Some time earlier—before Charlemagne had been summoned, after the battle between Enkidu and Gilgamesh.
Two "Creation Epics" clashed, etching their proof into the world itself. The consequences of their battle in the desert outskirts of Snowfield City not only left countless magi trembling in fear at the might of Heroic Spirits but even brought about tangible changes to Snowfield's climate.
The distant sky flickered erratically, and from afar came faint rumblings like the earth itself being torn apart.
"...I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Inside Snowfield Central Hospital, in a certain ward, a child who should have been in a persistent vegetative state suddenly opened her mouth, murmuring apologies to the sudden "thunder."
Her name was Tsubaki Ayaoka, a pitiful girl who had been forced to take her parents' place as a Master.
Since childhood, her parents had used "bacteria" acquired from South America to alter her body. As a result, though she possessed an immense number of magical circuits, she had fallen into a comatose state.
Because she had grown up accustomed to her parents' endless "magical experiments" on her body, she felt no fear of spirits lacking hostility. Yet thunder, earthquakes, and other natural phenomena had become sources of terror for her.
"Thunder... so scary..."
"There's nothing to be afraid of. No reason at all to fear."
At that moment, though the room should have held only one patient, there sat another—a black-haired girl of similar age.
"It's just something perfectly natural, Tsubaki. You don't need to be afraid, nor to apologize for it. Here, I'll make it disappear."
The black-haired girl smiled with a gentleness far beyond her years, patting Tsubaki's back with a saintly poise.
Perhaps because of this comfort, Tsubaki's mind settled and she slipped back into slumber. Just before, she whispered faintly:
"...Thank you... Sister Kiara..."
This black-haired girl was none other than—no, not an assassin—but Sesshōin Kiara of the Sesshōin family.
While "studying" at the Roman Papal Court, she had discovered that Francesca was still alive, having fled to America. To Kiara, such a "bug" was intolerable. She resolved to exterminate her personally.
As for what excuse she would give? Kiara wasn't worried in the slightest. After all, she was not the same as she had been two years prior. For her, slipping away for a while was child's play.
Even so, before leaving she told Ciel—the one overseeing her—that she had an important matter to handle. Perhaps recalling the same merciless gleam in her eyes from the time she had purged the cult in the East, Ciel uncharacteristically gave her permission.
And so, upon arriving in America, Kiara followed a trail of spiritual energy to Snowfield City. Since there was no Church there (the nearest one being in Las Vegas), and since her age prevented her from staying at a hotel, she had been idly wandering the streets when, passing by Central Hospital, she sensed something abnormal within—a disturbance unlike the present world. Driven by curiosity, she entered, and there she found the comatose Tsubaki Ayaoka.
And beside her, a mass of "black mist"—
In this Holy Grail War, the False Rider, the Pale Horseman, was the embodiment of the calamity known as "Pestilence."
"In that case, I'll leave it to you. This is Tsubaki's wish."
At Kiara's words, the black mist split apart, releasing another shadow. It slipped through the hospital window and leapt outside.
The Pale Rider harbored no emotion, no desire for the Grail. It existed only as a system—unfeeling, impersonal—silently fulfilling the Master's wishes. For now, that meant protecting Tsubaki Ayaoka, endlessly moving to strip away her misfortune.
As for Kiara, she was already pondering how to cure the damage wreaked by the multitude of South American pathogens ravaging Tsubaki's body.
Having touched and entered Tsubaki's inner world, she understood clearly—her parents had intended to make Tsubaki into a "Hereditary Carrier."
These hereditary carriers were beings distinct from ordinary magi, dating back to the Age of Gods. Unlike the inheritance of magic circuits, their trait was carved into the family's very bloodline—mysteries transmitted like pathogens across generations. The lore claimed divine mysteries could survive into the modern day through viral transmission.
Bazett Fraga McRemitz was one such being: a hereditary carrier capable of wielding the God-era Mystic Code, the Fragarach. Similarly, Gray belonged to the same lineage.
Tsubaki's parents had sought to artificially create such an existence, hence her body had been forcefully infected with the pathogens of South America.
"...I really want to just kill them."
The so-called Savior—Sesshōin Kiara—once again could not restrain her sigh.
---
Night fell over Snowfield's grand opera house.
Because Kyoukushin was following Eltruche, he was no longer free to indiscriminately hunt down participants of the Grail War.
That left the blonde Ayaka utterly defenseless before one of the magi partaking in the conflict.
"The command-seal-like crest... so you're the one Fadius mentioned? What's your purpose?"
"...Who knows. I just came here following the orders of some strange white woman."
Her tone was cold, her eyes radiating both resignation and fury at such absurdity.
She had realized that her fate had been predetermined years ago.
The magus regarded her, muttered an acknowledging "hm," then spoke in a flat, unfeeling tone:
"I see. So you're the pitiful, forsaken doll abandoned by the Einzberns... In that case, if you intend to interfere with the ritual, I'll need to dispose of you. My apologies, but I'll handle you first."
Mana surged through his body's circuits, though he bore no killing intent. His movements were mechanical, as if processing routine work. And yet—
"...Tch."
The magus suddenly froze, touching a charm-like earring.
"...Understood. Take this woman alive? Why?"
