Jayr POV - Nasuverse, Moon, Far Side, Sakura Labyrinth - 2030 AD
The screen flickers softly in the dim chamber of the Athena Temple as the feed from the Funnels continues to stream in real time.
The details are still the same: an open plain that stretches outward beneath a muted sky, the terrain unnaturally level, as though shaped deliberately for war.
The ground is darkened in broad, irregular patches, scorched repeatedly but not reduced to ash.
The earth has been burned, churned, and packed down so many times that it has taken on a hardened, iron-like sheen.
But now, focusing on the sensors I've installed in the Funnels, I also take notice of something else, the subtle presence of the Darkness.
Oppressive, thick, almost tangible darkness.
Through the sensors, the buffer battlefield floor below looks like a twisted warzone frozen in eternal twilight.
The fortifications stretch across the battered terrain while the sky above churns in heavy black clouds that never part.
And at the centre of the raised command platform, churning like a living tide, there is the faint energy signature of the Darkness constantly producing the Darklings and connecting them all; that's likely a Darkness Pool created by Ledram to fill this floor with Darklings.
This is effectively producing an almost endless horde of them.
I carefully control the Funnels to make sure that they remain undetected at the moment and keep observing their movements.
They patrol in waves, their warped silhouettes gliding across the battlefield with martial discipline.
Some perch atop tall towers. Others crawl along thick walls. The entire floor breathes with hostile intent.
I fold my arms and watch silently while thinking, 'As expected. The combination of Oda Nobunaga's strategic might and Ledram's endless army of Darklings truly forms a force that not many Master and Servant will be able to confront. In fact, at this point of the Holy Grail War, I believe that only the Champions are capable of dealing with them.'
Rani's purple eyes shift slightly toward me without leaving the screen before she calmly states, "You appear to already know the identity of the Master controlling this set of floors. Your earlier commentary suggests prior knowledge."
I don't answer immediately as I keep my focus on the screen, but Nero does in my place as she says without any hesitation, arms proudly crossed beneath her chest, "Umu. Indeed, we do. This territory belongs to Ledram Vassago. A very powerful being that originates from outside this universe. Another of what the Moon Cell labels as Irregular Master. The Champion of Darkness."
Hearing that, Rani's gaze sharpens while Nero continues, her tone less theatrical than usual, "He commands Archer-class Servant Oda Nobunaga. They have already crossed blades with our mutual ally, Aletha and come out victorious."
At the mention of Aletha, the atmosphere shifts slightly.
It is not dramatic, nor visible in any overt way, but something tightens.
Rani turns toward me fully now, her attention no longer divided between me and the projection screen. The faint glow of the battlefield floor feed reflects across the lenses of her glasses, momentarily hiding her purple eyes before she asks, "What is your intention?"
Straight to the point. As always.
There is no judgment in her tone, no pressure, only calculation and a bit of genuine curiosity.
I do not answer immediately.
On the screen, the Darklings continue their patrol in disciplined waves. Units break formation, rotate, and reform. Elevated snipers adjust angles along the towers. Heavy units anchor choke points near the command platform. It is not chaos. It is orchestration.
Oda Nobunaga's influence is obvious.
The longer I watch, the clearer it becomes that this floor was not built merely to repel invasion; it was built to dominate it through any means possible.
I let the silence stretch. Not because I do not have an answer, but because committing to one makes it real and in some way definitive.
Finally, I speak, "If I confront him now. I control the timing. There is no ambush. No uncertainty."
The logic is clean, simple, and almost appealing.
Strike while the information is fresh. While variables are known. While the battlefield has not shifted again. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they are incomplete.
I shake my head slightly and add, "However... fighting him this early will reveal a lot more than I'm currently willing. Too much. And there is still a hidden hand manipulating this Holy Grail War that I'm sure is constantly observing in some way or another."
The thought lingers in the air between us.
Observing and not just me, not just Ledram, but everything that is currently happening in the Far Side of the Moon Cell.
I lean back slightly, folding my arms as I stare at the shifting darkness on the screen while thinking, 'The structure of this war replays in my mind. The deletion of inactive floors. The forced pacing. The carefully timed eliminations. Every stage feels guided, nudged forward at just the right pressure points. Way too deliberate, too curated, too wrong. This isn't simply a reformed Holy Grail War; it is clearly edited to suit someone else's taste and objectives.'
