"An invitation… to your house?"
Mordred blinked, caught off guard.
That little friend of hers — she had first met her back when she'd just arrived in Fuyuki City, during the grand welcoming ceremony organized by Academy City.
From among hundreds of thousands of students, only a few were selected as student representatives to receive the visiting Heroic Spirits from the three nations.
But Kirina wasn't one of those representatives. She'd somehow ended up at the Fuyuki Grand Hotel by coincidence — and that was where she and Mordred met.
The girl was only twelve, a lively and mischievous elementary schooler, far sharper than her peers.
Mordred, being an artificial human, matured far faster than an ordinary person — at the time of the battle at Camlann, when she and her father had fallen together, she had been only eight.
Their actual ages weren't far apart. And with their similar personalities, they clicked instantly.
Mordred couldn't help but feel an inexplicable sense of sisterly familiarity with the girl — so much so that she didn't care in the slightest that Kirina was just a normal human. They'd become close friends, sharing secrets and laughter alike.
It was a strange but precious feeling.
For Mordred — who'd been raised as a boy, who'd trained endlessly just to earn her father's approval — this kind of soft, genuine companionship was something she could never refuse.
There was something familiar about Kirina, something that tugged at Mordred's heart, as if they were destined to meet.
Perhaps this, she thought, was what people called a fateful encounter.
Still, one of them was a powerful Heroic Spirit, the other a fragile human.
That vast difference in existence made Mordred reluctant to interfere too much in her friend's life.
She asked curiously,
"Your… guardian, won't he mind me visiting?"
Kirina had adored Heroic Spirits since she was little, spending all her pocket money on figures, posters, and any merchandise she could find.
For someone like Mordred — a famous, powerful Heroic Spirit — visiting her home would surely be a dream come true.
But that guardian of hers didn't seem to enjoy attention.
The man's name was Sanjiro — pronounced similarly to "Shirou," though his personality couldn't have been more different.
He was a total slacker, a self-proclaimed "qualified sloth" of an ordinary high schooler, content to just coast through life.
The only thing they shared in common was excellent cooking skills.
"He'll definitely welcome you!" Kirina said with total confidence. "He's just a normal shut-in. If a real Heroic Spirit walked into his house, he'd probably be too shocked to speak! How could he not welcome you?"
After all — this best friend of hers was the real deal, a genuine, powerful Heroic Spirit!
People everywhere were crying and begging for autographs or selfies with one.
Now, she was about to bring Mordred home — Sanjiro would probably be so thrilled he'd tear up and reward her with more figures or something.
Then Kirina suddenly remembered: the last time she'd gone out for groceries, she'd run into Artoria herself.
She'd almost invited her home, too.
Unfortunately, Artoria — ever mindful of her Heroic Spirit status — had politely declined.
So this time, inviting Mordred instead could be considered… repaying the debt of the father through the daughter.
Or rather — a filial child honoring a kind parent.
Let Mordred, in her father's place, experience the warmth of ordinary life.
After a brief pause, Mordred nodded. "Alright, then. Come by the hotel first — we'll head there together."
Besides, she was still sulking with envy over her father's recent ascension to Grand Servant.
Might as well step out — out of sight, out of mind.
But still…
If she could become a Grand Servant, would anyone dare call her "a useless troublemaker" or "the incompetent knight"?
"Got it! I'll be right there!" Kirina said cheerfully, changing into her outdoor clothes.
She called out, "I'm going out to play!"
"Oh, be careful and come back early," Sanjiro replied casually.
Right now, Sanjiro's top priority in his mind was to gather all seven Grand Servants as teammates.
Among the seven Grand Classes, only Grand Berserker had yet to be determined.
But Sanjiro already had someone in mind — it was just a matter of whether she would agree.
Still… where had Athena gone?
He frowned slightly.
The Primordial Father, Chaos, was among the upcoming threats — a being of despairing power, far surpassing the Vanguard.
The Olympian gods had been forcibly transferred to Earth across universes using 97% of Chaos's energy.
Sanjiro had wanted to find Athena and discuss their countermeasures.
"Well, looks like I'll have to trouble Abby again," he muttered, glancing at the gate-shaped seal on his hand.
It was a contact mark left by Abigail, functioning much like a Command Seal to summon her.
As the envoy of an Outer God, she was rejected by the world — forced to manifest only through a Servant form.
The sigil pulsed softly, and a sweet, childlike voice rang out:
"I am your key~ So then, where shall I open a door to today?"
Previously, she had opened the gates linking the Surface World and the Inner World — as well as revealed the Vanguard's reawakening.
Her ability to open doors to any location was nothing short of miraculous.
"Abby, could you help me locate the Goddess of Wisdom?" Sanjiro asked somewhat sheepishly.
After all, she'd helped him so much during the last battle — and he still hadn't even treated her to a meal.
Abigail's voice hesitated slightly.
"The Goddess of Wisdom… um…"
"Huh? What's wrong?" Sanjiro asked, puzzled.
Had something happened to her?
