Ps;9 chapter in one chapter 9-18
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When he returned to the lounge, he noticed that the demon girl with short, purple hair had already left the basement.
Kama was lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, casually flipping through a comic book she had taken from Roder's bag.
Having eaten and drunk her fill, she now fully manifested her form, even conjuring her own clothing through magic. Her pale skin, illuminated by the lights, gave off a creamy glow. The delicate figure of the girl was faintly visible through the sheer purple fabric she wore, seductive yet elegant.
Upon seeing Roder enter the room, Kama looked up and glared at him with her red eyes, displeasure evident in her gaze.
"Tch, I put in so much effort, but you ended up savoring the best part yourself. Senior, you're not seriously planning on fulfilling that old bug's wish, are you?"
"Pfft as if," Roder replied dismissively as he plopped down on the sofa and snatched the comic from her hand.
"Did you forget? I'm Satan—the Father of Lies."
Regarding Kama/Mara: Normally, Kama's spiritual essence is divided 60:40 between her two halves, but when the balance shifts, the Beast awakens. Over the past year, Sakura Matou, under the influence of Beast VI, had increasingly tilted towards Mara. The girl born in the Tohsaka mansion's basement now bore a strong resemblance to Roder, both being nascent Beasts.
With an equal split between Mara and Kama, she was essentially Kama but believed herself to be Mara.
Roder had barely settled into the sofa when Kama skillfully approached him.
"The pests have been dealt with, Senior Satan~ Why not indulge in something enjoyable? Let me reward you," she whispered, straddling his legs and gripping his shoulders. Her red eyes gleamed with a seductive glow.
"Don't worry, just leave your mind and body to me," she cooed, her voice dripping with allure.
Roder shook his head with a sigh.
"Mara what am I going to do with you?"
The Demon Lord of Temptation leaned closer to his ear, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered sweetly.
"Hm, if it's for you, Senior, wouldn't it be more satisfying this way?"
As she drew nearer, Roder could feel the temperature in the room rise. The sheer purple fabric clung tightly to her skin. In an instant, the innocent beauty of the girl morphed into something far more mature, her features now exuding a demonic allure.
"Let's revel together be it murder, lies, or indulgence. I will love every part of you, accept you entirely. Yes, I will claim what is precious from you."
"Cut it out," Roder said, his voice firm. He shoved her face away roughly.
"Do you think I'm that stupid? If I fall for you, I'll become your prey."
"Mara, your love is far too heavy. I can't bear it," he added, grateful that he had spent the morning with Elsa. Without that, he doubted he could have resisted Kama's advances.
Kama puffed out her cheeks in frustration, glaring up at him from below.
"I can't believe you! You turned me into this, summoned me from the Sixth Day, and now you refuse my love. Senior, you're such a jerk! The biggest jerk in the Demon Realm!"
Roder grabbed her wandering hand, holding it firmly.
"Your goal is to devour my Demon Lord's Core, right? So you can reclaim your full power?"
"Sorry, but I have my own reasons for not disappearing."
"Hmph, I only wanted to repay you for waking me up, nothing more," Kama huffed, sliding off Roder's lap and sitting on the adjacent sofa, arms crossed.
Tempting Roder into corruption wasn't about repayment for Kama—it was about proving she was a better tempter than him. Legend says that Satan, taking the form of a serpent, tempted humanity's ancestors to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, stripping away their divinity and introducing death and reproduction. He was also known to have tested the Messiah during his trials, like urging the starving Jesus to turn stones into bread. This earned Satan the title of the Great Tempter and Liar.
In contrast, Mara, the Beast of Corruption, aimed to bring all humanity to ruin through love and desire. For her, Roder was a rival in the same business. Before corrupting all of humanity, she had to figure out how to bring this boy to his knees first!
"You know, Mara, you can't stay in East Asia for too long, or Shiva might come after you," Roder warned, casually flipping through a comic.
"And Japan is half a Buddhist stronghold. With your current state, you might get exorcised by some wandering monk."
"I don't need you to tell me that. Hmph, if it weren't for the hope of corrupting you, I wouldn't spend another second in this place," Kama replied with a pout.
"As for my next destination.. Hmm ..how about Western Europe? You wouldn't dare follow me there, would you?"
"Whatever, go where you want. Just don't forget to investigate what I asked you about."
Satisfied with this setup?
Kama raised an eyebrow at Roder's reminder, leaning back slightly.
"Oh, you mean the one who pushed you into the black mud three years ago? Heh, and what will you do with that information, Senior?"
Roder remained silent, his expression unreadable. Feeling the shift in tone, Kama changed the subject.
"Western Europe, huh? Yeah, that should work. I can hide from Shiva's gaze and continue gathering strength there."
Roder rolled his eyes.
"Just don't go doing anything weird with that body while you're at it."
"What?" Kama blinked in surprise, then smirked mischievously.
"You're being surprisingly protective of her. Could it be that I've misjudged you, Senior? Don't tell me you're actually…"
"Mara," Roder interrupted, giving her a cold, yet playful smile.
"One more strange word and you'll end up like the bugs in the basement."
Kama's body tensed, and she quickly shook her head.
"I-I wouldn't dream of it! Besides, even if I wanted to do anything strange, it's not like I could with this girl. She's tougher than she looks, you know. Remarkably resilient. If I push her too far, she might take over the surface consciousness, and I'd lose control of this body. That wouldn't be good for me."
"Good. Make sure it stays that way," Roder said, his voice flat.
"Ugh… fine," Kama pouted, stretching her slender form as she stood up from the sofa. She shifted her figure slightly, shrinking her body back from XL size to a more manageable L.
"Alright, alright, I'll be going now. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your Servant summoning, after all. Just remember, Senior—you're my backup vessel, so don't go dying on me."
"The feeling's mutual. Make sure the Church doesn't catch you. After all, you're my backup food source," Roder said dryly, his eyes not leaving his comic.
"And while we're at it—since you can't use Sakura's body for that, what was the point of tempting me earlier?"
Kama paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder with a coy smile.
"Do you really need me to say it out loud, Senior?"
Before Roder could reply, Kama was in front of him again, her finger lifting his chin.
"Let's just say… it was allowed by this girl's inner self, Matou Sakura."
After bidding a rather enthusiastic farewell to Kama, Roder finally turned his attention to the real reason for his visit—the summoning ritual.
This was the moment he had been preparing for. To summon a Servant for the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, one needed to be within Fuyuki City. The only family that could bypass this rule was the Einzberns, who cheated every time.
Though Roder had spent three years living in a prestigious magical family, he had shown little interest in actually learning magic, preferring to indulge in pleasures instead. However, summoning a Heroic Spirit was one of the few tasks he couldn't afford to mess up.
He pulled out the notebook that Manaka Sajyou had lovingly prepared for him, its pages filled with meticulous instructions on how to perform a proper summoning ritual, written in adorable handwriting.
First, set up the barrier.
Then, place the offering.
Finally, position the catalyst in front of the white chalk-drawn octogram magic circle.
The catalyst he had chosen was a relic he'd found in the old bug's workshop earlier that day—specifically, the same artifact used in the original Fuyuki storyline to summon Lancelot. That would be his choice.
While Lancelot might face compatibility issues against Iskandar and Diarmuid, there was no denying that he was a powerful Heroic Spirit. Roder didn't particularly care about summoning the strongest servant since he was confident in his own abilities, but he still wanted someone impressive.
Besides, if the Fourth Holy Grail War played out exactly as in the original storyline, it wouldn't be any fun. For someone like Roder, who saw the war as more of a game, he needed things to shake up. Variations were essential.
"Hmm… let's skip the Madness Enhancement. I'd prefer a Saber-class Lancelot this time," Roder muttered, placing the catalyst on the ground before stepping away from the magic circle, positioning himself by the wall of the insect chamber.
The summoning ritual officially began.
"I declare. Your body shall be under my command, your fate entrusted to my sword."
Roder stood tall, his hand extended, his face losing its playful grin as he focused entirely on the task at hand. All excess thoughts and emotions were cast aside, his mind honed to a singular point.
And thus, the magic furnace within him roared to life.
