Aiba Residence
The Aiba residence was one of the most iconic and distinguished landmarks on Itogami Island — not merely for its prime location on a hill overlooking the coastline, but also for the profound legacy carried by the family name.
The Aiba family was far from an ordinary household living a quiet life in the shadows. They wielded extensive influence and power across both the secular world and the supernatural realm. Throughout generations, members of the family had played pivotal roles in the governance of the island, most notably Aiba Sensai — the current mayor of Itogami and a permanent member of its governing council — whose voice held considerable weight in many political and administrative decisions made behind the scenes.
But the Aiba family's political influence was not a recent development. It was an inherited legacy, passed down through generations. While the recent lineage had clearly focused on establishing strong political ties within the official power structure, their ancestors were renowned in the magical community for their prominent names and exceptional abilities. The family descended from a long line of Magecraft Practitioners, steeped in arcane traditions and ancient mystical arts.
In ancient times, the name "Aiba" was synonymous with magical authority and spiritual discipline.
It was no surprise then, that the Aiba estate was surrounded by multiple layers of complex magical barriers, designed specifically to repel intruders from both the human world and the beyond. These weren't ordinary protections — they were crafted by highly skilled mages whose accumulated knowledge came from generations immersed in hidden arts and clandestine politics. Every inch of the estate was secured, monitored, and carefully sealed.
And yet — despite all the intricacies and fortifications — something unexpected happened.
In a strange moment of silence, without any ripple in energy or distortion in space, someone appeared inside the estate… right in its heart… in Asagi's private room, supposedly the most secure place of all.
The arrival was so sudden and quiet it didn't trigger a single alarm — as if the world itself had failed to notice his presence.
The man standing at the center of the room had a presence impossible to ignore.
His golden hair spiked wildly in every direction, each strand shimmering with a pride of its own under the moonlight streaming through the window. His deep red eyes, like aged wine, held neither fire nor coldness — only a calm stillness cloaked in a hidden threat that defied easy description. His striking features seemed too flawless, as if the sculptor who carved his face had been madness itself, blending beauty, arrogance, and awe in a single creation.
His body was solid, strength apparent in every muscle even in stillness. He didn't need to move or speak for anyone to realize he was not someone to provoke lightly.
That man was none other than Akira.
"..." Akira scanned his surroundings in silence. No trace of surprise, admiration, or hesitation crossed his face. His crimson eyes calmly swept the room… Asagi's room.
The room was clearly kept in meticulous order, yet despite its tidy appearance, it retained a warm, feminine charm. The walls were painted in soft shades of pink and lavender, bookshelves neatly filled with technical books and organized data disks, and a collection of small accessories arranged by a mirror in the corner.
But what caught Akira's attention wasn't the physical details of the room — it was the massive computer setup connected to an excessive number of monitors and input devices, glowing faintly even in the dark. Only someone well-versed in advanced technology would recognize such a machine — it wasn't available in normal markets, not even in underground networks. This wasn't just a personal computer... it was closer to a military-grade station disguised as a pastel corner.
Still, the machines weren't what fully drew his attention.
It was the person to whom this room belonged.
Lying on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, Asagi was fast asleep.
Chaotic in her slumber, as she was in her thoughts. Her blonde hair spilled over the pillow, her breathing calm and rhythmic. She wore only pale pink underwear — a simple silk top and matching shorts — clinging to the quilt as if it were her only armor against the world. The entire scene carried an odd balance: innocence interwoven with unintentional allure.
"..."
Akira's face showed no embarrassment. He wasn't the type to lose his composure easily, nor one of those "main characters" who would blush at such a sight.
Instead, he calmly raised his hand and released a minuscule amount of magical energy — just a faint wisp, no stronger than a candle's flicker.
Yet for someone like Asagi, whose sensitivity to magic was naturally acute, even that small spark had an immediate effect.
In that brief moment between deep sleep and the activation of deadly defenses, an ordinary person could've been erased without leaving behind even a scream.
But Akira didn't move.
He stood there, at the center of Asagi's room, which had suddenly transformed into a stage of majestic threat, surrounded by a crimson aura that hinted at destruction. His red eyes remained watchful and silent.
Even the air seemed to change, as if the room's physical laws had been rewritten.
