“I ask… are you the Master who summoned me?”
When the clear voice echoed through the church hall, Kirei Kotomine’s heart suddenly stopped.
How could this be.
Why did he summon such a “thing.”
Kirei Kotomine questioned with a heavy expression, striking at his inner self.
What appeared before him was definitely not a hero.
In the center of the Holy Church, beneath the splendid and solemn stained glass, stood a monster.
A giant body over two meters tall, with long, twisted horns and sharp fangs on a face like a Demonic Beast.
A particularly striking blue-purple skin, as if a mixture of blueberries and venomous insects.
At the end of its abnormally developed long arms were incomparably sharp long claws.
A pair of terrifying huge wings extended from its back, and a barbed tail dragged on the ground.
“Are you… a demon?”
Staring fixedly at the Servant he had summoned, Kirei Kotomine subconsciously placed his right hand on his chest—where the Black Keys of Exorcism were stored.
Kirei Kotomine was a priest belonging to the Holy Church.
When he was only a teenager, he entered the bloodiest department of the Holy Church, becoming an Executor.
That was a den of Asuras, said to be responsible for crusading against heretics.
To earn the title of Executor meant he was a first-class killer, signifying that he had passed the brutal training to become a human weapon.
After that, Kirei Kotomine naturally slew countless non-human monsters.
Now, the figure appearing in the summoning circle was undoubtedly a demon.
In Type-Moon, demons are a type of Phantasmal Species, belonging to the lowest Rank of Phantasmal Species: Demonic Beast.
However, Rank is by no means equivalent to combat power; the strength of a demon is far beyond that of ordinary Phantasmal Beasts, and they possess the special characteristic of “human-specific attack.”
Exorcising demons generally doesn’t fall under the work of an Executor; it’s usually handled by the Holy Church’s elite Burial Agency—that’s how dangerous demons are as heretics.
“Oh, oh, I apologize. If I startled you, please allow me to apologize, Master.”
Scratching his purplish-blue head, the demon smiled sheepishly.
Although he seemed to want to express an apology, to anyone looking, it was merely the ferocious grin of a devil before devouring a person.
“This is my ability; I can freely change my external appearance. Before being summoned, I had a sudden whim to set my appearance to what my Master might ideally desire, uh… it seems I messed up. That’s strange, how did I turn into a demon? This should have been…”
“Enough.”
Kirei Kotomine’s voice trembled.
“None of that matters… More importantly, who exactly are you?”
What exactly was this guy?
The young priest’s heart felt extremely uneasy: what “thing” was this monster he had summoned based on his compatibility?
Having dealt with heretical beings for many years, Kirei Kotomine concluded in his heart: the Heroic Spirit he had summoned was “something” even worse than a demon.
“Then, let me reintroduce myself. My True Name is—”
Kirei Kotomine swallowed, nervously awaiting the other’s reply, but—
“What did you say…!?”
“So, I don’t know who I am.”
“Although I don’t know my True Name, there was once a name left in newspapers that was believed to be my self-proclaimed title.”
The demon said to the young priest who had summoned him.
He was not Hundred Personas; he was Thousand Personas.
He was not an unnamed Assassin; he was the most famous murderer in human history.
…
…
…
This Heroic Spirit left no name, but there was indeed proof of his existence in this world.
His title was known to all, yet no one knew his true identity.
Appearance, gender, True Name.
No, it was unknown if he was even human.
As a symbol of terror that caused the world to fear, “he,” whose gender was also unclear, was soon imagined in various forms by different people, continuously recorded in countless stories and papers.
Perhaps a doctor,
Perhaps a noble,
Perhaps a prostitute,
Perhaps a butcher,
Perhaps a demon,
Perhaps a monster,
Perhaps a conspiracy,
Perhaps madness.
Moreover, it wasn’t even certain if “he” was a single individual; people, despite their fear, freely depicted his existence—
Until he ascended into a legend.
However, he was not merely a legend; he truly existed.
Only the evidence of his existence was known to all.
The incomparably clear proof of existence was the gruesome corpses of five prostitutes left in Whitechapel, London.
“People call me Jack the Ripper.”
…
…
…
It wouldn’t do for a demon to always stand at the church pulpit, so Jack the Ripper first turned into a cloud of gray mist, then simply vanished from sight.
Kirei Kotomine sat on the bench, gazing at the large crucifix on the wall as he asked.
According to the information he received from his Master, Tōsaka Tokiomi, the Assassin of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War could only be Hassan-i Sabbah.
“Oh, no. My Class is Berserker. Because I am a legend born as a symbol of madness, madness is the only Class whose wavelength aligns with mine.”
“It’s Berserker…?”
Tōsaka Tokiomi had once said that Berserker was a Class that sacrificed reason for combat power.
Yet, the “thing” he had summoned seemed completely rational, no matter how he looked at it.
The events of this night repeatedly shocked Kirei Kotomine, causing him to question his Master’s teachings.
“That’s true, the stats displayed by that demon form earlier wouldn’t be strange even for a Berserker.”
Jack the Ripper, a legend born in modern times whose deeds didn’t even touch upon the heroic, should have been very weak.
But the stats of that demon just now were enough to go toe-to-toe with even the Three Knight Classes.
Looking at his Master, who had regained his composure, Jack the Ripper said in his mind with some surprise: “You’re unexpectedly calm, Master?”
If it were an ordinary human, they would surely be astonished to have summoned a serial killer based on compatibility, yet Kirei Kotomine accepted it easily.
“A former clergyman summoning Jack the Ripper—this is not a joke that can be brushed off with a laugh. To be honest, I also don’t understand why I was summoned by you. Is it because I was summoned by a church?”
After all, when it comes to the enigmatic Jack the Ripper, the only clear associations are prostitutes, dense fog, and churches.
“Who knows?”
Kirei Kotomine changed the subject: “Berserker, what is your wish?”
“Hmm… Although I should tell my Master first, please don’t laugh.”
He hesitated for a moment before answering the priest’s question.
“…Well, who exactly killed the five prostitutes in Whitechapel. That is to say, I want to know who I really am.”
Kirei Kotomine withdrew his gaze from the crucifix.
“Are you troubled… by your true self?”
“Exactly! Oh~ this conversation really feels like confessing to a priest in a church.”
The formless, nameless, infamous murderer spoke in an honest tone.
“The me who appears before you now is merely a legend, not the truth. However, not knowing who you are, and only changing your appearance based on stories and theories woven by people, is a very, very terrifying thing. Although this might be incomprehensible to you, who possess flesh, a name, and a past.”
To Jack the Ripper’s slightly melancholic sigh, the gloomy young priest retorted.
“Boring. What good is knowing your true self?”
Hearing this, Berserker complained in his mind with dissatisfaction.
“…Are you really the son of a priest? You should be comforting me here!”
“Hmph, although I’m disappointed by the childishness of your wish, I still have to thank you. Berserker, you might be the best Servant.”
“Why?”
A slight curve appeared at the corner of Kirei Kotomine’s poker face.
“Because thanks to you, I have a deeper understanding of who I am.”