Chapter 442: [442] The Red Faction Masters and Sieg

Thus concluded the largest-scale Holy Grail War in history—the Great Holy Grail War. The defeat of the Black Faction and the victory of the Red Faction had been confirmed. Regrettably, the Greater Grail’s functions had ceased, rendering their wishes unfulfilled. However, the substantial rewards from the Mage’s Association served as ample consolation. With the Greater Grail no longer operational, there was no longer any reason to reignite conflict over it.

The Masters of the Red Faction, each harboring their own thoughts, settled into a period of rest, slowly recovering from the exhaustion of war.

"Everyone, you’ve truly worked hard."

Just as he had when they first met, the white-haired priest offered them black tea.

"Thanks."

The moment the liquid touched their lips, a refreshing aroma seeped into their chests. It wasn’t just their lungs—the comfort seemed to permeate their very organs. At the same time, the satisfaction of a job well done—something they hadn’t felt in so long since becoming magi—washed over them.

"Excellent tea."

"Thank you for the praise."

"Father Shirou, aren’t you going to drink any?"

"No, though I’m skilled at brewing tea, I’m not accustomed to drinking black tea."

He offered a helpless, bitter smile as he poured plain water into his own cup.

"

Is this how Japanese people are?"

the magi thought hazily.

But had they been familiar with the culture of that island nation, these haughty magi would have known just how deeply loyalty and betrayal intertwined among its people during that era—how smiles concealed daggers.

The poison of the Empress had already taken root in every cup of tea offered, in every pleasant exchange.

And now, it was time for it to bear fruit.

"Ah, yes, I just remembered. I’ll need you all to hand over your Command Spells."

"Command Spells? Why?"

Command Spells—are very important—things—necessary to secure victory in the war—must be kept firmly in hand—

"My, my, everyone, hasn’t the Great Holy Grail War already ended?"

"...Now that you mention it, that’s true."

"...I suppose you’re right."

Indeed, the Great Holy Grail War was over. Though it had been a grueling battle, now that it was concluded, Command Spells had lost their purpose.

"Perhaps you could request compensation from the Church? We could arrange it as a transaction—I’ll pay you in exchange for the Command Spells—"

The afternoon sunlight illuminated the hazy mist in the room, casting an ethereal glow over the magi’s dazed faces, as if the world itself were a bizarre dream.

Meaningless Command Spells, traded for wealth that would last a lifetime.

It was an offer no one could refuse—proof of the Church’s foolishness, treating such worthless things as treasures.

Just as the Masters lost themselves in fantasy, on the verge of surrendering that crucial thing, a mocking sneer seemed to echo from nowhere. An unseen familiar crept in from beyond, effortlessly invading one magus’s body.

Destroying his brain, taking root within, reshaping him into someone’s puppet, someone’s plaything.

Knock, knock!

The sound of fingers tapping on the table shattered the meaningless tranquility. Bathed in warm sunlight, a magus sat with closed eyes, concealing the dark currents swirling beneath his eyelids.

"The Holy Grail War has ended, yet the Servants weren’t reclaimed by the Grail, were they?"

Without breaking the illusion Amakusa had woven, the magus controlled by Sakatsuki merely smiled. Like countless greedy humans who never knew when to stop, he opened Pandora’s box:

"If the Command Spells still remain, then these supreme familiars themselves become priceless assets... don’t you agree?"

Servants—crystallizations from the Throne of Heroes, manifestations of fantasy.

In the modern world, who could possibly stop these monsters?

And what in this modern age couldn’t be obtained through their power?

Compared to the Servants, how utterly worthless were the compensations offered by the Church?

Thus the peaceful atmosphere vanished completely. The magi no longer concealed the darkness in their hearts, whispering among themselves, probing each other with words and ugly gestures, weaving shadows of greed into beastly forms. These creatures born of malice crossed the seas to bare their fangs and claws at the lone saint in their midst, laughing mockingly.

They wanted more. They wanted better.

To kill, to plunder, to climb upward upon piles of corpses.

This was the evil of mankind—a nature no poison could ever cure.

The smile vanished from Amakusa Shirou Tokisada’s face. For just an instant, he revealed his true nature as a saint, directing boiling murderous intent toward these magi whose smiles had crumbled.

But the saint’s wrath was fleeting. With an expressionless face, Amakusa lifted the teapot. As the tea poured out, mist mixed with poisonous smoke emerged once more, numbing the magi’s wills again.

Draining his cup of black tea to suppress the flames raging in his heart, Amakusa bowed silently before leaving the repulsive room.

"This is human nature—something you should understand well."

The black-gowned Empress had already been leaning against the doorway, casting a lazy glance at the saintly young man. "Though unexpected, as magi, they’ll reach for any advantage they can grasp. Heh, in that regard, I’m no different."

The Empress—Semiramis—a viper of a woman who had climbed over the corpses of two husbands.

Though unskilled in magecraft, her essential nature as a magus had never changed.

"...I’m just surprised they haven’t been completely controlled yet." Facing the Empress’s words that seemed mocking but held genuine concern, Amakusa shook his head with a wry smile. "But it’s fine. I trust in your Noble Phantasm—they’ll fall eventually."

Only by seizing the Command Spells from their hands would the Red Faction truly become Amakusa’s to command alone.

With the Empress’s Noble Phantasm nearing completion, once all preparations were made—that would be the day his wish began to come true.

After one last deep look at the room, Amakusa turned and strode away without looking back.

In his fervent imaginings of the future, wasn’t he too intoxicated by the poison called "wish"?

Alas, this would be the last time he saw these Masters.

————

"So it’s in the half-formed Hanging Gardens? No wonder we could never find it."

Sakatsuki set down the display screen, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh.

Amakusa had been working hard to guard against him—every magical surveillance method had been eliminated by him and the Empress. Even the monitors Sakatsuki had placed in the Church on a whim, half-hopeful and half-testing, had been discovered and destroyed.

Regarding this battle of surveillance and counter-surveillance, neither Amakusa nor Sakatsuki openly mentioned it. They simply countered each other’s moves with tacit understanding, without letting it affect their cooperation.

But in the end, there could only be one winner—Sakatsuki.

In this intelligence war, he successfully pinpointed the locations of the Red Faction Masters.

"After all, even if you, Amakusa, understand the technology of this era, the scientific advancements decades later—far surpass the changes in the world of magecraft."

After murmuring these words, Sakatsuki stood up and returned to the dining room.

At the table, Jeanne d’Arc was happily conversing with the homunculus girl. The first words Sakatsuki heard were:

"...Sieg. How about this name?"

The homunculus, who had been earnestly asking, shifted her gaze to Sakatsuki upon noticing his arrival, silently seeking his opinion.

Noticing Sakatsuki’s confusion, Jeanne smiled and explained, "Since she can live a healthy life now, she can’t go without a name. We can’t keep calling her ’homunculus’ forever."

"I heard the story of what happened to you all last night. Whether it was the Black Rider who brought her out of the city or the Black Saber who resolved to sacrifice himself to save her—both fully demonstrated the essence of heroism. I think it’s no surprise that she chose to name herself ’Sieg.’"

Sieg—Siegfried.

Clearly, this was the name the homunculus had chosen to honor the hero who willingly gave his life for her.

"So, what do you think, Sakatsuki? Is it a good name?"

"...Master?"

Two pairs of expectant eyes fell upon Sakatsuki. Though the young man’s gaze held a trace of helplessness, he ultimately nodded.

"It’s good. A fine name."