The joyful, chiming energy of Queen Marie's summoning still lingered in the air as Fujimaru turned back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension. He had ten crystals left. The ledger of Orleans was almost perfectly balanced.
He reached into the spatial tear and pulled out the eleventh data crystal.
This one was wholly unique. It didn't possess a single, solid color. Instead, its prismatic glow continuously shifted back and forth between a pristine, crisp white and a deep, elegant sapphire blue. The light was inherently ambiguous, refusing to settle on a single, defined state, yet it remained undeniably beautiful.
"Eleventh attempt," Fujimaru stated, his voice calm and steady.
He tossed the shifting crystal onto the center of Lord Chaldeas.
BZZZZT!
The mana circuits on the floor ignited, mirroring the crystal's dual nature by swirling in ribbons of white and blue. The three massive rings of light spun up, kicking up a breeze that felt sharp like the edge of a blade, yet soft like a blooming petal.
BOOM!
A pillar of dual-colored light struck the altar. As the brilliance gracefully dispersed, a figure stepped forward with the impeccable poise of a master fencer.
The Servant was dressed in an elegant, 18th-century white and blue military uniform that perfectly blended aristocratic grace with lethal practicality. In their hand, they held a gleaming silver rapier at the ready. They possessed pale skin, striking features, and blonde hair tied back with a neat bow. Their beauty was absolute, yet completely and utterly ambiguous—possessing both the striking handsome features of a nobleman and the delicate, captivating grace of a noblewoman.
Name: Chevalier d'Eon
Class: Saber
Attribute: Man
Gender: ?
Alignment: True Neutral
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance (C Rank): Cannot defend against large-scale Magecraft such as Great Magecrafts and Ritual Spells.
Riding (B Rank): It is possible for one to manage most vehicles and beasts. Regarding the Phantasmal Kind however, they are not able to manage them.
Personal Skills:
Let the White Lily Shine (A+ Rank): Powerful suggestion that has oneself as target. Possesses a high defensive effect against the effects of Magecrafts・Skills・Noble Phantasms that influence the mind. At times a man, at times a woman. Even the body is made to change.
Mind's Eye (True) (C Rank): d'Eon has this Skill because of experiences spying abroad. It is the proof that d'Eon is merely not just cute.
Beautiful Appearance (C Rank): Increases negotiation success rate with both men and women. Neutralizes effects that target one specific gender.
Stats:
Strength A | Endurance B | Agility B | Mana C | Luck A | NP C
Noble Phantasm:
Fleur de Lis: Sword Dance of Falling Lilies (Anti-Unit C)
A mesmerizing sword dance historically used by d'Eon to bewitch and assassinate their targets. As ethereal lily petals—the symbol of French royalty—scatter through the air, d'Eon's vivid movements completely entrance a single foe, severely draining their physical strength and speed. Seizing that moment of weakness, d'Eon delivers a fatal, inescapable thrust. Because it requires very little magical energy, it is a highly efficient and deadly technique.
Fleur de Lis: Gorgeous Splendor of Blooming Lilies (Anti-Army C+)
A wider variation of the enchanting dance meant to captivate up to fifty enemies at once. Projecting the grand illusion of a blooming lily, it saps the stamina and strength of an entire enemy group. If fate is on d'Eon's side, the sheer beauty of the dance leaves the enemies completely paralyzed and unable to fight back. However, unlike the first version, this dance is purely an illusion and deals no direct physical harm.
Fleur de Lis: Profuse Blooming of Fluttering Lilies (Anti-Army B+)
The ultimate, most powerful form of the sword dance. By releasing all of their internal magical energy at once, d'Eon creates an endless storm of fluttering petals. This inescapable illusion casts a powerful bewitchment over the entire battlefield, capable of trapping hundreds or even thousands of onlookers in a deep trance.
Down on the altar, the elegant Saber gave their rapier a swift, practiced twirl before seamlessly sheathing it at their hip.
"I am the Chevalier d'Eon," the Saber spoke, their voice a perfect, melodic blend of masculine confidence and feminine grace. They swept their arm across their chest in a flawless, aristocratic bow. "The white lily that blooms to protect the Royal Family and the people of France. Servant, Saber. I have answered your summons, Master."
Before Fujimaru could even step forward to offer his own bow, a delighted, high-pitched gasp echoed from behind him.
"D'Eon!"
