Glug—Glug—
"..."
The crimson Rider—Achilles' broken body—was slowly sinking beneath the surface, entwined by the pulsating mana tendrils of Selene's Noble Phantasm, Honkai Dimension. The tendrils writhed and pulled him deeper into the violet-red ocean of energy until both his form and the eerie sea itself vanished entirely.
"...Sieg."
Selene stared at the barren, desolate earth exposed before her and suddenly spoke a name—utterly abrupt, illogical, and seemingly out of context.
"Sieg... do you mean our Saber—Siegfried, the dragon slayer? Your Divine Majesty, did something happen to him... or has something gone wrong with Prince Vlad's assault?"
At that moment, seeing that the Red Servants had been driven off, Caster of Black—Avicebron approached respectfully, bowing as he spoke.
"Hmm? Ah... I suppose you could put it that way. Their Master used a Command Spell to recall them. I was a little careless. Although the Rider of Red, Achilles, has been captured, the Archer of Red—Atalanta—managed to escape through her Master's recall."
"How unfortunate," Avicebron sighed softly, his tone tinged not with fear of Atalanta's strength, but with the frustration of a perfectionist. "To have her slip away at the very end... the operation was so close to flawless."
Tch... damn. Missed one. So close to perfection.
Even though the credit for victory wasn't his—and he hadn't even lifted a hand—Avicebron still felt the sting of imperfection.
At this point, the Black Faction's lineup—Rider Selene, Lancer Vlad, Saber Siegfried, and Caster Avicebron—was more than enough to secure victory in his eyes. His confidence in their dominance was unshakable.
The only uncertainty left was the final ownership of the Greater Grail. Not that he cared—his sole wish for answering the summon was to fulfill his life's purpose: to recreate the Original Man (Adam) through his Noble Phantasm, Royal Crown · The Light of Wisdom!
"There's no need to feel regret. We'll have plenty of chances to eliminate the remaining Reds. That giant sleeping beneath the lake will awaken soon enough."
Selene lightly waved her lance, Abyss Flower.
Whummm—
The black-and-white holy spear dissolved into radiant motes of light and vanished.
"Now then... since the Red Faction's triple offensive on the Fortress of Millennia has failed, their Lancer—Karna—who was supposed to contact the Ruler, must have also been recalled."
Turning on her heel, Selene continued casually, "At present, it's four against four... perhaps even five against four. The Prince's numerical advantage is gone. Their surprise attack should be finished by now."
"...Unless," she added quietly, "Prince Vlad is willing to force an all-out assault."
After a brief pause, Avicebron nodded. "Your Divine Majesty, shall I send word to Darnic, to have him recall the Prince and his group? After all, we've already secured full initiative."
Selene shook her head. "No. There's no need to issue unnecessary orders. Whether to advance or withdraw—let Prince Vlad decide that for himself."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
He bowed again, then gestured toward the captive held by two golden-armored guards behind him. "Your Majesty, the enemy Berserker of Red—Spartacus—has been successfully captured. What are your orders?"
"That madman? Do with him as you please. But the Rider of Red, Achilles—he's mine. I have... an experiment in mind. Oh, and speaking of which—the core you've been searching for lately—any progress? Any special requirements?"
Selene's tone carried a spark of curiosity. Indeed, she had intentionally kept Achilles alive for this very reason.
As for Sieg—no, rather, the one who might have borne that name—whether he would ever gain the heart of Siegfried remained uncertain. Selene had no intention of allowing it.
What truly intrigued her, however, was the fact that even after receiving Siegfried's heart (his Saint Graph core), the homunculus had not only survived but, through a series of strange coincidences, managed to replicate Siegfried's abilities and Noble Phantasm.
That mysterious phenomenon was something Selene couldn't help but want to explore herself.
Failure didn't matter—but success... no, even a half-successful prototype would be of great interest to Selene, a development both useful and harmless to her.
"Your Divine Majesty, it is like this..."
Hearing Selene's inquiry, Avicebron was slightly puzzled as to why a being of divine rank would be interested in puppetcraft—a mere side branch of magecraft—but nonetheless, he patiently began explaining the requirements of his Noble Phantasm and his recent findings in the artificial homunculus workshop.
