Fate Strange Fake - Vol.8

Fate/strange Fake 7

Fate/strange Fake 7
Fate/Strange Fake
Volume 8
Translation by: Comun

Typesetting and PDF: @HumbertoZero
Image scans: @Shisuberu (Twitter)

Fate/strange Fake 7

CONTENTS
“-” 001
Bridge “Puddle 003
Chapter 24 Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ****** 027
Interlude Backroom Rhapsody 079
Chapter 25 The shadow brings an end to a journey
out of the ravine 088
Interlude To be Translated 000
Chapter 26 To be Translated 000
Bridge To be Translated 000

Intro
“-”
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Fate/strange Fake 6
London, words by Lord El-Melloi II’s sister.
I’m not much one to talk myself, but my brother is completely insane.
The Archibald family contracted an astronomical debt with his predecessor’s death. Yes, the
debt’s figure would leave even the Animusphere astronomers out of their depth, and he took it
on himself alone to pay it.
Itemize the debt? Are you asking because you want to pay for it in our stead?
I’m joking, of course. Now that my brother said he’d shoulder the debt, he’s not letting an-
yone else pay for it. Besides, here’s what I’ve been thinking lately: no one other than my brother
could pay all that debt. Though it could be impossible even for him, maybe.
I say it including the non-financial losses, such as the loss of his predecessor’s life and the
damage to the Magic Crest, but also... you could produce a Hollywood ultra blockbuster with
all the physical assets the Archibalds lost. There were multiple losses that could have collapsed
the whole faction, but one of them was the greatest of them all.
One damaged item on our property... It was something not even the other Lords could easily
obtain. It’s for good reason that that item used to be El-Melloi’s Supreme Mystic Code until the
previous El-Melloi perfected Trimmau.
Yes... The previous Lord losing it in the battle of Fuyuki was the biggest of the 5 fatal losses
we suffered.
It’s not as big a deal as the Holy Grail... but there are mages who would start a war for it.
For that *** of ***** ******* ****** ********.
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Bridge
“Puddle”
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Bridge: Puddle
5 days ago, Snowfield
When the Heroic Spirit Hippolyte was granted knowledge from the Grail and manifested,
she was met with sparkling lights everywhere.
When she felt a torrent of magical energy all over her body, she determined that that was the
energy from the summon, and tried to make the formal appeal to her contractor.
Because she understood her role as a Servant from the moment of her summon, much like
most living beings understand the need to breathe from birth.
-I ask you, will you walk the fertile plains as my Master?
The instant she tried to see the person she was supposed to direct those words to, her intellect
quickly comprehended the situation she was in.
She understood that the lights and the torrent of magical energy didn’t come from the
summoning ritual.
Violent collision sparks.
Bones creaking
Roars leaking out of a throat
Muscles bursting with resentment
A symphony of grinding teeth
A song of instantly expanding blood vessels
The wicked laughter of tearing joints.
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Slashing attack Blunt attack Piercing attack

Crushing attack
Magecraft Burning magecraft Freezing magecraft
Thunder magecraft
Shouts of anger Shouts of sorrow Shouts of anguish
Shouts of delight
The area was charged with all forms of discord and violence.
Hippolyte was the queen of the Amazons. The head of a warrior tribe. This air was something
she was used to.
Conflict. War.
Hippolyte was summoned not to a formulaic ritual altar, but to the middle of a trenchant
conflict.
“...?”
She was of the many, many Heroic Spirits of Ancient Greece; the daughter of the god of war,
Ares; and the leading warrior guarding the temple of the goddess of the hunt, Artemis.
Therefore, the conflict could never make her lose her nerve.
Because it was a battle between flesh and blood humans, not a battle between the heroes
from the Age of Gods.
But it did confuse her.
According to the knowledge the Holy Grail gave her, a Heroic Spirit summon was a ritual
performed with a catalyst and an incantation.
Some few tribes and religions have a ritual of offering to the god of war, but this one is not
supposed one of that kind.
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Why was she summoned to watch a battle?
She thought that an enemy exploited the moment of the summon for a surprise attack, but
her history as a warrior leader immediately rejected that guess.
The battle between the two had been going on for a long time.
What’s happening here?
The warrior leader didn’t panic despite her confusion.
Wait... Considering the level of this battle, maybe... This was not a proper ceremony but it might
have been enough to call me.
Two figures collided and she had no reason to take either’s side.
She was summoned but still not contracted.
Thus, Hippolyte observed.
To know what was happening in the holy grounds of her summon.
Or to determine what exactly this Holy Grail War was.
“Aaaargh! Can’t you ever give up?”, said one of the figures exchanging shots—a woman in
red clothes—as she fired Gandr curses.
She launched cursed bullets with the force of a triple burst from an assault rifle, which the
target dodged by a hair, pulverizing parts of the concrete walls behind her and exposing the steel
beams inside them.
While the woman in red confirmed the result of her shot, her dark eyes found Hippolyte.
“Seems like our guest couldn’t stand to wait until we were finished. Wanna keep going?”, she
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added as she furthered the distance between herself and her opponent.
The other figure—a woman covering the area around her in black smoke—responded to her
enemy in red’s question with a sharp glare.
“Leave her waiting. Or did you want a break to have tea with the Heroic Spirit?”
From the gaps of the woman’s black smoke, she could peek at a harmonious face with shark-
like teeth and a pair of gothic goggles on her eyes, engraved with magical letters.
Her words were weaved with wicked laughter, but in contrast, the woman in red sighed and
shrugged.
“Well guessed, that’s exactly what I was planning to do this whole time.”
There was no delay between the woman’s words and her actions.
“Without you, of course.”
Her sigh and her shrug were no mere provocation.
Each and every movement had a purpose in adjusting the flow of Od inside her and were
preparatory steps for an explosive drive on her joints and muscles.
Her approach was so explosive the ordinary man would have thought she disappeared.
A superb way of walking that combined her magical energy, technique, and all of her
arduously cultivated physical strength.
Her slender body reached top speed in a blink of an eye.
At that point, she had already switched her limbs to their next form.
A perfectly delivered backhand blow flew toward her opponent’s body.
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A hit to the ribcage. Even a normal backhand to that area had the chance to prove fatal to
an undertrained body.
Nonetheless, this was not even the worst she did.
At the start of her movement, the woman in red fired a ball of curse from her fingertip, ran
at the same speed as her shot, and delivered her twisted backhand together with it to push the
shot further.
“Gah...!”
The woman’s goggles cracked with the blow.
The blow hit the chest, quite distant from the face, and yet the impact spread through her
body was intense enough to cause visible damage to her facial accessory.
“Kh... Kh... Haha, hahahahaha!”
Hit with a strike and curse inevitably capable of knocking out a boxing champion in one hit,
the woman with the goggles laughed ecstatically.
“I get it now... You’re as good as the rumors say! No, better than the rumors! Average One!”
“I don’t know what rumors you heard, but I’m much more than my attributes... Ah!”
Toosaka Rin—the woman in red dodged the opponent’s chop mid-sentence.
“True, my bad!”
The mage with the goggles—Doris Lusendra’s chop was also superhuman.
The first thing to call attention to is that her fingers were nothing like human fingers.
Their form and hardness were altered to resemble the talons of a bird of prey—or rather, of a
phantasmal dragon. This makes them blades capable of bisecting a human being. She rushed in
at Rin for a follow-up.
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What makes her chops so difficult to fight against is how all of them cause the whole cloud
of black smoke around her to move.
It can sometimes serve as a traditional obfuscating smokescreen, sometimes serve as shackles