Marie Antoinette practically flew past Fujimaru, her brilliant red gown fluttering as she rushed toward the altar. Her bright blue eyes were wide with sheer, overwhelming joy.
D'Eon froze, their aristocratic composure shattering in an instant. The Saber looked past Fujimaru and saw the radiant, smiling face of the queen they had served, loved, and grieved for.
"My... My Queen?!" D'Eon gasped. Without a second of hesitation, the legendary spy rushed to the edge of the altar and dropped heavily onto one knee, bowing their head so low it nearly touched the metal floor. "Your Majesty! To gaze upon your radiant smile once more... this knight is truly unworthy of such a miracle!"
"Oh, raise your head, my dear, loyal knight!" Marie beamed, stepping up to the altar and gently taking D'Eon's hands in hers. "There is no need for such formalities! We have both been given a second chance to fight for the future!"
Fujimaru watched the reunion, a warm, knowing smile crossing his face. He stepped forward, standing beside his Queen and her loyal knight.
As D'Eon slowly rose to their feet, their eyes shifted to the teenage Master. The Saber's sharp instincts immediately recognized the ancient, quiet weight in Fujimaru's soul. They saw the respectful distance he kept, acknowledging their reunion without interrupting it.
Fujimaru placed his right hand over his chest, offering D'Eon the exact same profound bow he had given the others.
"Welcome, Chevalier d'Eon," Fujimaru said gently. "Your unwavering loyalty to your Queen is absolute, and I would never ask you to place me above her. But humanity is standing on the edge of the abyss. We need the finest sword of France to help us hold the line."
D'Eon looked at the boy, deeply moved by his maturity and absolute lack of magus-like arrogance. The Saber placed a hand over their own heart, their expression hardening into absolute, knightly resolve.
"You are a wise sovereign, Master," D'Eon said, their voice ringing with unwavering conviction. "You have reunited me with my guiding light. For that, my gratitude is eternal. If you fight for the future of humanity, then my rapier shall be your shield. I will draw every enemy's blade away from you, even if it costs me my life!"
"We're going to make sure it doesn't come to that," Fujimaru promised, his blue eyes resolute. "I'm glad to have you with us, Saber."
"My, my, the royal court is practically fully assembled!" Da Vinci cheered over the comms, clapping her hands. "A perfect success! Let's keep this momentum going, Master!"
Fujimaru nodded, turning back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension. The glowing data crystals hovered within the dark spatial tear.
"Nine left," Fujimaru murmured. The heroes of the First Singularity were gathering, one by one. The pieces were finally falling into place.
The joyful reunion of the French Court warmed the sterile metallic room, but Fujimaru's focus remained unwavering. He reached back into the localized void of his Pocket Dimension, the remaining crystals humming softly.
"Twelfth attempt," he stated, pulling out a crystal and tossing it onto the shield.
BZZZZT! The rings spun, a brief gust of wind blew, but the light fizzled out into a thin wisp of mana smoke. Another failure.
Fujimaru didn't blink. He immediately reached for the next one.
When he pulled his hand out for the thirteenth attempt, the data crystal he held didn't just glow—it seemed to vibrate with an inherent, chaotic rhythm. It was a dizzying, complex kaleidoscope of colors that shifted like musical notes dancing on a grand staff.
"Thirteenth attempt," Fujimaru said quietly, tossing the vibrant crystal onto Lord Chaldeas.
The moment it touched the metal, the summoning array didn't just roar; it sang. The mana circuits on the floor flared into a brilliant, theatrical gold. The three spinning rings of light whirled with the perfect tempo of a grand waltz, kicking up a breeze that carried the distinct, phantom sound of a classical orchestra tuning their instruments.
BOOM!
A pillar of theatrical light struck the altar. As the brilliance faded, the phantom sound of a beautiful, frantic violin solo echoed through the chamber, abruptly ending on a perfectly sharp note.
Standing on the altar was a slender man with a dramatic, theatrical flair. He wore an elegant, highly stylized 18th-century coat adorned with vibrant patterns, his silver hair wild and untamed. A bizarre, beautifully crafted silver mask covered the upper half of his face, leaving only a wide, eccentric smile visible. He held a conductor's baton in his hand, tapping it lightly against his palm.
Mozart gave his baton one final, dramatic twirl, bringing it down to a sudden stop. He placed a hand over his heart and offered a deeply exaggerated, theatrical bow.
