The atmosphere in the summoning hall gradually settled, though the remnants of overwhelming magical pressure still lingered like a storm that had just passed.
Tohsaka Rin lowered her hand slowly, the glow of the Command Spell fading from her skin. The connection between her and Lancelot had stabilized completely. What stood before her now was no longer a rampaging Berserker—but a restrained, terrifying weapon wrapped in sanity.
Yet even in silence, his presence pressed heavily on the air.
"...Good," Rin muttered under her breath. "This is the version of you I wanted."
Lancelot stood motionless, his posture straight as a spear. Though he could not speak, the lake-blue glow behind his visor flickered faintly, as if acknowledging her words.
Rin crossed her arms, examining him carefully.
"Madness Enhancement at A++… sanity mostly restored, but speech lost. A fair trade." She smirked. "Honestly, you're more reliable like this. Less talking, more action."
"Ugh…"
"That wasn't an insult," Rin added quickly, though her tone remained teasing. "Think of it as… efficiency."
A faint ripple passed through their mental link—something between helplessness and quiet acceptance.
Rin turned slightly, pacing in a slow circle around him.
"Let's establish something clearly, Berserker," she said, her voice sharpening. "You are no longer bound by the failures of your past. Whatever regrets you carry, whatever sins you think define you—they're irrelevant in this war."
She stopped in front of him again, looking up directly into the narrow slit of his helmet.
"You are my Servant now."
The words carried weight—not just authority, but certainty.
"And I," she continued, placing a hand over her chest, "am a Master who does not lose."
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"Ugh."
It was a low sound, but this time, there was clarity behind it. Resolve.
Through the mental link, Rin felt it unmistakably.
Acknowledgment.
Not submission.
Not blind obedience.
But a knight accepting a new lord.
Rin's lips curled slightly.
"Good."
Behind them, Jeanne clicked her tongue.
"Honestly," she muttered, resting her flag against her shoulder, "watching this kind of exchange makes my skin crawl. Loyalty, trust, mutual respect… how boring."
Rin didn't even turn around.
"Jeanne, if you're jealous, you can say so."
"I am not jealous!" Jeanne snapped immediately. "Why would I envy a mute knight in a tin can?!"
"Ugh…"
"…And stop reacting like that!" Jeanne pointed accusingly at Lancelot. "It makes it seem like you understand me!"
Rin chuckled softly.
"Don't worry, Berserker," she said. "You'll get used to her."
"I will not allow that!" Jeanne protested.
Rin ignored her and instead raised her hand again, this time without activating a Command Spell.
"Now then… let's test something."
The air shifted.
A small pulse of magic spread outward from Rin, controlled, precise.
"Draw your weapon."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Clang.
A pitch-black sword manifested at Lancelot's side, as if pulled from the darkness itself.
He grasped it.
The moment his hand closed around the hilt—
A violent surge of energy erupted.
Wind roared through the hall, scattering dust and fragments across the ground. The sheer density of magical power compressed the air, making even breathing feel heavy.
Rin's eyes gleamed.
"Arondight…"
Even without its full release, the sword radiated overwhelming presence.
Lancelot lifted it slightly, the blade reflecting a cold, moonlit sheen.
Perfect control.
No madness.
No hesitation.
Rin exhaled slowly.
"Excellent."
She lowered her hand.
"You're ready."
The storm subsided as quickly as it had appeared.
Silence returned once more.
But this time, it was different.
It was no longer the silence of uncertainty.
It was the calm before battle.
Rin turned toward the exit of the hall.
"Come on, Berserker," she said. "We have a war to win."
A heavy step echoed behind her.
Then another.
The Black Knight followed.
Not as a beast.
But as a blade waiting to be unleashed.
Chapter 49: Servant and Master
Tohsaka Rin let out a deep sigh.
The reinforced summoning was finally complete—but the gap between her and her future self was glaringly obvious.
"At least for now…" she murmured, glancing at her hand, "I can't push you any further."
She looked back at Lancelot.
"You don't have a second class. Your skills aren't at EX across the board. And I still needed a Command Spell at the end."
She clicked her tongue.
"Tch. Annoying."
Lancelot remained silent, but his gaze stayed fixed on her.
Rin straightened.
"…Still, this is more than enough."
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
At just 1.64 meters tall, she looked almost fragile compared to the towering knight before her. She had to tilt her head upward just to meet his eyes.
And yet—
There was no fear in her expression.
Only confidence.
She extended her right hand.
"Welcome, Berserker."
Her voice was steady, clear.
"I am your Master—Tohsaka Rin."
A faint pause.
Then she smiled.
"In this Holy Grail War… we're each other's only reliance."
"Ugh…"
The response was rough, incomplete.
But through the mental link—
He spoke clearly.
Shame.
Lancelot's consciousness trembled with it.
Rin immediately understood.
"You regret not being summoned as Saber."
Silence.
Then—
"…Ugh."
Rin rolled her eyes.
"I deliberately summoned you like this, you know."
She placed a hand on her hip.
"If you came as Saber again, you'd just be another 'strongest class' cliché. Boring."
She stepped closer, her voice sharpening.
"Strength isn't decided by class."
Her eyes burned with conviction.
"Anyone who believes that doesn't understand what power really is."
The air between them tightened.
"Prove them wrong, Berserker."
"Ugh…"
The response this time carried something different.
Determination.
Rin's smile returned.
"That's more like it."
Lancelot slowly raised his armored hand.
There was hesitation.
But also intent.
Rin didn't pull back.
Their hands met.
A cold, iron grip—careful, controlled.
No accidental activation.
No loss of control.
Just a knight… accepting a bond.
Rin's expression softened slightly.
"See? Not so hard."
Through the connection, she felt it.
Trust.
Not complete.
Not unconditional.
But real.
And that was enough.
Behind them—
"Big guy, I'm still here, you know."
Jeanne's voice cut in, laced with irritation.
"Try not to ignore me completely."
Rin sighed.
"Ah, right. The extra."
"I am not an 'extra'!"
Jeanne stepped forward, planting her flag with a loud thud.
"I am Jeanne—the Dragon Witch. A triple-class Servant. Ruler, Avenger, Saber."
She crossed her arms, glaring up at Lancelot.
"Frontline combat is your job. Mine is to stay hidden."
A pause.
"And don't let Master die before we're burned together."
"…Ugh?"
Jeanne frowned.
"…What did he say?"
Rin didn't hesitate.
"He said it's fine if only you get burned. Just don't drag me into it."
"WHAT?!"
"Ugh—!"
Lancelot's reaction was immediate—slightly panicked.
Jeanne pointed accusingly.
"See?! That reaction means he didn't say that!"
Rin shrugged innocently.
"Hmm. Must've misheard."
"Master!"
Rin smirked.
"Oh, and now he says you're short."
"…I refuse to believe that."
"And he's calling you 'Little Beanpole.'"
"MASTER!!!"
"Ugh…"
Despite everything—
For the first time since his summoning—
The Black Knight felt something unfamiliar stir within him.
Not rage.
Not guilt.
But something… lighter.
And in that fleeting moment—
The war ahead no longer felt like a path of punishment.
But something else entirely.
---------------------------------
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