to slow down the enemy’s movements, and some of the smoke can concentrate to attack Rin as
a third arm.
The Lusendra family.
A lineage that determined that one of their end goals was to replicate an allegedly extinct
phantasmal species from Japan, the oni, with their own flesh and blood, and spent the past 1000
years modifying their own bodies and Magic Circuits.
With a special form of Reinforcement Magecraft passed down in the family, they repurpose
their skeleton, each muscle fiber, each nerve, each lymph duct, and each capillary vessel to pass
as a makeshift Magic Circuit.
Their final destination is defined by the contradiction of making the already lost past reach
the distant future.
To take hold of, understand, or rewrite what is lost with the progress of the current form of
Human Order, many mages keep the engine of their bloodlines running.
Doris Lusendra is one of many using their lives and souls as fuel to the ends of the rails set
by their lineages.
“I really want to praise you right now, but the first word to come to mind is ‘nasty’.”, Rin
shrugged looking at the half-wrecked walls, floor, and pillars. “In no time, you changed this
room’s attribute into your own without even a Mystic Code or a catalyst... no, I guess at this
point, your very body is already a Mystic Code and a catalyst.”
The room had marks of destruction, some done by Rin’s magecraft but most done by Doris’s
own body, and the parts she broke were drenched in remains of the raging magical energy
seeping from her.
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Meaning that the more Doris destroyed, the more this environment became magically
advantageous to her.
The debris housing magical energy had already begun to resonate with Doris. The room’s
interior was expressing its hostile intent to remove the unwelcome element that was Rin.
“You are the greatest wall in my path! You are worth bringing out all the deepest secrets of
us Lusendra!”
“Do I really look nice enough to play along with everything you want to show?”
Her actions were faster than her words. Rin deployed jewels around her.
“Anfang.”
Simultaneously with her power words, surges of magical energy of multiple attributes
erupted from the spaces between the seven floating gems.
Then the light continuously reflected inside the gems, expanding their magical energy as it
shot flashes of light.
Magical energy of multiple attributes twisted into a beam of light aimed at Doris Lusendra.
The spell known by the name Cutting Seven-Colors.
And what was behind her seven jewels was even more terrifying.
The flash of light was concealing five floating jewels disposed in the shape of a pentagram.
It was the magecraft she perfected under Lord El-Melloi II’s tutelage: Fünf Sterne im Umlauf.
The unfair technique that allows Rin, the Average One, to initiate magecraft pre-deployed
in the gems in response to the enemy spell, ensuring her attack will always have the upper hand
in any compatibility interaction.
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The jewels’ magical beam served as a distraction to give her time to speak the chant that
induces its activation.
“You won’t!”
Black mist explosively expanded out of Doris’s body to cancel the glimmer circulating in the
jewels.
It was the blood that sprayed out of the cut she made on the arteries of her own wrist.
The blood sprayed out already on its acidic black color and tried to crush the jewels around
Rin in a form like a water jet’s blade.
At the same time, Doris’s body morphed considerably.
Doris’s skin, previously reinforced like steel, was ripped apart as her right arm’s bones started
to morph into a blade.
And then the debris around her floated and began to gather on Doris’s right arm, compressing
all the steel beams and concrete.
The bone blade coated in steel and debris finally covered the whole arm, turning into armor
as it grew larger until the black hand eventually surpassed her own height, almost reaching from
the ground to the ceiling.
And next,
with a twisted sound, the right arm made of debris, bone, iron, and most importantly, Doris’s
Circuit-converted flesh and blood, plunged forward, assaulting Rin with the palm of a giant.
And the worst of all is that this whole alteration and strike took place in less than 1 second.
Normally, Rin could effortlessly dismantle the physical components if she had only
completed the Fünf Sterne im Umlauf chant.
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But Doris’s speed left no room to complete the spell.
All cheats and counters are swallowed by her diligently optimized bodily alteration speed
and the physical strength created by her Reinforcement Magecraft.
Even if Rin did activate her spell and tried to dismantle it, the debris had already gained
impulse unrelated to magecraft and an improvised barrier or defensive spell couldn’t stop their
masses.
Rin’s Fünf Sterne im Umlauf is practically invincible against constructed magecraft.
However, this description refers to magecraft which eventually dissipates into the world. It’s
powerless against real phenomena connected to the world, like for example special permanent
projections, a mercury being taking a fully physical form, or simply a dump truck running in her
direction.
Lusendra knew nothing of the Fünf Sterne im Umlauf spell, but in the depths of her
obsession, she unwittingly achieved a counterplay for Rin’s greatest secret.
“You don’t get a choice, you will play along, Toosaka Rin!”
The Lusendra lineage has been in rapid degradation in recent years.
Not because they’ve been getting any less arcane.
They simply tried too hard.
The Lusendra lineage devoured everything it could to grow closer to the phantasmagoria of
the oni, or to live life the way they did.
The previous family head, the most powerful in their history, devoured man and fiend alike,
sometimes even vampires, and lastly, in an attempt to devour a god, he headed to Japan, where
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the God Possessor clans are.
And there he randomly came across the real deal. Which means to say he was slaughtered by
a one-eyed man with thick oni blood in his veins.
They lost most of their Magic Crest and then had to deal with the heavy consequences of
their quest for “sacrifices to devour” continuously making larges amounts of new enemies for
them.
The only options left for them were to disappear into obscurity or to be instantly ruined by
an enemy attack.
That’s when Doris, the only one who hadn’t given up yet, was visited by Francesca and invited
to the Holy Grail War.
She was told that the Grail was fake and most likely incapable of reaching the Fount.
But she was told it was somewhat effective as a wishing-granting device.
Doris Lusendra didn’t blindly trust the story but accepted the invitation.
She believed that seeing a hero from the Age of Gods with her own eyes and having her
magical energy connected to one was worth it, and most importantly, if something close to a
god manifested, she had a chance to incorporate it into her body.
But that was not what was happening.
A powerful enemy appeared before she could even summon, and faced with this enemy,
Doris lost sight of everything. The Holy Grail War, the revival of her family, and the roadmap
of her future were all trivial.
But she didn’t forget her thesis as a mage.
She was sure of it.
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This mage right here was the greatest obstacle in her whole life.
She was sure that blasting through this wall was the way to perfect her lineage’s magecraft.
Thus, she poured everything into this blow.
She didn’t mind losing the chance to fight those who appeared alongside Toosaka Rin or the
chance to contract the Servant.
It was with that much resolve that she launched her Giant Oni Grab.
This blow was her ultimate technique to crush any enemy regardless of whatever magecraft
attribute they could have.
“Fantastic.”, Hippolyte approved of the magecraft Doris poured her heart and soul into.
“But...”
Her eyes were the eyes of a warrior Heroic Spirit. They clearly saw the bigger picture.
By the time the palm strike of the giant was composed, the woman named Toosaka Rin had
already abandoned the chant and the jewels.
She judged that the greatest magecraft she ever constructed couldn’t do a thing against the
physical strength generated by her opponent.
And as soon as she did, she repurposed half of the magical energy in all the deployed gems
to conceal herself and construct a power spot, and then she jumped close to the ceiling, slipping
between the giant’s fingers.
Any misstep and she would have ended up a victim of the oni’s claws, but regardless, the
mage named Toosaka Rin escaped the jaws of death.
This wasn’t a gamble. That mage... she went through all her options and knew which was the
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best one.
The mage Rin only turned behind for one instant to look regretfully at the gems going to
waste, and while she did, she kicked the ceiling, switching the vectors of her body, mind, and
magical energy flow into her next move.
Drawing all the excess energy from the crushed jewels back into her body, she composed her
favorite spell, one she can do without requiring a chant.
Dense misfortune spouted out of Rin’s fingertips at the start of her free fall from the ceiling.
Hippolyte recognized that as a curse, although one quite different in design compared to
the curses of her land.
Hippolyte never heard the word “Gandr” before, but as someone who fought loads and
loads of demonic beasts and sorcerers from the Age of Gods, she could easily guess what it was
used for.
But what radiant curse!
The Gandr was just a curse. Hippolyte’s heartfelt admiration was for the refined tricks
around it. She presumed this magecraft finesse to be on the high end of what the tactical minds
of the modern age can do.
And so came the time for the match’s conclusion.
“You wily-!”
Doris voiced her surprise at the same time she internally commended her enemy.
The spell Rin had previously compiled was one of the greatest achievements of her mage
lineage.
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The decision to discard that magecraft after so much buildup was not an easy one even for
the most rational of mages.
Doris judged that her opponent had extraordinary combat experience on top of her diligent
study of magecraft. She prepared to counter her opponent’s attacks, with the corners of her
mouth raised high.
She had already seen this Gandr many times before.
It was a refined cursed bullet named Finn Shot, capable of piercing concrete. Since Toosaka
Rin fired those with the frequency of an autocannon, no ordinary man fighting her could escape
certain death.
Even if their body can somehow withstand it, the essence of the curse would infiltrate their
body and stop their heart.
However, my skin is now iron and can block the consecutive curse volleys!
Doris surrounded her whole body with intense magical energy, with the intention of landing
the most effective counter she could deliver.
But the Gandr impact she was prepared to take never came.
“!?”
Doris felt let down but didn’t have the time to feel confused. Before she could, she saw the
Gandr shot out of Rin’s fingertips intercepted by something invisible.
For a moment, Doris assumed someone other than Rin interfered. But she discerned it was
not the case. The qualities of the magical energy emitted by the barrier were identical to the
qualities of the energy covering Rin.
Meaning the one who set the boundary was Rin herself.
She’s... keeping her Gandrs caged inside a Bounded Field?!
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In its normal form, this boundary was powerful enough to lock an enemy inside a room.
Rin compressed the boundary to the size of a football, making it into a cage to circulate the
Gandrs she produced.
The cage was now a pressure cooker full of curses, shrinking even further as it dropped to
Doris’s feet.
Doris envisioned the explosion of the accumulated curses and focused her magical energy
on her feet to jump away, then Rin sank her foot to the ground with a full-powered stomp.
A blow on a moment of distraction.
With the Gandr cage taking all of her attention, Doris forgot about Rin for a moment—an
instant, even.
To Toosaka Rin, a mage who once survived a Holy Grail War, an opponent who lets their
guard down like this is an opponent who surrendered the battle.
And Toosaka Rin’s style was to break an enemy’s spirit beyond repair, surrendered or
otherwise.
Rin approached from an angle Doris wasn’t looking at and shoved the Bounded Field
compressed to the size of a golf ball into Doris’s foot with her stomp.
Doris had her whole body down to the capillary vessels turned into makeshift Magic Circuits,
and this strike aimed for the moment she would focus all her magical energy on her feet for a
jump.
What could only be described as a curse cannon loaded with a grapeshot of Finn Shots
wrenched open her steel body and spread through her body when her foot had the maximum
amount of magical energy paths open.
The impact on the foot could be felt even on the top of the head, and its shockwaves broke
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Doris’s goggles to smithereens.
“GAH...!”
Doris coughed black blood and her body bent backward.
Rin’s movement flowed into the next, preparing to use her palm heel to shove in her next
Gandr along with a jewel she suddenly had in her hand. However, this blow was blocked by
another palm coming from her side.
Rin cast a sharp glare at the intruder. Hippolyte looked straight into Rin as she spoke.
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“I apologize for putting a damper on your combat.”, said Hippolyte. Her right hand calmly
stopped the blow that would use a jewel to drive a Gandr to someone’s insides.
Rin just saw someone block an attack powerful enough to knock down a giant elephant, but
showed no signs of surprise.
Because she knew that Heroic Spirits were overwhelming power inaccessible to modern
mages.
“But this match already has a winner. Additional attacks those who can’t move won’t be
allowed on my watch.”
In sync with Hippolyte’s words, Doris’s knees gave in and she collapsed.
With the magical energy composing it dispelled, the giant palm made of blood and debris
crumbled.
Meanwhile, Doris’s left arm was extremely injured, but due to the original properties of her
body, it had already stopped bleeding.
“Hmmm...”
Rin looked as if she was the one testing the Heroic Spirit’s values. She sighed while she put
her magical energy to rest.
As she stepped away gripping her gem, Doris formed sentences in the gaps of her ragged
breaths.
“I don’t need your mercy, Heroic Spirit... Now that I’m defeated, I have no problems with
my blood, flesh, and soul being devoured by the victor.”
Despite the blood coughs interrupting her speech, Doris’s face had an expression of
satisfaction. She couldn’t stand up. It was taking all that she had just to keep talking.
Seeing Doris like this, Rin spoke with an expression of disgust.
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“Hey, can you stop making it sound like I’m a Strigoaică or a carnivorous dinosaur? I was
never after your life... That said, I hate being mistaken for a naïve mage, so listen. Ahem.” In
contrast with her previous violence, Rin’s assertion to Doris was completely rational. “Regardless
of our pact, the Command Spells appeared in you first. I can’t imagine the Heroic Spirit right
there will be happy if I kill you to steal them like some bandit... Although some Heroic Spirits
would like me better if I finished you off without mercy.”
Rin looked at Hippolyte as she spoke.
Doris had also perceived Hippolyte’s nature at first glance. Her face alone could vaguely
move when her limbs still couldn’t, so she faintly smiled and closed her eyes.
“I was soundly defeated. I have no regrets.”
“Good for you. I have a lot of regrets. Sigh.” Before continuing, Rin directed a mean smile at
Doris. “How many gems do you even think I spent on you? I can’t make you pay compensation
if you’re dead, can I?”
× ×
“I see, the two mages made a pact before the duel. I assume with the rights to my contract
at stake.”
“More specifically the bargaining chips that enable our contract. That’d be the Command
Spells.”
After hearing the situation, Hippolyte looked at Rin with new eyes.
A mightful mage.
And still with a lot of room for growth.
Rider’s simple impression is that despite all this growth potential, she was already far too
perfected for her young age.
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And she wasn’t the only one.
“And you don’t resort to your numbers to steal it...”, said Hippolyta, feeling the presence of
the dozens of mages outside the room.
“We do, depending on the situation. But the Holy Grail War is not even started yet, you
know?”
Taking Rin’s word as their signal, the ones outside stepped into the wrecked room.
“Well, it was really fortuitous that she accepted a personal duel bound by a magical pact,
Toosaka Rin. It’s already humiliating enough that our Svin and Roland, due to being a wolf and
snake, had to negotiate a peaceful resolution to their fight against the Zempulus beast hunter
the other day. Having to resort to our superior numbers to beat the Lusendra oni imitation
would put a dent in our teacher’s glory.”, said a young man with the airs of a noble.
“Still, what a boorish battle. You could have ended it so much faster and easier if you had
ever learned a grappling move or stopped being a penny-pincher with your gems.”, continued a
woman in a blue dress.
Hearing that, Rin took one more look at Doris lying down on debris before delivering her
counter-argument.
“Hello? Have you seen her magecraft? I’d be dead with my bones full of holes if I’ve ever
tried anything as slow as a grappling move.”
“Sweet, ignorant child. Once you master your locks and throws, you can neutralize your
enemies as instantly as you can with punches.”
“Honestly, you’re the only one who even tries pulling off these niche tactics on mages, do
you know that?”
“And that last hit... The Bounded Field sealing the Gandrs was shoddily composed. Were
you taking suicide bombing as your plan B again?”
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“What the hell do you mean by ‘again’? When did I ever do that?!”
The women in the red and blue continued their debate. Watching it from the sidelines, it
was hard to determine if they were serious or just bantering. The aristocratic young man, the first
one to talk, bowed to Hippolyte.
“Sorry for my classmates’ shameful display. Am I right to assume you are the Heroic Spirit
summoned for this ritual by the call of the Holy Grail?”
Seeing his elegant posture and the perfect harmony of his magical energy circulation,
Hippolyte was sure of one thing:
All the dozens of people in this place were like Rin, diamonds polished beyond their age.
But conversely, she couldn’t find any other common element between them.
Thus, Hippolyte had one question to ask before she ever talked about her contract or made
her requests.
“You don’t look like a very uniform organization. What kind of group are you?”
Her status as a queen and her experience leading a warrior team only made her all the more
curious about what connection formed this strange group.
This made the mage Toosaka Rin pause to think before answering.
“There’s really only one way to describe it... we’re disciples studying under the same teacher.”
This answer made all the dots connect. Hippolyte spoke with heartfelt admiration.
“Makes sense... He must be quite the capable mentor. Much the widely famous Chiron of
our era.”
The group responded by looking at each other’s faces. A fair number of them nodded without
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thinking twice, but the majority silently shook their head trying to hold back laughter.
“I can’t say for sure... but I think he’s the complete opposite of the mythological Chiron.”
× ×
There was a man named Lord El-Melloi II.
If the amount of magical energy a person has can be described as a river or an ocean, then
that mage is a puddle.
The man once participated in a magecraft ritual in Japanese lands and managed to survive
despite then being a novice mage-in-training.
Any normal magecraft ritual would have finished with no life-threatening accidents and that
would have been the end of the story.
The problem is that this ritual was essentially mage duels, and dubious rumors say a wish-
granting device manifested. The most esoteric saying about the ritual is that is a pivotal ceremony
in the world of magecraft. One likely to even touch the Fount. That is the Holy Grail War.
At the time he survived the ritual, he was still just a boy. Years later, he became a Lord of the
Clock Tower.
In the same Holy Grail War ceremony, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald lost his life.
After inheriting his position and all debts the Archibald family contracted due to his death,
the young man went to encounter numerous cases and epic adventures, but that’s a whole other
story not directly related to the Snowfield ritual.
What’s important to Snowfield’s counterfeit Holy Grail War is the fact that his predecessor
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Kayneth lost everything he had in Fuyuki’s lands.
And the ones who grew under the tutelage of the man who inherited the El-Melloi name.
The El-Melloi Classroom.
The students that El-Melloi II raised as an instructor of the Department of Modern

Magecraft.
El-Melloi II doesn’t see himself as the one who raised them. He often mumbles that talented
people break out of their shells on their own with just some minor support pointing to new
directions, and is genuinely jealous of his students’ talents.
It is a fact that the class brings talented young mages together.
He’s the least influential of the Clock Tower Lords, and very few students were completely
affiliated to the class due to faction politics.
However, it’s said that all the ones who stuck with the class until graduation reached the
highest mage rankings in the Clock Tower— the status of Pride and Brand—and the ones who
went on to graduate in different departments are also widely praised mages.
Consequently, while the El-Melloi Classroom has only about 50 alumni, the other
departments in all factions, hundreds or thousands strong, fear the classroom. The general
opinion is that if they make a move, it’ll change the Clock Tower.
This appraisal is a thorn in Lord El-Melloi II’s side, but due to his slightly eccentric character
as a mage, he maintains his undesired Lord status.
Due to how he is, his students have all sorts of different stances about him. Some are fanatic
zealots toward their teacher, while some genuinely hate him to the point of wanting to kill him,
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Fate/strange Fake 8
and one would even betray him without remorse despite openly wishing to be his lover.
But most students take Lord El-Melloi as simply a fine mentor.
Not a master immune to mistakes.
Not a flawless superhuman.
Far from a saint. A weird bad apple searching for ways to make the good apples prosper.
Ask any El-Melloi Classroom student to speak of Lord El-Melloi II’s worst aspects, and they
all will have something to point out while holding back laughter.
However, most of them understand one thing:
For better or for worse, they only are who they are today because they had El-Melloi II as
their mentor.
The puddle metaphor is perfectly appropriate.
But this puddle is far more valuable than any river or ocean.
It reflects the one who looking at it, and any ripple in the water can twist the image.
Through some form of correspondence, the puddle changes people’s lives.
This is certainly a blessing for those wanting to continuously evolve as mages...
but it’s also a most troublesome curse.
26

Chapter 24
“Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ******”
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Chapter 24: Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ******