The one speaking to him was none other than Francesca, one of the masterminds of this Holy Grail ritual.
"I see... Very well. It was a whim at first, but this sounds amusing enough."
The conversation ended. The magus sighed and turned back toward the restrained blonde Ayaka.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just confirming how loyal a summoned Heroic Spirit might be."
His lips twisted into a crooked grin as he chuckled.
"So then—will the lofty Hero-King of the Round Table obey an order to cut down a defenseless woman? Hah... In truth, I doubt it'll be necessary. After all—"
The magus walked toward the altar set upon the stage.
"This so-called noble hero... is also the King of the Wild Hunt, a bringer of death."
He began to chant.
"Silver and iron as the base, stone and the Archduke of contracts as the foundation, ancestor is my great master—"
To Ayaka, the words were meaningless gibberish. To her, they were nothing but a countdown to execution.
"Sorry, Red Riding Hood..."
The blonde Ayaka whispered, almost detached from her own fate.
"Let the wind wall rise, closing the fourfold gates—"
The chant resounded, and Ayaka felt a strange torrent of power surging through her, as if her veins had turned to iron pulled by a massive external magnet.
"Come forth from the Wheel of Restraint—Guardian of the Scales—?"
"Eh? An El-Melloi? Summoning me, eh... cough... for what purpose—"
From the radiance emerged not the Wild Hunt's king as the magus expected, but a knight in gleaming armor. He looked to the bound Ayaka, then at the magus, and said with deliberate slowness:
"This is hardly a gallant sight... I even hurried to arrive before young Richard."
The next instant, a flash of swordlight filled Ayaka's vision.
When her eyes adjusted, she beheld a slain magus at her feet—and an opera house aglow with prismatic brilliance.
The armored man turned to the dazed girl.
"You—are you of the El-Melloi lineage?"
The words jolted her back to reality. At "El-Melloi," something clicked within her. Tears welled up, and she broke down.
"No... No, I'm not Ayaka Sajou... I remember... I remember everything now...!"
It was as though she were confessing, rejecting her very self.
"That person... I was the one who killed them."
This blonde Ayaka was in truth the embodiment of the El-Melloi family's treasured Mystic Code: the Tri-Core Mana Furnace.
The reason she bore Ayaka Sajou's likeness dated back ten years, to the aftermath of the Fuyuki Grail War. It had been Ayaka and Ciel who took responsibility for the Grail's remains.
When Lord Kayneth perished, the Tri-Core Furnace had been buried beneath his hotel. Magi scrambled for it, leading to killings in Fuyuki, until it was stolen by a magus couple. For their research, they forced the Furnace into human form—what would become Fuyuki's urban legend, "Little Red Riding Hood."
Later, when Ayaka Sajou investigated the remains of the Grail, she encountered the girl. To care for her more easily, she cast a magical suggestion on a lonely university student who lived nearby. Yet Ayaka had not considered the student's reclusive, suicidal tendencies. That oversight sparked today's tragedy.
The student, unable to understand why he constantly heard Ayaka's voice, mistook it for love at first sight.
On the day the magus couple quarreled and perished, the blood-soaked Red Riding Hood knocked on his door. Bound by Ayaka's suggestion, he did not call the police—instead, he let her in.
There, she saw the drawings of Ayaka in his room. Responding to his hidden wish, her pseudo-Grail functions began reshaping her form closer and closer to Ayaka.
But with the couple dead, the rites that sustained her waned. Little Red Riding Hood, incomplete as a human, weakened by the day. The student, living with her, withered as well. Fearing she would not survive his death, he devised a solution:
"Then take everything I am."
Her wish-granting function activated. Threads of light emerged, weaving around them until they were sealed in a cocoon.
The student was consumed, his memories and essence absorbed. Thus was born the blonde Ayaka of FSF's world.
It was, in truth, Ayaka Sajou's well-intended care that had led to this disaster.
Now, recalling everything, the blonde Ayaka reverted to her original form—the Tri-Core Mana Furnace, a Mystic Code theoretically capable of infinite mana—binding herself to Charlemagne.
"I see," Charlemagne sighed, then smiled. "Don't worry. Even if we only shared the bond of Master and Servant for mere seconds, I'll see your wish through. My brother-in-law would think the same—he is, after all, one of the Lords of El-Melloi. It should be returned."
In his lifetime, Charlemagne had encountered the Alien Key beneath the Alps, and thus learned of Avia and Attila. He regarded them as sister and brother, and in casual speech, simply called them sister and brother-in-law.
"Freeze! Don't move!"
The shout came from the opera house's entrance. Police stormed in, uniforms crisp, stun-guns leveled at Charlemagne.
Hands raised, he sighed.
"Now this really isn't cool... But I suppose I'll be fine like this."
As they led him out, he glimpsed his reflection in a reporter's camera lens—and gasped.
"No way... Why do I look so young?!"
With Charlemagne—the final of the False Grail's candidates—now onstage, the first bearer of the True Grail arrived. Thus began the Holy Grail War of Snowfield, a battle of False and True Grails.
And in time, once all Servants had descended, both the Saint and the King of the Wild Hunt would appear as prophesied.
***************************
Read advanced chapters ahead of everyone else on my P@treon.
P@treon/GodDragcell