Outside the frame, within the magecraft workshop of the Tohsaka Residence in the fourth war world, the dim space was dominated by the unrestrained spread of gilded light, making the entire workshop, carved with intricate magecraft circuits, appear both solemn with the weight of ancient magecraft and magnificent with the unique, overwhelming opulence of a king.
Pale golden magical energy occasionally flowed through the wall circuits, and the air was thick with the oppressive aura of ancient Noble Phantasms and the heavy scent characteristic of gold.
Gilgamesh reclined lazily on a golden sofa, his body clad in golden armor that shimmered brilliantly in the gloom.
Each piece of armor was forged with exquisite patterns, its edges adorned with intricate gilded designs.
A luster akin to sunstone flowed along the smooth curves of the armor.
His shoulder plates were broad and sharp, outlining a shoulder line that exuded immense pressure.
The chest plate hugged his form, accentuating his tall, proud, and noble bearing, making him appear even more imposing.
The golden belt securing the armor at his waist was inlaid with tiny, fragmented crystals, refracting points of light with his subtle movements.
Even the gauntlets covering the backs of his hands displayed the pinnacle of craftsmanship, every detail proclaiming the supreme honor of the King of Heroes.
He rested his chin on one hand, the armored fingertips of that hand tapping idly against his cheek.
His crimson eyes were half-lidded, his gaze fixed on the light screen that had materialized before him.
Within his eyes swirled unconcealed indifference and scorn.
The golden light fell upon the sharp lines of his profile, adding an extra layer of arrogance that looked down upon all living beings.
The moment Emiya’s resolute words settled, a low, derisive chuckle first escaped his throat.
That laughter was saturated with extreme arrogance, as if he had heard the most absurd and laughable delusion in the world.
He slowly raised his eyes, the contempt in his crimson pupils growing even thicker.
His armored finger slowly lifted, pointing vaguely in the direction of the light screen.
The armor plates clicked together with a clear, crisp sound that carried an indisputable authority.
His lips parted slightly, his words filled with biting sarcasm and condescending disdain, each syllable dripping with a king’s disgust for an overstepping subject: “Hah~ How dare this mongrel say that.
He’s nothing but a fake who can only slavishly copy and produce counterfeits.
How is he worthy of presuming to discuss the superiority of counterfeit versus genuine?”
Before his words had even faded, his shoulders lifted slightly.
His broad, gilded armored cloak swept past his side with the movement, stirring a wind laden with the oppressive aura of gold.
His armored hand suddenly raised higher, his tone abruptly intensifying.
It was the deepest scorn and disdain belonging to the king who held the originals of all treasures in the world for all counterfeits.
His words fell with weight, full of absolute authority: “A counterfeit can never compare to the genuine article!
It’s merely a shoddy imitation, yet dares to spout nonsense before this king.”
[Within the light screen, Emiya slightly raised his eyes, his gaze falling on the empty space ahead.
His fingertip lifted and gave a faint wave.
A wisp of pale blue magical energy rose with the motion and slowly dissipated.
His tone was calm yet carried an unquestionable certainty as he continued: “When two things perform identically, what determines their superiority is not the object itself, but the viewer.”]
[The corners of his lips quirked slightly, a faint trace of understanding flashing in his eyes.
His tone gained a hint of teasing as he added softly: “However, for the creator of the genuine article, this is not a pleasant matter.”]
(All the creators of the genuine articles who got NTR’d: *You know that too?*)
[Emiya lowered his gaze to glance at the faint light shimmering in his palm, his expression returning to calmness.
His back straight, his tone now carried a more profound understanding of human nature as he stated solemnly: “But humanity is a species constantly advancing towards the future.
For progress, the concept of improvement is indispensable.”]
[He looked up at Mash and Fujimaru Ritsuka, his eyes clear and bright.
His tone grew even more earnest, each word imbued with clear logic: “The genuine article created from nothing has its own value, but subsequent imitations—derivative works—also hold value.”]
[He raised his hand and gave a light wave.
The lingering magical energy that had dissipated earlier coalesced once more into fine points of light, slowly swirling in his palm.
His movements were gentle, carrying a demonstrative meaning as he continued solemnly: “My projection, as the term literally implies, is just an ordinary copy.
But imitative works in this world are all existences developed from genuine articles.”]
[He slightly lifted his arm, sending the points of light in his palm gently forward into the empty space before him.
His gaze held a measure of certainty about the future.
His tone carried a kind of seasoned clarity and openness, each word resonating with weight: “To infinitely expand what begins from a single existence—that is what it means to create the future.”]
[Mash stood quietly beside Emiya, listening with rapt attention.