"Servant, Caster," Mozart announced, his voice a melodic, wildly eccentric purr. "Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, at your service! Leave battles aside, I promise only to decorate your life!"
Name: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Class: Caster
Attribute: Star
Gender: Male
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class Skills:
Territory Creation (B Rank): The ability to build a special terrain that is advantageous to oneself as a magus. In Mozart's case, the territory he creates specifically possesses the shape of a grand "concert stage."
Personal Skills:
Protection of the Music God (Fake) (EX Rank): The absolute capacity to recognize and identify any and all sorts of sound, making it possible to execute a prodigious, flawless musical performance. In addition, it grants a positive correction on the usage of musical magic. Despite the "Fake" designation, Amadeus is able to display this Skill and its effects entirely through his own innate abilities by means of his absolute pitch, natural talent, and lifelong effort.
Melody of Angels (A Rank): Represents a profound comprehension and eye for works and objects of art. Should he lay eyes upon a Noble Phantasm that possesses an artistic anecdote or musical history, there is a very high chance he will instantly figure out its True Name.
Eine kleine Nachtmusik (EX Rank): A unique Skill based upon one of his most famous and beloved compositions. Through its elegant and uplifting performance, it instantly generates a massive amount of critical stars to turn the tide of battle.
Stats:
Strength D | Endurance E | Agility B | Mana B+ | Luck D | NP B
Noble Phantasm:
Requiem for Death: A Funeral March For the Grim Reaper (Anti-Army B)
A demonic tune based on the legendary tale of Mozart being tasked with the composition of a funeral march for Death itself just before his own passing. Rather than calling out for it as normally believed, it is a hauntingly beautiful tune that genuinely sympathizes with Death. Any person who hears this melody must immediately make a Mana and Luck Check.
If they fail, all physical parameters are forcibly reduced by two ranks, and additionally, they start receiving a severe persistent damage that ignores any armor or defensive magic and abilities. If they pass, the parameters reduction becomes of only one rank, and the persistent damage is reduced in half.
Before Fujimaru could answer, a familiar, joyful gasp echoed through the room.
"Amadeus!"
Marie Antoinette stepped forward, her hands clasped together, her bright blue eyes shining with delight. Beside her, D'Eon smiled fondly, while Jeanne offered a polite, graceful nod.
Mozart froze. The eccentric, wild energy completely vanished from his posture. He slowly turned his masked face toward the Queen of France. For a genius who perceived the entire world as music, the sound of her voice was the only melody that truly mattered.
"Maria..." Mozart whispered, his theatrical persona slipping away to reveal the deeply devoted, melancholic man beneath. He stepped down from the altar, removing his mask and bowing low before her. "My radiant Queen. It seems the universe has quite the sense of humor, allowing a fool like me to stand in your light once more."
"Oh, Amadeus, you are as dramatic as ever!" Marie giggled, gently tapping him on the shoulder. "But I am so glad you are here! Our Master is going to save the world, and we simply must provide the soundtrack!"
Mozart chuckled, a genuine, warm sound. He placed his mask back on and turned to face the boy who had orchestrated this miraculous reunion.
Fujimaru stepped forward. The ancient, quiet weight in his soul was perfectly balanced with a gentle, appreciative smile. He placed his right hand over his chest and offered the legendary composer a profound bow.
"Welcome, Mozart," Fujimaru said smoothly, rising to meet the Caster's masked gaze. "Your music in Orleans was the only beauty left in a rusted world. You played until the very end to guide us. I couldn't let your final note be a tragedy."
Mozart tilted his head, his sharp intellect instantly recognizing the depth of the Master before him. A boy who understood that music wasn't just sound, but a record of the soul.
"A Master who appreciates the finer nuances of a performance," Mozart smiled, his eccentric flair returning, though tempered with absolute respect. "How delightful! Very well, Master. The world may be ending, but as long as you hold the baton, my requiem shall tear down the defenses of your enemies, and my sonatas shall protect our radiant Queen! Let us make this a masterpiece to remember!"
"We'll play a symphony that echoes across history," Fujimaru agreed, his blue eyes resolute.
He turned back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension, the remaining seven data crystals glowing softly. The cast of the First Singularity was nearly complete.
"Seven left," Fujimaru murmured, reaching for the next crystal. The grand stage of Chaldea was set, and the true performance was about to begin.
