"Ahhh..." I let out a sigh of relief—finally!
Slowly set the knife on the floor, then peel off the gloves one by one until I spot weird red squiggles on the back of my left hand forming a pattern. Hm, 3 squiggles, 3 Command Seals.
"Heh, finally! Command Seals." Slowly stand, straighten up, and turn around. "Yes, I am."
My gaze lands on a dark figure in a tattered cloak towering a head above me with a skull mask on its face.
"Hmmm." We size each other up for a few seconds—I've got similar gear too, black jacket with hood to the eyes and a simple black cloth mask.
"Hmmm." My Servant makes the same sound.
"Let me guess. Assassin?" Tilt my head, scan him again—well, not surprised. "Hm, Hassan I presume?"
"You know me?" He seems surprised.
"Rather guessed." There are several different ones, and this one looks like the one I remember from the previous war—could it be the Hundred-Faced? But won't ask; if I guess wrong, might offend him. And I don't need that. "Care to introduce yourself? I'm Akihiro Yamagi, eh, apparently a serial killer."
"Hassan of the Hundred Personas, master." Hassan bows slightly.
"Oh ho, so you were in the previous Holy Grail War? Tell me a bit about it?" So I guessed right, eh, bad. He already lost once.
"I was in the previous Holy Grail War?" He seems surprised.
"You don't remember?" Now I'm surprised—my knowledge wrong? Or he doesn't remember because he died then?
"No, this is my first Holy Grail War." Hassan.
"Hmmm, okay, forget it for now. Maybe I was wrong. Care to tell me your abilities? In detail—I need to know what you're capable of." Don't need awkward questions from him; need to distract.
"Very well. Magic Resistance (Weak)—spells under three verses don't affect me. Presence Concealment—can't be detected by most means. Edge of Sanity—psychic attacks don't affect me. Enhanced perception—I can see farther and spot hidden things. Wind resistance—wind attacks and wind magic don't affect me. Trap master—I set and detect any traps. And Phantasm—Hundred-Faced." A little girl about 14 appears next to Hassan, in the same cloak.
"Okay..." Sounds decent; glance at the girl and ask. "And what can you do?"
"Of course, little brother! Magic Resistance (Weak)..." She repeats almost the exact same as the first.
The only difference I notice is instead of Trap master she says Cutie, making my eye twitch. "Cutie?"
"Yes, little brother." And she strikes a "cute" pose.
My eye twitches harder—well, in theory, she could bait pedos; I try to find a positive. "Good, and how strong are you physically?"
"Are you dumb, little brother?" The girl puffs up.
I silently shift my gaze to the first Hassan.
"She's as strong as a 14-year-old girl." He shrugs. "Her specialization is being cute."
My other eye twitches. "Let me guess, and you're as strong as a regular trained human?"
"Yes, I'm a Trap master." Hassan replies calmly, apparently not seeing the problem.
Okay, starting to get it. "Correct me if wrong, but you have 100 personas, and the only differences are specializations? But strength-wise, you don't exceed a regular human of that age?"
"Hm, we have a strongman and an acrobat, but yeah. You're right, little brother!" The kid keeps wrecking my mental peace.
"How many personas can you summon at once?" Well, maybe they can swarm—makes sense he's Hundred-Faced.
"12." Hassan.
"12? Why only 12?" If anime didn't lie, there were nearly 100!
"You're weak, little brother! Low prana." Another hit to my state from the kid.
Starting to think she's doing it on purpose, but now focus on business. "Does swapping personas cost energy? And what happens when one dies? Do you regenerate?"
"No cost, we're limited only by the master's strength. Hm, yes, regenerate once per day." Hassan.
"Okay, good, dismiss the Cutie. Summon each one by one. Have them state their specialization." Well, in theory not so bad yet—key is to use right. No bad subordinates, just inept bosses—in theory.
And the conveyor starts: Strongman, Acrobat, Seductress, Poisoner, Blacksmith, Potter... and with each one, I'm more shocked and understand why he lost the previous war. This goes on another minute until I hear—Illusionist.
"Stop! Back, the Illusionist." Hope I didn't guess wrong and she meets expectations.
"Yes, master?" A girl in an eastern dancer outfit appears.
"You're a magus?" Seems like luck!
"Of course." She shrugs lightly.
"And the others? Any more magi among you?" Teachers would be useful.
"No, master." The dancer Hassan.
What'd I expect from reality? Eh, whatever, continue the interrogation. "Too bad. Tell me how to become a magus."
"Impossible." I keep staring silently, and she continues. "Magic comes from the heart."
"If I transplant a magus's heart into myself—I'll become a magus?" My gaze fills with greed.
"Probably..." That sounded uncertain.
A mad plan forms. "Any doctors among you?"
"Yes." First Hassan.
"Excellent, conceal yourselves and follow me." I quickly pack my Flag-canvas, habitually turn on the water to flood the house, and dash home.
*Half an hour later, in the one-room apartment.*
I clear the floor and find a couple tablecloths in the closet, spread them out. "Okay, Hassan, I need the medic and the Illusionist! Transplant her heart to me—she'll return tomorrow anyway."
"Master, this... this is wrong. And dangerous, we're not human." First Hassan appears.
"Don't care! If it makes me a magus here and now, I'm willing to risk it! Do it! By Command Spell, I order—do it! Transplant the Illusionist's heart to me!" I'd realized the size of the shitshow on the way home; the only proof of my order was a slight burn on my hand and a vanished squiggle.
They lack discipline, no real power, each with their own personality. And they execute orders poorly, screwing up. I recall the anime moment from the previous war—they were ordered to watch the city and Port, and a regular mercenary spotted the Assassin! Not a magus, just a trained human! Master of stealth, damn it! And here a real chance to get what I want, with risk—but a chance! I don't believe I'll win the Holy Grail War—just looked at this freak circus and knew—I won't.
Never been so determined; stripped off my shirt and lay on the tablecloth, trembling Illusionist lies next to me. Another Hassan looms over us, this time as some healer. Makes me tense.
"Got painkillers? And can you even handle surgery?" Realized in time, damn.
"Can. Alchemist has some. Need sedative?" She's curt.
"Yes, I'll die briefly anyway—no one lives without a heart. Summon the alchemist too, have him help." A Hassan in a Robe and towel on head appears right away. "Begin."
Could've quizzed her on magic and how to use it, but why delay? She'll return tomorrow anyway and teach me—if I survive. If not, no point dragging out. They give me two vials of murky liquid, I down them—then darkness. Last thought: I was too biased, the alchemist's actually useful.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: Granulan