Rani does not interrupt my thoughts. She studies me instead. Evaluating not just my strategy, but my hesitation.
Then she speaks, "Delaying confrontation carries its own risks. An ambush later would be strategically disadvantageous. Additionally, the surviving Masters, at that point much closer and surely much more dangerous, may interfere mid-battle."
Her voice remains level, but there is weight behind her words. She is right.
Every hour we wait, the battlefield compresses. Fewer players. Higher concentration of power. Greater unpredictability. And if Ledram chooses the moment instead of me, the terrain will not merely favour him. It will belong to him.
I nod slightly, "Exactly. I also had the same consideration."
Saying it out loud does not make the choice easier.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. The motion is small, but it betrays the friction in my thoughts.
Confront now, and I expose capabilities I have deliberately kept hidden. Strength once displayed cannot be taken back. Information spreads. Patterns form. Counters are devised.
Wait, and I risk losing initiative. Risk allowing someone else to dictate the stage.
Both paths cost something.
In the end, I admit, "So the correct move is unclear."
The admission settles heavily. Not uncertainty born from fear, but from the complexity of the situation.
For a moment, none of us speaks.
The only sound is the low hum of the Athena Temple systems and the distant, rhythmic pulse of the Darkness Pool displayed on-screen. Like a heartbeat.
Then I draw a quiet breath and let the tension resolve into something simpler, "But one thing is certain. I need to speak with him."
Not to fight. Not yet. But to measure. Maybe even reach a compromise.
To see whether Ledram Vassago is merely another opponent or something closer to what I hope.
Before either of them can reply, a mechanical voice suddenly echoes throughout the Sakura Labyrinth.
[Elimination confirmed. Master Fionn MacCrìsdein has been eliminated.]
The sound reverberates through the Athena Temple like a distant tolling bell.
For a moment, even the low hum of the systems feels muted, as if the Labyrinth itself is pausing to register the loss.
No explosion. No scream. No final stand broadcast across the Moon Cell's systems. Just deletion.
Rani tilts her head slightly, her gaze shifting to her small laboratory where she keeps a small holographic notepad open, full of annotations about the current Holy Grail War, before she says, "That makes the sixth Master..."
Her voice remains composed, but she does not finish the sentence immediately. She summons the holographic notepad to her side and quickly starts recalculating, adjusting probability trees, and rewriting threat projections.
But before she can even complete her new annotations, the mechanical voice interrupts again.
[Elimination confirmed. Master Sofia Nogueira has been eliminated.]
This time, the words land harder.
Two eliminations, almost back-to-back.
Almost no delay or breathing room between them.
At this point, silence settles heavily, but it is not the quiet of peace; it is the quiet of something scary getting closer and closer.
Another Master is gone from the Holy Grail War. The number of remaining Masters shrinks again. The battlefield compresses further.
Nero's emerald eyes narrow slightly as she observes the updated holographic notepad. For once, there is no theatrical commentary waiting on her tongue, "As expected, the deletion of inactive floors further accelerates the culling. It seems that whoever is behind this reformed Holy Grail War has grown impatient."
Her words cut cleanly through the stillness as I realise, 'Impatient. Yes! That is exactly what this feels like. The earlier eliminations could be attributed to clashes. Strategic missteps. Overconfidence. But this? This feels procedural. Efficient. Someone is methodically taking out the competition...'
At this point, I start to wonder, 'Maybe it is truly BB behind all this? Maybe she is trying to save Hakuno from this particular Holy Grail War where the impossibly powerful Champions run rampant...?'
While I'm thinking that, Rani's fingers move subtly across the notepad, pulling up timestamps, energy fluctuations, and residual data traces from the deleted floors. Her eyes move quickly, absorbing every detail before she wonders, "Who knows how many Masters will still remain at the end of the obligatory seven-hour period...?"
She says it calmly, but the implication is sharp.
Seven hours. It is a deadline.
I keep my gaze fixed on the screen, watching the feed of the Funnels as if it might reveal something hidden between the lines, 'Two Masters gone. Which means two Servants were erased alongside them. Two entire territories collapsed. How many resources were lost? How many defensive networks dissolved? How many strategies were rendered meaningless in a single instant? Every elimination is a vacuum in the power structure, and vacuums invite invasion from other opportunistic forces.'