"If you would heed this call, obey the will of the Grail, and align with this principle—then answer me now."
His shoulders shook slightly as magic coursed through his artificial circuits, the heat spreading throughout his body like a boiling flood. Roder relished the feeling of power filling his mind, continuing the incantation as he channeled the flow of magic into the ritual.
"I swear. I am a force for good in this world, and I shall eradicate all evil from it. (laughs)"
"By the three great words of power that bind you, from the Wheel of Restraint, guardian of the scales!"
With this declaration, a wild gust of wind swirled up from the summoning circle.
A dazzling blue light bathed the entire basement, painting the walls with the shimmering glow of a deep, tranquil lake.
Then, a cold and noble voice, as if purging the stench of rot, echoed throughout the Matou household's underground chamber.
"Servant… Caster, Morgan, I have answered your call."
A woman stood before them, her platinum hair cascading down her back, skin pale as ivory, and her luxurious mage's robes clinging sensually to her form.
She was a seductive witch of breathtaking beauty, though her expression remained emotionless.
"Opponent of mankind, are you the one who summoned me?"
…
Rod could barely hold back his disbelief.
"I was certain I had used Lancelot's summoning catalyst… So why did Morgan appear?"
He left the newly summoned Servant standing aside and began to ponder, resting his chin on his hand.
"…Ah. So there's another explanation after all."
That catalyst didn't only summon the Knight of the Lake, but also the Lady of the Lake?
After all, Lancelot was called the Knight of the Lake because he was raised by Viviane.
In the historical lore of Type-Moon, Morgan is a trinity, representing three personas. She is Morgan le Fay, Arthur's older half-sister and chief antagonist of the Round Table legends; Morgause, also Arthur's half-sister, who gave birth to five of the Round Table's heroes; and Viviane, Lancelot's foster mother, Merlin's apprentice, and the Lady of the Lake who bestowed the sacred sword upon King Arthur.
Type-Moon's Morgan possesses all of these experiences and is explained as having a triple personality.
And this triple personality concept isn't rare in Type-Moon: there's Lev, Morgan, and even Ryougi Shiki… I can see now, each of them is a master of their own craft.
Oh, right! YHVH and I are also a trinity. Divine numbers truly never disappoint. [TIGA].
Among Morgan's many personas, the one that stands out most is that of the vengeful enchantress.
Morgan, who was the true heir of Britain, beloved by its mysterious islands, was cast aside by her father Uther, who chose her sister to succeed him instead.
Burning with hatred for her father, hatred for her sister, and hatred for mankind that did not choose her, Morgan transformed into a sorceress who spent her life seeking revenge.
"Tsk, tsk… How unfortunate."
The catalyst that Matou Zouken prepared must have been something that once belonged to the historical Morgan, which she gave to Lancelot. That could explain why either of them could have been summoned.
Given our compatibility, there's no doubt I was destined to summon Morgan.
After all, my own blood is mixed with that of the British witch [Fairy] lineage inherited from Manaka Sajyou's mother.
Come to think of it, isn't Morgan still alive?
Her true body seems to reside in Avalon, living since the 5th century and occasionally appearing in Wales, where she is known as the "Black Madonna."
So, the reason she was summoned must be due to her ability to [Materialize Independently].
"Master, are you dissatisfied that I was the one summoned?"
Morgan's voice cut through Roder's train of thought.
He realized he had been silent for too long and had been somewhat rude.
He looked up to see Morgan's flawless face, still expressionless and unreadable.
The boy scratched his cheek awkwardly and laughed apologetically.
"Ah, sorry, sorry. That's not it at all. In fact, I'm just a bit overwhelmed that I summoned such a remarkable Servant."
"Oh dear, who would've thought that the legendary fairy queen Morgan would be my Servant… It's like I've already won!"
Roder's spirits were lifted—not because he had summoned an exceptional Servant, but because someone so fascinating had appeared.
The combination of an anti-Messiah and the Black Madonna… Hm, this is shaping up to be an interesting Holy Grail War.
Now that I think about it, in the history of Earth, Morgan has also been called the "Witch of the Antichrist."
"Victory is inevitable. But more importantly…"
Morgan didn't pay much attention to her Master's praise and raised an eyebrow.
"Master, may I ask you a question?"
"If you're asking if I have a girlfriend, I don't at the moment. Mistresses, though, I have qui—"
In the dark basement, Morgan's azure eyes locked onto the black-clad boy.
"What I want to know," she said in a voice as pure as crystal, devoid of emotion, "is how many Servants do you intend to kill?"
"…?"
Huh? What kind of nonsense is she talking about? Of course, the enemy count is six—uh!
Roder's expression froze.
A long silence followed, and then…
His stiff expression broke into hysterical laughter.
"Hahaha! So that's it! You're asking whether I plan to kill six or seven Servants?! You've already figured it out, haven't you?"
"You analyzed my body the moment we made contact and understood the truth hidden deep within the Holy Grail War system. Brilliant, Morgan! Absolutely remarkable!"
After his outburst of laughter, the boy's gaze sharpened in an instant.
His dark pupils glared at the sorceress with icy intent.
"You're right, Caster. The Holy Grail tells you that the winner, who defeats six other Servants, will be granted the chance to make a wish.
But that's not the full story."
The three founding families concealed one crucial fact: If you gather the souls of seven Servants, it opens a path to the Root.
For this reason, Masters in the know would kill their own Servant after defeating the others, using a Command Spell to finish the job.
From the very beginning, these Servants never had a chance to make a wish on the Grail."
Roder held his breath, astonished.
Morgan had merely stood there, observing his body, yet she had analyzed his Beast-like structure and calculated that his vessel could contain the souls of not six, but seven Servants.
Then, Morgan deduced the complete falsehood behind the Holy Grail War.
"…Hmph."
Caster slightly lowered her head, the corners of her mouth curving into a barely visible smile.
Was she proud of herself for being praised by her Master, or was she simply pleased to have found someone who understood her?
Perhaps it was a bit of both.
"…"
Morgan shook her head slightly, suppressing her smile, and spoke in a cold, detached tone.
"Please answer my question, Master," Morgan asked seriously. "Are you planning to sacrifice six souls? Or will it be seven, including me?"
Roder waved his hand dismissively, a light smile on his face.
"No, no… you misunderstand, Caster. I have no interest in reaching the Root, nor do I wish for the emergence of Humanity's Evil. I'm enjoying my carefree life as it is, and I have no intention of destroying the world. So no, I won't betray or kill you."
Locking eyes with Morgan, the boy paused deliberately, a mocking expression forming on his face.
"If I put it like that, Morgan le Fay, would that trouble you? You, the witch who despises humanity, whose ambitions differ from any other hero. Your desire, just like Manaka Sajyou before she met me, is to destroy the fixed quantum record.
After all, only by doing so can your bitter wish be fulfilled: to take revenge on and utterly reject the humanity that never chose you as its king."
—--
"…"
Morgan turned her elegant, expressionless face away, ignoring Roder's spiteful retort.
"I understand, Master. Since you insist, I'll take your word for it."
She extended her hand. "I will retrieve the Holy Grail for you. I look forward to our partnership."
…No protest?
Roder reached out with his right hand to grasp hers, looking up at her as he spoke.
"This time, let me enjoy the Holy Grail War to the fullest, Caster."
"!?"
The moment their hands clasped, a glow appeared on the back of Roder's hand.
Morgan, sensing something unusual, gasped.
"What are you… planning?"
She tried to pull her hand free, but realized that the slender wrist of the young man—one head shorter than her—held a strength she couldn't overcome. Then, like a surge of hot water, magical energy flowed through his palm into her body, seeping into her magical circuits. All her senses heightened, and a tingling warmth spread through her skin and bones.
"…Haah, haah…"
The cold, pure beauty of her face flushed a seductive red, her breathing quickened.
The magic infusion ceased.
Morgan bent slightly, suppressing a shiver in her shoulders, glaring at her Master with a look of resentment.
"…Why did you do that?"
"I don't have the temperament to lead from behind. This time, I'll fight on the front lines myself."
