Fourth Holy Grail War · Fuyuki City, Tohsaka Residence Magecraft Workshop
Deep beneath the Tohsaka Residence, within the Magecraft Workshop, faint blue magic circuits snaked along the stone walls.
A soft white glow flowed slowly through the lines, casting the large workshop in a play of light and shadow.
Various ancient Mystic Codes were neatly displayed on sandalwood shelves on both sides, and the air was filled with the faint scent of Ether and gemstone dust.
Tokiomi Tohsaka, dressed in a crisp deep blue kimono, stood upright in the center of the workshop.
With one hand behind his back and the other lightly pinching his sleeve, he frowned slightly.
His narrow eyes were fixed on the light screen suspended in the air, his gaze filled with inquiry and a hint of subtle surprise.
He looked at Jeanne Alter in the light screen, whose shaken expression was hard to hide.
His lips parted slightly as he spoke with a magus’s habitual calm and scrutiny: “Has that Saint, filled with hatred and revenge, actually become like this?
To be shaken by a single person’s actions…
it’s truly astonishing.”
“However…
what exactly is ‘that matter’ they’ve been talking about?” At the end of his sentence, he leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto the two people talking on the light screen, as if trying to find a clue from their brief words.
Beside him, Gilgamesh leaned back on a magnificent golden throne.
The throne floated in the air on one side of the workshop, its gilded patterns shimmering under the magical light, fully displaying the King’s nobility.
He propped his cheek on one hand, his crimson eyes half-squinted.
His gaze swept carelessly across the light screen, but a playful curve formed at the corner of his mouth.
His fingers tapped nonchalantly on the armrest of the throne, producing a crisp sound.
A hint of interest was hidden within that nonchalance.
He let out a cold snort, his voice carrying an innate arrogance and recognition: “Hmph…
interesting.
That Master is quite the talent!”
After speaking, he raised his hand to take a golden chalice from his side and took a sip of the nectar, the interest in his eyes growing a bit stronger.
Kirei Kotomine stood in the corner of the workshop with his head bowed.
His black priest’s robes made his face appear even paler.
His hands were folded in front of him, appearing respectful and solemn, but his lowered eyelids hid the surging pleasure in his eyes.
His fingertips curled slightly, and his chest was filled with uncontrollable joy.
His heart screamed wildly: To see the Saint abandon her obsession and fall into a vortex of emotion, looking so unsightly and lost—this is the ultimate pleasure~ That irrepressible shaking is more captivating than any magecraft.
It is truly too interesting.
Fifth Holy Grail War · Fuyuki City, Tohsaka Residence Living Room
The warm sun shone through the carved floor-to-ceiling windows of the Tohsaka Residence living room, falling onto the polished wooden floor and reflecting small spots of light.
The living room was elegantly furnished, with an exquisite tea table next to a dark leather sofa, the celadon tea set on the table still steaming with a faint tea aroma.
Tohsaka Rin, wearing her signature red school uniform, her skirt hanging lightly, suddenly froze while holding her teacup.
The warm tea almost splashed over the rim.
Her green eyes widened, and her face was full of shock and confusion; the reserved expression she had just moments ago completely collapsed.
She subconsciously straightened her back and brushed back a stray hair by her temple with a flustered hand, her voice full of surprise: “Eh, an invitation for a date?” After a moment of daze, her cheeks flushed slightly pink, and her tone softened, carrying a young girl’s subtle longing for romance: “Hmm…
it’s a little bit romantic.”
“But…
why are there so many questions in there?” As soon as she finished speaking, her face fell, her eyebrows furrowed tightly, and she put her hands on her hips, her voice full of confusion and annoyance, even rising in pitch.
“What is ‘that matter’?
And who is that Marie?
And those guys Salieri and Kagekiyo…
Argh!
I don’t get it at all!” As she spoke, she stomped her foot in frustration, her doubts having no outlet, feeling as if the dialogue on the light screen was written in some incomprehensible language.
Nearby, Archer leaned against the back of the sofa, his posture tall and straight.
His crimson eyes were calm and waveless, and a faint, steady aura surrounded him.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on the light screen, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The lazy expression he usually wore had completely vanished, replaced by total calm and precision.
His fingertips tapped lightly on his arm as if organizing clues, his mind rapidly deducing: If the names Fujimaru Ritsuka and Jeanne Alter mentioned are all Servants…
Kagekiyo…
does that refer to Taira no Kagekiyo, who was an enemy of the Genji Clan and had a deep obsession?
Salieri is…
that musician who supposedly killed Mozart out of jealousy?
His eyes flickered slightly as his thoughts continued to race.
Then Marie is…
Mary Anning, the most famous fossil dealer in the paleontological world?
Or is it Marie Antoinette, the ill-fated Queen of Louis XVI who was sent to the guillotine during the French Revolution?
These people seem to have no connection, so what do they have in common with Jeanne Alter?
Why say it’s ‘their business’?
He lowered his eyes slightly, rubbing his chin with his fingertips, his expression becoming more solemn, sensing that there must be an unknown connection behind this.
New Chaldea · Storm Border Control Room
Inside the Storm Border’s control room, the cold white main lights were bright but not dazzling.