In short, the activation of his life's magnum opus—his Noble Phantasm, Royal Crown · The Light of Wisdom—required a magically compatible heart as its core. And among all possible materials, a homunculus was the most suitable vessel.
"The core... requires a special homunculus to serve as the magical heart of the Noble Phantasm?" Selene asked, knowingly but feigning curiosity.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Avicebron replied. "I've discovered a particularly special one. His magical feedback output is exceptional—even among homunculi bred specifically for mana supply. Furthermore, his brain activity is abnormally high compared to the others..."
...
"I've conducted numerous experiments using various homunculi before, but all ended in failure. Perhaps it's because none of them possessed true self-awareness. However, this one... he seems to have awakened a sense of self. With that, it might just work."
It was clear that, faced with the opportunity to fulfill his life's dream, Avicebron could hardly contain his enthusiasm. Seeing Selene express genuine interest only made him more talkative.
He couldn't help it—after all, puppetmasters were scholars by nature, not warriors. In contrast to the muscle-brained heroes that filled human history, their expertise lay in intellect and patience.
And gods... most of them, barring a few exceptions, were embodiments of natural laws or phenomena. For them, magecraft—and even magic itself—was often as simple as clapping their hands and willing reality to change. Asking them to delve into the fine details of magical construction was usually pointless.
Previously, Avicebron hadn't sought Selene's assistance precisely because she seemed like one of those "snap your fingers and miracles happen" types. Even with her power suppressed as a Servant, she hardly seemed like someone who'd care about the technicalities of alchemy or golemcraft.
But now that she showed interest, how could he not seize the chance? After all, he couldn't be sure this homunculus would truly work—only that the odds were higher than before.
Before long, he had explained every detail, every speculation, every technical nuance surrounding the potential core candidate.
Some of the older, esoteric terminology of golemcraft even left Selene blinking in mild confusion. But that was no problem—because Selene possessed EX-rank Imperial Privilege!
"I find myself... intrigued," Selene said finally, her voice thoughtful. "But to make it happen, we'll need to examine the workshop firsthand."
"Avicebron, come with me. The homunculus workshop... perhaps I can create a core myself."
Having fully grasped the theory, and with her Imperial Privilege allowing her to temporarily acquire a puppetmaster's craft, Selene could proudly declare—it wasn't boasting: given the versatility of Honkai energy, crafting a modified humanoid Honkai crystal core? That was her specialty!
"Your Divine Majesty, my deepest thanks!" Avicebron bowed deeply, voice trembling with excitement.
...
Elsewhere—Sighișoara, at the Church on the Hill.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The Red and Black Servants had descended into utter chaos.
Caster of Red—Shakespeare gleefully taunted Berserker of Black—Frankenstein, using his Noble Phantasm: When the Curtain Rises, the Applause Shall Be as Ten Thousand Thunders to briefly halt her movements.
Though his personal combat ability was negligible, his A-rank skill Mana Enhancement granted powerful conceptual reinforcement to allies and Masters alike. Combined with his absurdly high survivability, he was a master disruptor—a literary pest who infuriated his foes while bolstering his team.
Boom!
A rumbling thunderclap split the air, sending a violent gust tearing through the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, two figures—one clad in azure, the other in crimson—vanished from sight.
"Saber and his Master actually came back to assist us... I must admit, I didn't expect that," murmured Assassin of Red—Semiramis, her hands weaving hexagonal magic arrays into a fish-scale formation to block the incoming strikes of gray-armored giants.
"Don't sound so cynical," Amakusa Shirou Tokisada replied without turning around. "Even if they're outside our direct control, having Saber lend his aid is still good news, isn't it?"
Kneeling beside Archer of Red—Atalanta, who had narrowly escaped death, Amakusa pressed a glowing hand against her wounds, channeling mana to stabilize her fading spirit core.
"Heh... I wouldn't be so sure. Maybe that little girl came crawling back to beg for help after getting beaten senseless by the Black Servants—just happened to stumble into this fight by dumb luck."