Roder had done two things: Command Seal Transfer, moving his Command Seal to his servant; and Forced Pact, creating a contract with Caster, making himself her servant—a feat not achievable under standard Holy Grail War rules, but he had done it.
As for how he could do this—because he was the rules.
The Holy Grail safeguarded by the Church wasn't the true Grail but an artifact of profound malevolence. For a creature like Roder, altering the Grail War rules was trivial. To heighten his enjoyment of the war, he chose to bind himself, making Morgan the illusion of a Master.
"…Haah, haah…"
Watching her Master casually trample the rules, cold sweat trickled down Morgan's fair forehead.
Even as a Beast in its youth, he wielded such immense power!
"Alright, done. Are you alright, Caster?"
Roder's words snapped Morgan from the daze caused by the influx of magic.
"…I'm fine."
She withdrew her hand from the young man's grip, stepping back with a hint of embarrassment. Her gaze fell upon the Command Seal now etched on her skin, and a faint smirk curled her lips.
Fine, I get it… But why is the Seal not on the back of my hand?
Because this is Tokyo's Grail System.
Morgan spoke coldly, "Next time, get my permission before doing something like that, Master."
"Of course, definitely next time."
"…"
She pouted, turning her face away from her Master's carefree grin, feeling a sudden warmth in her cheeks.
I'm just not good at dealing with this kid.
"I'm stepping outside for some fresh air, Master. Just standing here makes me uneasy."
"Understood."
The sound of her heels echoed down the hallway, fading into the distance. Suddenly, Morgan's voice echoed in Roder's mind through a mental link:
"And to be clear, my discomfort isn't because of you. It's this basement's reeking stench of bugs."
"I understood without the emphasis."
–
The blazing fire painted the night sky orange. The Matou mansion, standing for over a century, was crumbling to ashes—much like the fallen city of Sodom, condemned for its sins.
The arsonist was, of course, Roder, the one who'd committed every possible offense within the Matou residence. He held a stack of property deeds in his hands—a quick path to overnight wealth.
Morgan stood in the dark, her cold blue eyes fixed on the mansion being consumed by flames. For the record, like in the original story with Artoria, Morgan couldn't turn into spirit form since she hadn't died.
"Why go this far? Such a commotion is bound to attract the other Masters."
It was neither a rebuke nor a warning, merely a question born of curiosity. Even for someone like Morgan, who'd explored every corner of mystery and knowledge, Beast's motives lay in uncharted, irrational territory.
"I was captivated by this scene while gaming ages ago and always wanted to try it out. Quite a view, isn't it?"
Roder replied with an ironic tone, "The last trace of the 800-year-old Zolgen family is erased from this earth. Doesn't it feel poetic?"
As a witch who'd lived over 1,500 years, Morgan might have known the once-renowned Zolgen family. What was her opinion?
"…Hmph. Such filth is best wiped out quickly."
Oh, it seemed the witch had no sentimentality for them whatsoever.
"Let's go back."
After taking in the blaze, Roder turned toward the station, hands in his pockets.
"By the way, Caster, ever played Red Dead Redemption 2?"
"No."
Of course not; it was 1994.
"What a shame. The protagonist's name is quite something."
Walking in the night, Morgan wore a robe that exposed her alabaster skin and curvaceous silhouette. Her smooth, creamy legs glistened under her short skirt, though not a single passerby glanced her way—likely due to a spell masking her presence.
Sister Witch, if possible, teach me this! I promise, no funny business!
After half an hour, Roder and Morgan boarded a late-night bus bound for Tokyo.
"Master, how much do you know about the other Grail War participants?"
Barely seated, Morgan began questioning him, one hand propping her chin as she gazed at the receding scenery. Her ample chest rose and fell with the bus's jolts, tracing tantalizing lines across her slender waist.
Roder felt a touch of gratitude—gratitude for a servant still committed at 1 AM.
After a quick mental review, he replied, "Sorry! No clue! I only know the Master for the Tohsaka family will likely be their head, maybe?"
"…I see."
Morgan pursed her red lips, skeptical: I don't believe you!
"No, wait… Last month, I read in a magical newspaper that El-Melloi from the Clock Tower's Mineralogy Department announced he would join the Fuyuki Grail War."
This was all improvised. Even if there were magical journals like Nature or Science, they would only circulate within the Clock Tower, far beyond Roder's access.
After all, magic, unlike science, is a secret—its value lies in exclusivity.
As to why he wasn't sharing info with Caster, it wasn't to hide his time-traveling identity; he just enjoyed watching her puzzled expression.
"Foreign magi don't matter. Regardless of their achievements, an outsider can't defeat a host family. But…"
Morgan cast a sidelong glance at her mischievous young Master, her expression amused: Unless they meet a monster like you, overpowered and devious.
She resumed speaking, eyes on the highway passing by.
"The founding families of the Grail are Tohsaka, Matou, and Einzbern. Matou, the one responsible for creating the Command Seal system, has been wiped out by you tonight. The Tohsakas manage Fuyuki's leyline, providing the battleground. Lastly, Einzbern is the technical core for the Grail's creation. If I'm correct, they'll send a homunculus as the vessel for the Grail, intending to absorb the souls of defeated Heroic Spirits and complete the Greater Grail."
Roder clapped his hands in feigned realization, "So that means, the Einzbern Master is the Grail vessel!"
Morgan shot him a look, unimpressed. "Of course not. A mere homunculus cannot contain heroic souls without severe drawbacks. As the war progresses, the Grail vessel will gradually lose human characteristics, transforming into an object. In that state, how could they function as a Master?"
"If it were me, I'd assign separate magi for Master and vessel roles."
"Is that so? Hearing you say it makes sense, actually." Roder clapped gently. "Amazing, truly worthy of being Caster! Teach me hypnotic magic!"
Morgan pursed her lips slightly, "What does this have to do with hypnotic magic?"
Though fully aware of her Master's playful deceit, she found a certain satisfaction in his praise.
—-
It was the first time she had met someone who affirmed her so completely. Even if it wasn't sincere, it was enough to make her feel elated.
"Speaking of hypnosis… I feel a little sleepy. Ha… aaaah…"
Roder let out a grand yawn and said, "Caster, the bus won't reach Tokyo until tomorrow afternoon. I'll rest for a bit."
"…Understood. I'll keep an eye on the surroundings; rest well."
"No, Morgan, you're human too. You need sleep. There's no need to keep watch; you should rest properly as well."
Morgan was a bit surprised, shifting her gaze from the window to Roder.
"…"
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No, not at all." Morgan shook her head gently. She closed her eyes with a faint smile.
"Goodnight, Master."
–
This man was born to rule. From a young age, Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald outshone other children. No one could find a solution more perfect than his, and no competitor could defeat him. Because of this, he was accepted as a "genius" from his youth. No one doubted his title, and no challenge threatened his reputation.
To him, pride was unnecessary. He simply accepted the label of "genius" as a matter of course. In his world, he was the ruler—no setbacks, no concerns about limitations. Every success he received felt only natural.
This didn't change when he began working. In his early twenties, Kenneth had become one of the twelve Lords of the Clock Tower, the Head of Mineralogy, and a top lecturer in Spiritual
Evocation without feeling the slightest pride or accomplishment; it was simply life's natural course. The Holy Grail War was no different. While renowned figures like Tohsaka Tokiomi and the Einzbern family took part, he saw it as a trivial ceremony from a country on the magical outskirts.
Kenneth's decision to join the Holy Grail War wasn't out of need or urgency but simply to add it to his achievements. As a Lord, he prepared with his identity in mind, certain of victory. However, an unexpected twist occurred before his journey to Japan: his relic had been stolen due to a financial department error.
The thief was Kenneth's own student, Waver Velvet—a third-generation mage who had once held a grudge after Kenneth publicly criticized his thesis. The Clock Tower viewed Waver's actions as a rebellious response, and no one anticipated that he would go to Japan to join the Holy Grail War. Although furious, Kenneth's focus was on preparing for the upcoming event.
Today, the Lord of the Clock Tower embarked on his journey.
…
On the 32nd floor of the Hyatt Hotel in Fuyuki City—the city's most luxurious and tallest spot—the suite that Kenneth occupied had transformed into a mage's workshop. Quietly, he took out an item from his suitcase.