Her pale purple eyes were full of seriousness, her breathing even kept light.
After Emiya finished speaking, she first gave a slight nod, understanding and admiration spreading in her eyes.
A faint smile touched her lips as she sighed softly: “I see.
That’s a truly profound meaning.”]
[Immediately, Emiya’s topic took a sharp turn.
His tone lightened considerably, the previous profound and deep discussion completely receding, replaced instead by a touch of everyday mundanity as he looked at Fujimaru Ritsuka and asked: “Then I’ll go back to cleaning the room.
Master, is your room tidied up?”]
Outside the frame, in the fourth war world, Waver Velvet paused slightly, his face full of sudden surprise.
His eyebrows raised, he unconsciously raised his voice a bit, muttering with a face full of bewilderment: “Huh?
Cleaning rooms?
How did the topic suddenly jump here?” His tone was full of confusion at the abrupt shift in pace.
No one paid attention to his abrupt question.
Only that light screen continued to flow steadily, unfolding the scene within.
[Hearing this, Fujimaru Ritsuka was first taken aback, then raised a hand to scratch his cheek.
A slightly awkward smile curved his lips as he replied with a touch of honesty: “It’s basically done, though it gets a bit messy occasionally.”]
[Hearing this, a gentle and gratified smile slowly spread across Emiya’s lips.
His eyes held a soft light of understanding as he said softly yet firmly: “That’s good.
A room is a mirror reflecting a person’s inner world.”]
[As soon as the words left his mouth, his expression turned slightly more serious, shedding some of the gentleness for a touch of earnestness.
His gaze fixed on Fujimaru Ritsuka as he added: “A tidy state reflects your character.”]
[Mash, standing to the side, couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at this.
Her eyes curved into gentle arcs, her pale purple gaze full of teasing warmth as she looked at Fujimaru Ritsuka and chuckled: “Hehehe, he got you there, Senpai.”]
[Suddenly, a sharp and urgent emergency assembly alarm pierced the entire space.
The warning sound was shrill and glaring, carrying an urgency that could not be ignored.]
[The smile instantly faded from Emiya’s face.
His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes as he unconsciously uttered a low sound of confusion: “Hmm?”]
[Nearby, Fou instantly perked up his ears, his fluffy fur bristling slightly.
He tilted his head towards the direction of the alarm and let out a confused little cry: “Fou?”]
[The smile vanished from Mash’s face in an instant, her expression turning grave.
Her pale purple eyes filled with vigilance as she quickly looked at Fujimaru Ritsuka, her tone carrying a note of urgency: “An alarm…!
Something seems to have happened, Senpai!”]
[Amidst this scene full of tense atmosphere, an abrupt yet clear notification sound suddenly rang out.
The ML Appraisal Radar delivered its verdict: Servant Emiya, appraised as maternal love, mother-hen-like affection.]
The scene shifted again, to the Tohsaka Residence in the fifth war world.
The house was elegant, with a few well-tended potted plants by the window frames.
A faint trace of magecraft lingered in the air.
Tohsaka Rin was currently standing in the hall.
The awkward restraint she had been maintaining after learning her Servant’s true identity had long since snapped.
Hearing that appraisal, she first stiffened in shock, then widened her eyes, her face a picture of disbelief and astonishment.
She unconsciously raised a hand to cover the corner of her mouth, her tone full of incredulous Make complaints as she turned to look at the red Archer beside her, her voice laced with teasing surprise: “Huh?
Maternal love?
Mother hen?”
Her bright eyes were full of mischief, the end of her sentence rising slightly, “Archer, you’re actually this full of contrasts?
When you’re just a playboy who likes to crack jokes.”
Archer, whose identity was already exposed, stiffened almost imperceptibly upon hearing this.
The usual frivolous smile that hung on his lips instantly faded.
He raised a hand to rub his temple, his tone full of a resigned sigh, carrying a touch of embarrassment at being exposed: “Mother hen or something…
Ah, yare yare.”
Faced with Tohsaka Rin’s such blunt teasing, he, who was usually sharp-tongued and never yielded an inch, was now somewhat at a loss for words, standing there momentarily speechless.
After all, he had just instinctively and carefully reflected for a moment.
His fingertips paused slightly, a flicker of indescribable realization passing through his eyes.
It seemed he really did have a bit of a tendency to fuss like a mother hen.
Ever since being summoned by Rin to the Tohsaka Residence, he had almost single-handedly managed the three daily meals and paid much attention to household chores.
Thinking about it this way, that appraisal wasn’t entirely unfounded.
This realization made him seem even more resigned.
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!”