That bastard Hyouma Sagara… just how much did he reveal?!
Darnic's heart burned with shock and fury as he stared at the 'elderly man' whose face was completely concealed.
They had only just summoned their Servants when Hyouma Sagara's communication came through. Darnic had initially thought it was news of a successful summoning, but instead, what appeared before everyone in the throne room was a group of mysterious individuals who called themselves the Osarei clan.
Despite the countless struggles, schemes, and underhanded dealings he had experienced during the formation of the Yggdmillennia, Darnic still remembered the Osarei clan vividly.
—After all, it was he who had secretly orchestrated the destruction of their family's Magic Crest.
There was no special reason. It was simply because the Osarei's magecraft was too extreme—even within the Yggdmillennia, they were absolute black sheep, practitioners of a self-destructive and malevolent path. Yet, their power was immense, posing a significant threat to Darnic's rule.
After collaborating with the Ainsworth family, who also feared the Osarei, Darnic successfully eradicated the clan and drove them into exile… That had been over a decade ago.
As a skilled politician, Darnic naturally felt no guilt. What concerned him more was the Osarei's intentions—and how much they knew.
Did they know he had conspired to kill their family head?
And now, they were proposing cooperation with the Yggdmillennia—what exactly were they planning?
Yet, all his thoughts and suspicions came to an abrupt halt the moment the 'elder' revealed his trump card.
"I trust you will not refuse our Master and Servant, yes?"
The strangely laughing old man gestured toward a cloaked figure standing nearby. When Darnic followed his finger, his expression twisted in shock.
"This is…! You actually summoned a Servant?!"
Though this was only a communication, Darnic, as a Master, could still perceive basic information about the Servant. Though this Assassin's parameters were only partially visible, the triple A-rank Endurance, Agility, and Mana were enough to unsettle him.
His gaze shifted subtly toward Vlad III seated on the throne, and through their shared connection, they exchanged silent words.
'Confirmed as the Assassin class… Yes, their performance is exceptional… Rest assured, the current Yggdmillennia is not something the Osarei can shake, especially with you here… Indeed, I agree.'
If they were willingly delivering themselves, then he would swallow both bait and hook—the Yggdmillennia now had the strength to do so.
Once their understanding was reached, Darnic's face broke into a practiced, amicable smile, warm and harmless.
"Since the Osarei are willing, the Yggdmillennia welcomes your arrival. Of course, if your entire clan wishes to return to our embrace, we would be more than happy to—"
"Heh, no need." Sakatsuki remained indifferent, neither pleased nor angered. "After over a decade, the Osarei's magecraft foundation has already merged with the East. We won't trouble you."
Whether it was the initiative slipping into the other party's hands or Sakatsuki's unfathomable demeanor, Darnic felt deeply unsettled. Yet, his expression remained unchanged as he smiled and continued speaking.
"Then Yggdmillennia shall await the arrival of the seventh Master."
Darnic's gaze swept across the gray-misted 'elder' on the screen, the unknown Servant cloaked in black, and the green-skirted woman standing respectfully nearby. He nodded to each in turn before terminating the communication, his smile vanishing instantly as his expression turned grave.
"What absolute chaos."
First, the Mage's Association had somehow activated the Holy Grail's backup system. Then Vlad III, underestimating his opponent, had been severely wounded by an Assassin, forcing Darnic to expend two Command Spells. Now the Osarei family had crawled out of their graves, summoning an Assassin in Hyouma Sagara's stead—compelling Yggdmillennia to accept this anomaly...
So many unforeseen events weighed heavily on Darnic's mind as he gazed out the window.
Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, foreboding the coming storm.
Yet when he turned to behold the four Servants pledging loyalty beneath the throne, passion reignited in Darnic's heart.
Majestic and magnificent, solemn and awe-inspiring—no praise could fully capture this spectacle.
