Epilogue: Querying the Status of the True Sword Group
To tell the story, this is something that happened several hours ago.
"Even if it is a game played on a whim, I am indeed quite interested. I wonder if the noble hero once lauded as the King of the Knights of the Round Table can follow instructions to 'slaughter a defenseless woman.' ——Well, it doesn't matter; the summoning is almost complete. I am only tens of seconds away from summoning that King of Knights, so just wait and see."
A magus whom no one recognized shouted these words.
Perhaps some might feel today was just another day of fighting through the ranks without even learning the names of their opponents. But for Ayaka Sajyou, today was the day she was easily apprehended by this person.
The magus, who was supposed to be a Master, captured her, tossed her aside bound hand and foot, and proceeded to the altar set upon the stage to begin chanting the incantation.
Ayaka Sajyou, she was... probably her? An ordinary person who didn't even understand how she had been swept into this chaos.
Aside from the pseudo-Command Spells covering her body, Ayaka was a "human" utterly devoid of the power to resist from head to toe. If she were anything else, she probably wouldn't be waiting here hopelessly for death.
"Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation────"
"Let the ancestor be my great master ╳╳╳╳╳╳──────"
The countdown to Ayaka's neck being snapped by a mystic code began to tick away.
Looking back at Ayaka's experience from a god's-eye view: first, she was forced by that strange Einzbern woman to act as a pawn and sent here; then she was taken in by a magus, only to be used as an execution tool. In a far-off place, the True Caster's Master, Francesca, was observing and communicating via transmission.
What does it mean to say Ayaka is the undisputed champion of the "Misery Olympics"?
"The descending winds shall be a wall to let the four gates close──────"
An inexplicable resonance stirred within her, originating from the five tattoos on the inside of her body.
Ayaka felt an unbearable heat and shifted her gaze uneasily; that was when she saw it.
A ghost-like woman, clad in a black robe, appeared some distance behind the magus.
Her gait was unsteady, and blood was still dripping from her body.
Ayaka actually wanted to scream, but what use would screaming be? So, Ayaka desperately suppressed her instincts.
"Emerge from the Ring of Deterrence, O' Guardian of the Scales...?"
The magus froze mid-sentence and turned his head. This was because, in that instant, the woman in black erupted with an intense "presence" that reminded Ayaka of death itself.
It was almost enough to make one wonder how she had concealed such a massive and dense aura just moments before. Ayaka sensed through instinct the vast disparity in the scale of existence between this person and the magus.
The magus and the woman stared at each other, and the expression on his face was spectacular.
There was the panic of seeing a Servant, alongside the relief of knowing his own Servant had already been summoned; he only needed to hold out for a few more seconds to survive.
The magus raised his hands in a defensive stance.
However, the black-clad woman merely spoke with a mechanical expression:
"[Zabaniyah - Delusional Heartbeat]"
"?"
A red arm burst out from her back and lunged across.
The magus didn't even realize what had happened; he only perceived a palm with a single finger unfolding inches away from his chest.
It didn't even bother to retract.
A heart manifested directly within the palm, and then it was crushed quite ordinarily.
In the pathetic state of not even knowing how he had died, the magus spat blood, his body finally growing cold.
The fanatic's Noble Phantasm killed the enemy plainly, normally, and as usual. It didn't even take a second. It was so easy it made the nameless assassin wonder if the fellow who had effortlessly hacked her palm to pieces several hours ago was an illusionary spirit.
The so-called "safety after holding out for a few seconds"—that sort of thing can only be done as a joke by heroes who are not inferior to the records of the Throne.
The moment the magus lost his breath, the rope-like mystic codes binding Ayaka's body also shattered and fell away. However, like a frog pinned by a snake's gaze, Ayaka didn't dare move a single step.
She kept her eyes down as much as possible, hoping to wait it out until the woman passed by.
But when the nameless assassin stepped out of the shadows, Ayaka's eyes widened in disbelief.
The black-clad woman had a deep wound in her chest. Blood had stained her robes a vivid scarlet. Furthermore, the robes were tattered, covered in unnatural bloodstains and gashes.
The clothing on her left arm was unnaturally missing. When Ayaka focused her mind to observe, she finally found the breath-taking answer in the gaps of the cloth.
The female Servant was missing her left arm from the palm down to the depth of the wrist.
In a state of heavy injury, she had mechanically reaped the life of the Master who intended to use Ayaka as a sacrifice.
Who had cut such a terrifying figure—one capable of instant-killing a magus—into this state?
For a moment, what Ayaka felt was not confusion over the Servant's heavy injuries, but fear toward the higher existence that had cut her down like this.
The black-clad woman walked with a blunt gait, as if enduring ascetic training, and then spoke:
"...Are you a magus seeking the Holy Grail?"
Ayaka swallowed hard.
Just as she was about to speak, the magic circle on the altar lit up with a blinding light.
As the light gradually faded, a vividly colored figure remained on the scene.
Indeed, it was a young man with blonde hair, his entire body wrapped in majestic attire.
Ayaka could feel an intense aura of "death" from the woman in black. By contrast, the man who emerged from the radiance possessed an extraordinary "heat," something no ordinary person had.
The man looked like an uninvited guest who had wandered onto a theater stage; after carefully scanning the surroundings, he rested his chin on his hand and said:
"This is truly a strange sight."