The distant past
Many paths lead to this mausoleum.
Although looking at their destination, one could say all paths were the same.
Some called the sacred grounds of the mountain a belfry blessing the natural end of life,
while others called it the threshold of the underworld.
It’s the embodiment of a concept all those born in this world will eventually reach, yet at the
same time, it’s a land that cannot be walked to lest one crosses a ravine men avoid.
The Mausoleum of Azrael
Among those who actually set foot on this mountain, very few reached the end and the
beginning at its summit.
It goes beyond a matter of reaching it or not. Most in the transient world of the living don’t
even know whether or not the temple is real.
Because reaching that place means ending your life in this world.
It’s possible to perish to the perils of the path.
But that’s not the essence of the matter.
Because one’s life is only truly lost if one arrives at the place unharmed.
Because the recompense granted to those who arrive at the Mausoleum is a bell blessing the
literal end of their natural lives. A ring of the evening bell and a glimmer of a blade that invites
peaceful rest.
28
At all times, only one person remains in this resting place of the spirits.
An old man with no face. It’s impossible to determine if he remains there alive or remains
there after death.
The announcer of death, which the assassin leaders known as Hassan-i-Sabbah respect and
revere above any other man.
Cursed Arm.
Intoxicated Smoke.
Serenity.
Shadow Peeler.
Quaking Pipe.
Hundred Personas.
Throughout every generation, the leaders of the Order of Assassins had unique epithets and
feats of assassination correspondent with those names.
The Old Man of the Mountain was the only one with no such name. He could be considered
the Order’s originator and its very concept.
An unreachable star, unseen regulation, and unavoidable executioner to the eighteen leaders
who followed him.
In every generation, the Hassan-i-Sabbah’s degradation would not be tolerated.
At the moment that those permitted to stray from morality drown in human pleasure, great
causes are corrupted into personal desires and become contrary to the dogmas.
And because this was intolerable, the Old Man appeared to the Hassans carrying the evening
bell.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
To some, due to age and degradation dulling their assassination feats.
To some, due to the corruption of desire consuming them.
To invite them to the everlasting darkness with his blade of demise, much like demise itself
eventually appears before all.
A proper leader of the Order of Assassins needs to dedicate all they have to the dogmas and
chain their egos under the Hassan name.
When, for any reason, they become unable to comply with this, that is the moment their
lives end.
There’s no need for them to be in the mausoleum. Wherever they go, the Old Man will be
standing behind the Hassan that was living their life wrong.
It’s as if the true Mausoleum of Azrael is wherever the Old Man is.
Thus, although all leaders of the Order of Assassins heard about the spiritual mausoleum,
barely any of them ever walked to it, and the few who did went to offer their heads because they
could sense their part was done.
But in the unending flow of time, it’s possible for someone to defy the strong crosswinds of
reason.
The hollowed figure was not like the others.
A shadow crossed the misty ravine of the arid region like a heat haze.
While he was certainly alive, he was clad in an aura that suggested he stepped on the frontier
between the transient world and the underworld, blending in with both sides. This figure simply
advanced, advanced, advanced, advanced...
30
After overcoming many trials and hardships, the shadow arrived at the Mausoleum.
The figure finally reached the old man with no face that guarded the mausoleum.
Basking in the presence of the Old Man who resembled death embodied, all the figure did
was proclaim words of respect for that venerable place.
For this figure, who wasn’t an assassin, let alone a leader of the Order, life ended without him
ever getting to hear the evening bell.
And then time flowed its course.
200 years passed. 500 years passed. Enough years passed for the shadow of the great tree to
disappear without a trace.
Enough time for the shadow of doom to leave a burn mark on the world.
× ×
A few days ago
“What’s your wish for the Holy Grail, shadow Assassin?”, asked the Master who contracted
the shadow in this Holy Grail War in the interstice between truth and falsehood.
He understood perfectly well that his Servant was always untalkative.
But this Master of the shadow made this his first question after they tied the contract. An
attempt to understand at least the bare minimum about his own Servant’s nature—or to find
his weaknesses.
In a normal Holy Grail War, most Heroic Spirits are called because they have some wish the
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Holy Grail may grant.
The shadow’s Master’s goal is to more effectively know his partner by understanding the
central reason for his presence.
The shadow manifested as Assassin—this Heroic Spirit going by the name Hassan-i-Sabbah
is someone seen as abnormal in the eyes of a Master who is knowledgeable about the Holy Grail
War.
After all, his own Master’s eyes can’t see his amount of magical energy, let alone his physical
abilities.
His choice of words showed he was blatantly testing his Master, and one wrong response
could easily lead to him being beheaded in his sleep.
The Master had the option to spend Command Spells to limit the Servant’s movements,
but the Servant was sinister enough to make the Master believe that binding this Heroic Spirit
through Command Spells required being ready to lose everything.
There could not be even a hint of a mistake in the command’s content.
This Heroic Spirit doesn’t have a hint of fear for his erasure... his second death.
That’s the only thing he understood since his contract.
That’s why it felt so sinister.
What is someone without the fear of death, someone who can go out without regrets, doing
here?
At that stage, he still didn’t have enough information to know if he should be using the
Heroic Spirit or preparing for its insurrection.
So even though the Servant would see through the calculated self-interest in the question,
the Master still chose to ask.
32
“Can you tell me? If your wish is incompatible with mine, I know how to make us reach a
fair compromise.”
Despite the Master adding sincere-sounding words to his question, the shadow said nothing.
The Master could only hear noises coming from the monitor of the computer he was looking
at as subliminal letters raced across the borders of the screen.
As if the shadow despised saying such words out loud.
--The wish granter exists not in my teachings--
“...?”
--My path has no need for it, as it is corrupt from inception, and therefore I am here.--
The flickering words among the strings of letters sounded like a riddle. He made a point to
use the term “wish granter, which is practically a token function to the ritual. It felt as if he was
intentionally avoiding the term “Holy Grail”.
The shadow simply left the following string of letters and melded his presence into the city’s
darkness without waiting for further words from his Master.
--The light of thy wish granter does not reach me, and for all eternity, I who am shadow
shan’t touch it.--
And then the shadow slipped into the darkness of the Holy Grail War.
Equally measuring the shadows of all those illuminated by the Holy Grail.
Even now that the shadow was summoned as a Heroic Spirit, his consciousness remained
the same.
The “individual” here is merely a shadow of the Old Man cast by a glimmer.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
The glimmer of the blade that cut his head off.
He was not the Old Man of the Mountain, but instead a shadow that only imitated his will.
× ×
Back to the present.
The shadow remained still, submerged in Snowfield’s forest, now turn into a hellscape
centered around the trio of the Mesopotamian goddess, her divine beast, and her demonic beast.
To verify whether or not his role was over.
Thinking that if this is the end of the world, returning to the perpetual night alongside the
rest of Human Order is also part of his role.
However—the shadow’s eyes reflected the image of one Assassin.
One seeker of the truth, struggling through the path she believed in, without an answer.
× ×
Coalsman Special Corrections Center
“How is the progress with the communication cuts?”, said Faldeus.
“On schedule. The city’s telephone tower will cut off both the civilian and military lines
soon. We’re fully ready to jam all wireless transmissions, except the ones using magecraft.”, his
subordinate Aludra reported.
“The hurricane knocked down the telephone tower. Neat enough of a cover story. I was
starting to feel sorry for the gas company after pushing the blame on them so, so many times.”,
34
Faldeus shrugged.
“How do we proceed with the THORN and BADGER units dispatched to the marsh and
desert areas?”, Aludra dispassionately asked.
“Ask them to remain on standby. They are disposable assets, and any thoughtless movements
will make them notice that. There’s not much low-end spellcasters and mercenaries can do in
this situation.”
× ×
West Snowfield, Neo Ishtar Temple
Watching the remains of what once were modern weapons falling from the sky, the Assassin
with no name forced a groan out of her throat.
“Quite impressive... you heretical power incarnate!”
The bloodsucking hellspawn she was chasing was before her, and even then this fully stole
her attention away from her enemy, although only for an instant.
But the same is true for the enemy in question—her hematophage summoner Jester Karture.
Despite the lengths of his obsession, Assassin was gone from all his sensations for an instant.
No, it’d be more accurate to say that their attention and sensations were forcibly drawn.
What happened the moment the alleged goddess on the temple exerted her power went
much beyond catching Assassin and the vampire’s attention. They could feel their whole soul
being dominated.
She couldn’t feel her feet. She was suddenly thrown into a zero-gravity darkness. Her
common sense was being rewritten to tell her that the temple before her eyes was the only thing
that existed. Perhaps she could only remain conscious through this whole process due to her
powerful faith and mental strength.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
That’s how much overwhelming power—or perhaps the concept called “beauty”—filled the
the solemn edifice in front of her. That was the Neo Ishtar Temple.
Bring reverence and adoration.

The azure sky is present every hour.
Bring sacrilege and profanation.
Words are meaningless before true power,
they fade to nothing with a thundershower.
Live ignorantly. Search is damnation.
The mad whirlwinds shall permit all.
The azure sky shall forbid all.
Since, in the sky’s veil, every star

reflects the image of goddess Ishtar,
the season of harvest comes at last.
Lives hatched out of the land here,
return to their place in the celestial sphere.
Greens and grain will be moist by the planet’s shed tears.
Reverence to the seas billowing with ire.
Adoration to the crops set afire.
From the distant Venus pours fair might,
with equal parts glory and ruin to raise this land right.
Our Ishtar shall be the last god granting creation her blessing.
She will permit everything and she will punish everything.
She is the goddess of love, therefore, harvest.
The upcoming season will be the best.
Bring reverence and adoration.
Bring sacrilege and profanation.
A form of ritualistic prayer could be heard everywhere around the Temple.
Words announcing the coming of a new era flowed out of the mouth of Haruri, now the
head priestess of the Neo Ishtar Temple.
36
The announcement wasn’t directed to anyone. Haruri was telling her own heart that.
The scene she saw was a scene of knowledge being presented to the fools opposing the
goddess. Knowledge that modern weapons are rendered powerless by Ishtar’s charm. Knowledge
of how pathetically they drop to the ground.
And the goddess Haruri worshipped was above the temple.
Ishtar, advened in the vessel named Filia, imposingly lorded over the lands, indicating she no
longer had a care in the world for Jester and Assassin standing next to her.
“Fine.”
And then she delivered her divine proclamation. Not only to Jester and Assassin, but to all
mages and Heroic Spirits participating in the Holy Grail War, or perhaps to all people living
in Snowfield—no, to everything on the planet’s Texture, not limited to categories of land and
mankind.
“You have permission to kneel.”
A most arrogant sentence.
Nonetheless, from a powerful voice.
The unreasonable sentence runs to the lands like an immutable truth.
Harvest.
Her mere presence manifests bountiful crops to the world.
The forest’s air was saturated.
As if everything was completed. Concluded.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
The goddess in the forest generated a unique air that induced ecstasy and resignation.
The temple to her worship increased her graces, turning them into winds filled with a feeling
that the end of times has come. The winds began to travel across the world.
The winds were carried by the divine beast standing on the west side of the city: the Bull of
Heaven.
The now-completed temple became the lynchpin for a new world order. It seemed
unavoidable that the Singularity created in this forest would corrode the world.
But it will be met with some resistance.
Will this pushback come from the power of self-purification or from the collective struggle
of the doomed weak? The answer is not yet clear.
One fragment of the pushback was in the marsh region on the opposite side of Snowfield,
letting out an idiotic scream.
× ×
“HYAAAAaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAAA”
Dull screams reverbed on Snowfield’s marsh region.
“Are you okay, Ayaka? We can still go on foot if you can’t handle it...!”
“I’m f-f-f-f-f-fine. We gotta h-hurry!”
The reason for Ayaka Sajou’s panicked yells is that she was heading north of the city by horse.
She rode clinging to Saber’s back, advancing through the boggy grounds of the marsh area
38
at extraordinary speeds.
The horse, presumably a power borrowed from one of the Saint Graphs that Saber called “his
retinues”, barely didn’t sway like a normal horse would.
The only cause for Ayaka’s screams was moving at speeds she never experienced before, but
she still never told him to slow down.
It had gotten to a point where even someone as unknowledgeable about magecraft as her
could detect the abnormality in the city.
If she looked west, she could see an unmoving wall of clouds so dense it looked like there
was no world beyond it, and the news reported abnormal phenomena all over the world, most
notably in the Arctic.
To top it off, she was visited by a Servant she never interacted with before, and invited by her
Master to fight in a united front.
A normal mage would have considered a trap, but this didn’t even cross Ayaka’s mind.
But she’s a complete amateur and wouldn’t have been able to hold her base if that really was
a siege.
Saber would have offered a plan if she asked but he was clearly invested in this idea of a
united front. Ayaka found no reason to oppose him, and more relevantly to her decision, she
didn’t get the impression that this visiting “Rider” was a dangerous woman.
She considered her a lot more trustworthy than any of the other Heroic Spirits she saw in
front of the hospital or the demonic beasts she met in the dream.
Ayaka had, of course, some level of caution, not taking the visitor’s every word at face value.
Clinging tight to Saber, she took a peek at the Rider’s horse running next to hers.
It kept up with the extraordinary speed of Saber’s horse. If anything, it was Saber’s horse that
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Fate/strange Fake 8
seemed to be exerting itself more.
Since she mentioned her Rider Saint Graph, Ayaka arrived at the elementary conclusion
she’s called Rider because she was really good at riding.
In turn, Saber expressed his admiration for Rider.
“Amazing! And here I thought I was a good rider. To think you can reach these speeds
without even stirrups or a saddle!”
“I’m a little abashed with all the sincere admiration, but thank you. My tribe prides itself in
treating horses as comrades.”, answered Rider, looking at the Heroic Spirit with curious eyes as
he spoke his praise with boyish honesty.
Rider was happy that her horse gained more recognition than herself.
“Woah woah, are you should be saying things that hint at your True Name?”
“It’s not a problem. You won’t see me naming myself for no reason, but I do have my Master’s
permission to disclose my True Name. Besides... the enemies already know who I am.”
“Your enemies? The people who called this tremendous hurricane here?”, said Saber, looking
west.
“Those are not enemies. They’re obstacles our united front must remove.”, Rider denied. She
closed her eyes before continuing. “The only enemies in my Master’s eyes are the masterminds
who arranged this Grail War.”
Saber was intrigued by her choice of words being “in my Master’s eyes” instead of “in my
eyes”, but chose not to press the statement.
Because his greatest interest was the Holy Grail War he must fight, not other people’s
personal battles.
“Gotcha! I wish you good luck in your battle, be it as my enemy or as my ally!”
40
Seeing Saber running by her side, making such declarations with a smile on his face, got
Hippolyte thinking.
This man... he may sometimes seem scatterbrained... but he must have been a general or a
monarch. I guess he seems this way because of his personality that lives only for the moment.
This is their first time talking, but Hippolyte had seen Saber before.
She only watched from afar as Saber battled the golden king. Although he lost, he provided
an incredible sword fight.
He had the eyes of a general who keeps track of everything around him, not just the warriors.
It did feel like he fought always executing the first idea to come to his mind, but in every
choice he made, he picked the best path and ran through it with what seemed to be divine speed
on his legs.
She surmised that either his eyes were set on long-term strategies or that he worked closely
together with a tactician doing it in his stead, but either way, he dominated a vast area.
If he becomes an enemy, he’ll be a fearsome one.
She no longer sought the Holy Grail.
There was no point in doing so.
Since the person she was going to communicate her will to with her wish is also manifested
in this Grail War, in a form dedicated to revenge.
Do this Saber and Master even know that the Heroic Spirits called here are sacrifices to fill up
the wish granter?
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Fate/strange Fake 8
That’s when Hippolyte turned her eyes to Saber’s Master.
She had the appearance of a woman somewhere between her late teens and early twenties.
Hippolyte recognized that figuring out what she was was beyond her capabilities.
Her presence... is she even human?
After some hesitation, she concluded she didn’t need to try to find out more, so she faced
forward.
That’s because she knew they were about to leave the marsh region and to the straths.
My Masters will have a much more reliable answer than mine.
“We’re almost there. Remember, we have no intention of antagonizing you. Whether this
will remain true after our united front is over will depend on your objectives, but at the very
least... WHAT?!”
Hippolyte interrupted her sentence and looked at the city.
Far in the distance, she could see smoke coming out of the industrial district.
From the source of the smoke, the presence of her enemy intensified.
His abnormal presence was transfigured, even more ominous than it was the last time she
confronted him, and with magical energy on a higher order of magnitude.
Perhaps sensing the same presence, Saber looked in the same direction and yelled.
“Whoa, something awesome’s happening over there, huh!”
The start of the battle wasn’t going to wait for Saber and Ayaka to join Hippolyte’s Masters.
42
The herald of this chaos was the Noble Phantasm of the Archer exacting revenge on the gods.
× ×
Snowfield, industrial district.
The tallest chimney in the district.
Neither heat nor smoke came out of it, as the factories have been out of operation for the
past few days, either due to the local quarrel or the hurricane.
But instead, the chimney released a presence as ominous as it was heroic.
“Echo grasping into godhood.”
Twisted magical energy, reminiscent of black mud, started gathering on his bow-gripping
hand.
Inside his robust Saint Graph, hydra venom and pitch-black mud consumed and neutralized
one another.
“May this shot, product of a martial art refined to its completion, burn down your hollow
interior.”
The hero manually circulated the two substances through his body. Alcides began his revenge
against the gods.
Shooting a hundred heads

