[T/N- Guys, I will be busy this week, so I am sending the chapters today. There will be no more additional updates this week]
"Seventh Master, you were never originally part of this Holy Grail War. Did someone make you an offer to bring you in?"
Faced with his workshop being breached, Darnic didn't respond with outrage. Instead, he calmly attempted to negotiate, adapting immediately to the unexpected situation.
"If someone hired you to come after me, whatever price they offered, I'm willing to pay more."
"Oh?" Roland's expression remained unreadable. "What makes you so sure I'm not here just to kill you for the sake of the Holy Grail? After all, you're the sole survivor from the last war."
"I've kept a low profile," Danic replied, voice composed. "Even if my presence offends some, with my Servant and base still unknown, making a move against me carries risk. It could push potential allies into the enemy's camp."
His gaze remained fixed on Roland as he continued, "This wasn't a random ambush, it was premeditated. You came for me from the very start."
Even as an enemy, Darnic responded with respect and humility. A magus of the highest tier, one who had brushed shoulders with the Grand classes and held court in the Clock Tower, Darnic's tact and political savvy were evident. His restraint made even Roland raise an eyebrow.
"You act quite measured infront of me, someone who's only contracted with a Caster, the so called weakest class. So tell me, what's your true goal in joining this Holy Grail War?"
"It's precisely out of respect." Darnic's answer was smooth. "To someone who commands a miracle like an inherent barrier, what value am I?"
That was Darnic's true judgment.
Normal familiars couldn't breach his dream-altered workshop, but a construct born from an inherent barrier was a different matter entirely.
If possible, Danic had no intention of antagonizing such a dangerous anomaly. Yet he also had no plans to grovel. He needed to strike a balance, to offer just enough to avoid inciting greed.
"Lancer," he called softly. "If he won't listen to terms… then we'll settle this here. I'm not boasting, Lancer is powerful."
For many Servants, pride and ego made them uncooperative with submissive Masters. Darnic's earlier humility might've provoked disdain or rebellion. But the figure standing silently beside him responded with neither judgment nor defiance. Only when called upon did Lancer step forward.
And with that step… revealed his face.
Even Medea, who had remained silent until now, couldn't help but murmur in astonishment.
"What a pristine creation… nearly divine."
Coming from someone who had walked the Age of Gods, this was high praise.
Lancer's beauty was inhuman, not an aesthetic of charm or allure, but something that transcended definition itself. His features weren't "handsome" or "pretty," but ideal. He embodied an archetype, a manifestation of perfection, like the Venus of myth rendered in flesh.
Male or female, human or divine, those distinctions faded in the presence of such flawless form.
He wore a flowing white robe, loose enough to hide any clue about his figure. His limbs seemed delicate, his long green hair carried the scent of forest after rain, and his face bore such soft grace that one might mistake him for a girl… until they doubted even that. He was beauty incarnate, neither man nor woman, and both.
And despite being mistaken for a puppet of magic, he did not flinch from Medea's earlier words.
"Thank you, Caster," Lancer said in a voice as soft as wind brushing leaves. "You, too, possess a beauty that complements your fine perception."
Roland stared at him for a moment longer, then muttered with mild amusement.
"You really drew a strong hand."
Enkidu.
A true cheat.
More than a Servant, he was a divine weapon crafted by the gods themselves. As long as his feet touched the Earth, he had access to endless mana. To say that the Master was merely an "accessory" in this pairing was no exaggeration.
"So then," Roland said, tilting his head, "let's hear your conditions."
Darnic nodded politely, revealing no pride or smugness.
"Go on."
"The one who brought me in offered a ticket into the war and some later support. I'm curious to see what you can offer me."
"The Holy Grail."
That stopped Roland for a moment.
"I will relinquish my claim to the Grail. All I ask is that you form an alliance with me until the Grail manifests."
A scroll of parchment floated from Danic's hand, drifting gently in the air toward Roland.
Medea flicked her wand, unrolling it mid-air. Her eyes carefully traced each line and sigil. After a long pause, she nodded.
It was a Self-Geis Scroll, a powerful and binding magical document, the same kind Kiritsugu once used to manipulate Kayneth. This one held real authority. It bound the user's soul and could not be nullified through conventional means.
Roland glanced over the contents. As Darnic promised, it confirmed he would forfeit the Grail.
The only demand: Roland must remain allied to Darnic until at least four other Master-Servant pairs were eliminated.
It was an unequal contract. Danic got far less from this arrangement, yet it made sense.
He didn't truly care about the Grail.
Danic wanted something else, something that required the Servants and Masters to be drawn into conflict. And while both he and the Einzbern were vessels of divine will, their conduct couldn't be more different.
Roland chuckled.
"In principle, I accept. Just don't regret signing with me."
Then his voice turned sharp.
"But tell me, how do I know you're not some Master who only survives by hiding behind his Servant? If we ally and someone picks you off, I'd look like an idiot."
"You won't have to worry about that."
Danic's voice carried a quiet confidence.
He didn't want to fall before achieving his long-held goals. And unlike the Einzberns or Kenneth, Darnic had earned his power from the bottom up.
Even if Roland's words were a trap, Danic wasn't concerned. The Self-Geis Scroll was absolute. Even a monarch from the clock tower couldn't override it. Their alliance would be more than words, it would demand cooperation and shared survival.
He was prepared to give Roland anything: wealth, relics, whatever he desired. As long as they could hold this alliance long enough to fulfill the terms, it was worth it.
"If you still doubt me…"
Danic stepped forward, cane in hand.
"Why not test me yourself?"
The two Servants exchanged glances and withdrew, forming a silent perimeter around their Masters.
Darnic stood poised, eyes narrowed, mana quietly surging through his ritual implements. He wasn't sure how Roland would attack, via raw power, curses, or those shadowy ninjas, but he was ready for anything.
"You may begin," he said confidently.
Roland gave a casual nod.
"Alright. Just try not to die from this trick."
Then, with a fluid motion, he reached behind his coat and, before Danic could react, pulled out a walnut-handled revolver and pulled the trigger.
[T/N: The Anti Magus Noble Phantasm has been unleashed💀💀💀]
A deafening crack echoed through the dream-warped chamber.
Danic's eyes widened in disbelief.
"…You're using a gun!?"