The events of this Romanian Holy Grail War took place chronologically between the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars in Fuyuki.
In Romania, the Yggdmillennia family rebelled against the Mage's Association after seizing the Greater Grail and summoning seven Servants under their control. In response, the Greater Grail's internal safeguard system automatically activated.
When all seven summoned Servants reside within a single faction, the Greater Grail itself intervenes to preserve the balance of the Holy Grail War. It does so by selecting another seven Masters and Servants to form an opposing faction—thus establishing two warring sides.
The Mage's Association and the Holy Church joined forces to form the Red Faction, summoning seven Servants to oppose the Yggdmillennia. To ensure fairness, the Greater Grail itself summoned Ruler—Saint Jeanne d'Arc—as the arbiter of this seven-versus-seven conflict.
As for the final result... well, in short, both sides lost. The referee won. It might not be entirely accurate, but it's certainly a fitting metaphor.
In the climactic battle, Ruler Jeanne d'Arc used her self-destructive Noble Phantasm, La Pucelle: The Crimson Holy Maiden, to destroy nearly eighty percent of the Greater Grail that had been corrupted by Amakusa Shirou Tokisada's wish to "save all humanity"—that is, to grant eternal life to every human being.
Amakusa Shirou Tokisada, originally the Ruler summoned during the Third Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, had somehow survived by gaining a physical body. Later, he joined the Holy Church and was appointed as both Master and overseer in this Romanian conflict.
His goal was to use the Greater Grail to achieve humanity's "salvation"—to universalize the Third Magic, granting immortality to all.
Tch... so that's why Jeanne's so biased. A lineage of black whistles indeed. Selene chuckled faintly. The Greater Grail really does have impeccable taste in arbiters—each one loves to meddle personally.
In the eyes of proper magi, though, what a waste—a perfectly functional Greater Grail, ruined by Amakusa Shirou and the "Black Whistle" Jeanne.
In the end, the Greater Grail was taken by Sieg—the homunculus who inherited Siegfried's core—and cast into the Reverse Side of the World, preventing the Third Magic from interfering with the surface world.
A pity. Darnic's sixty years of preparation all came to nothing, taking the future of the entire Yggdmillennia family down with it.
"Still," Selene mused aloud, "I wonder—if Darnic were to seize the Greater Grail and make his wish this time... what would happen to the world?"
Would a new Magician of the Root emerge? Would Darnic's soul be consumed and annihilated by the Root itself? Or would the world collapse, taking the Clock Tower and the Mage's Association down with it?
"How intriguing..."
In any case, Selene had no interest in making a wish upon the Greater Grail. Her desires? The Grail could never fulfill them.
Could it grant her the complete technological foundation of the Golden Age of the Imperium of Man? Could it grant her dominion over a material territory spanning the Milky Way itself?
As for using the Grail to "increase her power"? Ridiculous. Such strength would be unstable and unreliable. Better to advance her abilities through her own mastery of Honkai than to depend on an external, fickle wish.
"Well then... even if this is just a seven-day excursion, let it at least be entertaining."
...
Descending from the dais, Vlad III stood in the central garden courtyard of Fortress of Millennia, gazing at the golden twin-headed eagle emblem in his hand as Selene's words echoed in his mind.
"Prince Vlad, this is Romania—your realm. You are its lord, while I'm but a guest. You know this land better than I ever could. I can grant you elite soldiers—not puppets or homunculi, but true warriors of the battlefield...
"I await your demonstration of command, Prince. Do not disappoint me."
...
Vlad and Darnic stood in silence for a moment.
"My lord," Darnic finally said, "what do you think of Her Divine Majesty?"
"Powerful," Vlad replied without hesitation. "There is a sense of amusement about her... as though she views this entire Holy Grail War as nothing more than a passing spectacle."
"She holds no desire for the Greater Grail," Vlad continued, his tone thoughtful. "That much I believe to be true—and for us, that is fortunate. In any case, until the war is over, Darnic... refrain from any unnecessary schemes."