“Nine Lives”
The Noble Phantasm that shot down Gilgamesh a few days before in the avenue in front of
the hospital.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
However, now Alcides was freed from all possible shackles, and his Master Bazdilot
Cordelion provided him with as much magical energy as he could handle. This resulted in the
Noble Phantasm manifesting in a completely different form this time.
With his feet planted on the narrow foothold of the chimney, Alcides drew his bow.
As he did, the entire factory, and then the area around it, began to be sucked dry of magical
energy, with the energy traveling through the chimney to be absorbed into Alcides’s body.
Watching the chimney was like watching the land’s blood being sucked by a giant pipe.
With Prelati’s Noble Phantasm’s illusions being peeled off, the nearby factories were gradually
returning to their original forms: destroyed by Haruri’s Berserker Servant.
The chimney he stood on was the only part he was intentionally keeping in place with a
voluminous mix of mud and magical energy. It was transfigured into a dark tower resembling a
giant tree.
Nine arrows were perched on the bow.
In his hands, he had a greatbow which was made in a strongly arcane era and sucked the
blood and magical energy of his enemies on numerous battlefields.
Famously, Philocthetes later inherited this Demonic Bow from Heracles and used it to
shoot the Trojan hero Paris.
An item that required above-average physical strength, on top of the skills of an Archer. A
regular Heroic Spirit could not as much as pull its adamantine string.
He casually drew the string to its maximum tension, pointed nine arrows west, and shot.
It looked as if the man was trying to dispel the incoming hurricane with arrows, but before
anyone could laugh at his comical idea, the arrows suffered a visible mutation.
44
The magical energy coated in dusky mud reacted complexly with the hydra miasma the
arrowtips were laced with, provoking an enormous distortion in space as they traversed the gaps
between the ground and the sky.
With a thunderous noise, clouds of dust rose, engulfed in the world distortion caused by the
arrow shot, taking the form of a black-colored colossus.
The Hydra.
The trajectories of the nine arrows became nine jaws rushing to take a bite out of the world,
as did the legendary serpent he once sent to its grave.
An ordinary man would see only a black sandstorm, but anyone remotely sensitive to magical
energy could understand how abnormal this was.
It wasn’t an illusion, much less Summoning Magecraft.
Through a combination of the overwhelming techniques that the always battle-ready hero
spent his life cultivating, the ominous spell of curse resembling jet-black mud which he obtained
in exchange for discarding his divine aura, and the sheer volume of magical energy supplied by
his Master, Nine Lives finally developed the move that manifested its former nemesis into the
world.
Needless to say, this wasn’t the real Hydra, only an almost miraculous feat created by a part
of the Noble Phantasm that put the legendary poison dragon to rest.
This force traversed the world, bending the laws of fate and physics to its will.
All to bite off a literal god trying to take hold of the world order.
Without waiting to see where the venomous snakes go, the archer of revenge readied his
next set of arrows.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
On his arm, he wore a girdle imbued with the war god’s power, identical to the girdle
Hippolyte wears.
But this godly power was now entangled and subjugated by black mud, mutedly sending
only a constant stream of raw energy to the bow and arrow.
“This curse... fits well with my body.”
Foreign magical energy merged with his own.
Watching the magical torrent which screamed its grudges and cursed everything in the
world, Alcides talked to himself.
“Perhaps a previous incarnation of me had some contact with it, but it is all trivial.”
He then spoke addressing the “cornerstone” at the heart of the “jet-black mud” seeping into
his body. The essence of this mass of curses that always felt so strangely familiar to him.
“I cannot begin to guess the volume of the concentrated human sins boiling within you. All
I know is that in your essence, you are meant to curse humans... Forgive me, but I’ll attune your
power to my grudge.”
Alcides drew his bow, pouring magical energy once again.
The blood coming out of his mouth was accompanied by dusky mud.
The Hydra’s venom was consuming his body, and he knew perfectly well that he was running
out of time.
The virulent poison that drove him to suicide during his lifetime.
The same poison laced in the arrows the avenger shot without a hint of hesitation.
“You can have my dead body.”
46
While the “mud” moved as if it had a will of its own, Alcides offered it a smile as if they had
been friends for many years.
“Feel free to curse me to your heart’s content. I who discarded godhood and returned to
humanity.”
× ×
In front of the Neo Ishtar Temple
Destruction approached.
An immense torrent of power approached the Neo Ishtar Temple, growing progressively
larger as it fed on not only the trees of the forest but also the very divine aura of its surroundings.
Nine incoming arrows coated in layers upon layers of dust, curse, miasma, and energy in the
shape of the Hydra, with a next mass of energy coming behind it.
Each head of the wind serpent was about as thick as a building, and they rose to swallow
Ishtar’s temple and its object of worship whole.
The nine arrows changed trajectory in front of the temple, momentarily spreading their nine
heads as they rose to the sky, then initiated a sudden drop, locked to the temple like homing
missiles.
Had they landed a direct hit, the torrent of power would have pierced the land for intense
physical destruction, which would have been coupled with an area spread of curse and lethal
venom, trampling the god’s domain with maximum tyranny.
This faster-than-sound ruin was stopped by one guardian and one divine beast.
The halo atop Haruri’s Berserker’s Servant’s head shone and transformed into a dome-shaped
rainbow wall covering the temple.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
The tyranny was blocked by the halo’s power which symbolizes everything mankind
considers a calamity.
The power of a calamity can hold off a calamity. Berserker alone blocked all fangs of the
giant venomous dragon created by the demonic arrows.
Naturally, this was not something she could afford to do with Haruri’s magical energy alone.
Due to her constructing Ishtar’s temple, she was directly powered up by the divine power
filling up this place.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t repel the arrows. The curses in the shape of serpents attempted to
bite off her calamities charged with divine aura.
But the divine bull’s walk wasn’t slow enough to let them get away with it.
With thunderous noise, Earth’s atmosphere raised its voice.
Gugalanna, the divine beast manifested in the form of a giant hurricane.
Per its title of Bull of Heaven, the pressure it exerted on the whole area truly felt like the skies
were falling.
All those on the ground could see was the bottom of a giant hoof.
A classic folk story tells about a huge accident that happened because the people of the
nation of Qi were driven to paranoia by their groundless fear that the sky would fall.
But at this moment, the moral of the story was flipped on its head.
The groundless fear of the Qi people became reality.
The power of goddess Ishtar, who is Venus and the azure sky incarnate, and her companion
bull’s hoof.
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The skies fell onto Snowfield’s forests.
× ×
The skies above America
In heights more distant to Earth than the stratosphere.
Thia Escardos watched that moment, with his feet pointing to the firmament and his head
pointing to the Earth’s surface.
“...”
He observed the hurricane’s shape distort slightly, as a portion of the cloud expanded,
stretching toward the forest of Snowfield.
But that was not the part he was paying attention to.
It was further north.
The strath of north Snowfield, not yet covered by clouds.
Thia lined up some of the fruit-sized “satellites” floating around him, forming a row starting
from his eye.
In doing so, the space between each satellite was distorted, becoming multiple lenses
amplifying the image of the aboveground.
Through this magically-created makeshift telescope, a video relay was projected onto the
void of the mesosphere.
It displayed a group standing on the strath.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Countless familiar faces to Thia.
But they didn’t know about him.
Some might have been vaguely aware but nothing beyond that.
They were basically strangers to Thia...
but not to Flat Escardos.
The El-Melloi Classroom was something irreplaceable to the boy that was his host. The only
place where he belonged.
Because of the way the two were always together, he knew everything about Flat.
The classroom is the home he must return to, and it wouldn’t be home without those humans
in it.
“Tch...”
Thia manipulated the magical energy orbiting him to slowly descend to the surface.
Will he eliminate them to rid himself of his lingering regrets and grief, or will he interact
with them mercifully because of how good they had been to Flat?
Unable to decide between these two extremely opposite options, Thia locked eyes with the
lonely blue planet and tried to slip back into Snowfield’s stage of incoming destruction.
× ×
North Snowfield, strath region
A woman looked at the blue sky to see the afternoon stars.
50
As all the clouds were sucked into the hurricane in the west, the blue sky was still plainly
visible from the strath region. She rose her ringed left hand to the sky, blocking its blinding light.
“What’s wrong, Mary?”, said Caules Forvedge, noticing her behavior. Mary Lil Fargo
returned her line of sight to the ground to answer him.
“It’s nothing, I just got a feeling someone was watching us from the domain of the stars.”
Overhearing that, Yvette L. Lehrman also turned her eye to the sky.
“HUH!? When an Animusphere veteran says stuff like that, it sounds like a really big deal,
you know?”
“Well... what’s happening here on the ground is a really big deal, too.”, said Org Rum, the
bespectacled goliath. His eyes pointed to the forest west of Snowfield, watching the scene
immediately after a giant something clad in cloud swung down.
The serpentine mass of curse and magical energy was stomped out by what appeared to be a
giant hoof clad in galestorm, lightning, and divine aura.
It wasn’t something as basic to handle like a building falling from the sky. The best way to
describe it is “what if a downburst dropped the Ayers Rock with it”.
“I don’t even want to theorize on what that was.”, said Org, adjusting his glasses with one
finger. The man standing next to him shrugged snidely.
“The Professor would have figured it out at first glance. The answer is always the worst-case
scenario among his conjectures. Cue the headaches and stomachaches.”
Adding to his seemingly-derisive comment, Fezgram vor Sembrem mumbled “Although

knowing he was facing the worst-case scenario never stopped the man from accomplishing
anything” to himself.
These mages had numerous laudable accomplishments under their belts despite their young
age. And now all of them watched the head-on collision between the return of the Age of Gods
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Fate/strange Fake 8
and the opposing force that rejected it.
Its consequences reached the ravines less than a minute later.
Despite something that giant swinging down from the heavens, the ground didn’t shake or
crack.
Instead, a mighty gust of wind ran across the world, reeking of curse and magical energy.
This air current beyond 50m/s blew wildly around the forest, accompanied by clouds of
dust.
Perform a dance in the unclear ether

Perform a dance, Anywhere and nowhere
With the hand movements of a ballad’s conductor, Werner Ceasarmund sang his chant with
a soft timbre to his voice.
Doing so, all the countless butterflies spread around the ravines started flapping their wings
in unison.
They were magically created familiars, which emitted a dim light reminiscent of the hazy
moon on a spring night.
Next, the gentle breeze created by the butterfly wings neutralized the high winds that could
easily send a car flying, canceling the dust clouds and miasma along with it.
The tremors generated by these frail familiars combined to create a Bounded Field. While
they didn’t generate a solid wall, this was still a baffling situation, and yet no one in the group
seemed particularly surprised.
Hansa Cervantes, the overseer priest watching them, speculated about the chain of magecraft
techniques that just impressed him.
52
I see now. So this is Werner Ceasarmund’s so rumored butterfly magecraft. I can see why someone
so young would become a Brand and be put on the Church’s watchlist.
He kept amusedly studying the prodigy mage participating in the Holy Grail War, as if he
didn’t consider himself a member of the aforementioned Church that should be wary of him.
While his senses told him that everyone around him was similarly powerful.
× ×
Less than a minute before, Snowfield, urban area
--An extraordinarily powerful hurricane is approaching. We ask all citizens to refrain from
leaving your houses. We further recommend retreating to underground shelters until the
tornadoes have passed.--
All televisions and radios in the city repeated this same warning in a loop, while sirens rang
all over the place, with their sound adjusted for the purpose of amplifying the anxieties of the
people in town.
It’s the same siren that would normally ring when there are ultra-large tornadoes capable of
blowing away residences. It alerted the people that a calamity on this level was coming.
Nevertheless, the people in town didn’t fully trust the sirens.
They could see the cloud wall in the west, but the winds lacked the intensity of a regular
hurricane and the sky above the city was perfectly blue.
The thunderous winds were audible everywhere in the city, but only as a distant sound. The
wind never trampled the city.
If anything, the city’s air felt heavier than ever.
Many citizens ignored the warnings and walked around outside, questioning if any
destructive damage would actually happen. Many more went to their west-facing windows to
53
Fate/strange Fake 8
photograph the giant cloud.
“Ain’t this place kinda weird?”, said a drugstore clerk dressed in punk fashion as he made his
way to a show house sturdier than his home. “With the gas explosion, the terrorist attack, the
epidemic, the meteors, and now this, I’m getting a feeling that this is the end of the world.”
At this point, even a rebel spirit like would start to feel sorry for the politicians having to deal
with all this. Without giving much thought to the evacuation warnings, he set foot to the show
house, thinking it’d be at least better than his rundown apartment or the drugstore.
“It’s underground, at the very least... Though it’d suck if the rain got inside...”
That’s when it happened.
“!?”
The gusts blew all over the city with much greater intensity than before, instantly repainting
it in the colors of the dust and rain carried by the winds.
“Woooooh! So freaking sudden... What... No way!?”
He had never seen a storm like this in his life.
The punk man rushed to the show house’s entrance, but he tripped on the wind flaps and
fell.
And an empty car rolled in his direction, knocked by the winds.
“Ah... Damn...”
The punk man knew he’d die.
But before it happened, a shadow grabbed the man and jumped away.
54
The shadow used the flying car as a stepping stool for his jump and kept this momentum
until he carried the man next to the closest building.
It was a police officer.
“Are you okay? Hurry inside.”
“Y-yessir.”
The punk man blinked fast, unsure of what he saw.
“Uh, hey! ...T-thanks, man.”
The man was confused about the officer’s clearly superhuman movement but delivered his
flustered thanks.
The officer also wasn’t expecting any expression of gratitude so after momentarily flinching
from surprise, he flashed a smile.
“No problem. I’m just doing my job.”
John was a member of a unit codenamed Clan Calatin. After saving a citizen, he went back
to running through the city swallowed by the windstorm.
“That just now wasn’t an arcane concealment problem, was it?”
John did nothing to lower the power of his legs, having decided that he could disguise his
actions as floating carried by the wind flaps.
The chief ’s Servant’s Noble Phantasm gave John superhuman power for a limited period of
time. This Servant is Dumas.
It’s been a few days, but he was still not used to handling his new strength. He handled this
power quite naturally amidst a fight against an extraordinary enemy, but now that he was out of
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Fate/strange Fake 8
that battle, he had been feeling like the power is too much for him to handle.
John and many teammates were currently patrolling the city, with the goal of speeding up
the evacuation of civilians for the sake of arcane concealment.
They were all informed that the city would meet its destruction in 1 day.
But the chief declared he would fight until the last second to prevent that.
John saw himself as a police officer first and a mage second, so he couldn’t be happier with
the chief ’s decision.
He was happy.
-You are justice.
The words said in the war’s opener supported him even now.
A lot happened in a short period of time, but all those events became a greater source of
power allowing John to keep running against the rainstorm, as well as his reason to do so.
-Do you hate Emiya Kiritsugu?
John suddenly recalled someone’s voice.
Who was it who said that?
If he recalled correctly, it was someone he met in front of the police station.
Maybe a girl but maybe a boy.
Your mother’s airplane