My thoughts begin to move faster, 'Two eliminations in rapid succession. The pace is once again increasing. If this is the system trimming stagnation, then it will not stop. Anyone perceived as passive becomes expendable. Waiting too long may no longer be viable. If I continue to be so passive, I may lose a lot more than simple initiative. Aletha survived her encounter with a Champion, but others are not being given that chance. There is no guarantee that the next announcement will not carry a familiar name, and if Champions fight, and the winner is able to completely eliminate the loser, then the Champion who won will become much stronger as their Blessing will level up.'
The Temple feels smaller now, the distance between floors feels shorter, the illusion of time feels thinner, 'I misunderstood... This is no longer a slow-burning war of attrition, but one that is being forced toward a conclusion.'
Reaching that conclusion, I straighten, the indecision from moments ago burning away under the pressure of reality and declare, "Enough watching."
The word watching tastes wrong now.
Observation without action begins to resemble hesitation, and hesitation, in this Holy Grail War, like any other life or death battle, will be punished.
At this point, I extend my hand slightly and connect to the Funnels stationed within Ledram's buffer floor.
The screen zooms subtly as I assume direct control of the Funnels.
I guide two Funnels downward toward a cluster of Darklings, then I give the silent command, making them fire a concentrated beam of energy that silently and precisely pierces through the heads of two Darklings.
The next moment, the two targeted Darklings fall with a dull sound before their forms dissolve into shadow.
Even if they are destroyed, they aren't killed permanently. All the Darklings are technically immortal, living however long as their masters do, be it years, centuries, or even forever, all of it depending on their wielder's mastery over the Darkness.
Basically, those two Darklings are already slowly reforming within the Darkness Pool.
What I just did isn't an attack, nor a declaration of war; it is merely a knock on a closed door.
The surrounding Darklings immediately react, weapons raised as they fire bursts of bullets enhanced with dark energy toward the airborne Funnels.
Seeing that, I manoeuvre them carefully to skillfully dodge all their attack without retaliating to avoid further escalating the situation, as in the end this is simply a controlled disturbance meant to catch the attention of the Master of this floor.
It's a signal.
Rani watches all this silently before speaking again, "And the Master of Avicebron above us?"
I shift part of my attention to the adjacent feed showing the factory floor above.
The visual changes immediately.
Where Ledram's battlefield is shadow and tension, this floor is harsh light and repetition.
Rows of mechanical constructs move in rigid synchronisation.
They stand along massive assembly lines that stretch far beyond the initial frame of the projection. The camera adjusts automatically, widening its angle, and still the production chains extend until they blur into metallic haze.
I immediately realise that Golem production has increased. Quite significantly at that.
The entire floor is a study in organised industry.
Unfinished frames hang suspended from overhead rails, skeletal structures of stone and alloy shaped into humanoid proportions. Articulated limbs lock into place with precise mechanical clicks. Mana conduits are inserted along the spine of each unit, glowing faintly as they activate in sequence.
The assembly lines churn faster while Mana output spikes.
Large cylindrical reactors embedded into the floor pulse with blue-white light. Each pulse sends a visible ripple through the network of etched thaumaturgical circuits running beneath the surface like veins beneath skin.
Mana flows in measured surges, controlled and optimised.
Automated arms descend in perfect timing, fastening armour plates onto torsos. Runes flare briefly as stabilisation scripts bind stone to reinforcement alloys. A finished unit steps forward the moment its restraints disengage, its eyes igniting with a steady internal glow.
The newly activated Golem joins a growing formation along the perimeter of the floor, standing motionless until deployed.
Even the air seems structured, heavy with heat and residual magical discharge. The faint grinding of stone against stone merges with the rhythmic hum of arcane engines. Every few seconds, a deeper resonance rolls through the chamber as another production cycle completes.
The Funnels' feed catches a vertical storage sector where completed Golems are stacked in precise rows, dormant but fully functional. Almost fifty of them. Possibly more beyond the visible frame.
Avicebron has removed inefficiency from the equation entirely; it is pure standardisation.
Uniform height. Uniform armour density. Uniform mana core capacity. Mass production at its purest.
A single Golem is insignificant for a regular Master and Servant pair. Ten are inconvenient but manageable. A hundred becomes a problem. And judging by the current output rate, that number will not remain static for long.
