In New Chaldea, the Servant lounge of the Storm Border was bathed in warm light.
Soft sofas were arranged casually, and a few low tables still held uncollected tea snacks and warm drinks.
The faint aroma of black tea drifted through the air, occasionally punctuated by the low whispers of other Servants conversing, which only made the area in the corner where the Knights of the Round Table were gathered seem more conspicuous.
Lancelot leaned forward slightly, his gaze burning as it fell upon the light screen.
The hand that had just been holding a teacup now rested loosely on his knee.
A hint of his usual flirtatious smile played at the corners of his lips, but his eyes were filled with undisguised admiration.
His voice carried a note of excitement, with the end of his sentences tilting upward.
“Mm, My King, even in her black Christmas form, My King is so beautiful that I cannot help but want to offer a cheerleading dance to her…” It seemed he had already choreographed the dance in his mind, and was just a moment away from standing up to join the figure on the light screen.
(For details, please see the FGO Carnival OP.)
Beside him, Gawain’s brow furrowed imperceptibly.
He quickly reached out and gave Lancelot’s sleeve a sharp tug, interrupting him in time.
His tone carried a hint of helpless warning, yet his back remained ramrod straight, maintaining the proper posture expected of a knight.
“Hey now, Sir Lancelot, mind your manners.” He cleared his throat, his tone becoming more solemn, every word reflecting the self-restraint of a Knight of the Round Table: “As the King’s knights, we must maintain the dignity of the Knights of the Round Table at all times.”
The moment he finished speaking, his gaze involuntarily drifted back to the light screen.
The seriousness in his eyes softened slightly, and the tips of his ears were quietly tinged with a faint red.
His tone carried a touch of irrepressible praise, and his voice dropped lower: “…However, the black version of My King truly does have a different kind of charm.”
On a sofa on the other side, Tristan leaned against the backrest.
He had his eyes closed and his chin resting on one hand, affecting a profound look.
His fingertips slowly rubbed his chin as if he were indifferent to everything around him.
But the moment the figure on the light screen caught his eye, his slightly lowered eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
Ultimately unable to restrain himself, he slowly opened his eyes.
A flash of admiration flickered in his gaze before he returned to his usual calm, though his tone held a hint of understanding when he spoke.
“Someone in Chaldea once said this: Men like darkness.” He turned his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the black figure on the light screen.
The corners of his lips curled into a very slight arc, his tone certain and carrying a hint of agreement: “After seeing the black version of My King, I believe those words make a lot of sense.”
These three knights, who usually had their own separate thoughts yet shared a perfect, understated chemistry, now focused all their attention on the light screen, their hearts and eyes full of praise for the King of Knights’s blackened form.
Yet, when Artoria Santa Alter solemnly declared her knightly oath to Fujimaru Ritsuka on the light screen, not a hint of surprise appeared on their faces.
Lancelot put away his flirtatious smile, his eyes gaining a solemn look of approval; Gawain straightened his back even more, his expression one of complete naturalness; Tristan also nodded slowly, his gaze calm and unwavering.
After all, Fujimaru Ritsuka was also their common Master.
To them, that youth who shouldered the fate of the world with a mortal body deserved all the kindness this world could offer, and was worthy of any Servant falling for him and swearing an oath to him.
However, on the other side, things were quite different.
In Fuyuki City during the Fourth Holy Grail War, the night was as dark as ink.
A cold wind swirled dead leaves through the silent streets, and dark patterns crawled across the mottled walls.
The surroundings were deathly still, with only a few scattered lights flickering in the distance.
Hidden deep in the shadows of a building, Emiya Kiritsugu’s figure seemed to merge with the darkness.
His hands were thrust into his trench coat pockets, his back slightly tensed, and his brow tightly furrowed.
His deep eyes were full of gravity and contemplation as his gaze locked onto the light screen that had appeared out of thin air.
His thin lips were pressed tight, and he radiated a cold aura that warned others not to approach.
He murmured to himself in a low voice, his tone filled with unbelievable surprise: “She can actually make even that inverted King of Knights acknowledge her to such an extent?” He paused for a moment, thinking of the King of Knights in his own memory who was so exceptionally incompatible with him, and his frown deepened.
His tone took on a hint of complexity: “The normal King of Knights is so upright and rigid; she couldn’t accept my strategies at all.”
His fingertips unconsciously rubbed the fabric of his trench coat, his gaze heavy with inquiry and deep thought.
He spoke again, his tone carrying a bit of admiration: “Then what is the inverted King of Knights like?
If her personality is the opposite, then for humanity’s last Master to be able to make such a ruthless character feel goodwill…
he’s not simple.
He’s becoming harder and harder to see through…”
Inside the Control Room of New Chaldea, the lights were cool and bright.
The screens of various instruments flickered with faint blue or light green glows, and the soft clicking of keys being tapped rose and fell.
The staff members had already grown accustomed to the presence of the light screen, only occasionally looking up to check the images.
Mash stood by the console, her head tilted slightly as her clear eyes stared intently at the light screen projected in front of her.
Her hands were folded in front of her, her expression exceptionally serious.
Her tone was certain, carrying the clarity of a sudden realization, looking for all the world like a serious great detective deducing the truth, clearly modeling herself after her idol, Sherlock Holmes: “I see.
No wonder that so-called ml radar reacted to Miss Artoria Alter; it turns out the signs were already appearing back then.”
As she finished speaking, an instrument in the Control Room gave a soft beep.
The gazes from the lounge and Fuyuki City all converged on that light screen.
The shifting light and shadows paused for a moment before brightening again, continuing to slowly unfold a new scene.
[Appearing on the screen was a woman as beautiful as the mona lisa.]
[She had a slender and graceful figure, and her whole body seemed enveloped in a layer of hazy, soft light.
Her features were as exquisite as a meticulously carved work of art.
A hint of inexplicable gentleness and mystery was hidden in the movement of her eyes, and the corners of her lips, neither smiling nor unsmiling, curled into a perfect arc.
That beauty was not ostentatious or dazzling, but possessed a power that struck directly at the heart.
Standing there quietly, she was a moving painting in her own right, making one involuntarily hold their breath for fear of disturbing such perfect breathtaking beauty.]
[However, this woman who possessed a calm and mysterious beauty like the mona lisa did not have a trace of that peaceful self-possession in her expression now.
Instead, she was filled with an irrepressible embarrassment and anxiety, clearly having encountered a major problem for which she had no solution.]
[Her elegant brows were tightly knit, and a hint of panic was condensed in her eyes that had just been flowing with gentle light.
Her lips, which had been lightly pursed, were now instinctively pressed into a tight line as she seemed to be helplessly searching for a way to cope.
Even the hazy, moving soft light around her seemed to have dimmed a bit due to this emotional turmoil.]
[The composed aura that usually made hearts skip a beat was now completely disrupted, leaving only an overt sense of being at a loss.
(Actually, she’s afraid of being nagged by the Doctor.)]
It might not seem tempting right nobut who knows what the future holds?
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”