It was a fractured piece of wood, still warm.
"This is the catalyst for summoning, isn't it? What is it?" asked a red-haired woman, curiously.
Sola-Ui Nuada-Re Sophia-Ri, Kenneth's fiancé and the daughter of his mentor, the Head of Spiritual Evocation. The union of two noble houses, Archibald and Sophia-Ri, was widely celebrated within the Clock Tower.
Sola was here as Kenneth's assistant for the Holy Grail War.
"This is a fragment of the Round Table, a catalyst from the Summoning Department," he replied curtly. Given its fame, further explanation was unnecessary.
"Britain's Round Table… could it be, King Arthur?" Sola gazed in amazement at the unassuming wooden piece in Kenneth's hand. The Knights of the Round Table were King Arthur's legendary knights, known for gathering as equals around the table. Each knight was celebrated as a hero of legend.
"…Of course, I can't be sure which knight will be summoned. But it will undoubtedly be a spirit that matches my status," Kenneth said with a smirk. This was a trial—a test of his skill to make the uncertain certain.
The time had come. Standing, Kenneth placed the relic beside the summoning circle.
…
In an instant, a great knight from Britain's ancient past appeared in the hotel suite—a knight with golden hair, alabaster armor, a commanding presence, and a noble visage. He was, without a doubt, a hero fitting for a noble Lord.
Staring at his servant, Kenneth's expression remained calm. The best class, the best knight—everything was as it should be. The blonde knight knelt on one knee and offered him a chivalrous bow.
"Saber, Knight of the Round Table Gawain. I vow to secure complete victory for you, my Master."
Gawain, one of King Arthur's legendary knights, who had served loyally until the end, wielded the holy sword of the sun—a sister to Excalibur.
To him, Kenneth, the Lord of the Clock Tower, was a master worthy of service. Gawain's appearance was filled with high spirits, eager to participate in the Holy Grail War.
Just as Kenneth prepared to respond, his fiancée, Sola, hurriedly approached Gawain, helping him rise.
"Sir Knight, please, rise."
"…Thank you, Lady."
With a somewhat complex gaze, Kenneth watched as Sola assisted Gawain. Once he stood, Sola coldly addressed her future husband.
"El-Melloi, why didn't you say something? Isn't Saber your servant?"
Kenneth, somewhat flustered, nodded, "Ah, yes. Welcome, my knight."
"Thank you, my Master. And my Lady as well," Gawain bowed to them both.
Though the atmosphere initially felt awkward, it soon returned to harmony.
Yet, no one noticed the subtle look Sola cast toward the knight.
If only Kenneth had seen it sooner…
"Let me ask… Are you my Master?" When a voice echoed through the church, Kirei Kotomine's heart froze. How could this be?
This…thing he had summoned was not a hero. Standing in the church's central hall, under the grand stained glass, was a monster: a towering, over two-meter figure with twisted horns and fangs, its skin an unnaturally striking shade of purplish-blue. Razor-sharp claws extended from its long, powerful arms, while immense wings and a barbed tail stretched behind it.
"You… are a demon?" Kirei instinctively placed his right hand on his chest, where his anti-demon weapon was stored. He was a priest under the Holy Church and had entered its bloodiest department as a teenager, becoming an Executor—a title marking him as a top-tier fighter trained to hunt inhuman entities.
"Oh, apologies if I frightened you, Master," the demon said, scratching its purplish-blue head in what was meant to be an apologetic smile but appeared only as a sinister grin.
"That's one of my skills; I can change my appearance freely. I tried to match your ideal image before the summoning… but it seems I misjudged."
—
"What a strange sight, turning into the form of a demon… This was supposed to be…"
"Enough."
Kirei Kotomine's voice shook.
"That doesn't matter… More importantly, who exactly are you?"
Who or what was this creature?
The young priest felt a deep unease in his heart: the thing he had summoned, something resonating with his own spirit, was no ordinary creature. Kirei Kotomine, familiar with dark forces, sensed that his summoned servant was something worse than a mere demon.
"Well then, let me reintroduce myself. My true name is—"
Kirei Kotomine swallowed, awaiting a response, but…
"Honestly, I don't know my true name."
"What…?"
"As I said, I don't know who I am."
"I may not know my true name, but the newspapers once reported a name people thought was mine."
The demon spoke to the young priest who had summoned him.
He wasn't a "Hundred Faces" but a "Thousand Faces." Not a nameless assassin, but the most infamous murderer in human history.
This Servant left no name, yet his presence was unmistakable. His title was known worldwide, but his true appearance remained a mystery—his look, gender, even his humanity was unknown. This terrifying figure, a symbol of dread, became the subject of endless speculation, depicted in countless stories and essays.
As a doctor,
As a noble,
As a courtesan,
As a butcher,
As a demon,
As a monster,
As conspiracy,
As madness.
People weren't sure if he was one person or many, but fear gave them the freedom to imagine his existence until he was elevated to legend.
Yet he was more than just a legend; he truly existed. His existence was confirmed in the most horrific way imaginable—by the brutal bodies of five women left in London's Whitechapel.
"People call me Jack the Ripper."
A demon can't always stand at the church pulpit, so Jack transformed into a haze, disappearing entirely.
"Aren't you supposed to be an Assassin?"
Kirei, seated on a bench and gazing at the cross on the wall, asked, "According to the information I received from my teacher Tohsaka Tokiomi, only Hassan-i-Sabbah could be summoned as an Assassin in the Fuyuki Holy Grail War."
"Oh no, my class is Berserker. I'm a symbol of madness, after all, so that's the class most compatible with my wavelength."
"Berserker…?"
Tohsaka once explained that a Berserker sacrifices reason for power. Yet this creature before him seemed disturbingly rational.
The events of this night repeatedly challenged Kirei's beliefs, making him question his mentor's teachings.
"Still, the demonic form you revealed earlier fits a Berserker well."
As a recently born legend with no heroic deeds, Jack the Ripper was expected to be weak. Yet that demonic form could contend with the Knight classes effortlessly.
Watching his master regain composure, Jack expressed surprise, speaking in Kirei's mind: "Master, you're unexpectedly calm, aren't you?"
An ordinary person would be horrified to summon a serial killer, yet Kirei accepted it with ease.
"A former priest summoning Jack the Ripper is no laughing matter. Honestly, I don't understand why I was summoned by you. Could it be because this is a church?"
The only clear associations with Jack were prostitutes, thick fog, and churches.
"Who knows."
Kirei changed the topic. "Berserker, what is your wish?"
"Well… since I should tell you, Master, please don't laugh."
After a brief hesitation, the demon responded, "I want to know who killed those five women in Whitechapel. In other words, I want to know who I really am."
Kirei took his gaze off the cross.
"Are you troubled… by your true self?"
"That's right! This conversation feels like a confession to a priest in a church."
The shapeless, notorious murderer spoke with a strange sincerity.
"The one standing before you now is merely a legend, not the real thing. Not knowing who I am, constantly shifting my appearance according to stories and theories, is deeply frightening.
Maybe it's hard for someone like you, with flesh, identity, and history, to understand."
Kirei, his face dark, dismissed Jack's lonely reflection.
"It's pointless. What good would knowing your true self do?"
Annoyed, Berserker complained mentally.
"Are you really a priest's son? You're supposed to comfort me here!"
"Hmph. Although I find your wish disappointingly childish, I still owe you my thanks.
Berserker, you might just be the best Servant."
"Why?"
A faint smile crossed Kirei's normally stoic face.
"Because thanks to you, I have a deeper understanding of who I am."
P.S. In theory, Jack could shift to resemble an Assassin too…
–
Under the lazy midday sun, Roder and Morgan arrived at the bustling Tokyo Station. As they got off the bus, a young woman around twenty stood there with a determined posture.
"Over here, over here!"
She tossed her long brown hair, took off her sunglasses, and flashed a captivating smile at Roder, who looked bewildered.
"Good afternoon, long time no see, Roder. Though it's a bit late, congratulations on becoming a Master in the Holy Grail War. What a special day! Let's go to Roppongi and celebrate with a fancy buffet—on you, of course!"