Summoned as a Lancer, Prince Vlad III was no tyrant, but a wise and just ruler—and a devout Christian. Thus, he had accepted the arrival of a mighty God-Empress upon his domain with calm grace, even bowing to her authority.
Perhaps that was for the best.
Had two human kings been summoned instead, with both determined to lead, conflict would have been inevitable. Especially here in Romania—his homeland—Vlad's pride as its ruler would never allow him to yield. The result would have been catastrophic, no matter who emerged victorious.
"I understand," Darnic said with a thoughtful nod. "However... my lord, according to Her Divine Majesty, our enemies this time are unprecedentedly strong—heroes of Greek myth, an Assyrian queen... and it seems our 'Black' Assassin has been taken from us."
"Do not trouble yourself," Vlad replied firmly. "Jack the Ripper—the notorious serial killer of nineteenth-century Britain—is nothing but a common assassin. Hardly worth concern."
Recalling the countless divine legions he had glimpsed within Selene's Reality Marble, Vlad turned his gaze upward toward the radiant figure atop the citadel. A faint smile crossed his face as he murmured almost wistfully.
"Had I commanded such an army in life, my nation and my people would never have suffered under the Ottoman yoke. I would never have known defeat, nor imprisonment..."
Darnic nodded in agreement. Indeed, such a trifling assassin posed little threat. What mattered now was to use the token bestowed by Selene to summon reinforcements—to strengthen their forces with real soldiers.
"Darnic, Her Majesty has granted me command over the Astartes Legion. Let us make haste to deploy them... To think, I have been given the honor of commanding an army of gods! I can hardly contain my anticipation!"
With that, Prince Vlad lifted the temporary Noble Phantasm token given by Selene. In a flash of light, his form dissolved into spirit particles and vanished.
Watching him depart, Darnic exhaled softly, muttering under his breath.
"A ruler of unshakable faith... Vlad III."
He could not tell whether his feelings were admiration or exasperation.
"What a terrifying, yet admirable God-Empress... She's already taken command so effortlessly. Still, if the war proceeds smoothly, I have no complaints."
And yet, the legend of Selene that Darnic knew... was nothing like the serene lunar goddess of Greek mythology.
"An emperor and a god—the two most willful beings known to mankind combined into one..." Darnic said with a wry smile.
"Let's just hope Her Majesty truly holds no desire for the Grail. For now, that's the only thing keeping me at ease. I'd rather not be forced to use my contingency plans... Celenike."
The last name escaped him in a whisper too faint for anyone else to hear.
...
The next morning—
Boom!Boom! Boom boom! BOOM!
The thunderous explosions jolted Selene awake. Outside her window, streaks of emerald lightning surged up from the slopes beneath the citadel.
"That's Frankenstein's Noble Phantasm..." she murmured.
The stronger the Servant, the greater the mana consumption. Using their Command Spells as conduits and the homunculi-produced mana within Fortress of Millennia as a constant supply, the Masters could channel massive amounts of magical energy without restraint.
It was an ingenious system—allowing the Yggdmillennia Masters to cast freely while letting their Servants unleash Noble Phantasms without hesitation.
Aside from rapidly draining the homunculi's life force, there were few real drawbacks.
"Your Majesty, shall I reprimand these insolent fools for disturbing your rest?" asked the captain of the Royal Guard stationed at her door, his metallic voice respectful yet brimming with fury.
Selene waved a hand dismissively. "No need. Heroic Spirits have no need for sleep. I merely keep the habit... Let them be."
A faint smile touched her lips. "The first day of the Holy Grail War, and already they're so leisurely. Still... with me here, perhaps Caules and Frankenstein's battles will turn into more of a lovers' quarrel than a war."
She didn't even need to consult the Complete Book of the World to know what was happening. It was obvious that Caules had once again persuaded Frankenstein to test Avicebron's stone golems for their Noble Phantasm experiments.
"Ah, the recklessness of those with endless mana..." she sighed. "Truly indulgent."
Soon after, Selene left the luxurious room Darnic had prepared for her.
