[Let it be filled. Let it be filled. Let it be filled.]
[Repeating in cycles—next, the number is five.]
[Here, with silver and iron as the foundation; with stone and the Grand Duke of Contracts as proof—]
[Let walls be raised for the winds that descend. Let the path of the crowned trident be sealed. Let the fourfold crossroads be opened.]
[I, by the name of the idol—Solomon, King of Mages—establish the realm of truth's mystic boundary.]
[I open the gate of magecraft. Returning again and again—circling endlessly.]
With the ritual triggered, complex and arcane incantations echoed through the black cavern, repeating like a spell cast by the world itself.
Ritsuka's throat worked rapidly through the prepared chant. At the same time, he hurled every refined magical material he'd gathered into the circle.
The intricate pattern beneath his feet flared to life—then torrents of mana surged like rivers rushing to the sea, pouring toward the golden dagger embedded at the very center of the formation.
He knew the Grail wasn't truly full yet. So he had prepared extra mana as an emergency supply, determined not to let something as trivial as "insufficient magical energy" sabotage a Servant summoning that mattered this much.
[—I declare:]
[Your body is beneath me. My fate is entrusted to your staff.]
[By the will of the Holy Grail, by its summons—if you follow this principle, this will, then you must answer.]
Once the circle's mana supply stabilized and his earlier invocation clearly took effect, Ritsuka raised his hand and began the next portion—the heavier, more complicated core of the ritual.
[Here I swear.]
[I am one who accomplishes all the good deeds of this world.]
[I am one who conveys all the malice of this world.]
At that point, Ritsuka suddenly felt the ritual seize his entire mana flow. Even his Magic Circuits screamed—sharp pain threading through every channel.
He clenched his teeth, letting the torrent continue, and forced the final section out with absolute clarity:
[Seven days bound by the great words of power—]
[Cross the wheel of suppression and come forth, Guardian of the Scales!]
[Here, I swear by my true name—life as my pledge, soul as my proof!]
[I call upon the sovereign of the British Isles—]
[The witch from the far reaches of the ancient Age of Gods!]
[If this contract is formed, I will give my heart and soul to you—]
[Never betray you, share our wish, and partake in the Holy Grail together!]
[—I beg you: answer!]
"An additional chant?" Zouken's voice tightened. "A designated summoning?"
At the moment he heard those appended lines, Matou Zouken's pupils contracted. A flicker of surprise crossed his murky gaze.
Even he hadn't expected Ritsuka's research to run this deep—to the point of rewriting and attaching incantation structures for special effects.
But doing something like that meant the mana cost had already exceeded the Grail War's "normal" expense.
And doing it before the Grail was full?
That was dancing on a blade. One slip could mean serious harm—possibly irreversible damage.
In Zouken's eyes, it was pure recklessness.
And reality proved him right.
The instant the appended chant ended, the "output" of mana circulating through Ritsuka's body slammed into its limit. What remained was sheer grit—teeth clenched, refusing to collapse.
Then—when the final words fell into place—
A terrifying surge of mana detonated inside the summoning circle.
A flash of blinding white erupted, followed by scorching magical heat and crackling lightning.
A violent wind whipped through the cavern and surged toward Ritsuka like a living thing. Even Zouken—watching from the side—had to narrow his eyes against the force.
Yet despite the chaos, the circle beneath Ritsuka didn't break.
It became sharper.
The light flowing through the lines deepened into a more profound, darker brilliance—
A clear sign that he had successfully established a connection to the target Heroic Spirit.
And still he didn't stop.
Instead, he forced even more mana into it—acting as proof that the vow he'd just made—"I will give myself to you"—wasn't an empty line. He wanted the one he was summoning to see his resolve with her own eyes.
"He really is insane…" Zouken muttered, his brow knitting with a rare seriousness.
"So it's only a Grail summon… and yet the brat is carrying this level of determination."
The next second, as if moved by that resolve—or as if understanding it—the space before the circle warped.
From the white light, a slender figure wrapped in enormous mana slowly took shape.
A witch from the Age of Gods crossed the distant boundary of the ancient mystic realm and finally descended into this place.
She took one step forward.
And with hands pale as jade, she gently supported Ritsuka's body—already drained to the brink.
A voice, clear yet sultry in a contradictory way, drifted into Ritsuka's ears and lingered there:
"What a reckless man… to casually offer such an excessive vow to a witch."
