The Clash Between Red and Black Begins

Reflecting on the Holy Grail War in Romania, it took place between the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars in Fuyuki City. The Yggdmillennia clan of Romania (the Black faction), having acquired the Greater Grail, summoned seven Servants and defected from the Mage's Association. This action triggered the Grail's internal security system.

When all seven Servants belong to one faction, the Greater Grail automatically establishes another faction by selecting seven Masters and summoning their Servants, initiating a large-scale war between two factions.

The Mage's Association and the Holy Church allied to form the Red faction, summoning seven Servants to combat the Yggdmillennia clan. The Greater Grail then summoned Ruler—Saint Jeanne d'Arc—to adjudicate this seven-versus-seven Holy Grail War.

As for the outcome, well... let's just say both factions lost, and the referee won. Though not entirely accurate, this was a close description. In the final battle, Ruler Jeanne used her explosive Noble Phantasm, La Pucelle, The Crimson Holy Maiden, to destroy most of the Greater Grail and Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's wish to "save all of humanity" (making all people immortal).

Oh, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada was a Ruler summoned in the Third Holy Grail War in Fuyuki City, where he gained a physical form. Later, he joined the Holy Church and was entrusted to oversee the Holy Grail War in Romania. He wished to use the Grail to achieve his goal of granting all humanity eternal life by enacting the Third Magic.

Hah... I see now why Jeanne kept favoring one side—it must be an inherited trait! The Grail sure has an eye for choosing referees, each with a personal investment in the game.

In the end, the dragon-transformed homunculus Siegfried carried the Greater Grail to the World's Reverse Side, sparing the Surface World from the Third Magic's interference.

Ah, so Darnic lost everything he had planned for, his sixty years of preparation gone to waste. He even sacrificed the Yggdmillennia clan's future...

"But this time, I want to see what would happen if Darnic actually obtained the Grail and made his wish… How would the world react?"

Would a new Magician of the Root be born, would his soul be immediately consumed by the Swirl of the Root, or would the world collapse and destroy the Mage's Association along with it?

"Such a tantalizing possibility…"

For Selene herself, the Grail held little appeal. After all, could it grant her wish? She wanted the complete Technology tree of the golden age of the human interstellar empire. Could it provide that? She wanted a territory the size of the Milky Way—could it give her that?

As for wishing for more power, she dismissed the idea as implausible; relying on it would feel unstable. Slowly increasing her strength with her Honkai essence was a far more solid and tangible approach.

"Well then... although I'm just here for amusement, let's see how much they can entertain me in these seven days."

Descending the staircase, Vlad III stood in the central courtyard of the Millennia Castle, inspecting a golden double-headed eagle crest in his hand as he recalled Selene's words:

"Voivode Vlad, this is Romania. You are the ruler here, not I. In your own land, you have a better grasp of the terrain than I do. I can grant you soldiers, not mere puppets or artificial humans, but real, battle-hardened warriors.

"I look forward to witnessing your command tactics—but do not disappoint me!"

Vlad and Darnic were silent for a while.

"Your Majesty, what are your thoughts on Her Majesty Selene?" Darnic asked finally.

"She is formidable, with an air of disdain, as though all of this is merely a play to her. I sense a profound lack of concern, as if this Holy Grail War were little more than an entertaining farce in her eyes," Vlad said.

"Her Majesty seems genuinely disinterested in the Grail, which, as I see it, is a blessing. Whatever the outcome of this war, Darnic, refrain from any reckless actions."

Summoned as a Lancer, Vlad III was a benevolent ruler, not a tyrant—a devout Christian who could accept a powerful Divine Empress descending upon his land and even willingly submit. If another human monarch had been summoned instead, Romania would likely have one ruler too many. In his homeland, Vlad would certainly not bow, which would inevitably lead to conflict, resulting in losses on both sides regardless of who emerged victorious.

"Understood... but still, Your Majesty, we face unprecedentedly formidable opponents, with heroes from Greek mythology and the Assyrian Queen among the enemy ranks. And it seems our Assassin has been usurped."

"No need to worry. Jack the Ripper, a mere serial killer from 19th-century Britain, is a mediocre assassin, hardly worth our concern," Vlad remarked, his gaze lingering on Selene's radiant form atop the castle. He couldn't resist a touch of wistfulness.

"Had I commanded such an army during my lifetime, how could my people have been oppressed by the Ottoman Empire? How could I have been defeated and imprisoned?"

Darnic nodded in agreement. True, a third-rate assassin could be easily dispatched. Now, all that remained was to quickly deploy the token Selene had granted him and summon reinforcements.

"Come, Darnic. Her Majesty has granted me command of the Astares. It's time to deploy our forces." Vlad clenched the temporary Command Sigil (of sorts) given to him by Selene and, in a flash of particles, dematerialized on the spot.