"Do you know her?" Morgan asked curiously.
"Yeah, her hair color threw me off for a second."
The woman waiting had perfect features, stunning blue eyes, and long brown hair cascading down her back. Her fitted white T-shirt, paired with a black skirt, highlighted her youthful, elegant figure. Knee-high socks covered her slender legs, creating a striking contrast with her skirt, revealing a strip of ivory skin. She wore classic London-style boots, reminiscent of a leading lady.
"…Who is she?"
Morgan crossed her arms and observed the young woman, initiating a silent conversation between Master and Servant.
In her eyes, this woman didn't have outstanding magical talent—her magic circuits were unusual but not remarkable. Still, though she seemed ordinary, Morgan found herself unable to look away.
"Aoko Aozaki , age 21, mage!"
Standing confidently in the crowded station, the inheritor of the Fifth Magic introduced herself with hands on her hips, ignoring the attention she attracted.
"Isn't she supposed to be… the Fifth?"
Morgan took a fresh look at Aoko Aozaki .
She rolled her eyes and turned to her Master.
A clear voice sounded in Roder's mind, "Why would the Fifth of Order be here, welcoming a Beast? Are you two planning something sinister?"
"Um… she's just here for a free meal."
"This girl doesn't seem too bright. Are you sure she's no trouble?"
"Yeah, she's trustworthy."
Roder and Aoko Aozaki 's relationship was best summed up as follows:
High EQ version: "Aoko is my meal buddy."
Low EQ version: "Aoko uses me as her wallet."
To Roder, spending money was his greatest joy, whether on a hostess or a mage. That's how they became a peculiar pair—youthful Master and mature woman, sponsor and student, top donor and streamer.
"Roder, come here and give your big sister a hug~"
With the eagerness of a lion pouncing on a rabbit, Aoko threw her arms open and lunged, but the boy deftly sidestepped her.
"Good afternoon, Aoko Aozaki ."
"Oh dear, he's always cold to me."
Aoko Aozaki , who had just been brushed off from a friendly greeting, remained calm, her gaze shifting to the woman standing next to Roder.
"Huh? Roder! Who's this incredibly beautiful girl by your side? Is she a Servant you summoned?"
Aoko Aozaki sidled up to Roder, nudging his shoulder and circling around Morgan. Her eyes roved over Morgan's form from head to toe, lingering on her face, chest, abdomen, and hips with an unabashedly admiring gaze.
"If I'd known heroic spirits were this adorable, I'd have joined the Holy Grail War too," Aoko Aozaki remarked.
"What class is she, by the way? Is she a Caster? What's her true name?"
"That's classified information," Roder replied.
Morgan, feeling scrutinized, asked irritably, "Master… can I kill her?"
"No, she might be useful later," Roder answered.
"Roder, what are you whispering with your 'girlfriend'? Include me, too!"
"She's not my girlfriend. Don't get the wrong idea."
"Don't deny it so quickly; that kind of thing can really hurt a girl's feelings, you know," Aoko Aozaki teased.
"I wasn't done. I mean, Caster may not be my girlfriend, but if she's interested, I wouldn't mind at all."
Aoko and Roder continued bantering as they headed toward the parked taxis in the distance. They had an unspoken rule of getting together for drinks or food within minutes of meeting up.
Hmm… I feel like I'm forgetting something important.
As he opened the taxi door, Roder paused, his brow furrowing.
What was it? Something extremely important… an absolute promise. Oh well, drinking comes first!
In the front seat, Aoko Aozaki looked through the rearview mirror at the young boy and the beautiful woman in the back and, without hesitation, asked, "So, Roder, is this your type? I thought you liked someone more like Touko."
Roder glanced briefly at Morgan from the corner of his eye. "They might be more similar than you think."
"Weren't we supposed to go for high-end sushi in Roppongi?"
In a cozy corner of a small bar in Akihabara, Aoko Aozaki pounded the wooden table with a pout. "Had I known, I wouldn't have come here from the Clock Tower at the busiest time just for izakaya food."
Laying her head on the table, Aoko Aozaki pouted, her cheeks puffed out in frustration. Rod uncorked a bottle of sake, already used to Aoko's playful antics despite her being over 20.
"At least I'm treating. Money's tight right now," Roder muttered, resolving to sell off some real estate contracts owned by Matou Zouken as soon as he got home.
Even though it was a weekday afternoon, the izakaya was buzzing with people. Mid-90s Japan was still reeling from the economic downturn, and many middle-aged men were dressed in disheveled suits, drunkenly lamenting capitalism and the U.S. government. Young drinkers like Roder, Aoko Aozaki , and Morgan were a rare sight.
"Don't like it? Then don't drink. Go drink American liquor!" Roder said, pouring sake for Aoko Aozaki .
"Who said I wasn't drinking?" Aoko retorted, grabbing the sake while munching on karaage. Roder turned to Morgan, bottle in hand.
"Caster, this is Japanese sake. It's different from Irish whiskey. Try it."
"Alright…" Morgan hesitantly took the cup, a little bewildered by Rod's earnest tone.
"Yesss, this is so good! Roder, you've taught me well," Aoko exclaimed, savoring her drink.
"Hey, Aoko, wait for the others," Roder said before announcing, "To the life we love!"
"Cheers!" shouted Aoko.
"Cheers!" echoed Roder.
Morgan simply muttered, "…I wish I could go home."
PS: According to the Type-Moon timeline, Aoko should have red hair by 1994. For now, she has brown hair – not a bug, just the author's preference.
—
"Aaah, my shoulders are killing me."
"Aoko, could you mind yourself a bit?"
Roder looked at her in disdain. After several drinks, Aoko had let her ample chest rest on the table to ease her burden, much to Morgan's horror. Roder, however, was used to Aoko's antics by now.
It was two hours later, and the izakaya was packed with evening diners. The trio's table was now littered with empty beer bottles, and a hot pot bubbled in the center.
"Honestly, I was planning on joining the Holy Grail War myself," Aoko mused, prodding the hot pot with her chopsticks.
Sitting across from her, Morgan was eating delicately, embodying British nobility's refined manner.
"This Holy Grail War even attracted the Clock Tower's genius, Kayneth. His relic got stolen by his student, and the whole tower's in chaos over it. Roder, are you listening?"
With a mouthful of fried chicken, Roder nodded. "Yeah, I heard Kayneth's relic was stolen by one of his students, right?"
"Wow, even though you're not from the Clock Tower, you know about it? I've always wondered – do you actually have clairvoyance?" Aoko recalled their first meeting when he instantly identified her and Touko's identities.
"I told you, I have clairvoyance," Roder teased.
"Liar. I've lost every bet following your predictions," Aoko said, though secretly feeling he had an unsettling ability to see through everything. At times, she felt completely exposed, as if Roder could see right into her soul.
"So, Roder, test your 'clairvoyance' for me. Do you know what relic Kayneth got after his first was stolen?"
"Does that mean you know?"
"Of course I do!" Aoko smirked.
"Let's be clear, Aoko – I'm not sharing secrets with you," Roder quipped, suspecting she'd reveal Kayneth's relic details over drinks.
"Come on, Roder! Besides, it's no secret Kayneth is a perfectionist. Even if the relic's known, he won't change his approach."
Roder pulled a meatball from the hot pot. "Kayneth's new relic is one he'll use to summon Diarmuid, the Knight of Fianna. Am I right?"
"Uh…" Aoko blinked.
Roder smiled smugly, but Aoko shook her head, suppressing a laugh. "Guess even you're not always right."
Roder, chewing thoughtfully, said, "So, what is the relic then?"
–
"It's a fragment of the Round Table."
As Aoko said those words, the air fell silent.
"With this fragment provided by the Spiritual Evocation Department, one can summon King Arthur or one of the Knights of the Round Table. Though they considered using the relic of Celtic hero Diarmuid, in the end, Kenneth opted for a Knight of the Round Table, known for their unpredictability."
She looked across the table, puzzled by the odd expressions on both Roder and Morgan's faces. Even the usually oblivious Fifth Magician noticed the strange tension in the room.