Semiramis sneered, her voice dripping with venom. For some reason, she always felt an instinctive hostility toward that Saber girl.
Suddenly—
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Sparks burst forth as her defensive wards fractured. Cracks spread like lightning across the shimmering barrier.
Tch. Slippery bastard... she thought irritably, glaring toward the direction of the assault.
Four consecutive arrow strikes—each precisely targeted at the same point in less than a second. As expected of one of Greece's greatest sages, the teacher of heroes himself... though perhaps too much of a coward for his own good.
That Archer of Black had been avoiding her ever since she'd unleashed the Hydra's venom—keeping his distance, supporting his allies from afar like a watchtower while looking for a chance to strike her down.
"It's a deadlock now... let's hope the Black side doesn't get reinforcements. Otherwise... Master, we'll have to retreat. No, actually... we should retreat right now."
Semiramis' gaze swept over the burning battlefield—red and black Lancers clashing amidst a landscape of fire and shattered timber, tearing through the land like a field being plowed.
Not far away, the duel between the two Sabers raged with terrifying ferocity. Their speed was so great that even at this distance, Semiramis could only catch the afterimages left in their wake as they collided and split apart again, ripping up the earth with each exchange.
"Ah—ahchoo!!"
Who the hell's cursing me?!
In the heat of battle, Mordred sneezed suddenly but brushed it off an instant later. No time for that. Now this—this is a real fight!
The earlier skirmish in Trifas? Pathetic. Slaughtering puppets, homunculi, and Astartes soldiers hardly counted as battle. But now? Now she could finally unleash the full might of the true and only heir to the King of Knights!
Boom! Boom!
Their blades and fists met in a furious storm—Mordred and Siegfried clashing at blistering speed. Sword met fist, leg met blade. Each strike sent tremors through the earth, hurling dust and debris in every direction.
Crash—!
The explosion of their next impact gouged another crater into the ground. From the smoke, two figures burst forth once again, evenly matched.
"Hahahaha! Now this is what I call fun!" Mordred shouted, her voice filled with exhilaration, while Siegfried remained silent as ever, stoically holding his greatsword.
See? When it's Selene, I bow and scrape—but against a mute lump like this Saber of Black, I go all out!
"Hey, Saber of Black—now I'm getting serious!" she declared.
Crackle!
"Come."
Boom!
...
"Archer... regardless of how it happened, welcome back."
Wiping sweat from his brow, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada rose to his feet, his serene smile never fading.
"The curse of death on your left arm has been purged with a Command Spell. As for the purple-red mana corrosion spots on your body... forgive me, but they'll take time to fade."
"That's enough!" Atalanta's voice was low and firm. With an ample supply of mana, blue light gathered around her. The torn fabric of her outfit mended, and her missing left arm regenerated in an instant.
Her eyes burned with rage. Fixing her glare upon the chaotic battlefield, she raised her black bow high, fitting two arrows to the string simultaneously. Then, with a beast's snarl, she began her chant.
"With my bow and arrows, I pray for the protection of the God Apollo and Goddess Artemis."
"I offer thee this Calamity—"
"—Phoebus Catastrophe!"
A torrent of mana flooded into her arrows. Fueled by fury and guilt alike, they ignited in a brilliant azure glow, streaking upward like shooting stars.
A heartbeat later, the night sky erupted—splintering into countless points of light. Then, like a reversed waterfall, a storm of radiant arrows rained down from the heavens.
The B+-rank Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, fully unleashed, engulfed the battlefield in a deluge of celestial light. The ground trembled beneath the relentless bombardment.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
...
In the Grand Hall of Fortress of Millennia, Darnic gazed up at the swaying crystal chandeliers, then down at the images flickering across the pages of the Complete Book of the World.
For the first time that night, even Darnic felt a headache coming on.
Not only did he have to consider how to explain the chaos that had erupted in the nearby forest to the populace—but also whether Prince Vlad should be ordered to retreat.
Should he consolidate the current advantage... or push everything into one final, reckless gamble?