The night was as cool as water.
A faint ripple of magic lingered in the air, like invisible harp strings subtly vibrating, plucked by the presence of everyone there.
Gilgamesh stood in the middle of the courtyard.
His golden royal robe snapped and billowed in the night wind, the intricate embroidered patterns glinting with a cold sheen under the moonlight.
He lifted his chin slightly.
Those crimson eyes were like the purest of gemstones, yet brimming with an arrogance that looked down on the entire world.
The way he looked at Waver was as if he were merely glancing at an ignorant little ant.
"Mongrel, this king is this king!"
His voice boomed like a great bell, filled with unquestionable royal authority.
Every word crashed in their ears like a clap of thunder.
"This so-called Holy Grail system, these so-called Servant classes, are nothing but laughable frameworks—sandcastles built by children. How could such things ever serve as shackles that define this king's existence?"
"Six, five, three."
He flicked his hand.
Golden ripples quietly unfolded beside him.
The tips of several Noble Phantasms loomed faintly within the ripples, releasing an oppressive pressure that made one's heart clench.
"This king's descent into this world is a blessing for this era, the supreme honor that allows you lowly rabble to behold a king's majesty—not some kind of 'mistake'!"
Arrogance was like a brand he'd been born with, carved deep into the core of his soul.
In this King of Heroes' eyes, all rules of the world were his to make, and all things in the world were his to use.
The so-called Holy Grail system was nothing more than yet another boring joke that tried—and failed—to bind a king.
Waver clutched tightly at Iskandar's cloak, his fingers turning white from the force of his grip.
The young mage's face was full of panic, a fine sheen of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
His voice trembled uncontrollably, heavy with fear and worry.
"Rider! You heard what he said… If the Holy Grail system really has such a serious 'error' that even the summoning and number of Servants can't be guaranteed, then… then what about the Grail itself?"
He swallowed hard, eyes filled with fear of the unknown.
"Can it still properly grant wishes?"
"Will the rules for obtaining the Grail change because of this?"
"We… we made so many plans. Can we still follow the route we planned?"
The Holy Grail War.
As the name implied, its core was the struggle over that omnipotent wishing device—the Holy Grail.
Whether it was to restore a nation, to make up for regrets, or to satisfy endless greed, every participant's final goal pointed toward that legendary Holy Grail.
But if even the Grail itself had become unreliable because of a system error—if it might not even be able to grant a wish—
Then what meaning was there in this war where they were gambling their lives?
Iskandar's brows furrowed.
A hint of gravity flashed across his red eyes.
He raised a hand and patted Waver's shoulder, trying to calm the boy down.
But he realized that, for the moment, he couldn't give a clear answer either.
The question really did strike at the vital core of the Holy Grail War.
"Hmph!"
Gilgamesh's cold snort rang out again, thick with mockery.
He cut off Waver's anxious words and Iskandar's thoughts in one stroke.
"To make such a fuss over a mere Holy Grail?"
He let out a derisive laugh, the contempt in his tone practically spilling over.
"It is nothing more than one dusty trinket in this king's treasury!"
"A bunch of mongrel thieves, ignorant of their place, coveting what belongs to this king—that's all this ridiculous little play you're putting on!"
He spread his arms wide.
The golden royal robe unfurled in the moonlight like the wings of a phoenix, his kingly presence on full display.
"The fact that this king has deigned to descend and watch this farce is already an immense honor for you!"
"And you still dare dream the Grail will grant your petty, laughable wishes?"
To him, the Holy Grail was nothing more than something that already belonged in his pocket.
That sheer level of arrogance made everyone present distinctly uncomfortable.
Artoria frowned, displeasure flickering in her eyes.
As the Knight King, she had always valued justice and humility.
Gilgamesh's pride and self-importance were utterly at odds with her chivalric ideals.
And yet what happened next surprised even Iskandar and Waver—and even the ever-arrogant Gilgamesh himself.
Artoria stepped forward slowly.
The sword of the king in her hand was still sheathed, yet it still gave off a faint, holy radiance.
She withdrew the sharp, combative aura she had shown when facing Gilgamesh before.
The magical power around her grew much gentler.
A deep and complex light passed through her eyes.
There was guilt there, and regret, and stubborn resolve—and a determination no one else could fully understand.
She took a deep breath.
Her voice rose slowly, yet carried clearly into every ear, crisp and unwavering, like jade striking stone.
"I, Artoria Pendragon, no longer participate in this Holy Grail War for the sake of praying to the Grail for a wish."
"What?!"
Iskandar's eyes flew wide open.
He had spent a lifetime campaigning and had seen countless people fight for profit and desire.
But he had never imagined that the Saber class Servant, who by definition should be competing for the ultimate wishing device, would say something like this.
He took a step forward, his massive frame pressing down with fierce intensity, his tone full of bafflement.
"You don't want the Grail? Then what are you fighting for? The very nature of the Holy Grail War is to compete for the wishing device. If not for the Grail, why risk your life in this slaughter?"
Artoria did not answer directly.
She only silently clenched her fist, her fingertips turning white.
Her gaze drifted far into the distance, as if piercing the barrier of time itself to see that Britain she had once sworn to protect with her life, and the people displaced by war who wandered those ravaged lands.
In her eyes was a kind of resolve and persistence that only she could understand.
Just then, a sharp little scoff rang out from the treetops.
Ishtar stood there, arms folded across her chest, lazily leaning against a branch.
Her twin tails swayed in the moonlight, her face carrying an air of tsundere arrogance and disdain.
"Huh? The Holy Grail? Who would care about that kind of thing?"
She snorted, her tone dripping with contempt for the Grail.
"If this goddess wants something, I can just take it myself. Why would I need some stupid cup to help me? That's an insult to my power!"
As she spoke, she flicked her hand.
Red magical energy gathered in her palm, forming a small, exquisite bow that radiated a powerful divine pressure.
As the Mesopotamian goddess of war and harvest, her strength was more than enough to seize anything she desired.
To her, the Holy Grail truly held no value.
Ereshkigal stood in the shadows, faint underworld chill curling softly around her.
She shook her head slightly, her voice cold as ice, like a whisper drifting up from the depths of the underworld.
"The rules of the underworld have nothing to do with a wish-granting device of the living world."
"I descended this time only to observe the changes in the world of the living. I have no need of the Holy Grail."
Her eyes were calm and still, as though nothing in this world could stir even the slightest ripple within her.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 120 Chapters Ahead of Others!