The floating magical spheres orbiting Asagi's body shifted in eerie silence — not because they were slow, but because they were confident. They knew anything entering their radius... would die.
And the crimson glow around her wasn't just magic. It was a distortion of reality itself — the power of Cleansing — one of the most dangerous and extreme forces known.
A force recorded in ancient tomes, attributed to the accursed god Kain — a deity not worshipped, but feared, for he granted not power, but corrupted its boundaries.
Yet even amid this chaotic madness, Asagi's control was near perfect. She rose from the bed slowly, without losing her balance, the quilt slipping from her shoulders, her sharp gaze cutting across the room.
Her eyes glowed with magical light, radiating the same energy that burned around her. She met Akira's gaze — not with shock, but analysis.
"…Akira?" — Her voice was a mixture of surprise, anger, and suspicion.
She wasn't the only one reacting. A glowing sword was already pressed to Akira's neck — Saber, Asagi's Servant, ready to defend her Master from any threat, even a friend.
"Good evening," — Akira smiled faintly, unfazed by the cold blade at his throat. "I've come to fulfill my end of the deal. But I have a new condition… I will be taking Saber. There's no longer any purpose to the Holy Grail War."
Asagi stared at him for several moments, saying nothing as the magical spheres spun menacingly. Saber didn't move her sword even slightly, but the warning was clear: one wrong move, and his throat would be cut without hesitation.
Yet Akira remained unnervingly composed, as if the entire situation meant nothing, as if a blade wasn't brushing against his throat and a reality-breaking force wasn't closing in.
"I don't mind resurrecting my mother earlier," Asagi finally said, "But Saber is not a tool. She decides whether she follows you or not. And besides, there are still four other participants in the war. Do you plan to deal with them alone?"
"No matter how powerful the other Masters and Servants are, they are no match for me," — Akira replied with a careless smile. "I already have two Servants. With Saber, they'll be facing three of the strongest Servants in existence."
He didn't care for the Holy Grail itself — it was Scáthach who desired it. That was enough reason for him.
"Do as you like," — Asagi said indifferently, and as the crimson light dimmed around her, clothes materialized out of thin air, replacing her undergarments. Her earlier embarrassment was evident despite her tone.
"So then… Saber — or rather, Mordred — are you willing to follow me? I can offer you a life far better than chasing a crown or a throne," — Akira said with a confident smile, glancing at Mordred from the corner of his eye. He knew well her obsession with her parent — no matter what she called her.
"As for Artoria, I can help you meet her again."
Saber — Mordred — trembled. Akira's words had struck a wound that had never healed. She gripped her sword tightly, a metallic creak escaping from her armored fist. Her crimson eyes, sharper than battlefield flames, flickered between wariness and hope.
"Artoria…" she whispered, so softly only a trained magical ear could have heard it.
Akira had spoken a name she'd long avoided — a name that was both her greatest love and eternal curse. The queen who denied her lineage. The mother who never acknowledged her…
Mordred's whole life had been a desperate pursuit of recognition. And when it finally came… it came in the form of a blade through her chest.
"Can you really do it?" she asked, her voice low but razor-sharp. "Can you… let me see her again?"
Akira didn't answer immediately. He stepped forward — a movement that made Saber tense — but she didn't react.
Then, with a voice not devoid of emotion but burdened by knowledge, he said:
"The Holy Grail, when wielded by the right will, can open gates between dimensions — between worlds… between the dead and the living. Help me, and you won't just see her… you'll have the chance to say what was never said. Not as a pawn in a foolish war — but as Mordred, the knight who never broke."
Silence fell.
Even Asagi's magical spheres dimmed slightly, as if listening to a promise beyond ordinary sorcery.
Then, without warning, Saber slowly withdrew her sword from Akira's neck… and sheathed it.
"I accept."
One simple word… but its impact echoed like an unbreakable vow.
"But I don't fight for your dreams. I fight for my own." — she added, staring at him steadily.
"That's enough for me." — Akira replied calmly, turning to look at Asagi.
"Now… I believe it's time to help you bring your mother back to life." — he said it as if what he was about to do was no more than a trivial task — and to him, it was. Life and death were merely tools at his command.
...
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