Warfire is merciless, ceaselessly scorching the earth.
Endless conflict has buried the end of a nation.
Death and calamity have descended upon this once-beautiful paradise. All that was in the past has turned to ash.
It was over. All of it was over.
Along with the knights' glory, everything was buried in the flames of war, vanishing into smoke and dust alongside the dynasty.
The news of King Arthur's death spread across the entire continent. Even from thousands of miles away, one could hear the lament of an entire era, as if mourning the passing of a sovereign.
...
"Why? Why has it all come to this?!"
"Guinevere, my king... Agravain, aaaaah... What have I done?!"
Crack—!!
In the depths of a somber dream, a nonexistent mirror shattered abruptly.
In a dim room, a handsome man with long hair knelt on the floor, his face twisted in agony as he wailed in despair, madness etched across his features.
His earlier recklessness, his impulsive actions, everything he had done...
Upon realizing the consequences, his once-resilient heart shattered completely.
He had slain his comrades. He had betrayed his king.
He had... destroyed the Knights of the Round Table... razed the nation he had fought for...
And now, the queen he had saved from the flames at such a cost lay dying in his arms, her life ebbing away.
The man clutched Guinevere's frail body tightly, his voice a low, anguished roar.
"Don't die! You can't die! You mustn't die! My queen!!"
The beautiful woman in his arms sobbed uncontrollably.
"Lancelot... I'm sorry. We were wrong. Terribly wrong... You shouldn't have come to save me... Now, everything is beyond repair..."
"We've doomed Britain... We've killed King Arthur. It's because of me that you ended Artoria's life..."
Even before the execution, Guinevere had foreseen that Lancelot would storm the site to rescue her. To spare him the consequences, she had taken the poison Merlin had given her in advance, hoping to deter him and make him retreat.
But Lancelot, blinded by rage, had ignored it all, heedless of her pleas.
He had swung his sword, cutting down the Knights of the Round Table in a bloody rampage, forging a path of carnage. Only after committing the unforgivable did he realize that nothing could be undone...
Wrenching free from Lancelot's embrace, Guinevere staggered to her feet. With her last strength, she burst through the door, gazing toward Britain, tears streaming from her eyes. Then her body collapsed inexorably toward the land where she had lived for so many years, as if atoning for the harm she had caused to her nation and its people.
But it was all too late.
She closed her eyes forever.
"No, no... My queen!!"
The sight of Guinevere dying before him was the final straw that crushed Lancelot's spirit.
He roared in madness, wracked with pain, cursing his own sins.
"I am guilty! I am guilty!! The fault isn't yours—it's mine! I'm the beast who deserves death!! I caused the king's fall, I sullied your honor, I betrayed the Knights of the Round Table, I slew my comrades, I abandoned duty for selfish desire! If not for me, if I had stayed, how could Mordred have ignited the rebellion?!!"
"I am unworthy to be called a knight. I am unworthy to live in this world. I should have been executed by the king's own hand, subjected to the harshest punishment. But even that couldn't atone for my betrayal of her, nor mend the suffering I've inflicted on the people of Britain, nor repay the harm I've done to Gawain, Agravain, and their sister Gareth! A wretch like me should plunge into the deepest hell forever, but, but..."
"Now, I have nothing left beside me—not even someone to execute me! How can I face my son, Galahad?!!"
Gazing at the queen dead before him, scenes of his frenzied crimes flashed vividly in Lancelot's mind.
First, he had slain Agravain by mistake. Then, in his madness, he had killed the unarmed Gareth.
The sister of the Knight of the Sun, Gawain—the knight in all of Britain who admired him most. Even in her final moments, she had been unarmed, and as she fell in a pool of blood, her face showed no hatred toward him.
What... what had he done?!!!
In a daze, Lancelot seemed to see the figure of the king clad in silver armor standing before him and Guinevere, coldly reciting his litany of unforgivable crimes.
"Knight of the Lake, Lancelot, you are guilty. Guinevere as well. For your selfish love and happiness, you doomed an entire nation, slaughtered the Knights of the Round Table, and let war engulf all of Britain... From this day forward, you are no longer my knight, and I will never forgive you."
She spoke quietly, then turned and walked into the flames, her form vanishing into ash.
"Wait! My king!!"
Lancelot scrambled to his feet, reaching out to touch her, but his hand passed through mere illusion. His fingers grasped nothing—the king's figure was a hallucination born of his guilt.
The king who had forsaken her gender, abandoned love, and devoted herself to protecting the nation and its people, sacrificing everything for her country—she had been slain by his hand. What right did he have to go on living?!
Chasing the king's shadow, Lancelot hurled himself heedlessly into the flames, until his body was consumed utterly...