It wasn’t an accident Not a terrorist attack either
The crash was caused by a spellcaster
A cover-up Concealment
56
If he recalled correctly, they just dumped a bunch of keywords with no context.
Their voice enticed and confused him.
Memories of John’s past returned to a corner of his thoughts as he was bathed in the showers
of the rainstorm, sometimes saving a person along the way.
If he recalled correctly, his soul was shaken when he heard those words.
If he recalled correctly, he was consumed by hatred.
But he already got over everything.
Thanks to the chief.
That is why he could still fight.
Because he ordered me to protect the city?
No, because this is the choice I made for myself.
John kept moving forward, believing this from the bottom of his heart.
His body was light.
He could go as far as to say it didn’t feel like his own.
But it’s alright. Even if I’m no longer myself... Even if I’m no longer human, I know... I know I
can keep protecting the city.
With these thoughts running through his mind, John was not noticing what was happening
to him.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Not yet.
× ×
Strath region
“Taking a closer look, it seems considerably more efficient than it was last I saw it. I don’t
remember you undergoing any sort of special training course since then. Is this not somewhat
of a major problem?”, asked Luviagelita Edelfelt, watching the Butterfly Boundary deployed
around her.
Despite Luvia’s weird phrasing, seeing problems in an increase in efficiency, Werner nodded
with a stiff expression of agreement.
“Yeah, this is close to the best expression of magecraft I’ve ever done. Things couldn’t be
worse.”
Hearing this news, Toosaka Rin raised her voice, with her eyes still on the forest.
“Werner’s magecraft approaching perfect form means... this area is already becoming
ambiguous, is it?”
The Ceasarmund family’s butterfly is centered around the arcane process of transforming
into a completely different lifeform as demonstrated by the caterpillar using the chrysalis to
become a butterfly.
It’s a magecraft that interferes with the world by dominating the unclear interval where
certain becomes uncertain, the moment of ambiguity in which anything in the universe can
switch into something else.
This magecraft being “at its best expression yet” implies one possibility.
Watching the forest in horror, Rin states what this fact is.
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“If we don’t do anything now, this metamorphosis really will end the world as we know it.”
The essence of the human world was gradually changing, starting from the temple in the
middle of the forest.
So far, only the quality of the magical energy and the overall atmosphere changed, but with
enough time, the alterations would reach the physical realm. As things currently were, this
temple would become the starting point of a Singularity corroding the world.
And it didn’t end there.
A new wave of demonic arrows shot from the industrial district, once again clad in serpentine
curse, entangled the giant “hoof ”.
This wave’s actions could be interpreted as it waiting to see what the first wave would do—or
perhaps they indicated the first wave was nothing but bait to lure the “hoof ” and the genuine
raid started now.
“Ugh, I’m starting to regret going along with this idea...”
“Sure, but you would also regret missing this, wouldn’tcha?”
“I guess! You don’t see stuff like this every day.”
The Pentel sisters, Radia and Nazica, whispered to each other watching the grotesque
spectacle in the western zone of the city.
Hearing that, Luvia offered them an elegant shrug.
“Well, maybe if you ever went along in our teacher’s fieldwork, you’d be seeing things like
this a lot more frequently, you know?”
“You tell me. His luck with this kind of thing almost makes it look like he’s doing it on
purpose.”, Rin complained in agreement. The comment certainly reminded her of something.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Away from their conversation, another pair of youngsters had their own conversation, one
with the presence of a beast and one with the presence of a reptile.
“The hoof that fell from the sky is without a doubt a divine beast. The thing was transparent
like water, but from here I can feel its smell is anything but that. It’s a smell that forces everything
into submission.”
“Meanwhile, those snakes might be the ancestor to all snake venoms and snake curses.”
“Did your familiars tell you that, Roland?”
“All snakes in my world are united expressing fear, praise, hatred, and worship for that thing...
Fascinating.”, cackled Roland Berzinsky.
Hearing his words, the beast boy—Svin Glascheit—made his own comment as he stared
fixed at the battle between two beasts from the age of the gods.
“Thanks to them scattering everything, I can’t track the idiot’s scent.”
“Regardless, we need them to leave this land... no, retire from this Holy Grail War.”, said
Werner.
“The first thing we do after announcing our participation to the overseer is to pick a fight
with a god.”, answered a tired Rin with a huge sigh.
Rin noticed that she had an inexplicably positive aptitude for the current atmosphere. To
distract herself from this lingering question, she remembered her mentor, a young man she
picked up in her pirate days, and a series of incidents relating to these two.
“Honestly... how can we be so sure the teacher isn’t intentionally trying to hunt everything
arcane to extinction?”, she grumbled as she thought back to those memories.
× ×
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Neo Ishtar Temple, upper area
“...”
“What’s the matter, Ishtar, my goddess?”, Haruri asked after seeing Ishtar ignore the tumult
in front of her and turn her eyes to the north instead.
“Hmm... nothing, I must be imagining things. I felt a really weird presence... but there’s no
way any human from this era is directly linked to me or any other incarnation of myself. Could
it be a descendant of Uruk’s people? Eh, doesn’t matter either way.”
After a quick shrug, she pulled her attention away from the trivial detail.
“Anyways...”, said Ishtar, shifting her gaze to what was in front of the temple. “What a waste
of talent.”
Her companion animal’s front leg had stomped from the sky.
Watching the tangle of serpents trying to eat way his flesh made of divine aura, the goddess
advened in the vessel named Filia mumbled:
“Had he not let revenge degrade him, he could have pulled off the same thing with his
divinity alone.”
Sensing the Heroic Spirit who kept shooting the demonic arrows modeled after a serpent
from the Age of Gods, she spoke with no fear, no caution, and no respect.
Simply an indifferent onlooker’s impressions.
“Well, those freeloader gods of the western lands were some real weirdos. They acted like
they had no rules to follow, and more often than not, the humans they hated and loved didn’t
have a say on the matter. With how deeply twisted those parasites are, I can’t blame him for
turning out like this. The people dominated by the Mount of the Stargazers must have suffered
awful lives, victimized by the cultural differences between humans and Olympians.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
× ×
Crystal Hill, top floor.
“She’s always been support for the gods. I can’t talk her out of it.”, whispered Enkidu atop the
Crystal Hill rooftop.
The screeching gales around them had their volume lowered by the Bounded Field the mages
of Tine’s organization set around the upper floors of Crystal Hill.
Behind them was a mage they only met that day.
The woman’s most prominent features were the goggles she wore and her shark-like teeth.
She said she was Servant Rider’s Master, although she added an “against my will”.
Although her status demanded a lot more explanation than her curt statement, Enkidu
wasn’t particularly surprised.
As she approached, they noticed her presence was qualitatively linked to that of a Servant,
and they could also tell she wasn’t hostile.
For that very reason, the moment she mentioned there was an enemy she needed gone so
much that she wanted others to fight alongside her, they already predicted she was going to talk
about the god’s sect west of town.
Her words were dispassionate in delivery, but couldn’t hide the implicit excitement she felt
about its subject.
“I wonder, does this era still have those vain parents who force their unwilling children to
wear jewelry? That’s pretty much what she is. She acts only to feed her ego and honestly believes
what she does is what’s best for the other person. She’ll listen to anything you say but only listen,
making no effort to understand, or even thinking she has any need to understand you.”
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The mage was confused at Enkidu’s clear-faced speech but Enkidu continued, paying no
mind to her.
“Be it the original or an emanated stain in the planet, she’s always the same. And that’s why
I must reject that goddess... and her temple.”
And with a fluid movement, they created the thing atop the building.
Golden chains wrapped the trees and minerals created out of Enkidu’s feet, molding them
all into one giant figure.
The construction process was sudden but flowed so naturally that an onlooker would assume
the speech Enkidu just presented was part of the procedure.
The only actual onlookers witnessing the process were the female mage introduced as Rider’s
Master, Tine’s subordinates standing guard by the rooftop’s entrance, and Enkidu’s own wolf
Master.
But many more saw the finished product.
If an ordinary citizen was to look up to Crystal Hill’s rooftop in the middle of this galestorm,
all they could see would be some light shining atop Crystal Hill.
The unaffiliated mages who chose to stay in town would be drawn to its dense magical energy
but need time to process what manifested there.
Its form was too eccentric for an object created with magecraft, yet none could call it
completely impossible.
And due to its massiveness, the El-Melloi students on the north strath, the moving Saber
and his two companions, and the goddess standing majestically on the western temple all could
visualize the thing.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“The piece of junk is pulling all stops to mock me...”, said the goddess in the western forest,
erasing the expression off her face.
“There’s another one on that level of insanity?!”, exasperatedly said the mages on the canyon.
“Hoooly shit, no way! Is that Mesopotamia’s brand of comedy? I’m pretty sure Mesopotamia
didn’t have anything like that.”, a mastermind in the desert rolled around in laughter.
“I think I should be glad they waited until most citizens closed their windows. Who would
have thought I’d be thanking the windstorm...”, said another mastermind observing everything
from his safe underground space.
But the one with the most dramatic reaction wasn’t either of those.
Sigma was heading toward the marsh region on the east.
But the reaction didn’t come from him. It came from the aged captain “silhouette” that
appeared next to him.
“Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, they must be pulling my leg here!”
“Hm? What’s wrong?”, asked Sigma, quite confused at seeing the aged captain far more
energetic than he has ever been before.
His eyes could see what appeared atop Crystal Hill, but he couldn’t find any reason to
be shocked about it. It was not too different from the crossbow on his back, as far as he was
concerned.
However, the old captain started cackling instead of explaining anything. Nonetheless, his
eyes were somewhat distorted with a hint of frustration.
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“How ironic... Of all things to build, that’s what they choose to go with! That’s what they
pull it off right under Watcher... right under that wretched monster! Right before the shadows
of my eyes!”
The laughing man’s gaze pointed to the creation rooting itself on the rooftop of the tallest
building in town: one giant harpoon cannon protruding out of the roof.
“As always, he produces an awful amount of noise.”, mumbled Enkidu, standing on the
rooftop of Crystal Hill, where the cartoonishly gigantic weapon popped from, with sharp eyes
directed at the immense overflow of divinity on the west. “Thanks to that, I can’t hear her voice.”
Their usual clear smile was gone from their face, replaced with a somewhat saddened visage
and, even rarer for Enkidu, eyes demonstrating human-like irritation.
“If you are arrogant enough to try to hinder the progressing order of man, you are a beast.”
Their voice retained its serene tone but spoke pure anger and hatred.
“I don’t mean the Beasts, Evils of Humanity. You’re nowhere near as filled with their noble
affection. As you are now, you’re just a vermin both to Human Order and to the planet... nothing
more.”
The Heroic Spirit placed their hand on the object they created while still weaving scathing
words with a serene face.
“With that in mind, I supposed this isn’t exactly made for vermin, but...”
The majestic harpoon cannon had shining gold-colored crests amidst its clay base, resembling
Uruk’s stronghold.
With their hand on its platform, they pumped their magical energy mixed with divinity.
“Borrowing this product of mankind’s wisdom and fruit of their accomplishments, I declare
to the goddess Ishtar:”
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Dialogue was wholly unnecessary.
Enkidu simply sent the message that their conversation was already over a few millennia ago.
A promise that they would fulfill their duty, in the form of a makeshift pledge crafted with
words they normally would not use.
“Shut your mouth... now.”
At that instant, a thunderous flash enveloped Crystal Hill’s rooftop, repelling the gales and
the rainstorm.
The cannon fired its harpoon gigantic as a ballistic missile.
The back part of the harpoon was attached to an equally sized chain of gold.
The chain had the same properties as the ones Enkidu creates as his default weapon. The
chain and harpoon turned into a single streak of light, forming a golden westward rainbow as it
ripped through the galestorms.
To be precise, the golden rainbow was an attack but at the same time, a bridge of light
spanning the world whose atmosphere began to be recolored with the air of the Age of Gods.
The giant harpoon kept moving west, piercing through the hazardous winds that symbolized
the dominance and tyranny of the gods.
Like a lone hero tearing through an army of infinite soldiers.
× ×
Neo Ishtar Temple
“Nnnnnnnnnot a single shred of respect...”, said goddess Ishtar, stopping her eyes from
trembling.
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She quietly held her hand out toward the harpoon.
Around her, the space above the temple unleashed a tremendous volume of divinity, making
the atmosphere denser.
But unlike the missiles fired before, the harpoon showed no signs of reducing its speed.
Due to Enkidu’s body being originally a weapon made by the gods, it’s in their nature to be
effective even against the gods.
The power made to allow humans to use the power of the gods now became the piercing
power to reject the gods.
“You’re one rude piece of junk.”
However, Ishtar was perfectly aware of that.
She chose the correct target to dominate with her Charm: the air.
She compressed the winds set in motion by Gugalanna’s gale, held them in place, and
transformed them into viscous vapor.
She is the sky incarnate.
Everything in the sky is subjugated and can be made part of her body.
Like a meteorite entering the atmosphere, the giant harpoon flying in her direction was
covered in intense heat, and the air around it changed color.
Nonetheless, this is still not enough to erase the heavy blow of Enkidu’s Age of Babylon
Noble Phantasm.
The radiating harpoon continued to tear away the new Age of Gods that Ishtar was creating,
albeit at lower speeds.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
The harpoon continued its even clash, unable to reach anywhere—but the fact that a third-
party attacked was enough to affect the state of the battlefield.
× ×
Industrial district
As Alcides was shooting his venomous snake arrows from atop the chimney, his eyes caught
the chain of light running through the sky.
“Not a god, but one of their relics...”
With the air being altered, the power of the series of arrows he fired decreased.
But he didn’t mind. With the vast volume of magical energy at his disposal, he could
compensate for the lower damage with sheer quantity.
The image of the nine-headed serpents assaulting the temple one after the other resembled
a black deluge.
And then Alcides’s next move made this description literal.
Glaring at the targets of the chain, the temple of Ishtar and the Bull of Heaven entangled
with the giant serpents of his own creation, he said:
“Share Augeas’s fate, livestock.”
At the same time, he activated his Noble Phantasm, King’s Order.
The serpent copy created from his next arrow shot popped like a water balloon the instant
it reached the forest.
And then it turned into a genuine black flood that began to swallow the forest.
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One of the labors in Alcides’s life was the Augean Stables.
An order to clean in 1 day a giant barn with three thousand cows left unattended for decades.
A service that was more like harassment than a labor of penance.
The king who ordered it and then annulled his own agreement was ultimately killed for it,
but that’s not the important part of this chapter.
The method he used to clean the stables whose owner never visited since its construction
was honestly simple and truly out-of-the-box.
He changed the flow of the rivers near the stables by force, pulling their muddy streams
directly into the stable grounds.
As a symbol of the tremendous strength it took to pull that off, he can use the power of his
Noble Phantasm to replicate the muddy streams he stole, pouring the venomous snake’s miasma
and the “mud”’s magical energy into it to form the black flood splashed onto the forest.
× ×
???
He paused to think amidst the rampaging stream of magical energy.
He didn’t know everything.
In fact, he knew very little.
He didn’t even know his reason to live.
It’s true that most living beings don’t come equipped with this answer, but he in particular
had never even thought about the matter.
He could reduce his whole body and mind to ash if that’s what it took to remain alive.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Without even considering his reason for it, he always screamed his wish created from pure
instinct: to live.
But what about now?
He lasted this far thanks to the power of the one called by his wish.
He never again saw the animal purely driven to kill him, and the being he met—the creature
called “Servant”— protected him from all obstacles that appeared before him.
This was the first time he experienced peace.
As such, his nerves gained some breathing room.
Thoughts slowly started to cross his head.
Thoughts, not instinct.
Reason, not impulse.
For as long as he can remember, he always felt his life was threatened, and now, for the first
time, he didn’t.
This was the first time he thought about who he was and what he is living for.
One day, two animals appeared in the forest.
Both very similar in form to Servant.
But it was easy to tell from their presence.
One was from the same species as the Servant who saved his life, but the other was someone
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like him.
Due to her lack of hostility, he snuggled up on the creature he judged to be his equal, and
they watched the Servants’ conversation.
It led to a fight between the Servants.
His equal, who was lying down, panicked but since she knew neither had any intention to
kill the other, she simply watched the scene with a look of wonder in her eyes.
He learned that the Servants were tremendously powerful.
He wondered why they didn’t dash freely through the lands if they had more than enough
power to do so.
The next day, his doubt was replaced with apprehension.
It all changed when a bizarre presence appeared on this land.
A presence that felt like a comforting embrace and irresistible terror at the same time.
Come the first signs of this presence, Servant’s presence also changed.
Their face and words were the same as always.
They permeated hints of themself into the forest and ground. And despite their apparently
serene smile, he couldn’t help feeling that they were always struggling against something.
It was only a vague sign.
Something most trivial, barely perceptible, but he could feel it.
Inside Servant, there were hints of a whirl of hatred and aggression. Not unlike his owner at
that time his owner took a weapon and chased after him.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Eventually, the “warm but scary presence” grew stronger... and since then, Servant has been
producing an emotion akin to sadness.
Their face remained unchanged.
Their voice and mannerisms were the same as always, and they never stopped protecting
him.
Even now, atop this rooftop, with this jaw-dropping mass of power approaching and this
windstorm covering the lands...
Servant was still with him.
Here is where he finally understood.
That he was Servant’s cage. Their chains.
That he was no different from that “mage” animal who chained him and locked him in a
cage.
That Servant had something they wanted to do.
But as long as he was there—as long as Servant was protecting him, they weren’t free to do
what they wanted.
The moment he noticed that, a new emotion sprung inside him.
The emotion was similar to the one humans call “sadness”.
It could also be called rage against himself.
He didn’t feel anger even when his creator was one step away from killing him, but now, he
was furious at himself for unknowingly doing the same thing his creator did.
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There was one thing he couldn’t spare attention to back he was desperately trying to survive:
His wish—his dream—already came true.
Servant showed him the path to continued survival. They protected him.
What next, then?
His newly-formed ego was in deep thought, rushing for an answer.
If he had one wish...
If he had one reason to live...
That would be to free the living being before his eyes.
He could never allow himself to be someone else’s shackles.
That’s why, filled with the will to watch them until their final moment, he raised his paw to
Servant.
To proclaim a Master’s desire to his Servant.
His raised paw took a step forward.
Not to run away, but to make out of it alive, following a conscious will independent from
his instincts.
To fight against the world still unknown. Or against himself.
× ×
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Crystal Hill, rooftop.
The female mage wearing goggles and Tine’s subordinates were blown away by the shot’s
shockwaves, but golden chains sprang out of the rooftop, preventing them from falling off the
building.
“So that’s a Heroic Spirit’s full power...”
The mage with the goggles, Doris Lusendra, tried to analyze their immense power with eyes
filled with a mix of joy and frustration.
She was defeated by Toosaka Rin and granted her Master rights to the El-Melloi Classroom.
But due to their method being more stable if they used the first person to have the Command
Spells as a catalyst, she was added to the party as Rider’s lowest-ranked Master.
Of course, this was done under a very restrictive magecraft pact, and the Command Spell
isn’t being shared with her.
Still, the Heroic Spirit’s power wasn’t the only thing that astonished her.
She’s also impressed at the supplier of magical energy enabling this level of construction.
It’s dumping this much energy into the Servant and still has more to spare...? If I was the supplier,
creating the harpoon cannon alone would dry my magical energy reserves. A Heroic Spirit being
able to spam Noble Phantasm is inconceivable from a regular mage’s perspective.
Doris shifted her gaze to Enkidu’s Master.
She saw a Chimera who was, like her, fixed to the rooftop by Enkidu’s chains.
Enkidu’s Master, the silver wolf, quietly approached them, still protected by the chains, and
held their clothes with his mouth, trying to convey a message.
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“... Oh, sorry, Master. That must have scared you.”
With an honest apology, Enkidu put their hand on the silver wolf ’s cheek.
“Calm down, Master. Your life is safe in my hands. I can stay here if that’s what you wish...
and if anything happens to me, you can ask that girl on the top floor to...”
Enkidu stopped mid-sentence.
The silver wolf pulled their robe harder and stared at them with fiercer eyes than ever.
Catching what that meant, Enkidu kneeled to speak with their eyes on the same height as
their Master.
“You don’t need to worry about my wants, Master. I’m a tool. Born disposable... Not to
mention I’ll be gone no matter what once this ritual is over.”
The way they spoke their mind to their Master was bizarre, but those who knew Enkidu
could confirm that this was this Heroic Spirit’s natural state.
The Heroic Spirit Enkidu will always place themselves as a tool, be their Master a person, a
Natural Spirit, or a Chimera.
The gods created them to be a tool and they knew that their purpose as one was to grow able
to perfectly imitate a person, a creature the gods struggled to comprehend.
For that reason, they could identify the glitch in their own system, and its causes: the deity
emerging west and its companion Heroic Spirit.
Taking all that into consideration, Enkidu chose the logical way to do what’s best for their
Master and fix their own bugs at the same time.
What they didn’t expect is that their Master wolf would go against their choice.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“...”
Having pieced together the silver wolf ’s intentions, Enkidu calmly weaved their words.
“You should think only about your wish... to survive. I exist to be your tool. So, Master, stay
where it’s safe until I dispose of all that threatens the world, and threatens yo...”
Their words were interrupted again.
This time their Master’s howl.
The wolf who previously only wished to live now pulled Enkidu with a powerful will
reflected in his eyes.
What could he be thinking?
The two paused and watched each other in silence.
As a silver wolf and Heroic Spirit.
A Chimera and a Divine Construct.
A Master and a Servant.
It only took a few seconds but that was enough.
Enkidu understood everything.
“Sorry, Master. I’ll admit that I forgot I was a tool when I saw that garbage of an ancient
goddess and... my old friend.”, Enkidu said hugging their Master.
“...”
“But you’re... not mad that I forgot. You’re mad I was trying to return to being a tool.”
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Their voice was serene but contained a mix of sorrow and joy. Enkidu’s next message to their
Master was an expression of gratitude and at the same time a confession of guilt.
“Thank you, Master... I’ll be back soon.”
The same soft smile the first greeted the wolf with.
The Master hadn’t seen this face clearly since he was on the verge of death at the time.
Regardless, the wolf felt that their aura had the same color it did back then, and understood
that Enkidu was making the same face they did the first time because this might be the last.
After looking at Enkidu one final time, the wolf howled strikingly at the rampaging sky.
“May your life go as you wish.”
With these last words, Enkidu jumped to the sky.
The silver wolf watched them leave. He didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t bark. He only watched
their back.
He watched the creature who momentarily lived with him flying away to live in freedom.
The silver wolf knew two things perfectly well:
That his fate would be roughly the same no matter where his road takes him.
And that, just like Enkidu, he would also be gone soon. His life wasn’t made to last long.
He didn’t know how many months, weeks, or days he still had.
Numbers don’t make a difference for a wolf who doesn’t know how to read a calendar.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
All he cared about was watching Enkidu living.
The silver wolf was a crafted Chimera.
He didn’t know what family, friends, or followers were, and he didn’t care to learn about the
concepts.
The only relationship that mattered to him was Master and Servant.
He had zero interest in finding out the hierarchy in this.
Enkidu demanded to be used as a tool, but now the wolf wilfully rejected this implication
of the word “Servant”.
The terms Master and Servant could be reduced to non-indicative names, devoid of their
original meanings. To the wolf, the one and only form of relationship was simply being there for
each other.
That was enough to give his life purpose.
That gave his life purpose.
That’s why the silver wolf only wanted to see the Heroic Spirit Enkidu living.
Doing what gave their life, and none other’s, purpose.
So that at the moment his life is finally over, he can say that they lived together rather than
just existed together.
They didn’t share an adventure to be remembered in history, nor did they develop a deep
love for each other.
Even then,
The silver wolf looked proud as he watched the creature he spend very few days with leave.
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Interlude
“Backroom Rhapsody”
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Interlude: Backroom Rhapsody
East Snowfield, marsh area
“If only I had one of those in my time... Nah, what a sad thing to say. That thing was built
with the power of the gods, so if I overpowered the monster with that, it wouldn’t have been my
win... humanity’s win.”
Hearing the captain silhouette laugh with heartfelt joy with a tinge of frustration, Sigma
thought “I don’t know what’s so funny but I’m jealous of his ability to laugh”.
“Well, we Shadows are just some duplicates. Just Watcher recreating how she thinks the
originals would react in this situation. The bastard doesn’t care to put every detail into the
simulation, so we’re more like magecraft constructs than anything.”
“As an outsider, I can’t see the difference between that and talking to the original.”
The silhouette responded by taking the shape of the boy with wings.
“Shouldn’t you work on fixing that? Someone using illusions to make fakes of us could easily
deceive you.”, he warned.
“If there’s any third party involved with the intention to deceive me, then I simply won’t
trust you.”
“Yeah, makes sense that’s how you think.”
“The original is as likely to betray as a fake. There’s a lot that can be said about philosophical
zombies but my knowledge of magecraft is not enough for this debate. Instead of thinking about
whether the other is the original or a copy, I think about how the other is affecting me at each
given moment. That’s all.”
Two opposite figures popped into Sigma’s mind as he spoke.
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One was Lambda, a living human he spent his childhood with.
The other was the Assassin Servant, who just like the Shadows, was copied from the throne.
The former backstabbed Sigma when he least expected and fell to a retaliation he has no
strong feelings for.
The latter was someone who barely knew him but fought against a horrid monster alongside
him because that was what her faith or creeds determined.
Although she almost killed him when they first met, in their farewell the previous day, she
said they would save people for as long as they could, and to top it off, showed him her smile.
There are no differences between copies and originals.
On the contrary. Sigma felt these replicated shadows feel a lot more human than the
Instructors in his childhood.
Why bother distinguishing an original from a fake or simply a copied soul?
Since Sigma couldn’t tell them apart, the only things he knew to be real are the products of
his interactions with others, no matter which they are.
Sigma watched videos of comedians from all over the world until the discs wore out. Now a
thought occurred to him.
All those people in the videos were, strictly speaking, copied. And they follow a script, making the
thing doubly false. But here I am, enjoying comedies. Does that make me also fake? If my ego was
shaped by fakes, what would my ego and my emotions qualify as?
After some thought, Sigma shook his head, deeming these questions a waste of time.
It was always in Sigma’s disposition to trust nobody, not even himself.
He could be real or could be fake, but regardless, he could only play the cards at his disposal.
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After all, he needed to save a girl—Kuruoka Tsubaki—from the clutches of both a god and
the government.
It was his decision. Trusting himself or not, the dice were already cast.
Whether he was real or fake is up to others to decide when it’s all said and done.
Authenticity is determined only by the lasting impression you leave on those who saw you., Sigma
commented to himself.
What was it like for mom? She fought alongside Emiya Kiritsugu, a legend. What was she seeing
when she died in obscurity?
Sigma’s thoughts stopped here, with a self-derisive chuckle.
Many people die with their heads blown off, unaware of what they were seeing in their last
moments.
He realized he was romanticizing his mother too much in asking what final conclusion did
she reach, hence the pained chuckle.
Yeah, my head could be blown off at any moment. So... I’ll choose to believe that I already found
my conclusion somewhere.
When Sigma asked himself where, the first image to come to his mind was Assassin’s smile.
“The faith I obtained?”
In response to these words that Sigma mumbled while carefully traversing the marsh, the
Shadow of the boy with the caduceus spoke with a serene smile.
“Why don’t you start a new religion with that? If your teachings rebuke the Greek gods and
set the logical practice of medicine as an absolute creed, you have my support. Gotta make sure
Apollo is the one you’ll demonize the most.”
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“You want to worship medicine itself as a deity? Maybe try someone else, all I’d be able to
produce is weird gods in lab coats and nurse outfits... Also, who is Apollo?”
“He’s... no one interesting. You don’t need to know.”
“Ok. I thought that sounded like a comedian’s name, but if he’s not funny, I’m not interested.”
Amidst his words, Sigma thought about the Shadows.
Is it just me or... have they started to joke around more lately?
The silhouette of a boy interrupted his musings.
“I found them. They’re hidden in that rocky area.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Saying that, Sigma activated magecraft that hid his presence and braved closer to the rocks.
“Hey.”
Hearing a sudden voice from above, the mercenary reflexively pointed his assault rifle.
“I’m FAMINE. Are you from THORN?”
“Don’t scare me like that... You couldn’t blame me for shooting you when you show up like
that.”
The THORN man confirmed that FAMINE had Sigma’s face and let go of the trigger.
He pointed the barrel slightly away, but remained in the position to shoot any time,
presumably because he was ordered to keep watch on Sigma and Saber a few days back.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
THORN was Faldeus’s codename for his pet squad, an ambush team heavily armed to
suppress mages.
“Sorry, my comms are broken... Can you contact CATTLE?”
“He told us to be on standby here and hasn’t messaged since. We get responses for the regular
reports but it’s his subordinate woman talking. Not CATTLE.”
The “CATTLE” Sigma asked about referred to Faldeus, much like Sigma himself was
codenamed FAMINE. The question was a farce. Sigma already knew from the Shadows that
Faldeus had cut off many low-importance teams and was operating in sigil with a team that was
sort of like his personal guard.
In short, Sigma was with the discarded THORN members.
Sigma could imagine why they were abandoned.
They came in contact with Saber a few days prior.
Saber offered the THORN soldiers meals and after some difficulties, they came to accept it.
He didn’t know if they honestly opened up to Saber. Knowing they are a special squad,
there’s a high chance they simply pretended to be on good terms with him.
But from Faldeus’s perspective, regardless of the answer, that’s an element of uncertainty.
Faldeus can’t ignore the possibility that Saber or his Master placed brainwashing magecraft
or something to that effect.
After all, he’s working on the most confidential operation possible: carrying away the base of
the Holy Grail before they destroy the whole land of Snowfield. Teams should be cut off at the
slightest suspicion.
Through Watcher’s information via the Shadows, Sigma knew their situation better than
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they did.
That was something he could exploit.
He knew that in the north of the city, there was a united front fighting against the deity in
the west.
But they didn’t trust Sigma, who is aligned with the masterminds.
He felt that he could easily have been invited if Saber and Ayaka were the leaders of the
alliance, but Sigma would rather avoid being a source of discord within the united front.
Thus, he set his scheme in motion.
From the backroom, his trick would push the lead actress away from the stage.
It had low chances of success and quite high chances of death.
But they did not need to shoot silver bullets against a monster.
Sigma had to fight in a way only an actor in the backroom can. His next words were the first
step.
“Faldeus didn’t tell even you?”
“? Tell what?”
“Everyone in the JACKAL, SPADE, and WINEGLASS units is dead. And their reaction to
that was calling Operation [Aurora fall].”
“!? All of them!? And what’s this operation codename? No one told me about that one.”
Sigma noticed the special squad member tensing up under the mask.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
One wrong answer and they’d be trading bullets.
Sigma couldn’t understand others.
But what he could do was follow the good faith growing within him and speak a mix of
truths and lies.
“I know about it because I’m a Master but Faldeus froze his line to me. Looks like I was
discarded.”
“What is Operation [Aurora fall]?”
“This city will be wiped off the map tomorrow... with all of us in it.”
The soldier could figure out the rest from just that.
His words would normally be hard to believe but they were Faldeus’s subordinates. They
knew his personality and they knew the power of the people above him.
Not to mention that if the hurricane approaching from the west was related to the world of
magecraft, then they had a perfectly valid reason to resort to such measures.
After waiting for him to slowly digest the situation, Sigma opened his mouth.
“We were abandoned. If you want to escape, it won’t be me who will stop you. If you don’t
trust me, try calling CATTLE. It might get you wiped earlier, though.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I’ll do what I can. There’s one minor problem that can change the upper echelon’s decision
if I solve it.”
And so the spellcaster opened negotiations.
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He was a taciturn and inarticulate man who didn’t trust others or himself—
but to fight against the tyranny of both gods and men...
“Are you willing to help me out?”
Or perhaps to enact the final stage of his ruinous comedy...
“My Servant... Charlie Chaplin is ready for action.”
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Interlude
“The shadow brings an end to a journey out of
the ravine”
88
Chapter 25: Backroom Rhapsody
“You’re finally here...”, hatefully murmured Fillia. Her Authority held a giant harpoon in
place, and her eyes faced the eastern skies at the opposite end of its golden chain.
The change was dramatic.
The golden chain instantly inflated. It grew fast and suddenly, much like the beanstalk in the
fairy tale.
The stepped links recoiled with magical energy simply having Enkidu racing atop them.
Enkidu dashed on the chains with the pace of a pulsing heart.
A dense figure approached in a straight line.
She noticed days ago that someone was keeping track of her but they showed no signs of
approaching until now. She tried to provoke them in the construction of her temple by choosing
to conquer a forest like the forest where they used to live with that girl but even then, they
wouldn’t give her the fight she wanted. Fillia speculated that the Master who summoned Enkidu
was either a cautious one or a creature so weak that Enkidu was forced into defense.
“If you had ignored this silly Holy Grail War and jumped at me the moment you sensed me,
you could have fought alongside Gilgamesh, but you didn’t.”
She spoke with her eyes almost closed. Her delivery sounded almost nostalgic for an ever-
distant past. After those words, the goddess Ishtar quietly raised her head.
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“Be however you want. There’s some virtue in living only for the sake of others without
hypocrisy or dishonesty.”
“Ishtar, my goddess...?”
Haruri stood in front of her, restraining Berserker. She noticed Ishtar’s divinity expanding
behind her and turned back.
The goddess walked to stand side by side with her appointed Head Priestess Haruri and,
glaring at the enemy force approaching from the east, held her right hand out to the sky with a
fearless smile.
“But...”
Next, goddess Ishtar’s divine power expanded and charmed the land between the forest and
the city.
“You, this piece of junk who can’t impose themselves on anyone, were able to insult me... It’s
too late to regret, atone, or make amends for this disgrace. You will never amount to anything.
Let me see you crumble, rot, dry, writhe, unravel, and collapse as you try.”
This was Ishtar’s first manifestation of hostility in this era.
“...!”
A nasty chill raced across Haruri’s whole body as if the end of the world happened seven
times over.
Her mind could have broken and ceased its vital functions had she not been blessed by Ishtar
with her temple head priestess mindset.
Yet even all this violent rage becomes a voice that charms the world when unleashed by
Ishtar.
A reversed nexus.
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By being charmed, the otherwise inorganic land gained a faux intellect and organic life
functions, enabling it to in turn gain emotions.
It became either a giant lifeform or a colony of small lifeforms.
Claymation-like waves surged as the excited lands raged like a turbulent ocean and went to
attack Enkidu in conjunction with the gale winds.
“...”
Enkidu, on the other hand, said nothing.
Words were as needless as they were worthless. They only directed hostility at Ishtar.
The power of charm can’t as much as reach their eyes. The chains and the air touched by
Enkidu reject the goddess and everything she represents.
Through physical means alone, Enkidu escaped the assault of the earth turned into Ishtar’s
zealot.
In two steps, they kicked the flying waves of dirt away and punched their way through the
omnidirectional hostility.
A simple stomp reverberated loud as thunder and the pulverized bedrock transformed into
complexly entangled chains that began to envelop the main chain.
A tunnel of light guarding the golden bridge.
Enkidu pumped more power into the harpoon as they infiltrated the Age of Gods.
Ishtar squinted upon seeing the contending harpoon approach.
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“You cheeky piece of junk.”
And then she commanded Haruri, who was holding her breath as she watched the events.
“Get Berserker to help me stop the piece of junk. Leave the snakes to Gugalanna.”
“! Yes, ma’am!”
Haruri ordered her Berserker Servant as told.
Now that Enkidu already came so close to them, she ordered her to stop—or destroy—them.
Berserker turned her giant body to face the eastern sky, making a quiet grinding noise against
the galestorms.
She turned off all the functions she was using to block the incoming serpents and deluge and
reassigned Enkidu as the sole target of all her processes.
The watcher of the forest of the gods, told in legend to have brought fear even to the Hero
King Gilgamesh.
Faced with this dreadful monster—
Faced with the old friend they reduced to piles of flesh with their own hands, Enkidu quietly
mumbled.
“We need to talk... Huwawa.”
Enkidu charged their limbs with magical energy as they said that.
“But only after... I get this goddess that filled you with fear, and at the same time, blessings
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and tranquility, to shut up.”
Next, Enkidu leaped in, fast as lightning, and took aim at the goddess at the temple.
But they were blocked by Berserker—the colossus called Huwawa.
Despite this agility one wouldn’t expect from her gigantic size, she didn’t counterattack.
Both Haruri and Berserker could feel Enkidu’s power and opted to fight defensively.
It was clear that any moment of distraction was all Enkidu needed to tear them apart.
Berserker shot down an entire rain of modern missiles before, but nonetheless, she was
pressured into the defensive.
The weapon created to be the linchpin keeping the gods on the surface watched their
opponent solidify her defenses out of a duty to protect goddess Ishtar.
“That’s a problem... Battles of attrition are not my thing. The best I can last is three days and
three nights”, spoke Enkidu, remembering their duel with their best friend Gilgamesh.
Nostalgic days of their lifetime.
Enkidu’s words were honest and heartfelt, without a hint of snideness or sarcasm.
Because if possible—they wanted that 3-day short duel to last forever.
× ×
Strath region
“The units are mobilizing.”, mumbled someone from the El-Melloi Classroom upon seeing
the energized chain of gold launched and stretching in the air.
His words also applied to this ravine.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Because almost at the same time, two horses from the east of the city appeared, shortly after
the city’s police force and Tine’s suited subordinates.
“I see you called this Holy Grail War’s organizers. Are you insane?”
Tine Chelc’s secretary doubted her eyes. She directed questioning glances to the El-Melloi
class and the police squad.
Vera Levitt, representing the 20 subordinates accompanying her, replied with an indifferent
face.
“This is not the moment to concern ourselves with positions and relationships.”
“... It isn’t. Sorry for my remark.”
She had something she wanted to say but preferred not to because her statements could hurt
her lady’s dignity. She reminded herself a mage needs to know restraint and directed her line of
sight to the members of the El-Melloi Classroom.
But her attention quickly turned to the two horses.
A man clad in armor that projected an image of fortitude and vigor looked at his surrounding
with sparkles in his eyes. Behind him, a woman clung to his shoulders, trying to catch her breath.
“Oh, now that’s amazing! You can’t hide it from my eyes! Everyone here is a first-class mage!
You look more powerful than that Saint-Germain, my self-proclaimed court mage! Ah, sorry,
that might have been a rude comparison, considering he was an obvious charlatan...”
Seeing Saber casually drop information about himself, many mages momentarily suspected
that he was not a Servant, but instead a local street performer.
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Tine’s subordinates understood that he was a Servant but were still taken aback by the huge
statement. Hansa folded up with laughter.
On the other hand, the policemen who knew him well enough only smiled awkwardly.
Some El-Melloi students frowned at what they assumed to be a joke, while some others
exchanged serious whispers about his identity.
“Did he say Saint-Germain?”
“Which means he’s... Louis XV?”
“Could be Alexander the Great...”
“A Rákóczi...?”
“I’ll take the risky bet and say he’s Queen of Sheba.”
Watching the little group of youngsters whispering predictions like they weren’t within his
earshot, Saber laughed in rhythm with the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves as he walked it to a
position where he could better see the western forest.
“Wait, wait, wait, Saint-Germain was cheating on me with how many other kings? I guess
I should have expected that from a guy who says he’s perenially unaging. And in my era, he
nonchalantly drove one of those ‘car’ vehicles that are normal nowadays. Is it normal for a mage
to normally do these abnormal things?”
“Was the Count of Saint-Germain an Atlas Institute absconder or something...? I think I