The theatrical energy of Mozart's arrival settled, but the air in the summoning chamber was far from calm. The remaining heroes of Orleans were not all saints, queens, or knights. Some were monsters born of necessary cruelty.
Fujimaru turned back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension. He reached into the dark tear and pulled out the fourteenth data crystal.
This one was entirely different from the rest. It did not glow with holy light or vibrant color. It was a jagged, dark crimson crystal that seemed to absorb the light around it, radiating a cold, oppressive aura of blood, iron, and uncompromising authority. It felt heavy—not with madness, but with the terrifying weight of a ruler who had bathed his hands in the blood of his enemies to protect his people.
"Fourteenth attempt," Fujimaru said, his voice dropping into a solemn, respectful register.
He tossed the crimson crystal onto the center of Lord Chaldeas.
BZZZZT!
The system resonated with a terrifying, heavy hum. The mana circuits on the floor instantly turned a deep, blood-red. The three spinning rings of light whirled with the menacing sound of grinding iron and thousands of wooden stakes breaking the earth. The air pressure in the room plummeted, a localized chill of absolute dread sweeping over them.
BOOM!
A pillar of crimson light struck the altar. As the dark brilliance faded, the heavy, metallic clink of armored boots echoed through the silent chamber.
Standing on the altar was a tall, imposing man exuding an aura of absolute, terrifying majesty. He was clad in dark, regal armor beneath a heavy black and red cloak. His pale skin and sharp, aristocratic features were framed by long, immaculately kept silver hair. But it was his eyes—piercing, golden, and utterly devoid of mercy—that commanded immediate, absolute submission.
In his hand, he held an impossibly long, cruel-looking black lance.
Down in the summoning room, the atmosphere was incredibly tense. Kiyohime hummed, her fan sparking with embers as she evaluated the Lancer's threat level. Lancelot stood perfectly still, his chaotic madness suppressed by the sheer, imposing presence of a fellow sovereign of bloodshed. Medusa's grip on her daggers tightened slightly.
Vlad III slowly lowered his black lance, the tip resting against the metal floor with a heavy thud. His golden eyes swept across the room, analyzing the bizarre gathering of heroes. He noted the Queen of France, the Holy Maiden, and the mad knight.
Finally, his gaze settled on the boy standing at the edge of the altar.
"Servant, Lancer," Vlad III spoke. His voice was deep, smooth, and resonant, carrying the absolute, uncompromising authority of a true king. "I am Vlad III, Lord of Wallachia. I am here at your request... Are you the Master who shall offer me your blood?"
Name: Vlad III
Class: Berserker
Attribute: Man
Gender: Male
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Class Skills:
Mad Enhancement (EX Rank): He's gone mad yet his thoughts are clear, even his wish to the grail remains unchanged. This makes him somewhat of an unusual Berserker, however this is because he fights while accepting his vampiric abilities, which is the biggest abnormality to someone like Vlad.
Personal Skills:
Bloodsucking (A Rank): One of Vlad's vampiric abilities. He can turn others even servants into slaves by sucking their blood. The one who has their blood sucked enters a state of living in death, and usually obeys whoever sucked their blood. Also, since this counts not as an attack but rather a show of affection, it cannot be defended against even if you were to posses 'a body which rejects all attacks'.
Shapeshift (C Rank): One of Vlad's vampiric abilities. He can transform into mist, or countless bats. It's extremely useful while fighting at melee range, but not so much against attacks which cover a wide area.
Fearsome Immortal (A+ Rank): One of Vlad's vampiric abilities. He does not know when to give up. Can fight even after sustaining fatal wounds, his performance receiving no penalty regardless of the state of his body.
Demonic Defender of the State (EX Rank): Capacity to mark a region as his personal dominion by securing the surrounding leylines prior to an engagement, permitting reinforcement of his combat capabilities when fighting in defense. Inside this domain, Vlad III acquires a combat bonus comparable to a Berserker's A rank in Mad Enhancement and all type of immortality.
Stats:
Strength A | Endurance A | Agility C | Mana B | Luck E | NP A
Noble Phantasm:
Legend of Dracula: The Succession of Blood (Anti-Unit Self A+)
By fully embracing the myth and transforming into the monster "Dracula," Vlad sacrifices his other weapons and fighting skills. In return, his physical strength skyrockets. He gains absolute control over his shapeshifting abilities, high-speed regeneration, and hypnotic eyes. However, taking on this monstrous form curses him with a fatal weakness to sunlight and holy weapons.
