Chapter 452: The Activation of the Hanging Gardens 

Upon hearing Semiramis's words, both Achilles and Atalanta showed expressions of confusion. Shakespeare, understanding the nature of this Noble Phantasm, was even more delighted by their reactions. Karna maintained his calm demeanor, while the only Master present, Shirou, spoke to Semiramis with a hint of anticipation:

"Assassin, stop being so secretive. Let us experience it firsthand."

"Well... Master, you seem quite passionate."

"Because I am a man."

"I see," Semiramis said, understanding. She then placed her hand on the gem embedded in the armrest of the throne. Instantly, the ground began to tremble slightly.

An earthquake?

The Servants exchanged glances. However, the tremors gradually intensified... and then suddenly stopped.

"Hehe, look outside," Semiramis chuckled. Everyone except her rushed out of the throne room to the outside.

The tremors were a phenomenon caused intentionally by Semiramis. But for what reason—

"What—!?"

Achilles and Atalanta were speechless, Shakespeare was deeply moved, and even the usually composed Karna widened his eyes slightly to look down.

The stone-paved floor they stood on—below it was an open, vast space.

In other words, they were floating in mid-air—the garden of babylon was truly floating in the sky!

"Surprised? Of course, the speed isn't anything to brag about," Assassin said with a hint of pride in her voice.

The Empress of Assyria—Semiramis. Her Noble Phantasm, "The Hanging Gardens of Babylon," was like an aerial fortress. However, it couldn't be manifested through magical power alone. Specific materials from a particular region, such as stones and wood, needed to be collected first.

After gathering the materials, Assassin had to perform a lengthy ritual to fully form the Noble Phantasm. This is because the historical Empress Semiramis did not build the Hanging Gardens.

She had never seen the Hanging Gardens herself. However, she knew it was etched into her memory as a fantasy and had that sensory experience. Although it was a mysterious phenomenon added later, the impression of "the Hanging Gardens built by the world's oldest assassin and legendary empress" was so strong that it became a Noble Phantasm.

To actualize this Noble Phantasm, real materials based on the physical world were needed—wood, stone, minerals, plants, and water from the land she once lived on.

Reassembling these collected items through her ritual brought the fantasy to reality. It was a false reality, a Noble Phantasm that shouldn't exist.

Hence, it was named "Vanity." For those who knew the truth, it might be a subject of ridicule. However, vanity does not necessarily mean fragility. No, at the moment the materials were gathered to complete the Noble Phantasm, at least in this era, vanity had transformed into reality.

However, this garden draped in fantasy—was far more exaggerated than reality, to the point of absurdity.

"Now then, everyone, the final assault is scheduled for this evening. Please be prepared."

The group fell silent. It wasn't out of fear. Rather, it was because they felt the looming battle, igniting a burning fighting spirit within them.

...

Unlike the Red faction, who were preparing for a major confrontation, the day-to-day activities of the Black faction's Masters and Servants continued in an orderly manner.

Fiore's and Caules's teams, exhausted from the night's work, were resting in their respective rooms.

Vlad III and Darnic were in the throne room, discussing the previous night's battle over a game of chess.

Gordes had taken Siegfried to the forest outside the castle, and engaged in some mysterious activities.

Roche and Avicebron remained in the workshop, continuing their work on creating golems.

Roche never doubted that their side would win the Holy Grail War. To him, the outcome was a foregone conclusion.

With the combination of Black Berserker, Black Saber, Black Archer, Black Assassin, and themselves as Caster and Master, he had confidence in their ability to defeat any opponent. More accurately, he believed in his ability to create golems that could overcome the enemy.

The Masters of the Black faction severely underestimated the golems. True, the golems were shattered by a single strike from Red Saber. But those were merely sentry golems. Though not lacking in capabilities, their primary purpose was reconnaissance and reporting, not combat. If the golems were designed for battle, they would not have been so easily defeated.

Of course, they would eventually be defeated, but there were hundreds of golems. If there were only ten or twenty, Saber might not be injured. But what if Saber faced over a hundred golems in succession?

Although this was just theoretical, the possibility was not low.

However, expecting to capture Saber alive using golems was too ambitious—a fact Roche understood well.

The crux of the issue lay in Caster's anti-army Noble Phantasm, "Golem Keter Malkuth: (Royal Crown - the Light of Wisdom)." Of course, this Noble Phantasm was also a golem. But when it came to its specific form, Caster was mysteriously reluctant to explain.

He claimed it was due to his immaturity—at least, that's what Roche hoped. However, from his words, it was clear that it was a being of immense size. And then Caster said to him:

"That golem is not invincible."

"Rather, it must be imprinted with the method of its death."

"The golem I create will have life. Therefore, it will also die."

"Golems are not just a technique to animate clay figures. Golems are the creation of life... a mimicry of primitive humans."

