Did You Really Come Just to Blow Up My Suitcase?

"Uncle Darnic, why be so fixated on small victories or defeats at this moment? The Yggdmillennia family has already gained the upper hand in the Holy Grail War. The enemy's Red Rider Achilles and Berserker Spartacus have both been captured by Her Majesty..."

"Besides, the Red team has only used three Command Seals to recall their Servants. It's they who should be worried now. We should focus on proceeding steadily," Fiore calmly reminded Darnic.

Her words snapped Darnic out of his contemplation. Yes, they had waited sixty years for this—what was the rush to gamble it all within seven days?

The situation was excellent. There was no need for a gambler's mentality of going all in. Steady progress was the key to securing ultimate victory.

"Thank you, Fiore. I was too hasty..." Darnic sighed, gratefully acknowledging Fiore, who sat in her wheelchair.

Darnic was a rather paradoxical individual. He was ruthless and cold, yet polite and well-mannered. He had a tendency to speak respectfully, using formal language.

When dealing with subordinates, family members, and even allies, as long as they obediently followed his orders and didn't resist or oppose him, Darnic could be quite reasonable and open-minded—a genial elder, even. However, when his own interests were at stake, he could ruthlessly exploit and discard those closest to him without batting an eye.

Truly, magi were strange and paradoxical creatures (with few exceptions).

They were combative yet peaceful; warlike but lovers of beauty; proud and self-respecting, yet polite and courteous; stubborn yet malleable; submissive but resentful of control; loyal yet prone to betrayal; brave but sometimes cowardly...

This description perfectly fit the nature of magi, didn't it?

"No, Uncle Darnic, this is what I should do," Fiore replied, shaking her head.

"Now that our goal of wearing them down has been achieved, we can have the king withdraw."

With a gentle expression, Darnic turned to look at the projection, where the Black Servants led by Vlad the Impaler were engulfed in Atalanta's Noble Phantasm.

He raised his hand, bearing a Command Seal.

"Lord Vlad, our objectives have been met. Her Majesty has already eliminated two of the Red Servants. The time has come for a tactical withdrawal."

The Command Seals granted to each Master by the Greater Grail were a powerful temporary tool. Aside from controlling Servants, boosting their strength, and even issuing orders that were close to the realm of magic like spatial transfers, they could also tap into the Servant's vision, allowing for communication and monitoring of battlefield conditions.

In most situations, however, the Black Masters, like Darnic, relied on the World Chronicle, which provided a god-like third-person view. Why limit oneself to the Servant's perspective when you could observe the battlefield like an omniscient being?

"Hmph, so, Darnic, you've decided to retreat for now? I thought you'd bet everything in one move…"

A familiar cold voice resounded, prompting Darnic and the Yggdmillennia Masters to quickly lower their heads and bow.

"Your Majesty."

"Rise. As for how you deploy the other Servants, I won't interfere..." Selene said as she stepped into the resplendent castle hall.

"Yes, as Your Majesty wills," Darnic replied, placing a hand over his chest in a formal salute. After going through the necessary etiquette, he slowly raised his head, observing Selene and Caster Avicebron as they entered.

When it came to formalities, Darnic was impeccable. And since Selene didn't favor a hard approach, she didn't harbor any ill feelings toward him. She preferred dealing with people who were polite and agreeable.

"As per your suggestion, I've captured Red Berserker Spartacus. Avicebron has removed the original Master-Servant connection. You may now proceed with forming your link."

"Thank you for Your Majesty's trust!"

"Don't thank me too quickly, Darnic. I should warn you—Spartacus's Noble Phantasm absorbs attacks and then detonates. I suspect that Red Archer was hoping to detonate him close to the fortress."

Hearing this, Darnic felt a chill run down his spine. If Spartacus had detonated near the fortress, it would have destroyed not only their base but also the homunculi mana supply workshop. This would have left the Greater Grail's main body exposed and deprived them of the mana needed to sustain their Servants, severely weakening their power.

Even Selene would have been affected. While she could sustain her existence without a Master, releasing her Noble Phantasms without a mana supply would be another story. Though Selene could draw mana from the imaginary number space that existed across dimensions, her current body, bound by the limitations of a Servant's frame, couldn't tap into enough mana to fully sustain her power.

"I understand, Your Majesty," Darnic responded solemnly.

"Good. The captured Red Berserker is just outside the fortress. I've set up defensive wards, and the guards are watching him. The rest is up to you. Avicebron and I have other matters to attend to."

With that, Selene turned and left the hall, Avicebron silently following her.

"Master, wait for me!" Roche called out, running after them.

Darnic watched Roche leave, narrowing his eyes slightly. "…As you wish."

...

Walking down the castle corridors toward the underground workshop, Selene suddenly realized something was missing. She turned to the guards trailing behind her and asked, "Where's your captain, Dalrenster?"

"Hmm? Your Majesty, Captain Dalrenster said that you ordered him to engage the Red Lancer Karna. He's been gone for some time now."

Dalrenster, captain of this squad of Imperial Guards, was from the 8th Legion of the Old Imperial Guard—one of Selene's most trusted "veterans."

"When did I… uh…" Selene recalled the events during her capture of Red Berserker Spartacus.

'Your Majesty, per your command, I've located Ruler. Red Lancer Karna is already heading there. Shall I act?'