...
"No, that wasn't me!!"
Though it was already daytime, on a wooden chair in the Matou household, Matou Zouken jolted awake from his nap, shouting into the empty room. Even the teaware beside him was knocked over in his start.
"...Was that Lancelot's dream?"
Matou Zouken reached up, involuntarily touching the corner of his eye. His fingertip came away damp, surprising him.
"I... actually cried?"
Gazing into the mirror at the tears streaming from his aged eyes, recalling his decayed heart that had known no sorrow for centuries, Matou Zouken's mood was far from calm.
"Heh, so I can still shed tears... It seems this old man hasn't entirely escaped humanity after all. I thought I'd left it behind long ago."
He chuckled hoarsely in self-mockery, his emotions gradually settling from the dream.
When a Master forms a contract with a Servant, their minds link, allowing the Master to glimpse fragments of the Servant's memories from life. What he had just seen was naturally from Lancelot.
Matou Zouken frowned, genuinely moved by the scene.
In that moment of reverie, he seemed to understand why summoning Lancelot had gone so smoothly...
There were indeed striking similarities between them.
In a haze, memories he should have long forgotten resurfaced in his mind.
Matou Zouken paused, suddenly recalling a winter from centuries ago, when he had encountered a white-haired woman in the snow—that was where it all began...
The legendary Winter Saintess, Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, the beautiful woman who had touched his heart and sacrificed herself for his ideals.
She had willingly become the core of the Greater Grail, completing the magical ritual he pursued: the Holy Grail War. The original purpose of the Holy Grail War was to use the souls of defeated Servants to fuel the Greater Grail and achieve the Third Magic. Given the nature of the Third Magic, combined with the immense magical energy gathered, it possessed the terrifying capability to grant nearly any wish—making the so-called universal wish-granter of the Holy Grail War truly real.
The Third Magic: immortality, soul materialization... capable of fulfilling any desire.
What an extraordinary thing. He had devoted centuries to this ritual.
But what had his original wish been?
In his confusion, Matou Zouken had forgotten his initial desire.
Now, his wish was merely to reclaim his youth through the Grail, to restore his incomplete, decayed soul and body, and to remember that first wish.
Lancelot had committed heinous crimes for love and happiness, only to regret them and choose to perish on Britain's soil.
And him...?
What ending awaited him?
What fate suited a decayed monster like himself?
Truth be told, though he had signed the contract, Matou Zouken still couldn't fully trust Roy.
His own wish was to regain youth and achieve immortality, but he had never understood what Roy truly wanted.
This was an ill omen. A transaction should be equal, yet he had always been led by the other. Even his opportunistic maneuvers during the Holy Grail War had been thwarted entirely. The current situation was unclear for him.
Yet even so, he knew he had no choice left.
Refusal meant destruction. Roy's side was overwhelmingly powerful; resistance would lead to being crushed by absolute force. The Golden King's side was even worse—seeking alliance there would only end in execution.
Not to mention the news from last night of the fire at the Tohsaka residence and Tohsaka Tokiomi's death...
'Heh, this old man has no path of retreat now.'
That Tohsaka brat was likely dead by now, though by whose hand, he didn't know. Even Matou Kariya's whereabouts were unknown, which worried him.
"Sigh..."
With a deep sigh, Matou Zouken's expression twisted further. He prepared to go out and retrieve that worthless descendant, Matou Kariya.
It was the finale now; he needed to reclaim control of Lancelot. Just as Matou Zouken was about to move, a black raven suddenly flew to his window—
"What's the matter, Lord Crowley?"
Recognizing the familiar raven as his collaborator's familiar—only he knew how to bypass the barriers unhindered—Matou Zouken let it in.
It was the final stage; if he had come, there must be a plan.
He opened the window to admit it.
"Good morning, Elder Matou. I scouted the Tohsaka residence earlier this morning and uncovered some vital intelligence."
Roy's voice emerged from the raven, his tone deliberately grave.
"The Tohsaka residence?"
Hearing the name and recalling last night's sudden news, Matou Zouken already suspected the answer.
"Is Tohsaka Tokiomi dead?"
He asked bluntly.
"Straight to the point, as expected. You know some details already. In that case, I'll cut to the chase... Tohsaka Tokiomi is indeed dead."
"As I thought."
Matou Zouken wasn't particularly surprised by the confirmation.
After all, the entire residence, workshop, and accumulated assets had been burned to the ground—these were a magus's foundation and lifeblood. To survive that would be almost rude.
"Was it you? Or El-Melloi? Or... Matou Kariya?"
Matou Zouken felt a surge of surprise, his composure shaken as he probed Roy.
"No, none of us... It was his disciple, Kotomine Kirei."