"A Knight of the Round Table, huh?" Roder narrowed his eyes slightly.
"It seems like this Holy Grail War will turn into a British civil war."
With Kenneth's change of Servant, Roder mused that others might follow suit. At the forefront would be Ryuunosuke, the original Caster's Master, who had summoned Morgan. He might not summon Gilles de Rais again, given the Caster-Berserker adaptability… but then again, he might stay the same. Either way, Roder had already decided he'd take care of Ryuunosuke as soon as he returned to Fuyuki.
"Aoko, your information's been really helpful." Roder smiled.
"Thanks to you, my chances in the Holy Grail War just increased."
Aoko, pleased, swayed a bit in her seat.
"Really? It's just knowing who's a Knight of the Round Table."
Roder glanced at Morgan beside him, thinking, My own Servant is practically the mother of half the Round Table herself.
"Well, let's keep drinking," he said, raising his glass.
"Oh, yes," she replied, picking up her glass as they prepared to toast. Out of the blue, Morgan, who had been silently eating and drinking, raised her glass as well.
"To victory in the Holy Grail War. Cheers."
–
Night had fallen. Satisfied from their meal, Roder paid the bill and left the izakaya with two lovely ladies by his side. Eventually, the evening came to an end, and it was time to say goodbye. Aoko led Roder to a quiet alley nearby, where she whispered a few last words in private.
"I know you might not listen, but be careful. Fights between magicians and familiars aren't as simple as you think. If you die recklessly, Ayaka would be devastated. She'd probably blame me for convincing you to join the Grail War."
Her sudden, serious tone made Roder feel a little touched.
"Will you be sad if I die?" Roder asked.
"Of course, I'd be sad," she replied without a moment's hesitation.
Roder's heart warmed at her words, only for her next sentence to shatter that feeling.
"After all, good-looking patrons are hard to find! I'm grooming you to be my long-term meal ticket, so don't you dare die!"
"Thanks for the concern, Aoko," Roder replied with a wry smile.
"Did you even listen? Contact me if you run into trouble…" Aoko muttered, kicking a pebble and sighing. "Now you have that Caster, you probably don't need me anymore."
"That's not true. Just chatting and drinking with you brings life to my dry heart," Roder said sincerely, looking up at her. "Spending time with you is always fun."
"What… what are you saying?" she stammered, her face flushed as she hit his shoulder repeatedly.
"Don't say weird things, you idiot!"
"Hahaha, Aoko's shy side comes out! Okay, okay, it hurts, stop!"
"Serves you right! Take that!"
They chased each other playfully like children as they left the alleyway.
"See you," Roder said, waving goodbye.
"Take care," she replied softly.
That Evening at the Sajyou Residence
Roder returned home, humming a tune. He had no idea that a huge surprise awaited him. After letting Morgan inside, he noticed that both Hiroki and Ayaka seemed to be out, leaving the house quiet except for a few dim lights.
Manaka sat at the dining table, wearing a lovely pale blue dress, eyes closed as she breathed softly in her sleep. Roder's gaze fell on the table, covered in a feast: pork cutlets, stewed beef with potatoes, tuna salad, corn soup, sweet-and-sour pork, pepper steak, and spicy chicken. In the center was a dish he had requested two days ago: squirrel fish.
"…Ah, I knew I forgot something before going to the izakaya." His past memories flashed before him. Back in high school, I promised Manaka I'd eat the squirrel fish she made.
This lavish meal had takenManaka all day to prepare. The thought of her working away in the kitchen, smiling in anticipation, filled Roder with guilt.
"Great Caster of the Fey, Chosen Queen of Britain, do you happen to have a spell to remove all traces of alcohol and hotpot smell in an instant?" Roder asked Morgan desperately.
Morgan glanced at Manaka, sleeping peacefully, and nodded slightly.
"Yes."
"You're the best!" Roder's eyes sparkled with hope.
Morgan's hand glowed with a soft, shimmering light, and instantly, Roder's scent was cleansed.
Relieved, he whispered, "Thanks, Morgan. You saved me."
Morgan glanced at Manaka, curious. "This girl…?"
"She's my mother," Roder replied, leaving Morgan speechless. Magic and reason couldn't explain the depths of human feelings, especially the bonds that formed in families.
Roder approached Manaka, gently resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Good evening,Sajyou."
Her eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes.
Rubbing her cheek against his hand, she smiled softly, "Roder, welcome home. Are you hungry?"
"Yes, I'm starving."
Rod pulled out a chair and sat beside her.
"Wow, tonight's dinner looks amazing!"
"Right? Hehe."
Manaka glanced away nervously, pressing her two slender index fingers together.
"I might've gotten a little carried away. I made too much food tonight.
Sorry, Roder… I hope it didn't trouble you?"
Roder shook his head, picked up his chopsticks, and answered naturally and calmly.
"Not at all! Your cooking is always so delicious,Manaka, so I'll make sure to finish it all."
The Einzbern Castle, an ancient stronghold buried in an isolated, snowy mountain range, was finally freed from the winter's icy grip today. Although the sky wasn't entirely clear, its milky brightness was a welcome change. From within the castle, a pair of emerald-green eyes gazed at a father and daughter playing at the forest's edge.
A dignified woman stood by the window with a holy, almost otherworldly presence. Her soft, golden hair was elegantly pinned back, her face under the bangs breathtakingly beautiful yet stoic. Her tall, curvaceous figure was cloaked in azure knightly armor, yet even this attire couldn't fully hide her prominent chest and shapely legs with their pale skin. The girl's form was full but held a certain grace.
Her limbs were balanced, her breathing steady. At first glance, she seemed more like a warrior than a woman. Simply by standing there, she filled the room with a pure, resolute atmosphere.
"What are you looking at, Lancer?"
A voice called from behind. The girl called Lancer turned from the window.
"The young lady and Master are playing in the forest outside."
Lancer's slightly furrowed brow didn't mar her beauty. Even the Einzbern princess, Irisviel, who was crafted as a "perfect creation," couldn't help but admire Lancer's beauty and grace. It was hard to believe that this stunning woman was the victorious King Arthur who led the Knights of the Round Table.
But that was indeed the truth.
Lancer was the Holy Lance Knight-King, Artoria Pendragon, summoned by Kiritsugu Emiya as the substitute Master of Einzbern using the scabbard of the Excalibur. Why summon Lancer instead of the preferred Saber class? Initially, it was thought that Saber's class had been taken by another Master, but this wasn't the case. Irisviel joined her at the window to look outside.
In the snow-covered field, her husband carried their silver-haired daughter on his shoulders, smiling as they ran into the forest.
"Does seeing this side of Kiritsugu surprise you?"
Lancer nodded honestly as she watched Irisviel's smile. Even from such a distance, she could hear the father and daughter's joyful laughter. Indeed, it was a touching family scene.
"I'd thought Kiritsugu Emiya was a colder man."
Irisviel smiled awkwardly at Lancer's words, somewhat confused.
"Well, it's not surprising you feel that way." Since her summoning, Kiritsugu had never once spoken to Lancer, treating her solely as a Servant—a tool or servant to be used by a Master, no conversation, no eye contact, not even a glance. Kiritsugu had always distanced himself from the Heroic Spirit he summoned.
While Lancer kept her composure, she must have harbored resentment at such treatment.
It was only natural for her to feel a disconnect when comparing Kiritsugu's coldness with his affectionate playfulness with his daughter.
"It seems I have neither his trust nor his welcome."
Though she voiced her frustration, Lancer's flawless face remained impassive. Irisviel laughed, unable to resist.
"What's so funny, Irisviel?"
"… Sorry, I just wondered if you're still holding onto what happened at your summoning."
"A little. You two were overly dramatic in your surprise."
When she had emerged from the summoning circle's light, both Kiritsugu and Irisviel were dumbfounded.
"I disguised myself as a man and kept that deception for posterity… But it was unpleasant to be seen as a fake."
"Well, that's… understandable," Irisviel said with a wry smile.
"Not only was your gender different, but you said you'd be stronger in this mature form than in your youthful one. People are more familiar with King Arthur wielding Excalibur."