Dalrenster had indeed asked that question. At the time, however, Selene had been distracted, already preparing to engage Achilles and Atalanta. Frustrated by Achilles' cheeky comments, she had waved her hand absentmindedly to signal agreement.

Thinking back to her promise to Dalrenster during the brawl with Mordred in Trifas, she had indeed told him, 'Be patient, your time will come. Karna, son of Surya from the Mahabharata—that's the opponent you're destined to face…'

Oh… that's right. So she had actually promised him that. A nod or wave had essentially been an order. Dalrenster, ever dutiful, must have taken her word to heart.

Now that an opportunity had presented itself, he had immediately set out to act on it. Such loyalty…

Thinking of Dalrenster's earnest face, Selene couldn't help but facepalm. Her Imperial Guards, especially those led by him, were all so stubborn and earnest.

But then again, she didn't mind. The more loyal, straightforward soldiers she had at her side, the better.

"Hmph, let him be," Selene said with a faint smile. Karna had already been recalled by his Master anyway. What could Dalrenster do—fight Ruler?

Oh, this would be fun to watch…

...

Meanwhile, on the highway leading to Trifas...

By now, Jeanne d'Arc's student uniform had been replaced by her Servant's battle attire. Her silver-white armor clung tightly over her black nun's habit, and a simple silver headband adorned her forehead more as a symbol than for protection.

The cold wind howled as Jeanne stared down at the massive crater in the road before her, the aftermath of a tremendous attack. The culprit, however, had already left the scene.

Even someone as patient as Ruler Jeanne d'Arc couldn't help feeling irritated. Gripping the flag of the pure white Fleur-de-lis in her hands, she slammed it into the ground. "What was that Red Lancer thinking?!"

"Not a word was spoken before he attacked me, a Ruler, unprovoked. And before I could even question him, he left! Though... that was a Command Seal, wasn't it?"

She suspected that the sudden vanishing act was due to his Master's use of a Command Seal to forcibly recall him.

"The Red and Black Servants are already fighting. I need to get to the battlefield quickly. And over there…" Jeanne prepared to head toward the most intense sounds of battle coming from the forest when she caught sight of something pink in her peripheral vision.

She froze, and a look of distress crossed her face.

"Ahh—! My suitcase!"

Having spent most of Laeticia's savings just to get to Romania, Jeanne already felt guilty. But now… her suitcase had been blown to pieces by Karna's lance!

Jeanne's face turned grim as she stared at the shattered suitcase, its contents—Laeticia's clothes and personal items—strewn across the dusty highway.

"How could this happen again… Red Lancer, did you come here just to blow up my suitcase? Sigh, I should clean this up first."

As Jeanne dispelled the Fleur-de-lis flag and prepared to gather the scattered belongings, suddenly—

"Hey! Ruler! Have you seen the Red Lancer, Karna, son of the Sun God Surya from the Mahabharata?"

A loud, metallic voice boomed behind her, startling Jeanne as she was picking up clothes and other personal items.

It wasn't fear—though the voice reverberated painfully through her eardrums—but rather embarrassment!

After all, among the items scattered on the road were undergarments and other intimate belongings!

Ahh—! A man saw them! Oh, Laeticia, I'm so sorry!

"I was just sensing the burning presence of the sun, but now it's gone. Hmm? Miss, do you need help?"

Realizing the man was right behind her and staring at the scattered clothes, Jeanne's face turned red with embarrassment. She glared back over her shoulder, her blue eyes filled with a dangerous intensity.

"Don't look! And wait—you… you're a Servant?!"

Looking up, Jeanne was stunned by the sight of the towering figure before her. The man, standing over three meters tall, wore an intricately crafted set of armor with a crimson cape draped over his shoulders. He seemed larger than life.

Ruler's unique skill, True Name Revelation, was unable to discern anything about him—no class, no true name, no abilities.

"Hmph? I'm not a Servant... Hey, woman, you still haven't answered my question. Do you need help or not?"

Without hesitation, Dalrenster pointed to the colorful mess of clothing on the road.

"And that son of the sun you mentioned…?"

"Stop! I'm not supposed to assist anyone as the impartial Ruler, and turn around! Don't look!"

Jeanne felt utterly mortified. Even though she was only temporarily occupying Laeticia's body, right now, that body was hers, so in a way, these clothes were hers too!

Being asked if she needed help picking up her underwear by a towering man in golden armor was the height of humiliation. Jeanne was ready to jump in front of him to block his view.

Dalrenster, of course, didn't care what Jeanne was wearing. Still, the lessons in chivalry from old man Sebas came to mind, so he turned his head and grumbled, "Tch, troublesome woman. If you don't need help, hurry it up. Just remember to be quick about it!"

If it weren't for the fact that the Ruler wasn't an enemy (at least as long as she wasn't taking sides), Dalrenster would've finished this conversation with his energy-powered battle axe.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

"Damn it! That Karna got away! My tribute to Her Majesty is gone—damn it!"

Not caring for his surroundings, Dalrenster began cursing under his breath in frustration. After all, the soldiers under Gensa had a habit of cursing—especially when they were out of sight of their Empress.

"Woman! Are you done yet? It's been thirty seconds already! Even the Imperial City Guard wouldn't tolerate such a delay!"

"Ha? This is a woman's private…"

"Private, my ass! Finish up already and let's go. Don't keep Her Majesty waiting! It's embarrassing enough that I came here expecting a great battle, only to find you, a mere small fry. The commander's going to have a field day making fun of me…"

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