Meanwhile, atop Mount Enzou at Ryuudou Temple.
“What a pathetic, third-rate workshop.” The exact second she stepped through the grand temple gates, Illya offered a scathing, aristocratic critique with her delicate little mouth.
Crossing her slender arms over her flat chest with an exaggerated pout, she exhibited zero self-awareness of being a captured prisoner of war.
Perhaps she had simply abandoned all hope.
Having been stripped of her Servant and eliminated from the Holy Grail War, her artificially engineered lifespan meant she had barely a few days left to draw breath anyway no torture or imprisonment could possibly be worse than the grim fate awaiting her.
Operating under that fatalistic realization, Illya’s emotional state was surprisingly relaxed.
Besides, the purple-lipped witch in the dark cowl who had stabbed her twice with that repulsive dagger looked infuriating no matter how you sliced it.
Since she obviously lacked the physical strength to brawl, indulging in venomous verbal retaliation was her only remaining outlet.
Due to extreme time constraints—and because Surtr’s personal combat prowess was more than sufficient to obliterate any intruder—Medea hadn’t bothered setting up elaborate bounded fields or decadent interior furnishings at Ryuudou Temple.
Compared to the fortified citadel in the original timeline, calling the current workshop ‘shabby’ was technically accurate.
However, the blatant mockery dripping from Illya’s silver tongue was clearly manufactured with the sole intention of driving Medea into a rage.
“Master, may I have permission to anatomically disassemble this insolent brat?” Unsurprisingly, the Age of Gods witch was thoroughly provoked.
“Hmm…
let’s pass on that.” Surtr shook her head.
Even without the system commission in play, butchering a defenseless child went entirely against her principles.
Turning her violet eyes toward Illya, Surtr offered a calm word of caution “You’d better tone down the attitude, little girl.
If she truly dissects you in her workshop and fails to assemble you back together, I won’t be able to help you.” “Your ultimate goal is the Lesser Grail, isn’t it?” Illya scoffed, though her voice carried a subtle tremor.
The Lesser Grail embedded in her body was the only asset worth coveting.
“If you don’t fancy waking up tomorrow with a few redundant organs implanted into your stomach, you had best behave yourself.” Medea delivered a menacing threat that sounded straight out of a classic cartoon villain’s playbook.
Thinking about it, their faction had acted remarkably villainous today.
No matter how you analyzed the narrative framing, Iskandar and Heracles had played the valiant shonen protagonists fighting against an overwhelming dark lord.
Though the protagonists had gotten completely flattened, of course.
Hearing Medea’s sinister threat, Illya subconsciously clutched her abdomen and took half a step backward, looking genuinely terrified.
Beneath her dark hood, the corners of Medea’s purple lips curled into a thoroughly satisfied smirk.
‘Taking such immense joy in tormenting a brat…
Medea, your sense of humor is truly twisted.’ Surtr mused with a wry mental shake of her head.
Still, she wasn’t worried that Medea would actually harm the girl for all her petty sadism, the witch executed Surtr’s orders with absolute fidelity.
“By the way, do you have a feasible treatment for her biological condition?” Surtr asked, pivoting to practical matters.
She remembered from the canon lore that Illya’s physical body had been drastically altered to serve as the Grail’s vessel, leaving her with an extremely truncated lifespan.
When Surtr had scooped her up earlier, the girl felt as light as a feather—possessing nowhere near the healthy weight of an eighteen-year-old.
“That can only be determined following a comprehensive magical examination.
Master, do you genuinely intend to preserve her life?” “Yes.
Is there any technical obstacle?” “None at all, since it is your command.” Medea maintained an indifferent demeanor.
If her Master wished to save a stray homunculus, examining the girl was merely a trivial side project.
“I’ll leave the details in your hands then.
Though speaking of which…
aren’t you shouldering far too many duties lately?” A sudden realization struck Surtr.
Purifying the Greater Grail, extracting the Lesser Grail vessel, biologically restructuring Illya, modifying Avalon, and occasionally providing high-tier fire support during street brawls…
And Surtr couldn’t assist with any of the intricate thaumaturgical work.
Framed that way, Surtr’s only daily responsibility was picking which enemy Servant to smash next—which was practically a vacation.
While maximizing personnel efficiency was standard management, Surtr couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
“How about taking the evening off to rest?” Surtr suggested kindly.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Master, but that is unnecessary.
A Servant’s spiritual body is far more resilient than you imagine.” Medea smiled softly beneath her cowl.
“Extracting the Lesser Grail requires only a minor surgical procedure, and I can assess her cellular decay simultaneously.” “As for the Greater Grail purification ritual, the thaumaturgical preparations will be fully concluded before tomorrow evening.
However, initiating the cleansing circle requires a monumental ocean of prana.” “Considering the subsequent battles ahead, I initially intended to draw mana directly from Fuyuki’s leylines, but the Grail’s existing bounded field made tapping the flow rather cumbersome.
Fortunately, that obstacle has resolved itself.” Saying so, Medea’s gaze locked squarely onto Illya.
