be careful from here on."
"Oh—and, Lord Ritsuka." One of the more curious Hassan personas turned back just before they vanished. "There is something we have always wondered."
"What is it?"
"How do you know the First Founder's words?" she asked, eyes sharp beneath the mask. "That line… should not be known by anyone besides us."
Those were the words King Hassan had spoken when he judged and executed Hundred-Faced Hassan.
From any angle, no second person should have been able to repeat them so precisely.
Ritsuka thought for a moment, then answered with a straight face.
"It's a secret. But yes—I do know his deeds. And I respect him."
"In a sense… you could say we have a connection."
A beat later, a completely unrelated thought flashed through his mind—utter nonsense he absolutely could not say out loud:
—He revived the North American Brotherhood and assassinated Alexander VI. A legendary assassin like that could probably sit the Hassan seat just fine!
"…Understood. I overstepped," the Hassan said at last.
She still looked puzzled, but she didn't press further. Instead, the Hassans bowed in unison—then flickered and vanished like shadows swallowed by daylight.
Watching the entire exchange, the three observers were left even more stunned.
Gilles de Rais, who had always revered eloquence, looked half-awed—like he'd just witnessed rhetoric worthy of the great cardinal orators of old.
Saber, seeing Hundred-Faced Hassan show Ritsuka such respect, stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.
Those looks made Ritsuka deeply uncomfortable.
Aren't we here to talk cooperation? he thought. Can we please do that instead of just staring?
"Um… Lord Ritsuka," Saber finally asked, unable to endure the confusion any longer. "Just now, that was…?"
"Nothing," Ritsuka said quickly. "I just pointed a lost person in a direction."
"Relax. The Hassans won't interfere with us from here on."
"That's good," Saber nodded.
He didn't understand, but the moment he knew Assassin wouldn't be an immediate threat, that was enough for him.
"Then let's discuss the alliance we spoke of last night," Ritsuka said, moving straight to business.
"Agreed," Saber replied. "But after what just happened, this place isn't suitable. We should find somewhere else."
"Exactly what I was thinking."
So, with unanimous agreement, they relocated to a quiet café.
And to ensure no "unexpected excitement" joined them this time, Irisviel demonstrated what true aristocratic spending looked like—she simply bought out the entire establishment on the spot, cleared the premises, and left only the two groups inside.
Even then, after the Hassan incident, Ritsuka still swept the place with his senses—just in case five hundred axe-men decided to appear out of nowhere.
Once everyone was seated again, Irisviel—who had been too shocked to speak earlier—finally bowed her head toward Ritsuka.
"Ritsuka… about last night. Thank you. Truly."
"It's nothing," Ritsuka said, calm and restrained. "It was mutual benefit. You're the allies I chose."
He didn't overplay it.
He didn't try to leverage it.
Gilles de Rais didn't demand repayment, either.
And that quiet lack of coercion only increased Saber's goodwill toward them.
"Then," Ritsuka said, "since you came here yourselves, I assume you've accepted my proposal."
"Last night, I said the war is already full of undercurrents. Multiple Masters have formed alliances in the shadows. If we keep acting alone, we risk getting isolated and targeted again—like last night."
"Yes." Irisviel's gaze lowered. "You were right. None of us expected an organized, premeditated strike on the first night."
"That mistake cost us dearly… and I regret my own negligence."
Saber dipped his head as he spoke. For him, what happened last night would be a scar that never faded.
"It wasn't just you," Ritsuka added. "I didn't foresee it either. I went to observe because I had suspicions—then my bad feeling proved correct."
"And now you've seen it clearly," he continued. "Rider and Lancer were a pair. And Tokiomi Tohsaka's Archer—Gilgamesh—was effectively paired with his student, Kirei Kotomine, Assassin's Master."
"This war barely began, and they were already prepared."
Saber felt pressure settle in his chest.
Last night taught him something brutal:
This Holy Grail War wasn't remotely simple.
Compared to the war he remembered… this one was uglier.
Alliances, ambushes, deception—anything that served victory was fair game.
Chivalric honor meant nothing to them.
They cared only for the result.
And that reality terrified him—not for himself, but for Irisviel.
A dependable ally mattered.
And at this moment, Ritsuka was the most dependable one available.
"So," Saber asked, fixing Ritsuka with a steady look, "what is your plan? If we ally, what comes next?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Ritsuka answered instantly. "We go on the offensive."
"There's no such thing as guarding against thieves every night forever."
"Sometimes, the best defense is offense—right, King Arthur?"
Saber's lips curved into a small smile.
"Then it seems we've arrived at the same conclusion."
He agreed completely.
Passive defense would only keep Irisviel under constant threat.
Only by striking first could they shift the battlefield and break the pressure.
That was a king's decision.
A king's instinct.
And Ritsuka had predicted exactly that.