Kazıklı Bey: The Lord of Execution (Anti-Army B)
With a violent earthquake, Vlad summons a massive forest of wooden stakes that erupt from the ground, instantly skewering weaker enemies and hoisting them into the air. Because they appear instantly from below, they are incredibly hard to dodge. These stakes act like predators, tracking fleeing targets, growing from broken pieces, and snatching enemies out of the air. Vlad can summon five hundred stakes in just three seconds, creating an endless wave of destruction meant to overwhelm the battlefield and drain the energy of any opposing Heroic Spirit.
Kazıklı Bey: Bloodstained King Demon (Anti-Unit B+)
A concentrated, single-target version of his execution stakes. Instead of summoning them from the earth, Vlad generates deadly stakes directly from his own body, firing them like projectiles. These stakes are made from his own bone, flesh, shadows, and hardened hair. He can even turn nearby objects into lethal stakes. This attack sacrifices wide-range destruction in exchange for the absolute, focused power needed to instantly destroy a single Servant.
Fujimaru did not cower. He did not step back, nor did he raise a Command Spell in fear.
He understood the tragedy of Vlad III better than anyone. He was a hero who had committed unspeakable atrocities solely to protect his small, vulnerable nation from a massive empire. He was a man who hated the legend of the "Vampire Dracula" that history had forced upon him, wishing only to be remembered as a protector.
Fujimaru stepped up to the very edge of the altar. He looked directly into the terrifying golden eyes of the Impaler, his own blue eyes reflecting an ancient, unshakeable calm.
He placed his right hand over his chest and offered the Lord of Wallachia a deep, profound, and absolute bow of respect.
"Welcome back, Lord Vlad," Fujimaru said, his voice steady and carrying the weight of a sovereign who understood the heavy burden of rule. He rose to meet the king's gaze. "I do not fear you. In Orleans, you fought a hopeless battle against a Beast to protect the innocent, even when history itself had gone mad. You are no monster. You are a king who did what was necessary."
Vlad III's eyes widened fractionally. For a magus to look past his terrifying reputation, to reject the monstrous vampire myth and acknowledge his true nature as a sovereign protector—it was an incredibly rare, deeply profound insult to his curse, and a tremendous honor to his true self.
The heavy, oppressive dread bleeding from the Lancer slowly dissipated, replaced by an aura of stern, noble majesty.
"You look upon a man who has impaled tens of thousands, and you see only a protector," Vlad III said softly, a faint, aristocratic smile touching his lips. He lifted his black lance and slammed the butt of it against the floor in a sharp, formal salute. "You are a bold Master, Fujimaru Ritsuka. Very well. If you possess the resolve to shoulder the sins of this world, then Wallachia shall stand with you. Direct my lance, and I shall turn your enemies into a forest of stakes."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Fujimaru nodded respectfully. "We will need your strength to defend humanity's foundation."
As Vlad III stepped down from the altar, carrying himself with absolute, regal dignity, Cú Chulainn let out a low whistle.
He turned back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension. The ledger of the First Singularity was almost complete. Six crystals remained. The final pieces of the grand puzzle were waiting to be called home.
The heavy, majestic aura of Vlad III settling into the ranks of Chaldea's new army left the room in a state of reverent quiet. The Master of Chaldea, however, turned back to the localized void of his Pocket Dimension, where the final six data crystals hovered in the dark tear.
"Fifteenth attempt," Fujimaru stated quietly, pulling out a crystal and placing it onto the center of Lord Chaldeas.
BZZZZT! The rings of light spun rapidly, but the connection failed to anchor. The light dimmed, and the crystal crumbled into fine dust.
Fujimaru didn't sigh or show frustration. He simply reached back in.
"Sixteenth."
BZZZZT... A wisp of smoke.
"Seventeenth."
BZZZZT... Ash scattering across the metal floor.
"Eighteenth."
BZZZZT... Silence.
"Nineteenth."
BZZZZT... Nothing.
Five consecutive failures in rapid succession. Up in the observation booth, Dr. Roman let out a breath he had been holding, while Da Vinci groaned loudly, slumping against the console.
