Irisviel granted everyone half a day of rest. By the time night fell and they gathered at the church, their exhausted bodies had mostly recovered. Though not at their peak, they were in good enough condition to handle the battles ahead. Irisviel herself did not enter the church beforehand; she waited outside until everyone arrived.
After all, this matter concerned all participants, and showing such consideration was the most basic form of respect.
Kariya was the last Master to arrive. His condition was the worst among them, and though a wheelchair had been offered, he stubbornly refused. Instead, he leaned on a medical crutch and made his slow way step by step to the edge of the church.
Kayneth let out a soft snort upon seeing him. "I thought punctuality was the most basic principle a magician should respect."
Kariya looked up at the noble magus before him, his expression mocking. "Don't assume everyone shares your obsession with magecraft. If I had the choice, I would never have touched it at all."
Kayneth raised an eyebrow, then turned away. There was no point arguing with someone who had no intention of pursuing the path of magic. Such a man would wither and turn to dust with time, leaving no trace of true achievement.
Kariya, for his part, did not press the matter further. Their paths were different, their lives irreconcilable. He rubbed at the necrotic half of his body. In this Grail War, he sought only victory—and Sakura's salvation. His own death was of no consequence.
Irisviel stepped forward with a faint, conciliatory smile, inclining her head toward them both. "Since everyone is here, let's move inside. This matter is complicated, and we may need the church's records. That's why I asked you all to gather here before nightfall."
Indeed, the church housed countless documents and archives—more than one person could organize alone. This was no ordinary chapel. The records of generations of the Holy Church's missions were stored here. Though not as ancient as the strongholds built in the age of Amakusa Shirō Tokisada, it still predated the reforms of Westernization in the Far East. One could imagine the wealth of files that had accumulated within.
Irisviel turned, pushed open the church doors—
—and the stench of blood rushed out to greet them. Inside lay splintered chairs, shattered glass, the Virgin's statue defiled beyond recognition. It was clear the church had been attacked. But by whom? And for what purpose? That much remained unknown.
Irisviel's thoughts leapt at once to the Grail's recent abnormalities. Could the two be linked? The timing was too perfect to be coincidence.
The smell of blood drew their eyes further inside, where the old priest's body lay sprawled across the floor.
"Father Risei…"
Though not as close to the man as Tokiomi had been, Kariya knew him. More importantly, he knew of the old priest's strength. For him to be killed so decisively meant he had not fallen without a fight.
"There should have been another priest here. Where is he?" Kayneth's voice was edged with suspicion. "Did he do this?"
Unlike in the original timeline, Kayneth had researched extensively into the workings of the Grail War. He knew two priests were assigned here. For one to be missing now… it was suspicious indeed.
Irisviel inclined her head, recalling her husband's warning: Kotomine Kirei… a very unusual man.
"Since things have come to this point, I'll be direct," she said, preparing to explain her knowledge and suspicions.
But even as she spoke, far away at Ryūdō Temple, a dim black light descended upon the unconscious Tokiomi in the basement. His blurred eyes snapped open, though his mind remained trapped in hallucinations. His body writhed and curled instinctively against the pain, shrieking as his flesh convulsed.
His limbs twisted unnaturally, fingers clawing before curling inward again. His chest and abdomen swelled grotesquely until he could no longer curl into himself. The handsome lines of his face warped into something monstrous, his skin turning translucent as murky fluid seeped beneath it. Flesh and bone burst through his clothes and spread across the floor, pulsing like a grotesque, beating heart.
Each throb ruptured weaker points of the mass, sending black, mud-like blood spraying in grotesque fountains. Soon, a pool of sludge gathered, dark and suffocating, like a lake of corruption.
And within that mire… something stirred, as though waiting to be born.
Kirei stood at the edge of the black mud, watching as it lapped at his ankles. The malice it radiated seeped into him, and he bent down, scooping the sludge into his hands. His reflection stared back at him from its surface, and a twisted smile tugged at his lips. Yet it felt wrong, incomplete. He forced the smile away.
Then, with deliberate calm, he lifted the mud to his mouth.
-End Chapter-
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