At this critical juncture, Roy didn't toy with him and revealed the expected answer directly.
"Kotomine Kirei? Tohsaka Tokiomi's student?"
Recalling the somewhat unfamiliar name, Matou Zouken pondered briefly before asking gravely, "He killed his own professor?"
"Yes, most likely him."
"No one else had the opportunity."
"With Tohsaka Tokiomi dead, Archer should have withdrawn due to mana supply issues. That's good news for us, right?"
Matou Zouken furrowed his brow, weighing the implications. Even with prior suspicions, hearing it confirmed was still profoundly shocking.
"No, the King of Heroes hasn't withdrawn."
Roy shattered his optimism without mercy.
"Tohsaka Tokiomi wasn't a fool; he never fully let his guard down. His greatest asset was Archer. As long as Gilgamesh wished to persist, he couldn't abandon him—he would save him. Since Gilgamesh didn't this time, it means..."
"Gilgamesh had already chosen another magus to contract with, and it's highly likely Kotomine Kirei!"
Matou Zouken wasn't dull; he grasped it immediately.
Though he didn't know that Gilgamesh's chosen magus wasn't Kotomine Kirei, but Roy himself.
There was no need to reveal that. For now, he would inform him of the situation and lure the old worm out, then eliminate them all at once.
"Correct. Archer's Master is now Kotomine Kirei, and their previous alliance is nullified."
Roy knew that unlike Tohsaka Tokiomi, who craved victory, Kotomine Kirei had no reason to ally with the Einzberns. Moreover, Emiya Kiritsugu, having just retrieved the Lesser Grail, had no further need to fight—he could simply wait for the other Servants to eliminate each other, then present the Lesser Grail to summon the Grail and make his wish.
The Grail required only sufficient souls to activate and grant a wish; there was no need for endless battles. This was Emiya Kiritsugu's final trump card.
Overwhelmed by the information, Matou Zouken's mind buzzed, struggling to process it all at once.
Yet, drawing on centuries of experience and wisdom, he didn't stay stunned long. He quickly composed himself and asked Roy,
"What's the next plan? We still take the initiative?"
"Correct."
Hearing Matou Zouken's question, Roy's satisfied voice replied from the raven.
"The plan is simple: Professor Kayneth, Waver, along with Fionn, Iskandar, and Lancelot, will launch a direct assault on Gilgamesh. Meanwhile, I'll handle Scáthach and the Einzbern side to hold off Saber, then join you once that's done to finish the enemies."
"That shouldn't be a problem, right? What do you think, Elder Matou?"
Hearing Roy's straightforward, aggressive plan, Matou Zouken nodded slightly, finding no objection.
Restraining Saber couldn't be entrusted to Lancelot, who lost control at the sight of her. Rider's Inherent Phantasm was suited for group battles, not solo strikes, leaving only Fionn and Scáthach as fitting.
So Roy taking that task raised no concerns.
In the current situation, concentrating forces for a decisive push was the simplest tactic.
Lancer, Rider, Berserker—three top-tier Heroic Spirits striking together. Even the King of Heroes couldn't escape death.
A three-on-one was a fatal setup for Gilgamesh.
Rider's Inherent Phantasm for field lockdown, Lancer's god-slaying prowess for counters, and Berserker's firepower for suppression—Matou Zouken couldn't imagine how Gilgamesh could win.
His only concern was winning too easily, preserving too much strength for Lancer and Rider, making it hard for Berserker to ambush. Thus, he decided that in tonight's battle, he would force Lancelot out or muddy the waters to weaken Rider and Lancer as much as possible.
For safety, he resolved to join the assault with El-Melloi's group, seeking an opportunity to eliminate Lancer and Rider at the Master level, securing victory in the Holy Grail War.
With only Roy left, bound by contract, any schemes he had would still require fulfilling Zouken's wish.
At that thought, a cold glint flashed in Matou Zouken's shadowed eyes.
"Tell me the location. This time, this old man will take the field personally."
"Hm, that's reassuring indeed."
Upon hearing this, Roy—who was sharing breakfast with two beauties yet drawing stares by muttering to himself—wore an intriguing smile.
Finally emerging...
Now, all the actors—and the doomed—have taken the stage.
Before he could laugh aloud at this final arrangement, something greasy and strip-like was suddenly stuffed into Roy's mouth.
Aozaki Touko had shoved a strip of bacon into it, silencing his peculiar grin.
Eating breakfast while drawing everyone's attention because of this guy—he couldn't stand it.
***
If you enjoyed this story, don't forget to drop 5 stars and your power stone. And if you want to read more than 70 chapters in advance, feel free to visit: pat reon . com / KangTL