A blonde-haired girl stood quietly by the castle window, her gaze fixed on the snowy forest beyond, where a father and daughter played joyfully in the wintry landscape.
Bathed in the pale light, her delicate figure seemed faintly insubstantial—fragile, ethereal, as though untouched by the dust and heat of the mortal world.
Golden hair, soft and elegant, was neatly coiled atop her head. Her slender figure was adorned in a robe with a distinctively classical design. Though every inch of her appearance spoke of a noble lady raised in the seclusion of an aristocratic household, the atmosphere she exuded was sharp enough to tense the very air around her. It wasn't so much the chill of ice, but the clear, fresh purity of a mountain spring—a sacred and austere presence.
In the somber gloom of Einzbern Castle's wintry landscape, her existence felt strikingly out of place.
"What are you looking at, Miss Saber?"
The voice of Mrs. Irisviel drifted from behind the knight, whose true name was Artoria.
"The young lady and Kiritsugu are playing in the forest."
Turning with a trace of surprise, Saber replied, "…They are?"
Irisviel stepped up beside her and peered through the tall window. Below, her beloved husband carried their precious daughter on his shoulders, running into the woods as little Illya's delighted laughter echoed through the trees.
"You seem surprised to see that side of Kiritsugu."
Irisviel smiled, eyes gentle as she watched the joyful pair.
Saber nodded with quiet honesty.
"To be frank… I had a much colder impression of my Master."
Especially since another colleague of hers had made his entrance by accidentally dropping a cigarette butt on her clothes, softening the impression—albeit slightly. Saber kept that thought to herself.
"I can't blame you," Irisviel said, her voice tinged with sadness.
"If that's Kiritsugu's true self… then I suppose I've caused him considerable displeasure."
Saber furrowed her brows, then added:
"Is it because I am a woman? Does he look down on me—think I'm unworthy of wielding a sword?"
Reading the unspoken pain beneath Saber's composed words, Irisviel chuckled softly.
"Not at all. Even he can recognize your strength. He's not so foolish as to dismiss a hero who sits upon the Throne of Heroes. …If he's angry, it must be for another reason."
"He's… angry?"
Saber asked, puzzled.
"Did I somehow upset Kiritsugu? But… we haven't even spoken a single word to each other since my summoning."
"Exactly. That's why his anger isn't aimed at you, personally."
Irisviel turned her gaze out the window again.
"It's the legend of King Arthur—what it represents—that angers him. He's furious at the people of your time, who pushed the crushing burden of kingship onto a young girl. Furious at the cruelty of that era."
"That couldn't be helped," Saber replied flatly. "From the moment I drew the sword from the stone… I had already accepted my fate."
"…And it's because you accepted it so calmly that it angers him even more," Irisviel said softly. "Perhaps, in his own way, Kiritsugu is mad at the girl named Artoria."
"That's just unnecessary sentimentality," Saber said curtly. "He has no right to judge the people of my time—or me."
She fell silent for a moment, then stiffened her tone further.
"That's probably why Kiritsugu doesn't say anything at all."
Irisviel tilted her head with a faint smile. "Exactly."
Saber found herself at a loss for words.
After a short pause, she shifted the topic with a quiet sincerity:
"…I'm truly grateful to you, Irisviel. Without your support, I may not have lasted this long in the Holy Grail War."
"We're in the same boat. I also hope my husband will be the one to reach the Holy Grail in the end."
The two beautiful women exchanged a knowing glance—and in that moment of mutual understanding, something subtle and electric stirred between them.
"All right, enough of this gloomy talk," Irisviel clapped her hands gently. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen our other companion—where's Mr. Archer?"
"Archer is currently using his Item Creation skill to craft arrows. He was muttering something like, 'This time I will use them all!' Seemed quite fired up."
"…What does that even mean?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure myself."
———
In a dark room, the television droned on, broadcasting coverage of the recent serial killings.
On the sofa, the homeowners—man and wife—lay lifeless. Their throats had been slit. One lay sprawled across the couch, the other collapsed on the cold floor.
At the center of the room stood a young man with dark red hair. He dipped his foot into a nearby metal bucket filled with fresh human blood, then used it to trace a bizarre, unsettling magic circle on the ground.