This was the existence Caster aimed for. For Roche, who only thought about creating more powerful golems, Caster's philosophy was a profound shock.

He wanted to help him; if he couldn't, he at least wished to watch over him. Honestly, the Holy Grail War was just a bothersome event for Roche. However, without the Holy Grail conflict, he wouldn't have experienced the miracle of summoning a Heroic Spirit, nor would he have met Black Caster—Avicebron.

So, fighting was inevitable. But he wished he had more time to learn from him—the duration of the Holy Grail War was too short. For this reason, Roche had decided on his wish:

To grant Black Caster a physical body—that was his wish. And Caster also had a wish he wanted to realize in the present world. Since that was the case, Roche was content as long as he could help him.

Upon hearing Roche's wish, Black Caster simply said, "Thank you."

His indifferent attitude remained unchanged, and his teaching methods did not become any gentler.

But their hearts were connected. Understanding this alone was a significant realization for Roche.

He had never thought that communicating with others could be so enjoyable. Moreover, this feeling was even stronger because the other person was someone he deeply respected. Roche's parents had always been indifferent to him. Although the tradition of the Frain family involved raising children with golems, which was understandable, he never felt any love from his parents in other aspects.

Perhaps this was necessary for magus. Love for the family could sometimes be an obstacle on the path of magecraft.

Given this, the Frain family's approach was to not instill such feelings from the start.

Moreover, Roche was the most talented child since the Frain family joined the Yggdmillennia.

Roche himself was aware of this. When he read the numerous secret books painstakingly passed down by his ancestors, he wondered why they spent so much effort explaining such simple things.

Then, the genius was summoned. Roche was initially captivated by him and soon came to revere him. He was a super genius on Roche's level—or perhaps, intentionally lowering himself to match Roche's level.

To command him would be disrespectful. Roche felt he must be the one to receive his guidance. And one day, he vowed to witness the realization of his wish.

Thus, the youngest Master watched his Servant with an admiring smile. Little did he know, he didn't truly understand Avicebron, who was right before him. That man had never concerned himself with human affairs; his only focus was completing his Noble Phantasm, for which he would sacrifice anything without hesitation.

As for the final Master, she was fuming with rage.

—It was utterly infuriating.

Celeniké's delicate beauty twisted with anger as she stomped down the corridor, her footsteps echoing loudly. No matter how much she tormented Astolfo, who always wore a cheeky grin, she felt nothing but frustration.

Despite the delicious food right before her, she couldn't enjoy it. She couldn't even stomach it; it was so hard that even stabbing it with a fork was impossible.

For Celeniké, who was raised by old witches skilled in black magecraft, endurance and torture were synonymous. The only thing she could endure was anything related to magecraft.

If there was something that could distort her otherwise fine features, it would be bringing back the homunculus who let Rider escape. If she could dig out his eyes, cut off his arms, slice off his tongue, and make him eat his intestines in front of Rider, surely Rider would cry out in despair.

She longed to see that expression. She desperately wanted to see it. Even if it meant her death, she didn't care, as long as she could see the despair on the face of Astolfo, the most adorable of Charlemagne's Twelve Paladins.

—At the same time, she found it immensely infuriating that the homunculus had completely captured Rider's heart.

Since the summoning of Black Rider, there was something Celeniké desperately wanted but could never obtain.

That was probably what they called love. Affection, kindness, and the joy that comes from it—completely incomprehensible feelings for Celeniké.

Why wouldn't he direct those feelings towards her? It was so infuriating, especially given his fragile, ephemeral life.

She wanted to conduct a thorough search. Celeniké was not only highly skilled in magecraft but also possessed a tenacity unmatched within the Yggdmillennia family. To her, the homunculus was nothing more than a pest now, one that needed to be exterminated thoroughly.

However, it was impossible to cause a major commotion just to find a single homunculus. Using Celeniké's black magecraft, it wasn't impossible to locate him. However it required significant preparation, and the most critical issue was that the missing homunculus was also a skilled magi.

As the saying goes, a cornered rat will bite the cat. If she ended up getting bitten back, it would be no joke. The matter of the homunculus had to wait until after the war was over.

Seeing Rider's troubled expression only made her want to do more excessive things. She wanted to trample him, humiliate him, and plunge him into despair—Celeniké barely managed to suppress these evil impulses. Once this war was over, once they won the war, it would be fine.

After defeating the Red faction, she would abandon her wish and battle, using the three Command Spells to torment Rider to death.

Perhaps her agitation was too intense, for as she walked, she "bumped" into a homunculus. The boy, responsible for delivering meals, looked down with vacant eyes and muttered, "I'm sorry."

She decided to use him.

"You, come with me for a bit."

The homunculus had no right to refuse, and Celeniké certainly wouldn't show any mercy to a servant. Furthermore, indulgence was a virtue for magus.

Thus, Celeniké decided to vent her accumulated frustration in a way that even magus would disdain as a perverse form of entertainment.