"But your promise—and your resolve—I have received them."
Her fingertips traced his cheek with faint, teasing possession.
"Then we shall proceed according to that agreement."
"Your soul. Your life."
"They are already mine, my Master."
With elegant composure, she inclined her head and introduced herself as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Class: Caster."
"Morgan le Fay, the Witch of the British Isles—answering your summons."
"We meet again at last, my dear Master."
"…It worked."
Ritsuka—dazed, his entire body empty—slowly raised his head.
His gaze collided with eyes that held an uncanny light… and a face so beautiful it felt like a blow.
At the moment he confirmed that the witch he had wished for truly stood before him, the tension in his mouth finally eased, and a genuine smile rose—unforced, from the heart.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty."
"I won't disappoint you."
"Then I shall look forward to it," Morgan said, not prying further.
She smiled, lifted a hand, and gently ruffled his hair—already soaked with sweat. There was even a faint softness hidden in her tone.
"But you look terrible," she asked. "Should I take you somewhere to rest first?"
"No. Not yet…" Ritsuka shook his head.
Rest could wait.
There was something more important.
He looked past Morgan—toward Zouken in the distance—and his voice turned colder than ice:
"This request may be presumptuous… but I have a wish."
"I humbly ask Your Majesty to grant it."
"Oh?" Morgan's tone rose slightly, amused—eyes sparkling with curious interest. She didn't immediately accept, but she didn't refuse either.
"Go on."
"Your Majesty," Ritsuka said, words blunt as a guillotine, eyes utterly without warmth, "please kill that old monster."
"Completely."
"Erase him so thoroughly that he has no chance to revive."
"That thing may be hiding a secret that could decide the entire course of this Grail War."
"…"
Under those "filial" words—meeting Morgan's smiling gaze that nonetheless carried cold light—
Zouken felt something absurd happen:
His long-dead heart… seemed to beat a few times.
If anyone asked where that heartbeat came from, he would grit his teeth and answer:
It was beaten out of him by Ritsuka's good grandson's "filial piety."
Just moments after taking the relic and summoning a patron, he flipped the table.
Truly his descendant—"filial" to the extreme, performing the way of "filial piety" as if it were an art form.
…
It was never an equal fight.
So the result came in an instant.
"Looks like we still didn't truly kill him…" Ritsuka said afterward, staring at the direction where Zouken dispersed into insects—his expression tinged with regret.
Just now, Morgan had used the overwhelming might of a divine-era magus to crush Zouken once—he had no ability to resist.
But unfortunately, it still wasn't a real kill.
Because it wasn't his true body.
As Morgan ended him, Zouken only offered a sinister smile—then that rotten form once again dissolved into countless flying insects, scattering through the cavern.
Still, Ritsuka wasn't overly disappointed.
If the old worm were that easy to kill, he'd have gone to hell long ago—instead of clinging on until now.
But…
There were things Ritsuka couldn't figure out.
More than killing Zouken on the spot (a fantasy), he wanted to know what hidden change Zouken was carrying.
The current "old worm" seemed unchanged on the surface… yet in certain ways he felt utterly different from the Zouken of Ritsuka's childhood memories.
This time, Ritsuka had hoped to force out clues in their confrontation.
Yet Zouken would rather lose a painstakingly made body than reveal a single thread.
That made Ritsuka irritated—frustrated.
He lowered his head, thinking:
What secret? What twist of fate?
What kind of "change" could make Zouken hide this deeply—staying in the shadows, refusing to be found, even at that cost?
Ritsuka smelled conspiracy.
While he stood there frowning in thought, Morgan stepped in front of him.
She leaned down, gazing into his face, and smiled.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly. "Is something troubling you again, my little Master?"
Ritsuka's brow tightened further.
He still couldn't point to anything concrete…
But something felt off.
Morgan's concern.
Her tone.
That serene smile on her breathtaking face—
It made him wonder:
Was she truly the Witch of the Isle, Morgan, as the legends said?
No matter how he looked, she unquestionably was.
And yet… his heart still insisted there was a strange dissonance he couldn't explain.
And that led him to a more unsettling thought—
What exactly is happening to this world?
Is this really the "normal" timeline of Fate/Zero that he remembers?
Which worldline is this?
Why does it feel like so many parts of this world… are wrong?
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 80)
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 (Chapter35)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter35)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter35)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter35)
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