learned one more thing I shouldn’t have...”
Saber shrugged upon hearing the bespectacled giant say this.
“His presence alone spreads information everyone is better off not knowing. And for all he
called himself the court mage, the only magecraft he ever taught me was how to fix damaged
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Fate/strange Fake 8
jewels.”
His words left a couple of mages starry-eyed, but they refrained from making comments,
perhaps judging it was not the time to pursue the topic.
“Oh! But still, things are getting impressive!”
From atop the cliffs, Saber watched the forest with childlike wonder, like the mood of the
people around him was nothing.
His eyes were set on some creature’s leg entangled in giant serpents. The leg fell from the sky,
stomping the black flood that swallowed the forest. The series of golden explosions incurred by
it occasionally lifted the bedrock into the air.
“So, is our united front to fight that creature over there? If I were manifested as a Rider, I
could have distributed my power among the whole squad, but unfortunately, I’m a Saber.”
Saber joyfully analyzed his forces while he gazed at the fantastical scenes before him.
And then, he suddenly turned his horse and introduced himself to the people present, as if
he only now remembered to do it.
“Forgive the discourtesy of addressing you from atop my horse! I’m a Servant participating
in this Holy Grail War under the Saber Saint Graph! Please understand that I can’t get off the
horse at the moment! This isn’t a matter of status, it’s simply my Master’s shaky legs would prove
a problem if she were to try to set her feet on the ground!”
“Uuugh... It’s f-fine, I’ll be able to get off soon enough...”, said the groaning girl before she
raised her head to look at her surroundings.
Oh, the priest from that church... He’s alive.
They hadn’t seen each other since the church’s collapse. Ayaka sighed in relief upon seeing
the eyepatched priest mostly unharmed.
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Great, Ms. Vera’s team is also doing fine... Huh?
There Ayaka noticed something strange.
Aside from the police and the group wearing suits, there was a third, non-uniformed group
of young people staring at her with startled shock and caution.
“It’s Sajou...” “Ayaka from Yumina, right?” “She dyed her hair?”
Ayaka shivered upon hearing those whispers, making her forget her unstable legs and gulp.
“Huh...W-what?”
Ayaka couldn’t recognize anyone there.
A Japanese-looking woman wearing a red dress observed her with a sharp glare, but Ayaka
still couldn’t remember.
Oblivious to Ayaka’s anxieties, the youths exchanged confused words.
“But Sajou is in Romania now. We confirmed that.”
“No doubt about it...”
“Really? I don’t find them any similar. Sajou’s smell is more harmonious and winding.”
“You’re just not judging with your eyes, Svin.”
“However... If Svin says so, we can take it as certain that she’s someone else.”
These strangers were discussing her.
For the first time in a while, Ayaka remembered she was thrown into a merciless fate. She got
off the horse bracing herself for worse, and spoke with a strong will.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“Hey.”
All youths reacted to Ayaka’s voice and turned their eyes to her.
Ayaka was staggering from the pressure. It was hard to believe they were so close to her age.
She didn’t notice Saber getting off the horse, but there he was grabbing her shoulder.
“It’s all fine.”
“...Right, thank you.”
Ayaka calmed down and asked them a question.
“You all have been saying things about my face, but... Who even are you? Do you... know me?”
Hearing this, a visibly more strong-willed member of the young group took a step forward.
“No, we don’t. To be more exact, we knew you existed for a few days and that’s all.”
“Huh?”
“We’re the ones who want to know who are you. We can still team up with someone we
don’t trust, knowing we’ll betray them later, but with someone we don’t understand, we’ll have
bigger problems than a need for extra caution.”
The woman gestured to shoo her teammates away.
“Stop wasting time. I’ll get the questions about her answered, so you go back to observing
the forest. You know the world could end while we’re busy with this, do you?”
In response to her words, other members started deploying magecraft tools and magic circles
to react to the abnormal changes in the forest, many with a shrug.
The woman in red, with her gaze fixed straight on Ayaka, asked a direct question.
98
“Asking again, who are you? Why do you have Sajou’s face?”
Ayaka’s vision distorted and bounced back in an instant.
Not comprehending the words directed at her, Ayaka found strength within herself and
replied with a question of her own.
“Why? That’d be because... I’m Sajou Ayaka... Wait, there’s someone with the same face as me?”
“The answer is yes. Her hair is of a different color, but otherwise, you’re physically identical.
Ok... Different question, then. Have you ever heard the word Fuyuki?”
“...Well, yes, that’s my hometown.”
“Heh... Which part of Fuyuki did you live in? Shinto? Miyama? Homurahara?”
“Huh? Err...”
Her head hurt.
Her past ached.
Her memory twisted.
After feeling a thick fog instantly fill her brain, Ayaka managed to barely pull out a location
name from the depths of her mind.
“Kurokizaka... The Semina Apartment Complex.”
The woman in red squinted for a moment when she said that name, but only Saber noticed
it, not Ayaka.
When Ayaka came to this city, when she said her name, the police said they would investigate
her and didn’t press for more details on her past.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
Perhaps if she had stayed there longer, they would strongly press her over the discrepancies
found in the document they received.
But since that didn’t happen, Ayaka remained in the city as “Ayaka Sajou from Japan”.
That’s why she—Ayaka herself—didn’t have any deep questions about who she was until now.
No one before confronted her.
“Can you name any friends you have in Fuyuki?”
The woman in red continued her methodical questioning, not aggressively but not softly
either. Saber judged that she had no malice and that her methods were quite honest and gentle
for mage standards.
100
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Fate/strange Fake 8
That is why Saber didn’t impede her questioning, but he was prepared to move in case
anything happened.
“Friends...?”
The haze in Ayaka’s head grew thicker, but she didn’t run away from it.
I can’t run away here. If I give up now, this fog will never clear up.
Fumbling her way through her memories, Ayaka reached out for the times in Fuyuki that she
avoided looking at.
“Right... I have... had friends...”
Amidst her blurred thoughts, Ayaka remembered something.
People whose faces weren’t clearly memorized. The ones who said her name.
“They told me my name was Ayaka, Sajou Ayaka...”
The names of the people who taught her she was “Sajou Ayaka”.
“Gotou... Gai... and... Tsunokuma...?”
“What? ...Huh? Are you serious?”
The moment these names came up, the woman in red showed a new reaction of surprise.
“Never thought I’d hear those names here... Since you mentioned the Semina apartments, I
expected to see Himuro mentioned, and maybe Mitsuzuri and Saegusa if you were really intent
on fooling me... Gh... If your goal was confusing me, great job.”
“????”
102
“C’mon, anyone can tell Ayaka is way more confused than you are.”
Saber came for the save and started interjecting in the conversation.
“Hmmm... I see you can’t trust Ayaka because... a friend of your group looks identical to her
and has the same name, but is someone else entirely.”
“Can you blame us?”
The mage in red cautiously stood her ground with her response.
Saber instantly figured out it was not a case of a Master or mage belittling a Servant for being
just a familiar.
Though she’s not lacking in self-respect either... She feels truly used to this situation. She must
know a lot about Servants and Heroic Spirits. Not only that... she knows a lot about Fuyuki too.
Despite knowing that, Saber maintained his policy of never hiding who he was.
“Aye, we could only be dealing with a Changeling here. The fae are terrifying, I’ll have you
know. You never know what they’ll pull off, and most of them see humans as nothing more than
a scribble on a piece of paper.”
“Saber?”
“What are you trying to say?”
Ayaka and the mage in red look at Saber with many questions in their eyes. Saber responded
in a clear and unevasive tone.
“Replica bodies. Illusions. Phantasmal beasts. Vampires. In this age, it’s even possible to
change a person’s face with medical technology, no? Even simple make-up and sleight of hands
could work. There are as many possible causes for there being multiple Ayakas as there are stars
in the sky. But that’s not the problem.”, posited Saber, nodding in agreement at his own words.
“It’s true that you have reason to suspect Ayaka. It’s only natural. But the only Ayaka I know is
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Fate/strange Fake 8
the one I’ve been watching since I was summoned, and I say she’s trustworthy.”
“So you want us to believe her Servant’s opinion?”
“Nah, I mean I’m your guarantee.”
“Our guarantee?”
“The only reason why I haven’t killed all of you is that Ayaka wants to prove she’s a good
girl.”, said Saber, flashing his brightest smile.
“...Excuse me?”, Ayaka herself raised her head with a voice of disbelief.
Saber coldly continued, as if he wasn’t listening to his Master’s voice.
“I came here because you invited us to fight side-by-side, but all I’m seeing is my Master being
lambasted with questions. As far as I’m concerned, that’s enough to sign your death penalty.”
“Hold up, what are you...?”
“Don’t worry, Ayaka. If it comes to it, I can mobilize all my retinues at once. I’m not gonna
lose this.”, Saber stated with a shrug, as if it would be no big deal.
The mood of the room took a cold turn.
It was not only the woman in red. The unspeaking mages busy with their own tasks also
flipped their mental switches, despite their backs remaining turned.
Next to them, Hippolyte’s face was unagitated, but she had already shifted her center of
balance.
She was ready to start a fight any time but Ayaka was naturally oblivious to the change
in situation, Saber had a fearless smile, and the police and Tine’s subordinates stiffened their
expressions.
104
But the one to make the first move was the only one who failed to notice the rise in tension,
Ayaka herself.
All Ayaka had in her mind were the scenes of the dream she had earlier that day.
Saber was in some fortress town and she saw a huge amount of people painted red.
Covered in sweat from top to bottom, Ayaka tightly gripped Saber’s arm.
“Saber!”
And then yelled with all her strength.
“Don’t even joke about that!”
“...Ayaka, you thought I was joking?”
“If you weren’t, that’s even worse! I told you before! I’ll take the dirty jobs! I don’t have the
power to do it myself ! But doesn’t me being a Master mean that you will only kill people with
my command?! Or maybe you don’t really trust me all that much?!”
He had never seen her this serious.
Silence dominated the place.
Despite the violent attacks, flashes, and windstorms from the western forest in the
background, the Bounded Field made by Butterfly Magecraft was bizarrely silent for a few
seconds that felt like an eternity.
And what broke this tension was Saber’s daring smile disappearing to give place to the smile
of a child after a successful prank.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“Did she look like she was acting to you?”, he said to the mage in red.
“Wha?”, Ayaka mumbled, not understanding what happened.
The red mage closed her eyes in exasperation and answer Saber after a long sigh.
“Yeah, okay, you at the very least convinced me she’s not a mage that could live off as an
actress. Also that, while I still don’t know if she’s human or not, whatever she does, she’s an
amateur at it, to a terrifying degree.”
“Yup. But allow me a formal apology. Faked or not, my death threat to you was awfully rude.
Let me redeem myself to all of you with my future work.”
“Well, these games of deceit and trickery are business as usual for us. Just apologizing already
makes you better than most. But notice I didn’t say ‘don’t sweat it’. We will, in fact, work you to
the bone.”
The conversation between Saber and the red mage normalized the general mood, and the
mages returned to their tasks exchanging whispers like “Man, he really fooled me.”, “Heroic
Spirits really are on a whole other level. I couldn’t see us winning.”, or “I wasn’t worried, Toosaka
is perfect at dealing with this kind of gamble.”.
“... AH? ...Was that what happened?”
After some thought, Ayaka realized she was roped into Saber’s charade.
“Saber?”
“Eh, all is well when it ends w... Wah.”
Saber groaned as Ayaka pulled his braid hard.
“...Hmm, but yeah, I understand that you pulled your little farce because you thought I
needed help...”
106
“Hahaha, your talent to understand others is a real virtue, in my opinion.”
“I’m really torn between my wish to thank you and my wish to scold you for joking about
killing everyone. What should I do here?”
Ayaka’s veins were still popping but she managed a stiff smile. Seeing that, Saber paused to
think, and still with his hair being pulled, presented what he believed to be a genius idea.
“This is the kind of moment where you should try singing. When I was taken prisoner, I felt
so lonely that I composed a complaint song basically saying ‘I’m here so I want someone, anyone
to rescue me’. I also gotta apologize for angering you, I’m sorry!”
As Saber’s grandiosity neutralized Ayaka’s caustic feelings, she found herself unable to feel
the relief she was supposed to feel.
The dream featuring Saint-Germain was one concerning matter, but her main source of
unease was the understanding that his performance now wasn’t a farce, that he was indeed
determined to kill all humans in sight. The knowledge that this was part of his nature.
As Saber said, she had a talent to understand others.
It’s not about being good or evil. Saber’s deal is that he doesn’t know how to hesitate. Saber
thoroughly ignores all fear, guilt, and anxiety toward the idea that his actions have consequences. Or
maybe he keeps marching forward while embracing all these elements head-on.
Ayaka couldn’t think of that as something entirely bad.
It’s a fact that she was many times saved by this tendency of him.
And that is why Ayaka revised her beliefs.
She now thought that she couldn’t allow him to be alone in bearing the bad reputation he
was needlessly accruing for her sake.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
That’s what she decided when she firmed their formal contract.
When it’s time to sink, we sink together.
The mage in red commented on Ayaka’s renewed determination.
“...You were already in America when we got here. So it’s hard to imagine this is a bluff
targeted at us, and if the goal was to keep Flat and the teacher in check, you had a lot of better
people to choose from. Honestly, there’s no reason you would choose Sajou, someone we can
confirm things with on the phone.”
“Huh? You can... call her on your phone now?”
“We did try asking her, but it was pointless. She doesn’t have a clue. She seemed to suspect
someone in her family did something, but it turned out she had nothing to do with it.”
“O-ok...”
Someone had the same name as her.
Confronted with this fact, Ayaka...
found herself acting more cold and rational than she expected.
Huh? Why am I so calm about this?
Normally, it would make sense for her to react with anger, madness, and panic to the sudden
realization she didn’t know who she was.
But instead, she now found peace in the fact that she can clearly perceive the contradictions.
The uncomfortable part of it was how she couldn’t understand what was making her feel so
relieved.
Wait, this makes no sense. It’s clearly off. Why am I not actively trying to remember my past?”
108
Even now, I’m looking for excuses... No, now is not the time for this.
It’s true that the fog greatly flickered due to the words said by the mage in red, but she
remained unable to take a step into her past memories no matter what.
In fact, if Ayaka lacked the courage to ask for urgent help to make her recall her memories,
she wouldn’t have been able to remind herself of her logic and motives and would have failed to
produce strong replies.
The mage in red ignored Ayaka for a moment and questioned Saber, with whom she hoped
to join forces.
“Still, I can see you’re some kind of knight Heroic Spirit... If you took part in any battle in
your life you should know well how scary it is to have an unknown factor on the battlefield.”
“Well, if that’s your point, I’d things don’t get more unknown than what’s happening in the
western forest.”
With this sarcastic remark, Saber turned west, there seeing the woods tightly wrapped in
galestorms, making it difficult to identify what was happening by looking from a distance.
Even in this situation, deafening impact and thunder were sometimes audible, accompanied
by golden flashes and some giant appendage moving.
“We’re not stupid enough to rush into whatever that is head-on.”
“True. You’re all very intelligent.”, said Saber, enjoying himself as he took a look at the
gathered teammates. “Isn’t this exactly why you need someone to play the fool’s role?”
Saber got a response from the aristocratic man manipulating butterflies to maintain the
Bounded Field.
“We would obviously never invite you to fight together commanding you to be a decoy or
a sacrificial pawn alone. Much less to you, who shows in your style and personality that you’re a
royal.”
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“That’s not really how things work. I hear my esteemed King Arthur personally headed to
battle, and it was with his own hands that he took down Vile King Vortigern and the traitor
Mordred. I also went to battle many times as the first lance or solo. As one who always idolized
Arthur the Ancestor King and Alexander the Great, I unrealistically dreamed of taking down a
country with my martial prowess alone.”, told Saber, singing more praise of past heroes than of
himself.
The mage in red’s faint reaction when Saber talked about King Arthur didn’t escape his eyes,
but knowing it was not the time to pursue that question, he contained himself.
His self-restraint didn’t last long.
“By the way, you who know Fuyuki, have you seen King Arthur in- Woooooooh!”
With Ayaka pulling his braid and arm, Saber looked at the mage in red with a wish to talk
more, but Ayaka’s scolding convinced him to proceed with the conversation. “You’ll have all the
time in the world to talk about it after we solve this situation.”
“I see we’re both out of brilliant ideas for how to deal with the temple in the west, but we
gotta do something before this war of attrition is over.”
“You call something that big a war of attrition... What...?”, Ayaka mumbled to herself,
watching the forest west after taking in Saber’s words.
But she wasn’t going to interject, so she stayed quiet and let the conversation proceed.
The ones participating in the strategy meeting were the butterfly manipulator Werner
Caesarmund and the mage in red Toosaka Rin.
They were joined by a mage in a blue dress named Luviagelita Edelfelt, and numerous mages
claiming to be Tine Chelc’s associates.
110
Lastly, a familiar face for Saber and Ayaka: Vera Levitt.
Priest Hansa chose to watch the debate from a distance, saying “I won’t argue against your
direction. At this point, the only way to conceal that thing is to defeat it, no?”.
When he walked away, he joked “I’ll make something up for my report. I imagine the Holy
Church will wipe this city off the map if they don’t buy my bullshit, hahaha”, but no one present
took it as a joke.
After Saber mumbled “Sounds like a thing the Holy Church would do...”, he asked Vera
questions to put the conversation back on track.
“Ok, tell us what is your plan. Is it to wait for that to settle and then sweep the exhausted
forces? Or is it to reinforce the city or this ravine as a fortress for a siege battle? In this summon,
I’m manifested not as a general commanding military tactics, but as a simple knight. I’ll follow
whichever strategy you capable modern mages chose.” Saber then looked at Hippolyte. “Don’t
you think the same, Amazonian leader?”
“Pretty much. However, the traits of my Saint Graph facilitate leading marches.”
Hippolyte silently nodded to Saber’s hint that he guessed her True Name.
Ayaka had been ignoring the conversation, but out of sudden curiosity, made a comment to
Saber.
“Knowing you, I was expecting you to say you could raid the temple alone.”
“Well, to be honest, that is what my knight self wants to do. But I can’t do that when we’re
uniting in a joint army with different forces, can I? I already commanded allied forces once and
I have to tell you, it’s a pain in the ass.”
Recalling the distant past, Saber closed his eyes in a rare expression of fatigue.
After silently shaking his head, he spoke to himself out loud.
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Fate/strange Fake 8
“Well, there always is gonna be one guy who makes his own decisions and what really matters
is how well you can adlib your strategies to account for his moves. But even if someone breaks
formation upon failing to resist the enemy’s ferocity and element of surprise, or an ally disobeys
commands, their moves can be exploited to catch the opponent off-guard.”
Having said all that, Saber turned his eyes to the forest in the west.
“If you think of that forest and temple as a city, whether or not a swift attack can conquer
it depends on the characteristics of the general guarding it. If not a general, a king... or a god.
I once defeated a kind of fiendish creature called Dead Apostle, but this will be my first time
conquering the castle of a god.”
“Oh my, I’m surprised you have slayed a Dead Apostle in your lifetime, Saber.”
Saber reacted to Luvia’s words with an awkward smile and a side glance at Hansa.
“Only one, and it took teaming up with my lifelong enemy and pretty much exhausting our
combined forces. And if anything, the cleanup after it was the toughest part. I recommend you
never interact with anyone from the secret side of the Church. I can’t say all, but most of them
are annoying.”
“I agree.”, Hansa replied from a distance, suggesting he heard everything.
“I agree.”, also commented Rin without elaboration.
After that, Vera raised her voice as the police’s representative.
“So... are you suggesting we wait here until the state in the western forest changes?”
It was a natural question for Vera, who knew they were in a race against time for the city’s
destruction, but it resulted in Werner shaking his head.
“No, we don’t have time to wait for their conclusion. If the self-proclaimed god in question
wins, things get worse for us.”
112
“What do you mean?”, asked Tine’s secretary in response.
“When a Heroic Spirit is defeated in battle, their soul flows to the Lesser Grail. Do I need
to say more?”, answered Toosaka Rin, presumably the most informed on the subject of the Holy
Grail Wars.
In Holy Grail Wars following the Fuyuki model, the Holy Grail is split into a Greater Grail
and a Lesser Grail.
The Greater Grail is like a storage tank accumulating magical energy from the pulse of the
land, and the Lesser Grail exists as the device that scoops up the souls of the summoned Heroic
Spirits.
After a Heroic Spirit is defeated in battle and can no longer sustain their Saint Graph, their
soul flows to the Lesser Grail, where it is deposited.
When the Holy Grail War is concluded, their spiritual forms solidify in the shape of the
Holy Grail, forming a wish-granting device.
It’s said that at this moment, the official Holy Grail can reach the domain of the Third Magic
(soul materialization), allowing one to obtain actual immortality.
She remembered a strange conversation where Francesca and Faldeus mentioned “Fuyuki’s
Holy Grail had another purpose besides Third Magic”, but Faldeus said “That’s not our objective”
and Francesca “I’m not interested in it, and besides, the best the Fake Grail I made can offer is a
simulation of Third Magic... It’ll never be able to open the hole needed to go beyond it.”
The chief didn’t voice any objection to these details, so Vera didn’t ask for more details.
Toosaka Rin showed no signs of wanting to elaborate. She simply continued to talk about
the Lesser Grail’s presence.
“Does your boss know what the Lesser Grail is?”, Rin asked Vera.
As someone on the side of the Holy Grail War masterminds, Vera had a moment of
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Fate/strange Fake 8
indecision, but since she got permission from the chief to reveal any cards in her hand except
Servant True Names, she slowly nodded.
“...Yes. A collaborator named Francesca brought an Einzbern homunculus... Unit name