"Oh, the sheer statistical cruelty of the universe!" Da Vinci lamented. "Five absolute duds in a row! The conceptual weight of the remaining crystals must not be resonating with any available Saint Graphs!"
Down in the summoning chamber, the gathered heroes watched their Master. A traditional magus would be tearing their hair out over the loss of such priceless artifacts, cursing their luck or demanding answers from the heavens.
Fujimaru simply looked at the dust on the altar. He reached into the spatial tear one last time, pulling out the twentieth and final data crystal.
"Twentieth attempt," Fujimaru murmured politely, tossing the crystal onto the shield.
BZZZZT!
For the final time, the F.A.T.E. system roared to life. The mana circuits blazed with a blinding white intensity.
And then, just like the five before it... the light abruptly died. The final data crystal dissolved into a thin wisp of smoke, drifting up toward the ceiling before vanishing completely. The altar was empty.
With a smooth, practiced motion, Fujimaru swiped his hand through the air. The localized spatial tear collapsed, closing his inventory entirely. He offered a small, respectful bow to the empty altar, acknowledging the system's effort.
"Well... that's anticlimactic," Roman sighed over the comms. "Are you alright, Ritsuka? Burning through that many high-tier catalysts... your Od levels must be feeling the strain, not to mention the sheer loss of resources."
"I am perfectly fine, Doctor. The system is handling the heavy lifting," Fujimaru replied, his voice calm and steady.
Mash stepped up beside him, looking at the empty shield with a slight frown. "Are you disappointed, Senpai? The last six crystals... they were completely lost."
Fujimaru looked at her, and a gentle, grounding smile crossed his face.
"Disappointed? No, Mash. Not at all," Fujimaru shook his head. "In the world I knew, I learned very early on that miracles don't come cheap, and effort doesn't always guarantee a reward. To gather seven legendary heroes from twenty crystals... that is a tremendous blessing. I budgeted for far more failures. We were very fortunate today."
He turned to face his newly assembled vanguard. He saw the mad knight, the obsessive dragon, the holy saint, the radiant queen, the loyal spy, the eccentric composer, and the terrifying impaler.
"I know many of you are royalty, saints, and grand knights," Fujimaru began, his tone polite, respectful, but carrying the quiet dignity of a man who knew the value of hard work. "I should apologize if my manners are lacking, or if my methods seem strange. I am not a king by blood, nor am I a magus from a prestigious lineage."
He placed a hand over his chest, speaking with complete, unashamed honesty.
"I am just a commoner. A worker. Everything I have—the resources I used to bring you here, the magic I wield—wasn't inherited. It was gathered, piece by piece, over a very long time, simply so I wouldn't be helpless when it mattered. I have wealth, but it was earned through sweat and persistence. So, while I cannot offer you the grand halls of a royal court, I can promise you this: I will respect your efforts, I will make sure you are provided for, and I will stand beside you on the front lines."
Vlad III narrowed his golden eyes, resting his weight on his black lance. For a moment, the room was completely silent. Then, the Lord of Wallachia let out a low, deeply resonant hum of approval.
"A man who builds his own foundation from the dirt, rather than inheriting it from the sky," Vlad III noted, a faint, aristocratic smile touching his lips. "There is a distinct, unshakeable nobility in that, Master. A king respects a man who understands the weight of his own labor."
Jeanne smiled softly, her heart swelling with respect for his humility. "You do not need a crown to be a wise leader, Master. Your earnestness is more than enough."
"Exactly!" Marie cheered, clapping her hands together gracefully. "A hard worker who treasures his friends and uses his wealth to protect the future! That is just as magnificent as any royalty!"
"And he's generous, too!" Kiyohime beamed, stepping closer to Fujimaru with a joyful blush. "Oh, my Anchin is so dependable!"
"I'll show you all the way to Chaldea," EMIYA sighed from the doorway, though a faint, respectful smirk tugged at the corner of the Archer's mouth.
"Now you're speaking my language," Cú Chulainn laughed, walking over and casually patting Fujimaru on the shoulder. "Come on, Master. Let's get out of this sterile room. You spent the resources to build the crew. Let's go enjoy the fruits of your labor."
Fujimaru nodded, giving the empty F.A.T.E. summoning array one last glance. The First Singularity was truly over. Surrounded by the legends of human history, the wise, wealthy worker from another world walked out of the chamber with his head held high, ready to treat his team to a well-earned rest.