Lancer calmly replied, "There's a reason for that. I explained it to you before, didn't I, Irisviel?"
In this world, after uniting Britain, Artoria had replaced her main weapon with the Holy Lance Rhongomyniad. Free from the growth-stopping effects of the Holy Sword, her body matured to suit her role as a king.
Thus, two Heroic Spirits of Artoria exist: the King of the Holy Sword and the King of the Holy Lance. Compared to the Red Dragon-protected King of the Holy Sword, the King of the Holy Lance is closer to a divine being. While Saber embodied the aspect of a king, Lancer represented the knightly side—championing justice and vanquishing evil.
To this end, she wielded the "Boundary." Having abandoned even more of her human emotions, the King of the Holy Lance became almost divine. Artoria as Lancer shared a similar self-sacrificing dedication to righteousness with Kiritsugu, and perhaps this similarity fueled his aversion to her.
After a prolonged silence, Artoria finally spoke.
"Thank you, Irisviel. Without someone like you, I'd likely be defeated in this Holy Grail War without even fighting."
Just as the mage-killer couldn't stand her, neither could she get along well with her Master.
"Mm-hmm!" Irisviel hugged Lancer from behind, smiling.
"Same goes for me, Artoria. Let's fulfill your mission together this time!"
Mission. As she said the word, Irisviel recalled the declaration the Holy Lance Knight-King had made at her summoning:
"Lancer, answering the call. I have no wish for the Holy Grail. I am here to vanquish the foul beast that doesn't belong in this world."
P.S. This chapter includes a few personal additions to the "Lancer Alter" backstory, and I've woven in some elements from the older Artoria. Since the official setting doesn't fully define Lancer, I'll write it my way for this book.
After a brief introduction to the Sajyoufamily by Roder, Caster Morgan became part of their household. With nearly a month before the Holy Grail War begins, Rod hoped this shared time would pass without incident.
Manaka welcomed Morgan, but Hiroki Sajyou maintained a distant attitude, typical of magi who avoided close relationships with Servants. To him, Servants in the Grail War were no different from the pigeons in his garden.
After Morgan's arrival, life at the Sajo residence continued as usual. If there was anything that caught Roder's attention, it was…
"A lovely child, isn't she? Are you interested in her?"
Roder quietly approached Morgan from behind as she stood by the garden's crystal door. Surrounded in green, her graceful figure resembled a small palm tree, elegant and seductive. Morgan's deep blue eyes were focused on the young girl watering plants.
"She's called Sajyou Ayaka,Manaka's younger sister. UnlikeManaka, she doesn't have any remarkable magical talent. Poor thing, having such an accomplished, beautiful older sister."
Roder spoke with a hint of coldness as he held the garden door's handle.
"Well, I'm off to play with her. Would you like to come?"
"No need. If I go, I'll just frighten her."
Morgan turned and left, her figure radiating a quiet elegance. Roder watched her departure, a mischievous smile on his face.
"So endearing, Vivienne."
Caster Morgan was a near-perfect Servant, capable in battle, support, and reconnaissance, with a brilliant mind and captivating beauty. Her only flaw was perhaps her undeniable presence. As a Caster, she couldn't turn into spirit form and often left traces of her shapely figure, wrapped in her luxurious black robe, all around the Sajo household.
—---
The subtle magical interference cast by Morgan seemed to go unnoticed by Hiroki Sajyou and Ayaka, but for Roder, it was hard to know quite where to focus his gaze.
It wasn't that Roder was embarrassed to admire Morgan; rather, lingering on her for too long would undoubtedly earn disapproving looks from both his mom and his aunt.
Fortunately, Morgan seemed to sense this herself.
"Caster, would you like to buy some clothes?"
One morning, when they were alone in the house, Morgan casually mentioned her wish to add to her wardrobe.
"Yes, it would be nice to occasionally wear clothes that aren't magically woven."
"Well, that's understandable—you're a girl, after all," Roder replied with a smile, pulling out his wallet. "If that's what you want, of course, it's no problem."
Roder's mood lifted at her request; Morgan was usually so independent that she rarely asked for help.
"Money really is a great thing," he thought happily, already planning to put some extra funds from the Matou family's ill-gotten gains to good use.
"Will 300,000 yen be enough?"
Morgan shook her head as Roder proudly flashed several crisp ten-thousand-yen notes. "No, that's not what I meant."
She explained, "As for money, I'm already prepared. What I wanted to ask, Master, is if you might have some time today to come shopping with me."
Roder blinked, his attention shifting from the TV to Morgan's face.
Wait—is she asking me to go shopping with her?
The word "date" flashed through his mind.
The room fell silent, except for the canned laughter from the TV show playing in the background.
"Would I be any help?" he asked, and she nodded.
"I'd appreciate your thoughts and opinions."
"If you're busy, though…" she trailed off.
"We're going." Roder jumped up from the sofa without hesitation.
---
Twenty minutes later, Roder was ready to go out.
He wore a black knitted sweater, a gray down vest, and a pair of ripped jeans—a relaxed and casual look. A red scarf, hand-knitted by Manaka, was wrapped around his neck.
"Wow, what a cool look! Am I a child star, or maybe a magazine model?" he muttered, adjusting his bangs in the mirror.
Meanwhile, Morgan seemed to be taking her time getting ready in her room. Understandable, he thought; it does take girls a little longer to prepare.
He sent her a voice message: "Caster, I'm waiting for you at the front door."
Low EQ: "Not ready yet? Hurry up!"
High EQ: "I'm waiting for you."
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Morgan replied. "I'm on my way."
Roder chuckled to himself. He never quite understood her.
Morgan was an exceptional beauty, captivating enough to turn heads effortlessly, yet she always wore striking makeup, seemingly concealing her natural charm. And since she'd already used magic to divert others' attention from her, who was she wearing it for, anyway?
After Morgan had said, "I'm coming right now," Roder ended up waiting at the door for another twenty minutes before she finally appeared.
Morgan emerged in a fitted, black sorceress's robe that clung to her curves, accentuating her figure. Her long legs peeked from beneath the dress's slitted hemline, elegantly highlighting her allure.
The overall style was both sensual and dignified, accentuating her alluring and untouchable queenly aura.
Honestly, I've tried to observe carefully, but she doesn't look that different from usual!
But when she walked toward him, her bashful smile and the subtle fragrance that followed her wiped away all his impatience from the wait.
She averted her gaze, twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger.
"Sorry to keep you. I may have taken a bit longer than I intended."
Roder replied with a smooth smile, "Not at all. I just got here myself."
Morgan blinked at him, then let out a small laugh.
"'Just got here'…haha, as if we were meeting outside," she chuckled, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Shall we go?"
"Of course, Master."
With that, their hands intertwined.
It wasn't as though one of them had reached for the other. Instead, they both extended their fingers toward each other at the same moment.
Their fingertips brushed, and then, seamlessly, their fingers entwined.
For a date, this felt just right.
They were about to step into a world of "ambiguous" sweetness, sweeter than any romance.
The front door of the Sajyou residence creaked open.
Their clasped hands immediately parted in a flurry of surprise.
Neither Roder nor Morgan had opened the door.
The person outside was none other than Manaka.
—-
"Well, well, if it isn't Manaka! Haven't seen you in hours, and…"
"What brings you back so soon, Miss?"
Roder greeted her at the doorway with an eager smile.
Manaka's schedule for today was supposed to include a Chinese cooking class in the city. Normally, she didn't get back until late afternoon.
Why had she come home so early today?
"While we were in the middle of class, a middle-aged man suddenly climbed onto the window ledge and attempted to jump."
Manaka explained, taking her time with each word, as though reading Roder's mind.
"The police sealed off the area and evacuated everyone, so I returned early."
All the while, she kept her eyes fixed on the spot where Roder's hand had met Morgan's.
"Oh…I see."
Such a rare event.
Mom, you didn't arrange this scene, did you?
Manaka glanced at Roder, then turned her gaze toward Morgan.
Staring at her with an unreadable expression,Manaka's light blue eyes flickered.
"Good morning, Miss Caster. Dressed so beautifully today—where might you and Roder be headed?"
---
Despite Roder's internal distress, he couldn't control the weather to match his mood.