Black Saber, Black Archer, Black Rider, Black Berserker, along with the prematurely summoned Black Caster, and seated upon the throne with innate dignity—the Voivode of Wallachia himself, Black Lancer.
With the exception of the anomalously summoned Assassin in Shinjuku, all six had now assembled in this throne room.
In an ordinary Holy Grail War, it was rare for more than two Servants to occupy the same space simultaneously. Even during alliances or battles, three at most would gather—typically while plotting each other's demise.
Yet now they acknowledged this new form of warfare—the Great Holy Grail War—and pledged to fight together.
With such mighty familiars joining their cause, how could the Black Faction—how could Yggdmillennia's long-cherished wish remain unfulfilled?
Confidence supplanted concern as Darnic turned, raising the scepter symbolizing Yggdmillennia's leadership to salute Vlad III upon his throne.
"My King, these are the Servants summoned by our Black Masters—your loyal vassals."
"Hmm." The noble-faced monarch rose, his deep, resonant voice filling the throne room.
"I am Vlad Tepes. To all who seek the Holy Grail and have answered this summons—fight for our Black Faction's victory!"
This was the leader's concise encouragement to his Servants.
Darnic nodded approvingly before addressing the uniformly attired Masters in his dual capacity as chief Master and head of House Yggdmillennia.
"By summoning them, we of Yggdmillennia have embarked upon an irreversible path of bloodshed."
The ageless man raised his hand, his platinum-white robes billowing dramatically.
"But! When this great war concludes, those Masters who fight to the end shall claim infinite glory!"
Under the assembly's collective gaze, Darnic spoke with fiery passion, spreading his arms as if to embrace the entire world.
"Fear nothing! For we already possess that omnipotent wish-granter... we possess the Greater Grail!"
From a family, from sixty years of a man's obsession, a resounding declaration echoed through the throne room of the Fortress of Millennia.
"We shall claim victory without fail!"
Darnic proved himself a masterful politician and orator. With just a few words, he dispelled the gloom cast by the El-Melloi faction and the Mage's Association, invigorating every Master present. The Servants studied this ruler and the 'king' he served, nodding in silent approval. The Masters traced the Command Spells on their hands, surveyed the Servants resonating with them, and radiated exhilaration.
After the storm passed, the throne room finally settled into proper discussions.
"Ah, why don't we all introduce ourselves first? Okay? Come on! I'm Servant Rider, true name Astolfo. And you?"
—Thus, Servant Rider was the first to speak up, ahead of everyone else.
Thanks to the enthusiastic overtures of Astolfo (affectionately nicknamed "Asto"), who claimed to be one of Charlemagne's Twelve Paladins, most Servants quickly shed their initial reserve and openly revealed their true names.
Black Rider: Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's Twelve Paladins, the great adventurer.
Black Archer: Chiron, the legendary centaur sage of Greek mythology.
Black Berserker: The artificial lifeform created by Victor Frankenstein, the Modern Prometheus.
Apart from these three, there were two Servants summoned earlier.
Black Lancer: Vlad III, the Voivode of Wallachia who presided over the Black Faction in kingly fashion, renowned throughout Romania.
Black Caster: Solomon ibn Gabirol (also known as Avicebron), creator of the Kabbalah magecraft foundation and master of golemcraft.
Thus far, the true names and identities of the Black Faction's Servants had been almost entirely laid bare—except for one. The strongest and most crucial Class, that Servant's true name, was stubbornly concealed by his Master.
"I have no intention of revealing this Servant's true name to anyone except Darnic."
When these words left the lips of the artistically coiffed, golden-haired yet corpulent man, jeers filled the throne room. The Masters glared at this portly figure with palpable displeasure.
Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia.
In an instant, this Master who so openly defied the mood, along with the silver-haired young swordsman he had summoned—whose exposed chest bore azure patterns—became the targets of collective scrutiny.
What manner of Servant had he summoned, that this Master would breach their signed agreement just to conceal his identity?
***
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