This Sword, Excalibur

Under the intertwining of midnight, the girl's figure stood gracefully in the moonlight, her silhouette outlined in elegance.

Yet, just by standing there, her frail form exuded a certain untamed aura that made the three kings in the conversation unable to ignore her.

That was Avenger, that was Kurumi Tokisaki.

The Worst Spirit.

Whether it was Rider or Archer, they were both among the top-tier Servants in the Holy Grail War. Yet just looking at Kurumi's charming figure gave even the ever-observant Emiya Kiritsugu the feeling that this time, they might stand a chance.

The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly became tense. It was now an established fact that Saber and Avenger were allies, something that was clear to everyone.

But a king should naturally have the confidence befitting their status.

Weber was already shrinking behind Rider, trembling all over, his face clearly showing fear. Yet, Rider didn't seem to care at all. He casually scooped a cup of red wine from the wine barrel.

"Avenger! How about a drink?"

"It would be rude to refuse." Kurumi smiled, her clear eyes more intoxicating than the divine wine itself, filled with a captivating allure that could capture anyone with just a glance.

"What a charming creature," Rider muttered, scratching the stubble on his chin before looking back at Archer and Saber.

He and Archer were opposites, destined to clash like two warriors on a narrow bridge.

But Saber... she made him pause.

She wasn't the kind of ruler Rider could easily define as a king. Yet, within those solemn emerald eyes, something deeply buried made him wonder.

Rider recalled his own past, galloping across the land, conquering everything in his path.

"A king..."

"A king is someone who lives more brilliantly than others, who dazzles the people with their presence." The King of Conquerors drew his sword, Alexander's Sword, raising it high. "A king unites all the desires of his subjects and becomes their goal! That is what it means to be a King!"

He shouted, and behind him, it seemed as if countless soldiers echoed his cry. The faint sense of an intense wind hinted that a fiery storm was about to sweep through.

He was the king who stirred up war.

Saber looked at him, then suddenly smiled, a clear and pure smile.

Irisviel, standing beside her, was momentarily stunned. Saber... had always been so solemn, and rarely smiled.

But she had to admit, Saber's smile was incredibly beautiful, like the purest, clearest lake.

Click—

The Invisible Air sword was now in her hand.

The wild wind suppressed the burning heat, and the radiant, gleaming Holy Sword began to reveal its brilliance bit by bit before everyone.

It was the ultimate holy sword, forged by the hands of the planet itself—one of the ultimate divine weapons, the strongest fantasy that all warriors throughout history have yearned for on the battlefield.

This Sword, Excalibur!

With honor as its will, and belief as its righteousness, this glory transcended time and space, shining eternally.

She was the king who quelled the chaos.

...

She just wanted... she just wanted to let everything go, to allow the Sword in the Stone to choose a new king, whoever it may be.

The night sky was illuminated by the sword's light.

Rider gazed at her, the brightness almost painful to witness. She was cursed not only by her ideals but also by her vows.

Rider sighed heavily. After all, there were few who truly shared his ideals. Holding Alexander's Sword high, he summoned his Gordius Wheel, but in front of Excalibur, that sword seemed too ordinary.

"Let's call it a night."

He grabbed Weber by the collar and tossed him onto the chariot. For some reason, his tone carried a hint of melancholy.

The Gordius Wheel rumbled away, tearing through the sky with thunder as they left the Einzbern castle. Rider patted Weber on the head, whose height barely reached Rider's chest.

"Hmm, you're still the most pleasing sight to me, kid—though you're a bit short."

"Hmph." Archer narrowed his ruby-like eyes, scanning the two of them. His smile was unexpectedly gentle, so gentle that it was terrifying.

"Avenger..."

"Saber..."

"Dance to your heart's content! Show me your performance!" He laughed maniacally, transforming into streams of light as he disappeared. "Maybe then, I'll choose one of you to make my queen."

"Hahaha... hic."

Bang—

Kurumi's short gun was still faintly smoking as she lightly curled her lips. She had directly fired at Archer in the middle of his outrageous boasting.

The luxurious wine glass fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

The noble Servant, amidst the scattering light particles, gazed at Kurumi.

"Avenger... do you know how many nations were trampled because of that cup?—Forget it, I'll let this one slide."

Kurumi raised her flintlock gun, but Archer had already vanished.

The empty courtyard echoed with his wild laughter.

"Dance for me."

...

Kurumi's expression turned cold as she sank into the shadows.

He got lucky this time.

...

Inside a small room, a delicate little girl stood barefoot on the cold floor, her large, watery violet eyes brimming with tears.

She bit her lower lip tightly.

The girl was wearing an intricately designed plush cat pajama suit, soft and fluffy, with ears and a drooping tail.

Beside her, two of Kurumi's clones were gently coaxing her, trying to soothe the little one back to sleep. But the girl was unusually stubborn, refusing to cry, her eyes just welling up with tears as she tried to walk out.

Sakura possessed exceptional talent in magecraft, with the rare attribute of "Imaginary Numbers"—a mystery that even Kurumi found hard to unravel. She could always pinpoint which clone was the real Kurumi.

And now, having just woken from a dark nightmare, Sakura realized that Kurumi was missing.

Another Kurumi clone appeared, gently rubbing Sakura's cat ears as she crouched down. "Why won't you listen to 'me'?"

The girl instantly calmed down, tilting her head, her violet eyes hollow.

"Scared."

In that moment, Kurumi's heart softened.

"Zzz... Zzz..."

"Kozumi... Kozumi! Report the situation inside."

"Zzz... Zzz..." The officer named Kozumi seemed not to hear the increasingly stern voice of the sergeant. "How... is this even possible?"

"Repeat that! Kozumi! Report the situation inside!" The sergeant couldn't understand why the usually reliable Kozumi would suddenly lapse into this dreamlike state.

"Flesh... flesh..."

The trembling voice of the young patrol officer echoed through the communicator.

"Flesh?" The sergeant was confused, then a sense of dread crept up on him. He had heard stories about a deranged serial killer who had escaped to Fuyuki City, and the bizarre "art" the man created was something no normal person could stomach.

"Kozumi... return immediately. I repeat! Return now." The sergeant urged.

Click—

The sound of the communicator hitting the ground was faint, but the young officer's murmurs could still be heard.

"So many... eyes..."

"Eyes?" The sergeant pointed his flashlight toward the depths of the air raid shelter, his heart pounding.

And then... he saw it too—the writhing monster.