The Mana output graph continues to climb steadily in the corner of the feed, indicating sustained overclocking rather than a temporary surge.
It is clear that they are not merely maintaining production at the moment; they have started to accelerate it.
Seeing all that, I murmur, "They are accelerating the production of Golems."
In response, Nero suggests, "Maybe they are under attack...?"
I shrug my shoulders and reply, "Possible. Or like us, he has decided to abandon passivity and take a more direct approach."
Either way, it doesn't change my current stance as I conclude by saying, "As long as he doesn't descend the staircase and invade our floors, we leave him alone. He, Avicebron and their Golems can serve as an unintended buffer. If Ledram and I clash, those factory floors become… An annoying inconvenience for anyone attempting to interfere."
Rani nods once, acknowledging the strategic thinking behind my choice, then I focus back on the screen as I notice that the Darklings suddenly stop firing.
Every single one stops as the battlefield floor stills.
On the screen, two new figures materialise amid the shifting shadows, both quite easy to recognise.
Ledram Vassago and beside him the Archer class Servant Oda Nobunaga. Even through the feed, their presence is unmistakable.
I guide one Funnel closer and project my voice through its transmission field as I calmly state, "My name is Jayr. I am a friend of Aletha and the Master of the set of floors directly above you. I wish to speak."
The mention of Aletha causes the slightest visible shift in Ledram's posture, a clear sign of understanding.
He clearly recognises who and what I am.
It's very clear as he replies after a brief pause, his voice transmitted through the system, "... Aletha's friend. Another Champion, then."
He studies the hovering Funnel before he says, "Very well. We may speak."
I nod slightly and clearly say, "As a show of good faith, I will descend to your floor. We will talk face-to-face."
There is a brief silence. It is clear that Ledram is considering whether this is some kind of plot or trap.
But then, Ledram looks at Oda Nobunaga, who nods back and says, "Accepted."
Having reached a preliminary agreement, I close the transmission, release my control over the Funnels, and then will them to dissipate into motes of light.
Nero rises smoothly from her stance, expression focused now as she declares, "Umu. How refreshing. At last, a meeting worthy of the stage. The resulting play is going to be epic. The kind that is talked about even aeons after its first iteration."
At the same time, Rani adjusts her glasses faintly and says, "Risk assessment: elevated."
I reply simply, "I know," before I add, "If you want to be safe, you can stay here... Or if you prefer, I can even send you to a perfectly safe place..."
But before I can even finish, Rani interrupts me and says, "Denied. This is the perfect time to closely observe the abilities of those labelled as Irregular Masters."
Then, after a brief pause, she adds, "Moreover, I believe I shouldn't leave my 'friend' alone in such important moments."
Hearing that, I can't help but smile a little before I simply nod and say, "You're right. Let's go."
Like that, we leave the Athena Temple and start descending the Golden Zodiac, this time through the secret passage, not only because it is faster, but also because this way we avoid descending that post-traumatic stress disorder long staircase.
After all, that was specifically built for the enemies of the Sanctuary.
The hidden corridor opens behind a concealed panel of polished stone, revealing a narrower spiral passage carved directly into the structure's inner framework. The lighting here is softer. Controlled. Warm gold instead of the oppressive vertical abyss that defines the main descent.
Nero steps in first and immediately exhales in visible relief.
Then she declares, placing a hand over her chest in exaggerated gratitude, "Umu! How merciful! To force the Empress to march down that endless vertical nightmare a third time would have been an act of cruelty bordering on rebellion."
I glance at her and say, "You handled it fine the first two times."
She stops walking just long enough to give me an incredulous look, "Handled it? I endured it. There is a difference. Even Rome would have questioned the necessity of that many steps."
Rani adjusts her glasses as she walks slightly behind us, her pace measured and steady as she calmly says, "The design is efficient. A long, exposed descent with no cover and no visual confirmation of the higher levels creates psychological strain before physical confrontation. It reduces reaction speed and increases cognitive fatigue."
Nero sighs softly, "Yes, yes. It was dreadful. We understand."
Rani ignores the sarcasm and continues, "Additionally, it forces invading forces into a predictable line formation. Area-of-effect strikes from above would be devastating. Combined with projectile suppression, the survival rate of an advancing army would decrease exponentially with each segment."
