The night vanished in the blink of an eye, and before long, day returned.
On Mount Enzō—
After the madness of last night, Ritsuka dragged his thoroughly exhausted body back to the place he'd chosen as his base: Ryūdō Temple.
On the way, Marshal Gilles—ever considerate—had even asked whether Ritsuka wanted to be carried or piggybacked, but the moment Ritsuka pictured himself being princess-carried or slung over someone's shoulder, a profound sense of wrongness washed over him.
He'd taken some injuries, sure, but nothing fatal. Kayneth's magecraft was absurd, but Ritsuka wasn't helpless either. Even against a fully prepared Lord, he'd relied on his Mystic Eyes to intercept everything Kayneth threw at him—and even managed some solid counterattacks.
More than that, he'd witnessed Kayneth's official end with his own eyes, along with the handover between two generations of El-Melloi. The slaughter and pressure of the night left Ritsuka with far more to think about than he expected.
And he'd gained new information—information he hadn't anticipated.
First: the Einzberns.
Just as he'd suspected, the reason he couldn't dig up any trace of Kiritsugu Emiya wasn't because his intelligence-gathering was lacking, nor because the Einzberns were hiding too well.
It was because Kiritsugu Emiya simply did not exist.
But compared to that, the silver knight-servant had shaken him far more.
The memories Sixth Singularity had left behind were too vivid to forget—the silver arm, the journey to return the holy sword.
He never would've imagined that, in a war where Kiritsugu didn't appear, he would instead run into Bedivere.
When he saw Bedivere blocking Iskandar's advance, Ritsuka genuinely could not understand why.
Then again, when the Holy Grail War itself had already mutated into this kind of monstrosity, he knew there was no point trying to reason it all out.
Still—Bedivere's presence had been a massive help.
Because if that charge hadn't been stopped—if the Conqueror King had truly broken through and gone straight for Irisviel—Ritsuka would've been forced to burn a Command Spell to summon Morgan, exposing the fact that he was fielding two Servants.
Even so, while most of the night's developments were broadly within expectation, Ritsuka had also made mistakes.
He had never fought like this before. And on top of that, Kayneth's resolve—his strange, burning will to fight—had infected him. Without realizing it, Ritsuka had gotten carried away.
In that moment, he genuinely wanted to settle things head-on with Kayneth, fair and square.
And because of that, when Emiya Assassin deployed his Noble Phantasm, Ritsuka didn't have time to respond properly.
If Cú Chulainn hadn't dropped from the sky when he did, Ritsuka would've had no choice but to use a Command Spell to call Morgan—fully revealing the "two Servants" reality.
He'd prepared for Hundred Faces Hassan. That Assassin's Noble Phantasm and capabilities weren't top-tier; even as a Servant, killing Ritsuka quickly with mere clones wouldn't be easy.
If it had been Hundred Faces, Ritsuka was confident he could've held.
But he hadn't expected some red Assassin to crawl out of a roadside bush.
Ritsuka would admit it: when the smoke rose, the bullets started flying, and that red figure appeared, his heart had jolted.
Even activating the countermeasures he'd laid down for Hundred Faces wouldn't have stopped Emiya Assassin at that speed.
He'd been hit by a pure information-gap ambush.
Fortunately, he'd escaped without catastrophe. Because Cú Chulainn intervened, Emiya Assassin switched targets at the last second. The Origin Bullet didn't hit Ritsuka, and he never spent a Command Spell.
But Kayneth's end…
That, in the end, still felt like the world snapping shut into a familiar shape.
No matter how thoroughly Kayneth prepared this time, no matter how seriously he fought—he still died to the Origin Bullet, just as in Ritsuka's memories.
Because the one holding the gun this time wasn't Kiritsugu Emiya.
It was Emiya Assassin.
Kayneth could be strengthened in every way and still remain human—while Emiya Assassin had simply stopped playing by human rules.
Noble Phantasm first, then Origin Bullets to the face. Under a surprise strike and an information disadvantage like that, even Servants could slip.
So Kayneth didn't die cheaply.
If anything, compared to the humiliation of his original end, this death at least came in battle. He left words behind for Waver. He passed the torch of "Lord El-Melloi II."
They were enemies—but Kayneth's final will, and the things he said, still moved Ritsuka.
Because Ritsuka had felt it from him:
That same stubborn refusal to accept fate.
That same unyielding—
Resolve.
And yet, watching Kayneth fall to such a method still left Ritsuka with a bitter, complicated ache.
Kayneth's rebellion had failed.
But Ritsuka's rebellion was not over.
So what would his ending be?
He didn't know.
And he didn't need to know.
All he needed was to do what he believed was right—right now.
The future could judge him later.
For now, he would seize victory where he could—
And finish his revenge.
"You look exhausted, Ritsuka."