Various precision instrument screens flashed with complex data and patterns, the sound of buttons clicking rose and fell, and the central holographic projection screen clearly showed cross-temporal images.
Fujimaru Ritsuka stood in front of the main console, one hand propped on the cold surface.
His brow was furrowed, and his face was full of confusion; the cheerful smile he usually wore was now tinged with contemplation.
He looked at the dialogue on the light screen, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the console as he murmured softly: “What is ‘that matter’?
The common point is Avenger…
Extra Class…
Does it have something to do with my Avengers?”
After a moment of silence, he slowly raised his eyes, his gaze falling on his own shadow.
That shadow appeared denser than usual, as if hiding an endless depth.
A knowing smile curled at the corners of his lips, his tone carrying a bit of certainty and teasing: “Aren’t you going to say something, my…
accomplice?” After the words fell, only the light sound of the instruments remained.
The shadow was quiet, without a sound or even a ripple.
Fujimaru Ritsuka shrugged lightly, his expression calm, but a certain understanding hidden in his eyes: “As I thought, this matter has something to do with you.
Fine, do as you wish.”
Then, he turned to look not far away, where Atalanta Alter stood.
Her face, usually tense, was flushed bright red.
A dense cluster of question marks and exclamation points floated above her head.
Her originally sharp and fierce aura was gone, replaced only by helplessness and bashfulness, and even her signature mocking tone had weakened.
A smile instantly spread in Fujimaru Ritsuka’s eyes, his tone clearly teasing: “Oh, kawaii koto (how cute), Alter, to actually…”
“Argh!
Don’t say it, you jerk!” Before he could finish, Jeanne Alter reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her hair instantly standing on end.
Her cheeks were so red they looked like they might bleed.
Her clenched fists suddenly relaxed, and she rushed forward in a few quick steps, covering Fujimaru Ritsuka’s mouth with her hand.
The force was a bit of bashful arrogance, but her ears were completely red, and even her neck was flushed pink, looking both pathetic and cute.
Near the console not far away, Da Vinci Lily propped her chin on one hand while the other slid quickly across the screen, pulling up various Servant data.
Her golden eyes were full of thought, her tone carrying a bit of uncertain certainty: “Could it be…
as expected, it’s that, isn’t it?
Avenger.”
Sion stood right beside her, her fingertips tapping lightly on the virtual keyboard.
Her expression was calm, but understanding was hidden in her eyes as she nodded slightly in agreement: “It seems so, Avenger.” The two looked at each other, both seeing confirmation in the other’s eyes; they had clearly glimpsed some of the key points.
Nearby, the new director Gordolf Musik stood behind the crowd, hands on his hips, his head turning back and forth.
One moment he was looking at the light screen, the next at the people talking.
His face was full of confusion, his brow knitted into a deep frown, and his mouth twitched, his tone full of confusion and urgency.
“No, what are you all talking about?
Why don’t I understand?
What’s this about Avengers or not?”
As soon as he finished speaking, he seemed to suddenly remember something.
His eyes widened, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying a bit of belated realization: “Wait!
Avenger?
Oh, oh oh oh, I think I get it.” That look of sudden realization was somewhat comical.
On the other side, Miss Avalon stood quietly in the corner, a faint soft light surrounding her.
Her expression was gentle and calm, as if she had already seen through everything.
She looked at everyone and spoke softly, her tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable certainty as she gave the precise answer: “That’s right, it’s the Extra Class.
It seems to be a trial given by human order.
After all, they were used too much…” Her words were gentle, but they instantly enlightened many people.
Tepeu stood to one side, leaning on his ritual tool.
His expression was a bit complex, his eyes full of envy.
He spoke with a long drawl, carrying a deep sense of emotion: “To have the Priest proactively offer an invitation…
it’s truly enviable…
isn’t it?” Within that envy was hidden a bit of unspeakable melancholy.
Kiyohime was dressed in a beautiful kimono, her hair hanging lightly.
Her eyes, usually filled with obsession, were now tinged with a bit of gloom.
She looked at Jeanne Alter’s appearance on the light screen, then at Fujimaru Ritsuka.
A smile that looked gentle but was actually filled with resentment curled on her lips, her tone soft yet full of jealousy and anger.
“As expected of Master!
To make that crazy woman act so ‘pathetic’.” She deliberately emphasized the word ‘pathetic’, remembering Jeanne Alter’s past evaluation of her (Jeanne Alter: Kiyohime, you’re sick).
A flash of pleasure crossed her eyes, but then her tone turned cold, and the aura around her darkened: “However, for Master to proactively invite that crazy woman on a date, Kiyohime’s heart is still burning with a bit of rage.” As she spoke, her fingertips curled slightly, her nails almost digging into her palm.
Morgan stood in the shadows, her magnificent dress making her temperament appear even more cold, elegant, and majestic.
She remained silent, her narrow eyes locked onto Fujimaru Ritsuka, her eyes churning with emotions others couldn’t understand.
Her long fingers lightly tapped against her palm.
She had already secretly made up her mind that when summer and Valentine’s Day arrived, she would definitely keep Ritsuka by her side and’squeeze’ him well, never giving others an opportunity.