Along the way, she passed several patrolling homunculi. Each one was beautiful—slender, elegant, and androgynously perfect. The female homunculi even wore black pantyhose and short skirts, their figures aesthetically flawless. Yet their faces were blank, devoid of emotion—true dolls.
Every one of them bore silver-gray hair and crimson eyes, and all carried various weapons. Upon seeing Selene, they immediately stepped aside and bowed respectfully.
From their appearance, particularly the red eyes, there was indeed a faint resemblance to Selene—but only faint. Her own scarlet eyes were far deeper, far more terrifying, while her hair shimmered with silver-white brilliance laced with golden luminescence.
"Homunculi, huh?" Selene murmured, her gaze cold. "Sirin... or should I say K-423, Kiana... and Otto, Schicksal... I have quite the gift prepared for you when next we meet." Her golden eyes narrowed slightly at the thought.
"Divine Majesty."
The voice of respectful greeting pulled her from her reverie. Turning, Selene saw Darnic approaching, impeccably dressed, bowing with formal grace.
"Ah, Darnic. Perfect timing," she said, her tone almost amused. With a flick of her hand, the Complete Book of the World · Rongo Rongo materialized and drifted toward him. "Take a look. Four of the 'Red' Servants are advancing toward the Fortress of Millennia."
A faint smile touched her lips. "The game is about to begin. I expect great things from you, Darnic. The usage rights for the Complete Book of the World are now yours."
As she stepped closer, Selene extended a hand—adorned with gleaming golden rings—and lightly tapped his shoulder. "...Perform well."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Please await our triumph," Darnic replied, hastily catching the heavy tome. He kept his head bowed until Selene and her Royal Guards had completely vanished from sight. Only then did he slowly lift his gaze.
The faint echo of armored footsteps lingered down the hall as his eyes glimmered with sharp calculation.
So, Her Divine Majesty Selene truly had come merely to play at mortal games.
After all, among the few who had left their marks on human history, each hero bore an unshakable pride. And gods? Their arrogance was infinitely greater.
That was why Darnic had greeted Selene as one would a sovereign—not because of reverence, but strategy. Whether or not it mattered, the act itself was a form of insurance. Even the proud know to spare those who bow before them.
All he needed now was to slowly close the distance between himself and Selene. With Celenike's volatile mix of sadistic and masochistic tendencies, she was bound to slip eventually. Once she offended the Empress' sense of order and righteousness, the rest would unfold naturally.
That would be Darnic's opportunity.
Still, usurping a Servant must not be done hastily. He would need to gauge Vlad's loyalty, maintain unity within Yggdmillennia, and wait for the right moment to act against Celenike.
Suddenly, Selene's cool voice echoed directly into his mind—calm and imperial.
"Darnic. The forested sector where three of the Red Servants advance shall be yours to handle. The one who entered Trifas City alone—the Saber of Red—she is mine to hunt."
The sudden intrusion startled him, but he quickly steadied himself.
"Yes! As you command, Your Majesty!"
...
Night fell upon Trifas City.
Boom!
Within an empty district shrouded by a People-Clearing Field-type magecraft, a massive explosion tore through the silence.
Scarlet lightning flared as a thick crimson-and-silver armor materialized, enveloping the body of a blonde girl dressed in a revealing athletic outfit.
The Saber of Red—Mordred, the rebellious knight of Britain—rushed forward amid the storm of red lightning. She moved like thunder itself, her momentum blasting through buildings, scattering bricks and dust into the night sky.
The towering golems of stone, powered by bronze cores and magical hearts, shattered before her relentless onslaught like brittle kindling.
But then, just as she smashed through another wave of enemies, her smirk froze.
A primal chill crawled down her spine.
Her bloodline's inherited intuition—an instinct passed down from the Pendragon line—screamed a single warning: A great terror approaches!
"This feeling... damn it! Master, it's dangerous! Get—"
BZZZZ—!
"By the blood of my enemies—blood for the Empress!!"
BOOM!