After lunch, Shichen brought the two young women out into the courtyard.
Illya clung to his arm, while Sakura held his hand—pretty much matching their personalities: one bold and straightforward, the other quiet and reserved.
The summoning circle from before was still usable. Shichen led them to it, glanced between them, and asked, "So—which of you wants to summon first?"
"Um…"
They both tilted their heads and looked at each other, hesitating for a moment.
Shichen wasn't in a rush. He asked gently, "Do either of you have a Servant you want to summon? If you do, I can help you get a catalyst—any relic that still exists in the world, I can find."
As long as a catalyst existed somewhere in the present world, Shichen could track it down. That part was easy for him.
"No need," Illya shook her head. "We don't really care who we summon. Dad can win the Grail War effortlessly anyway."
"Ohh? That's a sweet thing to say—too bad you don't get a reward for flattery," Shichen teased.
"Dad, you're annoying—this isn't me fishing for a reward!" Illya puffed her cheeks and glared at him. "I'm just telling the truth."
"Alright, alright." Shichen smiled indulgently and ruffled her hair. "Illya loves her dad the most, and she means what she says."
"Obviously!" Illya leaned into the head-pat like she was made for it.
Shichen then gave Sakura's head a gentle rub too—no playing favorites.
"Then you two decide. First or second doesn't matter," he said.
"Then I'll go first, okay?" Illya asked Sakura.
"Okay." Sakura nodded softly.
"Alright. Let's step back." Shichen brought Sakura over to the covered veranda and sat down with her, settling her on his lap.
Sakura was so light she barely weighed anything. She sat neatly there, even holding onto the hand Shichen had wrapped around her waist, a faint smile on her lips—never fighting for attention, but never refusing affection either.
"I'm starting!" Illya announced.
She copied Shichen's summoning posture from last night and began chanting.
Mana gathered, a breeze rose, and the magic circle flared red. At the same time, the Command Spell on Illya's hand began to glow.
The wind fluttered her silver hair. She looked petite, but her presence was steady and composed.
Shichen had heard from Kanna about how Illya was basically the "boss" in her class—taking care of the others, admired by her classmates. The idea felt a little complicated, even though he knew it made sense: with Illya's aura and looks, people were bound to gravitate toward her.
"...Answer my call."
Illya finished the chant. Inside the circle, a figure appeared—hazy at first.
Shichen watched from the veranda, curious which Heroic Spirit Illya would resonate with.
The silhouette quickly solidified—towering and massive, like a giant. When Shichen recognized him, he froze for a second… then smiled.
Of course. Illya really was still linked to him.
The Servant fully formed: a man well over two meters tall. Long black hair fell past his shoulders in heavy, tangled strands. One eye glowed crimson against a dark sclera; the other was golden. His bare skin was dark and iron-hard, his muscles thick and corded. He wore wrist guards, a battle skirt, and nothing on his feet. In his hand was a massive axe-sword.
Pure Berserker—violent and oppressive, even standing still.
In the original scenario, the Einzbern deliberately summoned him into the Berserker class, and even now, history had "snapped" into the same shape.
Illya and him really did share an affinity.
"This is Berserker, right? He's huge!" Illya didn't look scared at all. She circled him with bright-eyed curiosity instead.
And despite being Berserker, he didn't move. He stood unnaturally still—almost quiet.
For him, adapting to this class was effortless. In myth, he'd fallen into madness more than once.
"Dad, do you know who he is? Why is he so big?" Illya asked, glancing back at Shichen.
"Who do you think you're asking?" Shichen stood up, lifting Sakura with him and walking over. "Of course I know."
"Ooh—then tell me! Who is he?"
"He's Heracles—son of Zeus, from Greek mythology." Shichen looked up at the silent giant and smiled faintly.
"Heracles?! I'm amazing!" Illya lit up with pride—she knew the name.
"You are." Shichen freed one hand to ruffle her hair again.
"Hehe… Heracles—no, wait, we shouldn't say your real name out loud. Fine: Berserker. Let's get along while you're with us." Illya spoke to him cheerfully.
Heracles didn't respond. He simply watched her.
"He really doesn't talk…"
"He's Berserker. He has to keep his madness suppressed," Shichen explained, meeting Heracles' gaze.
Heracles seemed to recognize Shichen's presence and locked eyes with him.
Nothing dramatic happened. Shichen simply looked at him and said quietly, "Illya and Sakura are in your care."
Heracles kept staring—then gave a single, slow nod.
"Alright," Shichen said, turning back. "Sakura, you're up."
"Okay." Illya bounced back toward the veranda. "Berserker—come over here and watch."
Heracles followed with heavy, unhurried steps.
Shichen guided Sakura back to the circle and set her in front of it. "You okay?"
"Yes. I remember everything." Sakura nodded seriously.
"Good. You've got this." Shichen patted her head and stepped away.
"Dad—come here. I want to sit on your lap too." Illya called.
"You're heavy," Shichen teased with a grin.
"I'm not!" Illya immediately protested. "I'm as light as Sakura!"
"Oh yeah? Let me check." Shichen picked her up, sat down, and settled her on his lap.
"Well? Same weight, right?" Illya wiggled her hips smugly.
"Looks like it," Shichen agreed.
"Hmph. You called me heavy—so mean."
"You're already worrying about weight?" Shichen sighed. "You're still growing."
"Can I still grow?" Illya asked.
"Of course. You'll definitely get as tall as Irisviel."
"That's not what I meant," Illya muttered, glancing down at herself.
Shichen blinked—then immediately understood what she was hinting at.
"…Don't worry about that right now," he said, choosing his words carefully.
"Why? Don't you like it?"
"That's not the point. Just let things happen naturally, okay? Sakura hasn't changed much either."
Illya glanced at Sakura—then seemed satisfied. "Okay. Fine."
Shichen rubbed his temples, then pulled Illya gently closer. "Let's not distract Sakura. She's about to summon."
"Mm. I wonder who Sakura matches with," Illya said, taking Shichen's wrist and leaning back until she was comfortably curled into his arms.
Shichen let her, but kept his attention fixed on Sakura.
He still didn't know if the person "waiting" was the Servant Sakura would summon… but he was about to find out.
Sakura closed her eyes, pressed a hand to her chest, and began chanting.
In her heart, the sensation was overwhelming—like someone was calling out for her, begging for help, needing her to bring them forth.
Her chant finished quickly. The circle flared—bright, but not violent. No storm of mana, no chaotic wind.
Instead, the space felt… warm. Gentle. Sacred.
Then the figure inside the circle began to take shape—solidifying slowly, clearly, beautifully.
Shichen stared.
He was completely speechless.