Then, his gaze locked onto the only existence present of the same nature as himself.
"Miss Servant... oh, you are in a state of heavy injury."
He widened his eyes slightly as if expressing surprise, then returned to normal.
"I'd quite like to meet the Servant who cut you up like this."
As if the story had deviated from its original path, Ayaka felt a premonition like a train hurtling toward a direction where no tracks existed.
"Are you a Servant who has come here in pursuit of the Holy Grail?"
Looking closely, Ayaka noticed the nameless assassin was breathing heavily.
The way she broadcasted the aura of "death" was like an engine at full throttle, burning itself out at the end of its rope. Faced with the invisible flame of this unknown person in his true prime, her dense aura seemed like a hollow shell.
After hesitating for a long time, she finally used the vocabulary she had been instilled with:
"Saber."
The Servant—the golden Saber—did not show any negligence; he thought very seriously and then replied:
"If I had to say, I don't have an overly massive wish. But it would certainly be best if I could obtain it."
The moment he finished speaking, the red arm shot forward like a cannonball. But the man used the decorative sword at his side to parry it away quite easily.
"Oh dear, you're impatient again. In your current state, you possess neither the power to threaten me nor the ability to escape. In that case, shouldn't you plan more carefully? Besides, your original target didn't seem to be me, did it? It's as if you just happened to be passing by, felt you couldn't sit idly by, and came in."
'Is it really okay to ignore your original goal?'
The nameless assassin went silent.
The man with the reddish-blonde hair ignored her directly and turned to Ayaka. Every movement he made grandly indicated that the nameless assassin in her current state was merely someone he could deal with at any time.
"I ask, art thou my Master?"
The blonde man spoke, reaching out his hand as if his whole body were glowing:
"Or rather, may I take you as my Master? Please, form a contract with me."
Ayaka: "No."
Richard: ...
Ayaka: ...
The atmosphere came to a sudden halt. After a moment, the blonde man showed a slightly hurt, awkward smile.
"To think I am so untrusted... it truly makes one sad."
He, undoubtedly a handsome man, drew his sword and stood up. Just when Ayaka thought he was going to cut her down, he faced the nameless assassin instead.
'So why, even after being rejected, does this big shot still look so happy on his own? Is he mentally stable?'
The nameless assassin, as if having found her answer, faced Saber directly. The atmosphere in the room was on a hair-trigger.
"I have made up my mind, Saber. Though I hesitated for a moment, upon careful thought, it is not a problem at all. If I lose and die, my link to that filthy magical energy will be severed; if I win, I will purge you. Even if this body likely cannot defeat you—I must crush the pagan who believes in the Holy Grail."
The black-clad woman had sorted everything out and made her resolve.
Ayaka didn't know that her answer just now had caused the nameless assassin to exclude her as a target. She was no longer the object of murderous intent.
However, that immediately ceased to matter.
Servant Saber furrowed his brows playfully.
He replied innocently:
"No, no one present believes in the Holy Grail, do they? If you're referring to religion, I have my faith, but if the Holy Grail is a physical object, isn't obtaining it just like winning a ten-million-dollar prize in a grand competition?"
He asked plainly, as if he truly had a question:
"Why must one believe in it?"
The nameless assassin looked on in disbelief, the expression on her face shifting constantly.
Finally...
She fell flat on her face with a thud, appearing somewhat dead.
"Um, what happened to that woman with her face on the ground?"
Ayaka pointed to the lump on the floor.
"Just call me Saber."
The Heroic Spirit, realizing Ayaka wanted to address him but couldn't find the words, gave her a suitable title.
He replied plainly and as if it were only natural:
"Her injuries were too heavy, and she went too long without recovery. Her bodily functions simply reached their limit."
"Is she okay?"
Even though Ayaka's own situation was someone who was struggling to save herself, she still wanted to ask.
"Ah, she's probably fine."
The Heroic Spirit of the Sword, like a child playing with ants, poked at the woman's black robe with his decorative sword.
From Ayaka's perspective, it looked like an innocent offense, but from the Heroic Spirit's perspective, it was different.
—Sword wounds. Sharp technique, decisive execution, clear suppression.
In that instant of inspection, he obtained information that Ayaka could not see. He began to laugh with great interest and followed up on his previous answer casually:
"If she were in a Masterless state, she would definitely be on the verge of fading away, but that isn't actually the case. She has a Master; it's just that she is extremely resistant to the magical energy link with them. To put it simply, the fact that her injuries haven't recovered for several hours is an abnormal situation caused by her own doing."
And once she lost consciousness, the suppressed magical energy link would return to normal, meaning she would slowly recover from her wounds.
'Excellent. In this Holy Grail War journey, I want to meet this expert!'
The Golden Saber—King Richard the Lionheart, who had finally descended into this Holy Grail War—began to explain to Ayaka tirelessly.
"So."
Ayaka hadn't realized yet that an absent, innocent person had casually tossed her a massive problem.
"How do you plan to handle that 'lump' over there?"
"Ahaha..."
Ayaka finally reacted, her mouth twitching incessantly. She covered her face, sitting in a fetal position, and let out a dry laugh that sounded like she was about to cry.
In the perfectly intact opera house, where only three people remained.