Fillia.”
“What?”
It was Ayaka who raised her voice.
“By Fillia, you mean... that Fillia?”
“There’s a lot less to explain if you already know her. You can understand what Miss Toosaka
is getting at.”
Saber followed up Vera’s words with a docile nod.
“I get it. Every time a Heroic Spirit dies, their soul flows to the Lesser Grail, which is this
homunculus’ body. But the problem is that this Lesser Grail is occupied by this Ishtar deity...”
“A normal Lesser Grail wouldn’t be equipped with the function to convert a Heroic Spirit’s
soul into power they can control. But it’s a different story if what’s inside her really is a god or
something similar enough to one.”
Luvia then continued where Rin left off.
“If the first Heroic Spirit to lose the war had Divinity, it joining the Grail’s stream could be
what caused this awakening... or so we speculate.”
“So what you’re saying is that if someone loses in this tumult and their soul is absorbed...
that’s when things get beyond our reach?”
“Yes, and because of that, our plan is simple. We’ll raid the temple now.”
Intrigued by Rin’s assertion, Saber asked an amused question.
114
“What’s that? I thought I heard you say you weren’t stupid enough to rush there head-on?”
“Yes, keyword head-on.”, Toosaka declared, with full disrespect, as a form of a challenge to a
greater power. “I don’t care what that deity is... I’m going to slug her fair and square, from behind
her back.”
115