It was a clear and invigorating midday.
The Tokyo streets, bright under the winter sun, were alive with energy, washing away the gloom of the past few days.
Morgan, Roder, and Manaka walked side by side, in that delicate order from left to right, heading toward the subway.
Their heights, 170cm, 150cm, and 160cm respectively, formed an odd lineup that could be summed up as "U" shaped.
WhenManaka heard that Morgan wanted to shop for clothes, she cheerfully declared that she, too, wanted something new.
And so, a simple duo shopping trip transformed into a group of three.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything between the two of you?"
Manaka asked, stepping closer to Caster, her hands clasped behind her back.
"Not at all. Why would you think that?"
Before Morgan could respond, Roder jumped in.
"I was planning to pick you up after shopping and make it a trio outing from the start. It's great that you came back early!"
"Hmph."Manaka's hum was somewhere between amused and indifferent.
Since leaving the house, she had spoken only to Morgan, barely acknowledging Roder.
It felt like he was somehow subtly ignored.
Was she really that mad?
I go out with other girls often enough; why is today any different?
Roder snuck a glance atManaka, clearing his throat.
"Actually,Manaka, I'm really glad you're here. Morgan, you should know thatManaka has excellent taste in clothes. Her dresses are always so stylish."
"Unlike you,"Manaka quipped, arching a brow with a half-smile.
"Our dear Roder here is the kind of kid who fakes a stomachache, a headache, and even a toothache if his mom asks him to go shopping."
"...!"
Roder shivered as a chill ran down his spine.
So that's why she's upset… One word came to mind:
"Serves you right."
Morgan looked on, suppressing a smile.
---
…
Manaka often had minor fits of temper with Roder, but typically these wouldn't last more than 20 minutes.
Today, however, she broke her own record, staying upset for a full half-hour.
After they left home, it only took their "great mother" that much time to forgive her wayward son.
Once the three of them exited the subway and arrived at the bustling streets of Shinjuku, the crowd density surged around them.
Since Morgan had temporarily disabled the magic she used to minimize her presence, their appearance in the busy district caused quite a stir.
People were drawn in by the group's striking looks, instinctively making way as countless curious glances focused on them.
Roder, a reserved young man who looked like the perfect cold-hearted heartthrob, despite having the mind of a flirt.
Manaka, sparkling like a princess from a fairy tale, walking with a noble air.
Morgan, with her cool yet intense allure, blending purity, seductiveness, and dignity—the qualities of a natural queen.
The three remained unfazed by the surrounding attention, engrossed in a "simple" encrypted conversation.
Manaka: "Miss Caster, your skin looks amazing."
Roder: I'm touched... Mom's actually having a civil conversation with Morgan. I honestly thought they'd be like oil and water.
Morgan Le Fay: "Ha... Is this girl subtly calling me old?"
…
Morgan Le Fay: "Who would've thought I'd meet someone with British blood like Miss Manaka here in the Far East? Let's have a good time today."
Roder: Right, right, at first I thought she was purely Japanese too.
Manaka: "Britain is Britain, and Britannia is Britannia. Your country disappeared 1,500 years ago, fairy queen."
…
Unbeknownst to Roder, two of the smartest women he knew were smiling and trying to outwit each other.
After a few minutes' walk from the Shinjuku Sanchome subway station, they arrived at Isetan's main building, their destination for the day.
Built in 1933, it's been a landmark of Shinjuku for 60 years, one of Tokyo's more upscale department stores.
Once they reached the women's clothing floor, the women stopped their verbal sparring.
Though Manaka and Morgan had very different body types, they both radiated an intense, almost knightly aura as they surveyed their battleground.
Perhaps because it was a weekday afternoon, the store wasn't crowded, and the atmosphere was peaceful.
Not far away, a sales assistant was awkwardly trying to communicate with a tourist customer in broken Chinese.
""
Glancing around at the endless, colorful selection, Morgan let out a small sigh.
"Is this your first time in a department store?"
Roder silently watched as the restrained witch glanced around, her wide blue eyes shimmering with curiosity.
"Yes, although I've been given knowledge through the Holy Grail, seeing it in person... it's nice."
To think, despite living this long, she's kept herself locked away in a garden all this time.
Just as Roder was about to comment, a bright voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Roder, come look at this!"
Manaka was waving to him from across the room.
"I'm coming—"
Just as Roder was walking toward Manaka, he felt his wrist gently but firmly held.
Naturally, it was Morgan who'd reached out.
Confused, he turned to see Morgan's extraordinarily beautiful face. Her expression was unusually serious, as if she had emotions that had long been held back.
"What is it, Caster?"
"Master, where are you going?"
"Uh, I was heading over to Manaka…"
Morgan's face maintained a forced smile. "You made a promise back at the house. You'd accompany me shopping today, remember? During the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, you said we'd act as master and servant. To deceive the enemy teams, you wanted me to act as the master while you acted as the servant. You asked me to follow your wild ideas, and I accepted every single one of them without complaint. So today, isn't it your turn to guard your master, like a knight?"
"…"
Roder couldn't argue.
Morgan was entirely right.
Back home, he had promised to be with her today. But when Manaka had insisted on joining, he'd accepted her request impulsively. At the time, Morgan had probably held back for his sake—a gentle, thoughtful soul.
I can't trample her feelings any longer!
The bond with my mother is precious, but honor is greater.
This isn't "forgetting family for a pretty face" or "having a new favorite," but Roder—a true man—must keep his promises.
With a firm nod, Roder said, "I understand. You're absolutely right. Please allow me to apologize for my earlier rudeness."
Morgan's expression softened as she released his wrist.
"Let's go."
"Yes, Princess Morgan."
Then, they headed toward a different fashion store.
"...Tch."
Not far away, Manaka bit her lip and put the dress back on the rack.
Despite her irritation, she couldn't protest. She had forced herself into their group today, after all.
As a mother, Manaka must maintain an image of elegance and dignity before her child.
The young woman could only stomp her feet in frustration, trailing behind them.
…
…
…
Shopping proved to be delightful.
Morgan was a natural model.
No matter what clothes she tried, they highlighted her curves, noble face, and British royal aura.
Glamorous without pretense.
Dignified yet youthful.
Sensual with a touch of aloofness.
A paradox, but it was precisely this contrast that made her allure irresistible.
Accompanied by Roder, Morgan bought over ten tops, seven or eight dresses, and countless accessories in one afternoon.
Roder gentlemanly carried her bags, while Morgan beamed with satisfaction.
Meanwhile, following behind like an outsider, Manaka's expression grew dark.
"…"
With her face darkened, Manaka regretted coming along. Wouldn't it have been better to stay home and prepare dinner for Roder?
As the evening approached, the store began to fill up, and once again, they became the center of attention.
A beautiful woman with a perfect figure, her silver hair gleaming, with a handsome dark-haired youth by her side.
And a little girl trailing behind them, whose beauty took everyone's breath away.
Onlookers couldn't help but stop and comment as the three passed by, looking like they'd stepped out of a movie.
"They seem close... siblings? Or is it a mother and son? They're a stunning pair."
Manaka's mouth twitched as she glared at the bystanders: I'll kill you, I'm the one who's Roder' mother!
"No, no... I'd say they're a couple."
Manaka smirked: You're overthinking.
"Haha... that can't be! He looks like an elementary schooler!"
Exactly. Roder is only three years old!
Manaka seethed inwardly: A girlfriend? Not on my watch!
"It's possible, though! Kids these days are mature early."
"And the girl behind them is lovely too. Is she their maid?"
A little girl?
Their servant?
Are they blind?
"..."
Suddenly, Manaka seemed to have an epiphany and took a long, deep breath.
Casually, she walked over to Roder and confidently linked her arm with his, sneaking a smug look at Morgan.
What am I doing being so timid today? That's not me.
Manaka is Roder' mother and his one and only.
"…"
Roder noticed her slightly puffed cheeks and instantly understood—Mom was definitely jealous.
With a soft smile, he gently squeezed her hand, saying, "Is there anything you'd like, Manaka? Let me buy it for you. I made some extra cash in Fuyuki recently."