Chapter 263: [263] The Wounded Caren

When Miyu opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the white-haired swordsman crouched on the ground, sheathing his sword.

And before him lay Illya—now in a completely different form—her eyes closed.

Danger!

Miyu wanted to shout a warning, but when she saw what the swordsman was doing, all thoughts of alarm evaporated from her mind. She could only gape, speechless.

She watched as the short-haired, visor-shattered swordsman—now with his gauntlets removed—poked Illya's cheek with idle curiosity, like someone teasing a sleeping cat.

Once, twice, thrice... Eventually unsatisfied, he grabbed her face with both hands, squishing and stretching her cheeks, making the expressionless girl twist into all sorts of ridiculous shapes. His golden eyes gleamed with unmistakable amusement.

As for the Clock Tower's twin stars—discarded like trash to the side—the swordsman didn't spare them a single glance.

Miyu: "...."

'This is the same guy who wiped the floor with us a few minutes ago, right?'

The sheer dissonance left her at a loss for words. Thankfully, those sinful hands didn't wander any further, or Miyu might've had to lie back down and wait for her brain to reboot.

A glow of magecraft flickered. The Archer Class Card ejected from Illya's chest. The swordsman tch-ed in disappointment, eyeing the now reverted elementary-school-girl-in-a-dress version of Illya before turning his bored gaze to Miyu.

"You've got a key to the house, right?"

"Eh... Yes?"

The question was so casual that Miyu answered reflexively, only for the swordsman to continue.

"Good. I'll send you all back. It's late—get some sleep. You've got school tomorrow, don't you?"

The armored man stood, slinging Rin and Luvia over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes before jerking his chin at the stunned Miyu. "Illya's on you. Can you carry her?"

"Rin and Luvia?!" Miyu finally registered their presence. "They're—"

"As you can see, alive and well," the swordsman said flatly. "As for the priest, he woke up earlier and left already."

"Why... didn't you kill us?"

"Only mindless beasts kill for the sake of killing. Besides, I've no interest in slaughtering cute little girls." Whether his words were true or not, his sidelong glance at Miyu—who hadn't even begun to process their "narrow escape"—was indifferent.

"If we don't leave now, I'm dumping you here."

***

Past the sparsely lit streets lay their destination.

Standing between the two houses, the swordsman eyed the conspicuously Western-style mansion on the right.

"Hmm. Very much Luvia's taste."

"Mr. Swordsman... knows Big Sister Luvia?"

"Not really. And don't bother fishing for info. Keep collecting Class Cards, and you'll see me again."

With that, he unceremoniously dropped the still-unconscious girls, using mana to evaporate the drool left on his shoulder (from which one, who could say?) before plucking something from his chest and tossing it to Miyu.

"This is...?"

"A little gift. Consider it a souvenir from tonight's fun."

His armor dissolved into spiritrons. The shadowy figure melted into the night before Miyu could glimpse his face.

She watched him go in silence. Only after a long while did the trembling in her legs subside.

The card in her hand depicted a stern, sword-wielding knight.

"What a... weird guy."

***

Recklessly burning mana, using Mana Burst to rocket across rooftops in the dimly lit neighborhood, Sakatsuki reveled in the freedom of body and mind, laughing heartily.

"Hehehe... Kuro, huh?"

Chloe von Einzbern.

Her true identity was the wish-granting vessel the Einzberns prepared for the Holy Grail War. In this world, the war had been halted from the outset by Kiritsugu and Irisviel's efforts. Thus, Illya—born as the Lesser Grail—had her magic circuits, memories, and knowledge sealed away in infancy. Over time, the accumulated power materialized into a separate personality: Kuro.

The influence of "Shirou" on him had long since faded. Sakatsuki felt little toward Illya or Miyu—but Kuro? Well... he'd admit it. He craved her.

Or more precisely, her Projection Magecraft.

When their twin Excaliburs had clashed, the exhilaration had nearly overwhelmed him.

He'd fought countless battles—against sword saints, twin spearmen, assassins, kings.

But never against another wielder of Projection. Even that guy had relied solely on the power of the Moon Cell.

"I want to experience it again... I want to fight another Projection user..." The whisper stoked the flames of battlelust in his eyes.

"There's nothing more thrilling than fakes tearing each other apart!"

The fire was swiftly suppressed. The swordsman landed before the silent church. A flash of light—the Class Card ejected—and he reverted to his boy-priest form.

He stepped forward and pushed open the door.

"I'm ho—me."

***

That was what her master had said to her upon exiting the Mirror World, while the others still slept.

"You did well tonight, Danzou. You've worked hard all this time."

"And... tonight, you were truly beautiful."

How had she responded? Ah, yes—with the most proper, most protocol-compliant reply:

"Thank you, Master. Your praise humbles me."

Once again, she bowed her head deferentially, missing the faint disappointment in his expression.

Beautiful?

Danzou knew the definition: Pleasing to the eye, aesthetically delightful.

But why had he emphasized it that night?

Many days later, she would finally understand.

It was because, for the first time, her master had glimpsed something in her that didn't belong to a puppet.

Even if that something was named "Unease."

"I need an explanation, Danzou."

Later that same night, her master had regarded her with a frigidity she'd never seen before—a mask over seething emotion.

Ah...

The blade of judgment has finally fallen upon me.

***

Pushing open the church doors revealed the silver-haired nun's defenseless, snow-white body.

Like an offering to the gods, she knelt at the center of the chapel, her back to the entrance, her expression hidden.

It should've been a scene of sacred purity—or perhaps sinful temptation.

—Had it not been for the medical tools scattered around her and the blood seeping from the unhealed gashes on her back.

Faced with this grotesquely alluring sight, the priest turned on his heel without a word. Moments later, he kicked the door open with a BANG!—as if that were the proper way to enter.

The only change? The naked nun now shielded her chest with one arm, turning calmly to face him.

"My, my. You do remember to come back, Father."

Not a trace of embarrassment. Shyness had long since been excised from her soul. Besides, a woman as broken as her held no allure—had Sakatsuki ordered her to drop her arm, Caren would've complied without hesitation.

But the priest's reaction wasn't as indifferent as hers. His golden eyes had already narrowed into furious slits.

"I need an explanation, Danzou."

***

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