Shinji Matou at Your Service

The night grew deeper.

In the floating Hanging garden, small springs could be found everywhere, and Karna had always been accustomed to bathing in such places.

For a Servant, there was no need to do this, but habits from one's lifetime were hard to break.

Watching the astonishing phenomenon of water flowing upwards, Karna silently washed his body.

Contrary to his luxurious armor and colorful spear, Karna preferred a simple life.

Originally, neither the armor nor the spear were things he desired. The armor was granted by the gods at his mother's request, and the spear was given as a substitute for that armor.

He was extremely grateful for them and considered it the highest honor.

The fact that he, who had been abandoned by his mother, survived was entirely thanks to the power bestowed by his father and the armor given by his mother.

He had to live without tarnishing the glory of his father.

This principle had not changed, even now that he had gained a second life.

As a Servant, he naturally had to obey his Master's orders, but Karna resolutely refused to do anything that would tarnish his father's glory.

However, if the Master had been controlled from the start of the summoning, then it was no longer a matter of his actions.

The Master was dreaming with empty eyes. Communication was impossible, and establishing any kind of meaningful connection was out of the question. From the continuous mutterings in his sleep, it was clear that he mistakenly believed he had obtained the Holy Grail.

Knowing this was enough. He needed to obtain the Holy Grail and fulfill his Master's wish...

Of course, he was well aware that this was an exceedingly difficult task.

He might not even reach that point. The Holy Grail, though close, was not something easily seized, and more importantly—his Master had already been transformed by Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, who currently possessed the Holy Grail.

Although he had no ill intentions, this was an undeniable fact.

He was truly at a loss.

However, such situations were familiar to Karna. He neither resented his previous Master nor hated his current one.

He did what he could within his abilities.

He offered what was asked of him as much as possible.

And he solemnly accepted all the consequences that came with it.

—No, perhaps not all of them.

Karna recalled what he had been pursuing all along.

In this world, there was only one hero who continuously disturbed Karna's heart.

His name was Arjuna.

He was the man who took everything from Karna as the price for his armor and spear.

One could say Arjuna was a man who gained everything without any cost.

Was the feeling Karna held towards Arjuna, jealousy? Or was it something other than jealousy?

Karna never figured this out until his death. He had never been jealous of anyone, and he couldn't name the emotion that had always disturbed his heart.

At the beginning of this Holy Grail War, he had once had an opportunity to understand this emotion.

In Black Saber—there seemed to be a shadow of Arjuna. It wasn't until he later heard his true name from Shirou's mouth that Karna suddenly realized.

A tragic hero who inherited royal blood, and gained wealth, honor, and everything else—Siegfried.

But unlike Arjuna, his end was exceedingly tragic—he didn't even have time to raise his dragon-slaying sword before he was killed by a strike to his only invulnerable weak spot.

Regarding the diverse Servants participating in this Holy Grail War, Karna considered them all to be extraordinary beings. As allies, they should assist one another; as enemies, they were formidable opponents. In this sense, Karna could be said to understand these spirits better than anyone.

However, the one who piqued his interest the most was Black Saber.

Even though they didn't exchange many words, if their blades had clashed hundreds or thousands of times, they would naturally come to understand something about each other.

Despite being similar to Arjuna, he was a man who was always yearning for something.

A man who had no regrets about his untimely death, but was pursuing something new.

In anyone's eyes, he was truly a genuine hero.

Such a man hoped to fight him again, seeing him as an enemy that must be defeated. For a warrior, this could be considered the highest honor and a kind of joy.

For Karna, joy could only be found on the battlefield.

Although he was also grateful for various kind and warm conversations, they were far removed from what he considered personal desire. There was no personal longing within them, nor any joy that made his blood boil.

Only on the battlefield. Concentrating his entire being into his spear, liberating himself from his origins and the intentions of his faction, and letting his true self run wild without any reservations in those brief moments, made his blood truly boil.

That battle, that promise.

The sparks from their blades seemed like twinkling stars. A worthy opponent who effortlessly countered his full-strength attacks while urging him to give his all.

Though a bit arrogant, it made him feel as if his life existed for the joy of that single moment.

Soon, he would feel that emotion again, and he hoped to recognize it for what it truly was this time.

The atmosphere in the air changed, a sign of an impending storm.

"Have they come?"

Karna stepped out of the pool, silently donned his golden armor, picked up his divine spear, and headed to the battlefield of fate.

◇◇◇

Almost simultaneously, Semiramis opened her eyes on the throne.

"—Oh, have they arrived, Master?"

"It was expected; we just don't know how they will approach."

Shirou, who was wiping his sword, looked up as Semiramis activated a spell, projecting the outside scene onto the ceiling.

"This—oh my, oh my, they've put on quite a show."

"Flying puppets, creating so many in just a few days... I can somewhat understand why you wanted Black Caster to surrender."

It wasn't Shirou's fault; Semiramis sighed like this because the number of bird-shaped puppets was simply too astonishing, almost covering the entire screen. With these puppets obscuring the view, they had no idea where the enemy Servants were hiding.

"Tying to win with sheer numbers? To accomplish this, I should at least commend you, but—such petty tricks are not enough to approach my garden."

Her delicate fingers wove a spell, and commands flowed from her lips.

"Activate defense mechanisms, deploy interception spells, Tiamtum Ūmu, activate! Watch carefully, Master."

The mistress of the garden raised her head proudly, looking at her Master as if showing off, and the latter looked back at her with slight surprise.

"..."

"Master? What's the matter?"

"You seem different somehow. Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened."

A trace of panic flashed in Semiramis's eyes.

"Really?"

"Really!"

"By the way, Master, shouldn't your Shadow Servants join me in the interception as well? Since they're ready, they should at least come out and say hello. They can serve as a backup for my Tiamtum Ūmu. Didn't you say they can destroy the Tiamtum Ūmu? I want to see how they plan to do that."

"You're right. Let the Shadow Archer and Shadow Caster join the battle. I'll arrange it. The Shadow Servants are fine, but their minds aren't very sharp, making them a bit difficult to command."

Shirou dropped the white cloth he was holding, sheathed his katana, and quickly walked out of the throne room.

After confirming his departure, the empress on the throne quietly exhaled and focused on operating the interception spell.

This scene was inadvertently observed by someone sitting in the corner, sparking new creative inspiration.

"The Empress of Assyria can show such an expression. It seems I need to add a new segment to the story—hmm, hmm, I must be careful not to be discovered. I absolutely must not die before completing my story."

Shakespeare was undoubtedly the world's most renowned playwright. The stories he wrote could even be elevated to Noble Phantasms, no matter how absurd or fantastical they were. The only thing he couldn't do was create something dull. As long as he, as a writer, found it interesting, his pen could drive events and reverse causality.

Filled with intense passion, he silently typed a line on his keyboard.

—The Empress had already fallen in love. What about the saint, who had led a life on an opposite trajectory yet had never experienced the taste of love?