"Just a second — you'll see for yourself."
With that, Abigail summoned her power, opening a shimmering gateway between worlds.
The radiant door appeared before Sanjiro, and he stepped through.
Chaos and distortion filled his vision immediately — the space between worlds.
In that infinite chaos, he saw a mass of writhing, incomprehensible energy — a source of all disorder and knowledge, radiating madness itself.
Sanjiro's expression darkened instantly. He knew at once what he was looking at.
[Yog-Sothoth] — Abigail's father.
A true Outer God — a transcendent entity beyond gods themselves.
Said to contain all knowledge, infinitely generous yet infinitely greedy — the one who answers any prayer, at any cost.
Apparently, someone had prayed to him for "wisdom."
"How… foolish." Sanjiro sighed softly.
Even gods could not withstand the corruption of an Outer God, let alone mortals.
Back in The Eternal Emperor, the so-called "Evil Gods" that had corrupted the Heavenly Court were all victims of such Outer influence.
He had once been forced to sever the link between gods and humanity entirely, to stop that corruption from spreading further.
And now…
The once-pure Goddess of Wisdom had clearly fallen to the same fate — her mind consumed, her divinity twisted.
A once-immaculate virgin goddess… now turned into a true fallen being.
She was trembling all over, eyes rolled back, her body twitching violently — as if she were about to break apart at any moment.
Sanjiro could hardly bear to watch.
As expected, that Outer God was too generous — every time, He "graciously" bestowed infinite knowledge, so much that no mortal mind could possibly endure it.
Sanjiro stepped forward and pressed a finger lightly against Athena's forehead.
He poured his will — a will surpassing even that of the gods — into her, trying to forcibly pull her consciousness back from the brink.
But just then—
Athena suddenly wrapped her arms around him. Her glassy eyes shimmered faintly, her body pressed tightly against his, moving slightly as if in search of warmth.
"Uh…"
Sanjiro sighed helplessly.
The little loli beside him was watching — what kind of example was this supposed to set for a child?!
He gently pushed her shoulders. "Are you alright?"
"I… I'm fine…"
Athena finally broke free from the strange trance that had consumed her — but even so, she subconsciously continued to hold on to him.
Her mind was still dizzy, overwhelmed by the vast "knowledge" the Outer God had poured into her.
And yet, this human before her… his body radiated warmth, like a furnace in the middle of a frozen winter. She couldn't bring herself to let go.
At this distance, she could feel his heartbeat, his breath — all of it so real, so grounding.
So warm…
"Mmm…"
A soft hum escaped Athena's lips as she finally managed to pull herself away — though immediately, she felt an unbearable emptiness inside, as though something vital had been taken from her.
"It's fine now," Sanjiro said calmly. "Even you, Goddess of Wisdom, cannot bear the so-called 'generous gifts' of an Outer God."
"I underestimated His power…" Athena whispered.
Her face was pale, yet tinged with a faint blush. Her eyes still rippled like water.
How strong He was…
So strong that even His generosity was deadly — she wasn't even qualified to receive it.
If Sanjiro hadn't arrived in time, she would have already fallen completely into madness.
Yes — only through him could she regain a sense of herself… or perhaps even surpass her limits.
Sanjiro asked, "The Vanguard has already been converted into an ally. Now we have to think about how to deal with your Primordial Father."
"Deal with him? Impossible — the only thing we can do is run!" Athena's face turned even paler at the thought.
Even as a high god, she was but a speck of dust before Him.
The Primordial Father — Chaos — had shattered the upper limit of divine power itself.
She bit her lip and said softly, "The Primordial Father was created by a cosmic civilization of gods — a being that absorbed the total energy of entire stars and transformed it into an interstellar fortress… a Dyson Sphere."
That was no metaphor — it was literally a star-level existence.
The Vanguard, no matter how powerful, was merely planetary in scale — it couldn't even be compared.
"Dyson Sphere…"
Sanjiro's expression darkened.
That thing was insanity incarnate.
Imagine, he thought — everyone knows about solar panels, using sunlight to generate electricity.
Now imagine a sphere over 200 million kilometers in diameter, completely enclosing a star — turning the star itself into a titanic nuclear fusion reactor.
And Chaos, the Primordial Father, had taken such a star, packed it up, and used it as his own power plant.
An endless source of energy — sufficient for eternal cosmic travel.
"At present, the Primordial Father should still be in the gap between time and space," Athena said. "Its gateway likely lies within the Sun itself."
Having regained her composure, Athena once again radiated divine grace.
She sighed lightly.
"However… human civilization possesses a kind of energy completely distinct from that of the stars. That energy is what the Primordial Father seeks to restore itself."
The power of civilization — the most mysterious force in the cosmos, transcending even gods and matter.
It was what the Wandering Star had been searching for across the universe.
Upon discovering Earth — the seed of humanity's civilization — they left behind the Vanguard to wait for the right time to harvest it.
"Human civilization… maybe it's emotion?" Sanjiro mused, recalling the transformation of Attila, the former Vanguard.
