Chapter 22 The Battle Record of the Holy Grail is as Follows
Dead Apostles are ranked by hierarchy. Those below the IVth Rank are merely living corpses; the IVth and Vth Ranks are called the "Night-Class" and can be ignored.
VIth Rank: Lower Dead Apostle. Bloodsuckers capable of independent existence in the world with basic freedom of movement. VIIth Rank: Upper Dead Apostle. At this stage, they are a potent poison that contaminates the land—heresies that ordinary Executors cannot contend with, ranked among the "Nobility" of bloodsuckers. Unlike Lower Dead Apostles, they possess higher-order supernatural abilities. VIIIth Rank: Successor. Candidates selected by the Twenty-Seven Ancestors, existing much like crown princes. IXth Rank: The Twenty-Seven Ancestors. The "Pinnacle." The Ancestors of the "Principle."
—The above is taken from the chalkboard contents of a certain Princess.
Arcueid, while lecturing, was very cute.
—That impression belongs to a black-haired man with glasses.
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In Illya's raised hand were thirty strands of silver hair like violin strings. They rapidly expanded, forming intricate bird-like shapes that took to the sky before diving toward the unidentified figure charging her.
The Einzbern family specializes in only one type of magecraft: Alchemy. In essence, no one in the Einzbern family is actually suited for combat.
It reached such an extent that they chose to hire a Magus Killer to fight the Holy Grail War for them. But Illya is different.
This isn't to say that "Illya is good at magecraft other than alchemy."
Quite the opposite. The reality is—Illya only needs to use a single strand of hair for alchemy to make a first-class magus feel as though they are looking at a monster.
"[Zähre (Tear)]"
Each white stork was a muzzle. Pure magical bullets bloomed before the storks' beaks at almost the same instant. Their power was comparable to Gandr, and in this era, they had already surpassed the speed of bullets. The stork-shaped Gatling guns, bestowed with a
beautiful name, wove a rain of magical bullets. The resulting backdraft of wind and sand sent the petite girl's hair fluttering wildly, yet it could not hide the jade-like radiance of her porcelain skin.
Illya didn't need to exert special control. Because she used her hair to create autonomous familiars, giving the command was enough; she only used her crimson eyes to confirm the result. The scene felt strangely familiar. If this were a rain of genuine Noble Phantasms against a genuine man of resurrection, the victor would have already been decided. But since neither of them could become Heroic Spirits, it meant they could not replicate that specific outcome.
The Dead Apostle Jester took a defensive stance. With a few leaps and dodges, he had already outpaced the line of fire, avoiding the vast majority of the magical bullets. Then, he began to swing his claws.
"!?"
'The power is too low.'
That Dead Apostle was capable of forcing a breakthrough even through a hail of bullets. In Illya's observation, he shredded the [Zähre] with his bare hands. Illya leaped backward in an emergency. Jester's claw slammed into the spot where she had been standing.
"[Degen (Sword)]"
Seizing the moment Jester was recovering his stance, fifteen of the white storks transformed. Though she hadn't expected the fragility of her "Tears," Illya had already planned for this step. Defeat the opponent when they show a lapse in focus by using a move they didn't anticipate. If she couldn't learn at least that much, Illya would have nothing to say about being a "burden."
The lethal "First-Encounter Kill" intended to make the Dead Apostle take her seriously was successful. She felt the sensation of fifteen ornate, hollowed-out greatswords hitting their mark. Meanwhile, the other half of the storks continued to devastate him from a distance with [Zähre].
The result? Even though this level of offense would have seen "Fifth-War Rin" (as a unit of measurement) lose two or three times before she could even pull out an A-rank jewel, Illya maintained her distance and observed as the dust settled.
"...You've got to be kidding."
Pierced, gouged, and hacked apart—yet Jester stood there as if nothing had happened, simply pulling the blades out of his body as he returned to a perfect state. He demonstrated the troublesome characteristics of a Rank VI Dead Apostle to the fullest.
"That move was actually quite good! At least worthy of being taken seriously!"
"I'm not exactly thrilled to be praised by a judgmental vampire! You definitely couldn't beat Berserker anyway, so what are you acting so high and mighty for!?"
'Why is there such a troublesome Dead Apostle here?'
In Illya's life, she had never seen a creature like a Dead Apostle. They were merely a point of heterodox knowledge drilled into her head. Illya wouldn't hold back against such a guy.
Even without considering the fact that he was currently attacking her, the heteromorph before her carried a bloody scent that suggested he had preyed on others. But this was actually her first time fighting a Dead Apostle.
Illya's impression was...
'Why hasn't this troublesome species gone extinct yet!?'
The naturally "black-hearted" lolly gave a silent, wicked curse to the entire species while commanding the other [Storche Ritter] to transform into [Degen]. Though not a swordsman, she mimicked the style of the person she was closest to, letting the blades fly. Those blades were caught. Jester used a single palm to catch the sword she had thrown with sheer force. Illya stared fixedly at the scene.
A beat later, she dropped her fake expression and impolitely stuck out her tongue: "You fell for it, idiot."
The blades collapsed, turning into silk threads that surrounded the caught-off-guard Jester. Illya was no swordsman, after all. Even if she thought someone who called himself "no swordsman" was dazzling, she still couldn't become one. From the beginning—or rather, from her mother's generation—Illya's magecraft was called: [Engel Lied (Angel's Song)].
The so-called "swords" were merely an illusion created by silk threads. The threads firmly bound Jester, touching the very essence of the Dead Apostle's magical nature at zero distance. Even if Jester wanted to dodge, there was nowhere to go. Both of his arms were pinned together, and in the next moment, his entire body was flung to the right by the force of the threads.
"I don't know who you are, but since you won't die, I'll start by taking off your head and then try piercing your heart with a 'sword'!"
The black-hearted white-haired lolly achieved a brilliant first-place tie in the "Who is Darker" competition. Even for a Dead Apostle, this would probably be fatal. As long as she played it safe and remained calm. As long as she remained calm...
"...?"
Illya, about to throw a new [Degen], saw flames. Red flames that absolutely did not belong to magecraft clung to the silk threads binding the Dead Apostle's flesh. The Dead Apostle looked utterly bored. Before she could launch her next strike, the threads on his body began to snap one by one.
Illya started to tremble. Her beautiful silver hair, so translucent it could be mistaken for pure white, swayed alongside her skin that brought to mind a snowy landscape. By the way, the move she just used was Illya's highest-damage and highest-control magecraft.
She inhaled, and inhaled, and inhaled. The stiff smile on her face held until the moment the threads vanished with a final snap.
"This is not what was agreed upon........."
Pitiably, the young girl finally screamed in a tantrum of frustration: "Why is the attack power of my formulas so low!!???"
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Emiya Household Internal Power Ranking Reveal: Saber > Rider > Rin > Sakura > Illya
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