As Ritsuka entered Ryūdō Temple and dropped onto a stone bench outside, a strange, pleasant fragrance drifted to him—followed by warm hands covering his eyes.
"Yeah…" Ritsuka closed his eyes beneath that warmth and exhaled. "Last night was… a little intense."
"Kayneth was strong. Even with the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception, I couldn't beat him easily. His will—and how prepared he was—honestly shocked me."
Morgan, who'd placed a spell-tool on him, had witnessed Kayneth's strength as well.
She hadn't been there in person, but given that half the Einzbern castle had been carved apart by Volumen Hydrargyrum and the forest below had been reduced to ruin, it wasn't hard to imagine.
"But he's dead, isn't he?" Morgan's voice was calm. "And besides…"
She lowered her hands, then slid an arm around Ritsuka's head, pulling him against her.
"Why did you refuse to let me sortie?"
"That's because… I thought I could handle it. Even if Hundred Faces Hassan was lurking, they couldn't kill me outright. So I figured it was better to conserve strength and not expose you…"
"Wrong," Morgan murmured, her arm tightening slightly around his neck as she leaned close—beautiful face appearing over his shoulder. "You're lying, Ritsuka."
Ritsuka stiffened.
Morgan's eyes—clear as lakewater—held a knowing smile.
"You were worried about me, weren't you? You were worried that if I met that Arthur, it would spark something… that I'd be hurt. Isn't that right?"
"…I can't deny that," Ritsuka sighed, no longer bothering to hide it. "Even though you said you've already let it go, and that this Arthur isn't your sister… I still think some things are better left untested."
He looked up into her eyes and spoke softly.
"Because it would still be a kind of harm. Right?"
"Mm." Morgan's gaze rippled, and she smiled faintly. She pinched his cheek and teased, "You're awfully good at winning girls over. You must be popular."
"Quit joking, Morgan." Ritsuka rubbed his forehead in defeat. "I don't have time to win anyone over, and I'm not popular."
Then he added with a straight face, "Also, could you stop hugging my head like you don't care what happens below the neck? I keep getting this vivid mental image of you cutting my throat and walking off with my head."
"I'm just practicing," Morgan replied serenely. "Don't mind it."
Ritsuka's expression froze.
"…Practicing?"
Practicing what, exactly?
How to cut my head off? Or how to carry it away afterward?
But Morgan only gave him a meaningfully amused smile.
"You guess."
"…No." Ritsuka deadpanned. "You guess whether I'll guess."
"I'm not guessing," she said, and pinched his cheek again.
Not far away, Gilles de Rais—who had returned with Ritsuka and completed his role flawlessly—watched the scene and felt, quite abruptly, like an outsider.
Is a three-person team always this crowded?
Why do I feel so unnecessary?
He sighed, helpless.
And yet, when he looked at the two of them, what he felt most was… relief.
He knew it wasn't Saint Jeanne. He'd already told himself not to place his faith in someone else just because they wore the same face.
But seeing it with his own eyes still brought him a strange, vicarious sense of salvation.
Watching this woman—who shared Jeanne's features—smile and feel safe, it was as though something in him had been soothed.
A familiar silhouette overlapped in his mind, and he found himself thinking—
If only I could have protected her in life… if only she could have been happy like this…
Gilles didn't interrupt.
He could tell Ritsuka was exhausted, and any intelligence consolidation could wait until he'd rested.
So he lifted his banner-spear, returned to the temple gate, and took up his post.
As long as he stood guard here, no one would disturb Ritsuka's sleep.
…
"So," Iskandar asked, "have you got anything resembling an operational plan now, little Master?"
Within Kayneth's former position, now that Kayneth was dead, the already cramped space felt strangely hollow—its atmosphere bleak and cold.
Iskandar brought Waver back here. He looked at the small figure who had been arranging Kayneth's body and had not spoken a single word since returning.
"…A plan?" Waver forced a smile and tried to joke as he turned around. "Didn't think you'd ever ask for my opinion. I figured you'd wait for nightfall and just go knocking on doors until someone answered. So you can listen, huh?"
"Kid." Iskandar's tone was blunt, but not harsh. "I may be confident, but I'm not arrogant. Before, I didn't listen because you hadn't made your resolve yet."
"But you're different now."
"Now that you've taken that step, I'm willing to hear you out."
His voice trailed off—
because he caught the tremor in Waver's words, that thin edge of sobbing.
Iskandar's tone softened.
"Alright. Stop forcing it."
"If you want to cry, then cry."
"Even men cry. It's only natural."
"Even I, once upon a time, howled alone in my tent at night when a comrade died."
"Idiot, Rider… I'm not…"
Waver's voice broke.
"It's just… sand in my eyes…"
The words were pitifully thin.