The Einzbern homunculus had been engineered from the ground up as a walking nexus of Magic Circuits.
She could materialize a top-tier Heroic Spirit using her personal reserves alone.
Furthermore, standing on Fuyuki soil granted her an open siphon to the city’s leylines.
She was quite literally the ultimate, high-capacity living power bank.
Illya felt the witch’s piercing gaze crawling over her skin like a scientist eyeing a prize laboratory mouse.
Even through the dark fabric of Medea’s robes, the malicious, calculating intent was suffocating.
Scurrying two steps backward, Illya ducked behind Surtr’s taller frame, using the red-haired girl as a human shield.
Compared to that creepy, gloomy witch, this hot-tempered horned girl felt infinitely safer.
People truly only appreciated safety through comparison.
Moreover, the sheer volume of classified information revealed in their brief conversation sent shockwaves through Illya’s aristocratic mind.
These two understood the Holy Grail War far deeper than any founding family!
Not only were they fully aware of the Grail’s black mud contamination, but they were actively preparing a purification ritual to cleanse it!
‘Isn’t their pace completely absurd?!’ Saber hadn’t even materialized in the city yet, and these two monsters had already reached the endgame!
While the other Masters were still tying their shoes at the starting line, Surtr and Medea were casually lounging one step away from the winner’s podium!
The developmental gap was terrifying.
Though for an eliminated participant like herself, none of that mattered anymore.
Raising her porcelain chin, Illya’s eyes carried genuine bewilderment.
“You…
actually want to save my life?” “Mhm.” Surtr nodded calmly.
“Why?
I literally tried to tear you to pieces half an hour ago.” From a rational magus perspective, expending rare thaumaturgical resources to rescue a defeated enemy was the height of redundancy.
‘Because you’re worth six hundred Primogems and a random gacha reward.’ Surtr thought to herself.
Naturally, that explanation remained locked in her head.
Filtering out her personal nostalgia for the character and the girl’s undeniably adorable doll-like appearance, Surtr offered the only logical analogy she had “If you find an injured stray kitten shivering on the street and bring it home, you naturally tend to its wounds, don’t you?” “It’s pretty much that simple.” As for the kitten trying to bite her?
Leaving aside the fact that they were wartime combatants, would an apocalyptic Fire Giant ever lose sleep over an angry kitten hissing at her boots?
Possessing absolute, overwhelming strength granted one the luxury of absolute mercy.
It was the quintessential mindset of the apex predator.
Of course, the girl’s gorgeous face earned her massive bonus points.
Had Illya looked like that rotting old worm Zouken, Surtr would have cremated her into ash without a second thought.
House Einzbern’s refined aesthetic standards deserved full credit for her survival.
“…” Receiving that answer, Illya puffed out her cheeks in silent indignation.
‘A stray pet again…!’ This girl had maintained that infuriating, dismissive attitude from the very start—never once treating her as a lethal, respected adversary.
Though considering the crushing disparity in their combat prowess, perhaps that condescension was only natural.
This monster had casually traded mountain-shattering blows with Berserker what could a petite, fragile homunculus possibly do against her?
‘Damn it…
it feels so irritating!’ Illya stamped her boots against the stone floor in frustration.
If possible, she desperately wanted to grow taller—like Sella…
no, having a curvaceous figure like Leysritt would be infinitely better!
Glancing upward, Illya’s eyes caught the distinct, alluring curves of Surtr’s chest, followed by the dark-robed witch whose voluptuous silhouette remained visible even beneath heavy fabric.
For a mature woman, having a magnificent figure was clearly superior, right?
‘Sella is so pitiful…
should I ask Medea to recalibrate her chest size later?
Homunculi parts are modular, right?’ Illya’s internal monologue took a sharp, bizarre detour into cosmetic surgery.
Surtr watched the silver-haired loli suddenly fall dead silent while nervously clutching her own flat chest, wondering if the girl’s mana circuits were suffering a catastrophic malfunction.
Yet when asked, Illya merely blushed furiously and stammered out an evasive denial.
‘Weird kid.’ ‘Well, as long as she isn’t dying.’ Due to the complex preparations required for tomorrow’s purification ritual, Illya’s Grail extraction surgery was formally scheduled for the following evening.
After assigning her a comfortable guest chamber in the temple’s inner wing, Surtr let the girl retire for the night.
There was zero risk of the prisoner staging an escape Medea’s wraith familiars saturated every square inch of Mount Enzou.
Any suspicious movement would be intercepted in seconds.
Though it had been stated a hundred times already, Surtr had to admit it once more Medea was a ridiculously competent subordinate.
Speaking of familiars, a sudden inspiration crossed Surtr’s mind with something as remarkably convenient as aerial familiars, why had she been foolishly wandering the asphalt streets on foot like a tourist?
Because she rarely relied on subtle spellcraft in combat, the utility of scouting familiars had completely slipped her radar.
Though thanks to that stroll, she had managed to bag a free homunculus and eliminate Berserker.
Every detour had its silver lining.