You're dying quickly."
"You think I don't know that? I'm not going to die without a fight."
"Stop showing off. You can still sign the contract and become my protector. You'll live and leave this place, go anywhere you want, as long as—"
"Impossible."
"But you're dying!"
"Then I'll die, and come back if I must."
"Don't you dare try to trick me!" Cyd opened his eyes and stood up, his heart beating powerfully, skin and muscle regenerating at an astonishing speed.
"No success," a voice noted.
"Isn't that natural?" Cyd flexed his arm and picked up the reforged Pandora, slinging it over his back with a smile. "Good sensei."
"But you can't leave here like before. If you become a protector, we can find a way to get you out of here."
"You want me to work for you?" Cyd sneered, looking around. "Even though there's no day or night here, no dreams, I still have many things left to do and people to see."
"You have no means to escape now."
"Who knows?" Cyd cracked his neck. "But I'm not signing any contract with you."
"Then let's make a deal. No contract for now. We need you in the Holy Grail War as Ruler. After it's over, you can try connecting with this place using the chalice."
"I might not die?" Cyd raised an eyebrow.
"But you don't have any time now. Even a small adjustment could make the difference between life and death."
"Why me?" Cyd frowned.
"The chalice summoned Jeanne d'Arc as Ruler, but that outcome wasn't what we expected."
"Why didn't you stop the chalice from summoning her?" Cyd patted the tattered remains of his clothes. "Holmes couldn't do it?"
"Holmes figured out the secret manipulator behind the scenes in nine seconds but couldn't handle them alone. We considered Watson as well, but that wasn't feasible. Summoning another Ruler seemed risky."
"So, you need me because you're out of options," Cyd realized, pointing.
"Yes, but if you sign the contract, it would be better."
"No way," Cyd said firmly.
"Fine. We'll send you there as a spirit body. You won't have unnecessary Command Spells, but you probably won't need them."
"What abilities do I have as Ruler?"
"You'll have full firepower of the holy grail powering you as a servant"
"Great, I prefer to convince them with my fists anyway," Cyd said, cracking his knuckles. "Then consider this done."
"Although it's not your main body, you'll return to that world and can fulfill your wish without signing a contract."
"Fine. No contract."
The unprecedented Holy Grail War with seven participants began.
Yggdmillennia Stronghold
Before Vlad III's throne stood three kneeling Heroic Spirits.
Astolfo, Rider of the Twelve Paladins of Charlemagne.
Frankenstein, Berserker.
An uncharacteristically quiet Saber with white hair.
"This Holy Grail War will be ours," Vlad III declared, smiling.
Standing nearby, Chiron gazed out the window, lost in thought.
"What's on your mind, Archer?" Vlad III asked, noticing Chiron's distraction.
"I have a feeling some familiar people have arrived," Chiron replied a faint smile of apology on his face. "Probably my students."
This wasn't an idle boast. Nearly every famous hero in Greece had been his student.
"Won't you reconsider?"
"I cannot. I have a mission to complete," Chiron replied, shaking his head.
"I look forward to seeing you in action," Vlad III nodded, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. There was no one as capable as Chiron when it came to warfare.
At the Church
A dark-skinned priest with white hair smiled gently as he looked at the empty church. "Everyone has arrived."
"Only Saber remains," said a woman in black, elegant clothing as she appeared behind the priest, holding a wine glass in her slender fingers. "Would you like to try my carefully prepared poison?"
The priest chuckled. "That's an honor, but I'll save the drink for after the Holy Grail War."
"Father, if you drink it now, you'll die immediately," a young man with a green scarf entangled around his neck laughed carelessly from a pillar, ignoring the woman's murderous glare. "She's that kind of woman, right, big sister?"
"I am not your sister," a valiant female hunter with cat ears appeared beside him, her hands crossed over her chest.
"Lancer, what do you think?" the young man asked, looking towards the shadows.
"No comment," said a white-haired youth in golden armor as he walked slowly into view. "But it's best not to drink."
Suddenly, countless symbols appeared on the woman's head. "I could kill you easily right now."
"Calm down, Assassin. We're allies for now," the priest said, extending a hand to steady Assassin, who reluctantly vanished.
"She really is a bad woman, right, big sister!" Achilles exclaimed.
"Achilles, I am not your sister!" Atalanta's patience was wearing thin, not understanding why Achilles was so insistent on calling her that.
"Archer, where is your master?" the priest asked curiously. Only Saber's master and Archer's master were absent.
"She's angry because she summoned me and is now looking for the other masters," Atalanta replied. Despite the apparent insult of being rejected by her master, she seemed oddly pleased.
"Don't concern yourself with my sister," Achilles said protectively, standing like a faithful little brother before Atalanta, despite her clear irritation.
"I just want to care for my companions," the priest said, shaking his head. Then his expression became serious. "This time, two Rulers have arrived."
"What's the big deal?" Achilles scoffed.
"We must eliminate them, or they'll be a significant threat to us," the priest sighed. "A Ruler with personal ambitions could greatly influence the outcome. And each has two Command Spells; that's a power we can't ignore."
"Rulers are supposed to be impartial, without personal desires," Lancer stated.
"Heroic Spirits are still individuals. We can't assume they won't have personal ambitions," the priest said solemnly.
"I have no objection," Lancer said, closing his eyes.
"There are two Rulers, one in the east and one in the west. Who will take which side?" the priest asked, looking at the Heroic Spirits.
"Achilles, you go west," Atalanta suddenly said.
"Sure thing, big sister. Watch me take down the Ruler," Achilles grinned and left the church, spear in hand.
"The one in the east should be left alone," Atalanta said, tapping her arm. "That's not someone any Heroic Spirit here can handle."
"Why? Archer, in myth, you're known for your keen senses and precision. What gives you such confidence?" the priest asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I have a unique skill for tracing a specific individual. It's going crazy now, signaling his presence," Atalanta said with a faint smile, watching the priest's expression solidify. "He's back. The Hero of Pure White, the hope of people."