Because Kayneth and Waver's reckless actions, the exposure of the Tohsaka–Kotomine pair, and the sudden intrusion of that red Assassin had pushed every lone Master into a state of fear.
Under that pressure, cooperation and trust naturally emerged.
No one wanted to be the next one surrounded and crushed.
So the isolated would form a new alliance to counter the ones already formed.
That was the outcome Ritsuka wanted—
and why he had been confident Saber would come.
"In that case," Ritsuka said, "we sign a pact."
"Until all other Servants are eliminated, neither side betrays the other. We act as one."
"There's no reason to refuse now, right?"
Irisviel nodded. "We agree."
Saber nodded as well. "No objections."
"Good." Ritsuka reached into his coat and produced a prepared sheet of parchment. He handed it to Gilles. "Marshal, draft the binding contract."
Gilles wrote swiftly in French—deliberately choosing a rigid language to eliminate loopholes—and produced a concise clause with sharp edges:
Until all other Servants are eliminated, neither side may betray, restrain, harm, or attempt to kill an ally. This oath applies to both Masters and Servants. It cannot be violated.
Short.
Clear.
And airtight.
"Let me see," Irisviel said, taking the parchment and reading it several times from top to bottom. Only after confirming there were no linguistic traps did she sign her name.
Then she extended her hand to Ritsuka.
The moment their hands clasped, their Command Spells flashed in tandem.
The pact was sealed.
With that, the last thin strand of mutual wariness finally dissolved.
Ritsuka gave Irisviel one copy and kept the other himself—then immediately moved to the next topic without delay:
Plans.
And intelligence sharing.
"I'll start with the hostile Servants," Ritsuka said. "Besides our two groups, there are six additional combatants in this war."
"Lancer, Diarmuid, is already gone as of last night—so five remain."
"Most of them, you already know. So I'll focus on the most dangerous variable: the red Assassin who killed Kayneth."
He spoke carefully, threading the truth without exposing what he shouldn't—and then began laying out what he knew.
Saber listened—and inwardly, he was stunned.
Knowing true names was one thing.
But knowing Noble Phantasms and most innate abilities—down to their functional effects—was beyond ordinary "information gathering."
Ritsuka named Saber's as the Sword of Promised Victory, Iskandar's as a Reality Marble, Cú Chulainn's as the Celtic "Thorn Cage of a Thousand Trees," and more—precise, clean, almost like he'd read a record.
Saber nearly suspected Ritsuka possessed some form of clairvoyance.
Before he could ask, Ritsuka cut him off with a single sentence:
"Don't ask me for my source. That isn't within the scope of our agreement."
Then he returned to the key point.
"That red Assassin is a modern Servant. We don't know his true identity, but we do know two things."
"He has an anti-magus weapon—Origin Bullets."
"And he has time acceleration."
"Right now, he's the most dangerous threat on the board. You must be wary."
"I understand," Saber said quietly. "I witnessed him myself last night."
"To kill Lancer's Master under Rider's gaze… and with time acceleration on top of that—he's among the hardest enemies to handle."
"But now that we've seen it once," Saber's eyes hardened, "I won't allow it to happen again."
Ritsuka nodded, then shifted into the next layer of the plan.
"Now. Tonight."
"If we're going on the offensive, we need a target."
"And at the moment, only one target is truly exposed in the open."
"Gilgamesh—Archer of the Tohsaka."
"If we want to crack the situation wide open, he's the only blade-worthy 'entry point' we have."
"Gilgamesh…" Saber murmured, then nodded slowly.
It made sense.
Rider's base was unknown.
The red Assassin was nowhere to be found.
Hundred-Faced Hassan was a hydra—hard to fully erase in one strike.
And because Cú Chulainn had protected Ritsuka and Irisviel last night, Saber would not turn his sword toward him.
So when he weighed the board, only Gilgamesh remained.
"I'll handle Archer," Saber said firmly. "I've fought him before. There is history between us."
"When I engage him, you protect my Master—or strike the Tohsaka residence."
"I won't claim I can defeat him quickly… but I can guarantee this: Gilgamesh will not interfere with you."
Ritsuka's expression softened with approval.
"Reliable," he said. "Then Archer is in your hands, King Arthur."
"But—"
His tone shifted.
His face tightened.
"This won't be as simple as it sounds."
Saber's eyes narrowed. "There's another complication?"
"Yes." Ritsuka lowered his gaze, confirming a report through his familiars' network woven across Fuyuki, then lifted his eyes again.
"While we've been talking, Iskandar and his Master—Waver Velvet—have already headed to the Tohsaka residence."
Ritsuka looked Saber straight in the eye, voice calm but heavy with implication.
"At this timing… what they intend to do—what they might do—surely I don't need to spell it out for you, King Arthur."
He exhaled, almost amused.
"Looks like they came to the same conclusion we did."
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 120)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 100)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 100)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter89)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter86)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter63)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter75)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 53
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 57
From Junkman to Wasteland 35
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