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Translation by: Comun

Bridge “Puddle 003

Chapter 24 Fifth afternoon - Be silent, ****** 027

Interlude Backroom Rhapsody 079

Chapter 25 The shadow brings an end to a journey

out of the ravine 088

Interlude To be Translated 000

Chapter 26 To be Translated 000

Bridge To be Translated 000

London, words by Lord El-Melloi II’s sister.

For that *** of ***** ******* ****** ********.

-I ask you, will you walk the fertile plains as my Master?

Violent collision sparks.

Roars leaking out of a throat

Muscles bursting with resentment

A symphony of grinding teeth

A song of instantly expanding blood vessels

The wicked laughter of tearing joints.

Slashing attack Blunt attack Piercing attack

But it did confuse her.

Why was she summoned to watch a battle?

What’s happening here?

The warrior leader didn’t panic despite her confusion.

She was summoned but still not contracted.

Thus, Hippolyte observed.

To know what was happening in the holy grounds of her summon.

Or to determine what exactly this Holy Grail War was.

“Without you, of course.”

Her sigh and her shrug were no mere provocation.

Her slender body reached top speed in a blink of an eye.

A perfectly delivered backhand blow flew toward her opponent’s body.

Nonetheless, this was not even the worst she did.

The woman’s goggles cracked with the blow.

“Kh... Kh... Haha, hahahahaha!”

Toosaka Rin—the woman in red dodged the opponent’s chop mid-sentence.

It can sometimes serve as a traditional obfuscating smokescreen, sometimes serve as shackles

The Lusendra family.

The spell known by the name Cutting Seven-Colors.

At the same time, Doris’s body morphed considerably.

But Doris’s speed left no room to complete the spell.

Rin’s Fünf Sterne im Umlauf is practically invincible against constructed magecraft.

The Lusendra lineage has been in rapid degradation in recent years.

Not because they’ve been getting any less arcane.

They simply tried too hard.

the God Possessor clans are.

But she was told it was somewhat effective as a wishing-granting device.

But that was not what was happening.

But she didn’t forget her thesis as a mage.

She was sure of it.

Thus, she poured everything into this blow.

But what radiant curse!

And so came the time for the match’s conclusion.

She had already seen this Gandr many times before.

She’s... keeping her Gandrs caged inside a Bounded Field?!

A blow on a moment of distraction.

Doris’s goggles to smithereens.

Doris coughed black blood and her body bent backward.

Seeing Doris like this, Rin spoke with an expression of disgust.

Rin looked at Hippolyte as she spoke.

For that * of * * ******.