I let out a quiet breath through my nose, "You're not wrong. But the original doesn't even need that. The Gold Saints guarding the twelve temples are more than enough to obliterate anything that tries to cross the Golden Zodiac."
Then I narrate, "The first time I ascended it, the sheer scale of the staircase was disorienting and nauseating. No visible to, no clear sense of distance. Just a slow, exposed march upward while climbing up the endless steps of that damned staircase."
I add, "By the midpoint, your legs start to feel heavier. Not only because you're tired, but because your mind is also enduring the pressure of the immense Cosmos of the Gold Saints. It wears you down quickly."
Rani nods faintly, "Sustained pressure without release increases stress hormones. Over time, judgment deteriorates."
Nero crosses her arms, "In simpler terms, it is irritating."
I admit, "That too," before I chuckle and say, "There was a point in my life that I considered the stairs my greatest nemesis..."
The corridor curves gently, the solid walls etched with subtle zodiac motifs that shimmer faintly as we pass. Unlike the main staircase, this route is controlled. Built for those meant to move freely within the Sanctuary.
Nero glances at the markings, "I do approve of this path. Discreet. Elegant. Worthy."
I smirk and say, "You just like that it's shorter."
She smiles faintly, "Efficiency is a virtue when it serves me."
For a few steps, silence returns, but it is lighter now. The kind shared between allies who understand the weight of what waits below but choose not to dwell on it just yet.
We reach the lower threshold of the Sanctuary Floor. Behind us, the solemn architecture remains pristine and orderly, and in front of us, there is the staircase leading to the next floor.
We don't stop and start to descend, and as we continue downward, the air gradually shifts.
The warmth fades first.
Then the subtle scent of polished stone gives way to something colder. Metallic.
Rani is the first to comment, "The atmospheric composition is changing."
I murmur, "Yeah. We are almost at the buffer floor."
Ahead, the transition into the Greek-Roman fortress city buffer floor is immediate.
Before long, the Sanctuary Floor fades behind us and shortly after, we pass through the Greek-Roman fortress city buffer floor, where the stone towers, marble courtyards, and silent maze-like streets are devoid of life but full of traps and constructs meant to delay and wear down any invader who dares to step in.
Even in silence, the city feels watchful.
Shadows pool between colonnades. Ballista platforms sit dormant atop towers. The faint hum of inactive defensive arrays lingers beneath the stillness.
Nero scans the rooftops, "It almost disappoints me that no one attempts to invade at this very moment. We put so much effort into building this."
I ask, "You want a staged play?"
She considers it for half a second, "No. But the symmetry would have been pleasing."
Rani's gaze traces the architecture, "Layered defence. Psychological exhaustion followed by spatial disorientation. Then environmental attrition."
I nod, "That was the idea."
We move through the city without triggering a single mechanism. The constructs recognise our authorisation. The traps remain silent.
Eventually, we reach the boundary where the stone gives way to the grass of the plain enclosing the fortress city.
Then we reach the staircase that leads to Ledram's set of floors.
Unlike the Golden Zodiac, this descent is not ornate; it is heavy.
The light dims gradually with each step. The air thickens. That metallic scent returns, stronger now.
The brief levity from moments ago begins to thin. Nero's expression settles, theatrical ease giving way to focus. Rani's posture straightens almost imperceptibly. And I feel the shift settle into my chest.
The humour served its purpose; now we descend toward a meeting between Champions.
Each step downward feels heavier as the air grows thicker and the ambient light dims.
The faint scent of something metallic and cold lingers in the atmosphere, the scent of blood, but more specifically, the scent of a battlefield that has been bathed in blood.
Likely a very small detail wanted by Oda Nobunaga to further unsettle those stepping on their floors, thus directly affecting their mental state and decision-making.
An especially effective tactic against those who aren't used to such experience or are mentally weak.
When we finally step onto Ledram's buffer battlefield floor, the difference is immediate.
The sky above churns with dark clouds that shadow the whole area, likely to create the most oppresive mood while also giving the Darkling the perfect environment to fully display their abilities.
As we have seen in the Funnels' feed, the terrain is scarred and fractured.
The Darklings part silently as we approach.
And there, waiting amidst the dim battlefield, stand Ledram Vassago and beside him, the Archer class Servant Oda Nobunaga.
The meeting between Champions begins with me casually greeting them, "Hello there."