"A monarch with such profound faith and integrity… Vlad III," Darnic muttered, watching the last glimmers of the Voivode's spiritual form vanish, unsure whether he felt irritation or resignation.

"An awe-inspiring but unnerving Divine Empress… She's seized the upper hand this swiftly. Well, as long as the Grail War goes smoothly, I have no objections…"

However, the tales of a "goddess of the full moon from Greek mythology" he had heard paled in comparison with the commanding presence of the woman before him.

"An Empress and a Goddess… the two most ungovernable beings in human comprehension combined," Darnic mused with a wry smile.

"Let's hope Her Majesty truly harbors no desire for the Grail…" he whispered to himself, "but if it comes to that… Celenike."

The Next Morning.

Boom!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Awakened from a light slumber by the rumbling outside, Selene listened to the echoing explosions accompanied by flashes of verdant lightning near the slope below the castle.

"That's… Frankenstein's Noble Phantasm."

The stronger the Servant, the greater the mana expenditure. Each Yggdmillennia Master controlled their Servant through a Command Seal conduit, receiving mana from the castle's artificial human generator. It was a practical and ingenious system that allowed Masters to unleash powerful spells and Servants to wield Noble Phantasms without hesitation.

Besides draining the homunculi's life forces, there were hardly any drawbacks to the setup.

"Your Majesty, shall I drive away these unruly visitors?" the Imperial Guard captain at Selene's door asked, seeing her disturbed by the commotion.

"No need. Servants don't actually need sleep; I simply kept the habit. Let them be."

She sighed, "So the first day of the Grail War has begun, and yet, look how leisurely they seem. Still… with me here, who knows? Celenike and Frankenstein's 'battle' might just turn into a lovers' quarrel."

Selene knew without even consulting the World Chronicle that Caules was probably having Frankenstein test her Noble Phantasm on the golems Caster of Black, Avicebron, had prepared.

"With mana this abundant, they're almost showing off."

Selene left the lavish chamber Darnic had arranged for her, her path lined with homunculi servants with well-sculpted faces and fine physiques. The female homunculi even wore black stockings and short skirts, but their expressions remained blank, like true puppets.

Each homunculus had silver-gray hair and red eyes, wielding various weapons. Upon seeing Selene, they stood to the side and bowed in silent respect.

With their silver-gray hair and red eyes, they bore a slight resemblance to Selene, though her features were infinitely more regal. Her gaze was the chilling crimson of war, her hair a gleaming silver with a faint golden halo.

"Homunculi… Hmph! I have a splendid welcome gift for you, Sirin—or rather, K423 Kiana—and for Otto and Schicksal…" Selene thought to herself, narrowing her eyes.

"Your Majesty." A respectful voice roused Selene from her musings. She turned to see Darnic, immaculate and courteous as ever.

"Ah, Darnic… just in time. I have good news," she said, summoning the World Chronicle and tossing it to him. "Four of the Red Servants are en route to Fortress of Millennia."

"The game is beginning, Darnic. Impress me. You now have authorization to use the World Chronicle." A slight smile tugged at her lips.

Selene placed a gilded fingertip on Darnic's shoulder. "...Do not disappoint me."

"It shall be as you wish, Your Majesty." Darnic caught the weighty book, and only when Selene and the Imperial Guard had vanished did he lift his gaze, his eyes agleam.

It seemed that this "Empress" Selene had come here merely for amusement.

Among the famous heroes of human history, almost all carried pride no ordinary human could fathom, and gods, even more so. Thus, Darnic treated Selene as his sovereign; showing humility was a small price to pay to appease her. With Selene's alliance established, he would subtly tighten their bond.

Now, if Celenike's twisted inclinations, whether sadistic or masochistic, surfaced, Selene would undoubtedly take offense. That would be his moment to seize control over her.

Of course… such a maneuver couldn't be too blatant. The Black faction's unity under Vlad's leadership required careful handling, and any tactics against Celenike would be used as a last resort.

Abruptly, a voice filled Darnic's mind.

"Darnic, the three Red Servants in the forest are yours to handle. The lone Red Saber entering Trifas… she is mine."

Selene's cool voice jolted him, and he hastily responded, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Nightfall, Trifas City.

Boom!

In an empty, enchanted ward, explosions boomed like thunder. Red lightning filled the air as thick gray and crimson armor melded onto the figure of a blonde girl clad in a revealing tracksuit.

Saber of Red, the rebellious knight Mordred, dashed forward amidst the fiery red energy, her strength shattering stone constructs as if they were brittle wood, each blow sending debris soaring.

Then, just as she reveled in the skirmish, her face froze. The Pendragon family's instinct warned her of imminent peril.

"This feeling… Damn! Master, get—"

Bzzzt!

"By your blood, I offer sacrifice to my Empress!"

Boom!

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