And then the tears came—large drops slipping down his cheeks like pearls, one after another.
Not long ago, he'd been resentful that his teacher refused to believe him. He'd thought Kayneth was no different from the people who bullied him.
And now this.
He had inherited his teacher's Crest. He had inherited his teacher's name.
What was he supposed to do now?
Everything he'd once craved was suddenly in front of him—
And Waver couldn't feel even a trace of joy.
Only crushing pressure.
Only pain so heavy it felt like it would snap what remained of his nerves.
"Mm. I know," Iskandar said.
He patted Waver's head, trying—clumsily, honestly—to offer some comfort.
"Rider…" Waver's voice trembled. "I'm really scared…"
He held out a little longer, but between the shock of his teacher's death and the burden of responsibility, his fragile heart—and his small body—couldn't take it anymore.
He buried himself against the Conqueror King's chest and sobbed aloud, his tears blurring the world.
"Don't be afraid," Iskandar murmured, steady as stone. "I'm here."
He took off his cloak and draped it over Waver's shoulders.
And then he stopped talking.
He simply stayed.
…
At the Einzbern estate—
After searching for a long time without finding any trace of Bedivere, Saber could only return—helplessly—to what remained of the castle.
Irisviel hurried up to question him, but Saber could only shake his head again.
Seeing that, her arms fell.
No matter how she looked at it, the man who had cared for her—Mr. Lucius—was almost certainly gone.
Perhaps even his body had been annihilated in the battle.
For Irisviel, who had come to see Lucius as family, the pain was beyond words.
Saber lowered his head in silence, eyes filled with suffering.
To him, everything that happened last night was his fault.
He hadn't been strong enough to finish Diarmuid quickly. Instead he'd been suppressed, and events spiraled out from there.
He'd trusted others. He'd made the wrong call.
And things became this.
However he looked at it—
It was his fault.
He should have foreseen it.
He shouldn't have been blindly confident in his own strength.
Because of that arrogance, Lucius died.
Because of that arrogance, Irisviel nearly died as well.
If Gilles de Rais hadn't intervened to block Diarmuid's Noble Phantasm—
If the Master named Fujimaru Ritsuka hadn't saved Irisviel—
Then their side would have been wiped out entirely.
The more Saber contemplated that outcome, the more the pain tightened in his chest.
But when he looked at Irisviel—who could barely hold herself together—he found he couldn't comfort her.
And he couldn't cry like she did.
Because the war was not over.
He was a knight.
A king.
A pillar.
He could not show weakness.
All he could do was make them pay.
And the group that had killed Lucius—
was Iskandar's.
That debt, no matter what, he would settle.
After he fulfilled what he had promised—
he would face the Conqueror King and bring it to an end.
When Irisviel's sobs finally quieted, Saber offered her a handkerchief.
They exchanged no unnecessary words, but they had no choice except to think of what came next.
Saber spoke first.
"Master—about the plan proposed by the boy named Ritsuka, and his Servant… what do you think?"
"…Ritsuka." Irisviel immediately recalled the black-haired boy who had saved her from Kayneth—and the proposal he'd made in the aftermath.
He was Berserker's Master.
Because this Holy Grail War had too many monsters in it, and because other Servants were almost certainly forming covert alliances, Gilles de Rais alone would struggle to win head-on confrontations.
So Ritsuka wanted to cooperate with the Einzberns first—to counter their enemies together.
There were uncertainties in his words.
But his actions had saved them. That was undeniable.
Gilles had supported Saber.
Ritsuka had protected Irisviel.
Both were real, tangible debts.
So Irisviel didn't hesitate. She chose to trust the boy who had saved her.
"I want to accept the alliance," she said seriously. "What do you think, Saber?"
"I agree," Saber replied, nodding. "Strategically—and morally."
Both strategy and obligation demanded it.
Ritsuka and Gilles had done them a great service. Saber had to repay it.
And Ritsuka was right: in this Grail War, every participant was vicious. They'd already been willing to form alliances and launch a night raid on the very first evening.
If it happened again, Saber wasn't confident he could protect Irisviel alone.
And the boy named Ritsuka had already proven his character—and his capability—through deeds.
Saber was willing to believe him.
Decision made, Saber nodded and continued.
"Then we should go to the agreed location. The boy said—if we accept, we meet at noon and discuss terms."
"Master… will you come as well?"
"I will," Irisviel answered immediately, voice firm. "I'm going too, Saber."
"I'll fight with you."
"I'll do my part—so we can avenge Mr. Lucius."
"…Very well." This time Saber didn't try to stop her. He only nodded, and his hand silently settled on the hilt at his waist.
"Then the next battle will be our counterattack."
He would fight without holding anything back.
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 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 85)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter85)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter81)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter60)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter66)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 40
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 50
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