In one hand, he held an ancient, yellowed tome. He chanted low, twisted incantations under his breath.
"Hey, kid. You think demons really exist?"
He suddenly turned and addressed the corner of the room.
Huddled there was a young boy—the child of the now-deceased couple. His mouth was sealed with tape, arms bound tight. The boy's wide, terrified eyes stared back at his captor as he whimpered behind the gag.
This man was Ryuunosuke Uryuu—the serial killer who had made headlines nationwide. Having lost his thrill for murder, he'd returned to his childhood home, where he stumbled upon an old book in the warehouse behind the house—a book that supposedly detailed how to summon a demon.
That rediscovery rekindled his bloody passion.
To test the ritual, he broke into this home, slaughtered the parents and three of their children, using the children's blood to draw the summoning circle.
The boy before him lived only because the blood of three children was "enough."
After giving the child one final glance of terror, Uryuu resumed his chanting. He was about to dismiss it all as a hoax when suddenly—the summoning circle glowed crimson.
From within a vortex of howling wind emerged a bizarre man—one who, frankly, bore a striking resemblance to a certain infamous German footballer.
"Summoner who has called for me with the Caster class… I ask you: who are you?"
Uryuu scratched his head and replied casually:
"Mm, name's Ryuunosuke Uryuu. Freelance worker. Hobby's murder. I like kids and young girls."
"…Excellent. Then our contract is sealed. I, too, desire the Holy Grail. And the key to paradise shall soon be ours, yes?"
The eerie man spoke with a strange cadence, his eyes gleaming with fervor.
"Huh?"
Although he couldn't quite make out what the man was saying, Ryūnosuke Uryū suddenly remembered his purpose here. He grabbed the bound little boy at his side and shoved him forward, presenting the child like some sort of offering.
"Anyway, as a greeting gift… how about this one over there? Wanna eat him?"
The strange man glanced down at the child without a flicker of emotion. Then, unexpectedly, he pulled a book from his robes and murmured a few words in an ancient tongue. As the chant ended, he gently crouched down and untied the boy's ropes with a kindness completely at odds with his appearance.
"All right, child. Head out through that door over there. Just keep walking straight. Don't look around. Use your own feet to leave this place—and go alone."
The boy nodded bravely. The man gave him a broad, reassuring smile and patted his back.
But just as the boy was about to step out, something unexpected happened again. Perhaps because he hadn't noticed it earlier, Ryūnosuke's arm accidentally knocked over a pile of black sludge that had somehow appeared on the table. The substance spilled into the summoning circle on the floor.
In that instant, the ritual circle lit up once more.
A terrifying pressure burst forth from within it, as if threatening to annihilate the entire world. The oppressive force filled the room—but then just as suddenly, it vanished.
From within the glowing circle emerged… a silver-haired girl striking a bizarre pose.
Atop her head bobbed a long, ridiculous-looking ahoge. In her hand, she wielded a crowbar, and a small ember floated in the air beside her.
"Let's see… how do I say it? 'Servant, the smiling chaos who creeps beside you—Nyarlathotep-chan has arrived!'"
"Cthugha, present and accounted for!"
the floating ember chimed in with a girlish voice.
The girl bounded out of the circle, bouncing with every step, her eyes flitting across the room.
"Hmm… looks like the site of a cult ritual. Well, makes sense—I am a cosmic horror, after all. But now that I'm a girl, I wouldn't mind being summoned from someplace brighter for a change."
She paid no attention to Ryūnosuke or the eerie Servant beside him. Her gaze scanned the room with curious delight, completely unconcerned by her surroundings.
She spotted the boy—who had stopped in his tracks—and also noticed the tentacled abomination lurking behind a door partition, ready to strike.
"Ara, normally, the old me would've ignored something like that… but what can I say? Dracula-san seems to have a soft spot for kids."
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the crowbar—and effortlessly reduced the tentacle monster to a pile of pixelated censorship.
"There! Now I've done something I can brag about to Dracula-san too!"
She clapped her hands joyfully, then casually drew a circle on the wall with her finger. Without another word, she stepped right through the portal.
"Dracula~ I'm coming to play!"