The Olympian mechanical gods, the Wandering Star constructs — none of them had emotion.
But upon experiencing human feeling, they had all begun to evolve into humans.
Clearly, to both the Wandering Star and the Primordial Father, humanity's eventual rise — and subsequent fall into despair — would release an unfathomable energy.
"Emotion? Perhaps." Athena nodded. "Humans possess hearts unlike any other — the true prize of the universe."
"That's why Goetia tried to incenerate the human history," she continued.
Goetia's plan — to burn human history — was also a means of gathering that same energy, powerful enough to reverse time itself and return to the dawn of Earth, 4.6 billion years ago.
In essence, his goal was no different from that of the Vanguard or the Primordial Father — all sought to harvest humanity.
Athena's voice grew heavy.
"Actually, the Primordial Father still slumbers. What you should be worried about now… is the one sleeping beneath South America."
"Right… that thing's about to wake up," Sanjiro sighed.
The being known as the Mercurial Spider—ORT, the Ultimate One of Mercury, or the One Radiant Thing—had fallen to Earth thousands of years ago. To it, humanity was nothing more than an anomaly infesting a foreign planet.
It crashed here five millennia ahead of schedule, and had lain dormant ever since, buried deep beneath the South American continent.
Against such a monster… perhaps even Ultraman wouldn't stand a chance.
Athena's expression darkened.
"According to the calculations of Olympus, the ORT we know may only be a fragment—a splinter of its true self. Its complete form could very well rival the Primordial Father in power."
"Rival… Chaos?!" Sanjiro's eyes widened.
That thing fed on stars! Who could possibly fight that?!
After all —
Across countless civilizations, the Sun Gods were always among the mightiest.
Ra of Egypt, Apollo of Olympus, Amaterasu of Japan —
Even the fox spirit Tamamo-no-Mae, as a manifestation of Amaterasu, could only wield a fraction of the Sun's power.
"This is just speculation," Athena said, shrugging slightly. "But one thing's certain — if Gaia ever summons it, humanity will be doomed."
Within the solar system —
When Gaia issued her call, only the being on Mercury, ORT, had answered — arriving on Earth five thousand years early.
It had slumbered all that time — but now, it was slowly awakening.
"One more thing," Athena added quietly. "It's immune to your Mystic Eyes of Death Perception — it has no concept of death at all."
"…Immune?"
Sanjiro was speechless.
The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception — his ultimate trump card — completely useless.
What kind of monster had no death?
If it couldn't die, then…
"Looks like I'll have to ask the old man to come out of retirement," Sanjiro muttered under his breath.
He had hoped to live peacefully as an ordinary high schooler.
And King Hassan — after his final sacrificial strike — had vanished, clearly desiring rest as well.
But no such luck.
The fight wasn't over yet.
====
Meanwhile, at the Fuyuki Grand Hotel—
Mordred had taken some time to dress down, trying to look as ordinary as possible as she went to meet her little friend in the lobby.
Power differences made relationships awkward.
Even if Kirina herself didn't seem to mind, Mordred still wanted to make things easier.
"If only Kirina could become a Heroic Spirit too…" Mordred sighed.
Then they could truly be sisters.
After a short wait, her friend arrived right on time, and Mordred led her back to the presidential suite.
At the bar, Gilgamesh, the hotel's owner, watched with a smirk.
"Ah, the way brats are drawn to each other — truly the work of fate."
He swirled his wineglass, smiling.
What's more terrifying than one troublemaker?
Two troublemakers.
Double the chaos — double the disaster.
And since both girls were practically sisters, this spelled catastrophe for his good friend.
"Tch. Two little hellions under one roof… I wonder, my dear friend, how happy you'll be when they show up at your door?"
Gilgamesh's grin widened.
He'd even used his clairvoyance to glimpse a sliver of the future — the two girls, hand in hand, visiting Sanjiro's home.
Both of them raised by his hand, in different eras —
One in ancient Britain at the end of the Age of Gods.
One in the modern 21st century.
Truly, a man digging his own grave.
How delightful.
After such a fierce battle, a bit of entertainment was just what he needed.
Maybe he'd drop by to watch the show himself.
At the top floor of the hotel—
Kirina, a little nervous, bowed.
"It's an honor to meet you, King Arthur… and the Knight of the Sun."
She was, after all, just a frail human — standing before two powerful Heroic Spirits was more than a little intimidating.
"Welcome," Artoria said with a gentle smile.
Love extends even to the house itself.
Since the other party treated her like their own child, she naturally tried to show even more affection in return.
Mordred held her little friend's hand. "No need to be so polite—just treat this place like your home."
"Mhm, thank you, everyone."
Kirina looked increasingly moved.
These powerful Heroic Spirits were so kind and approachable, even treating a little girl like her warmly.
Sure enough—she must have saved the world in her past life!
Standing by the window and basking in the sunlight, Gawain quietly observed the three inside.
Was it just his imagination, or did his King's attitude toward that ordinary human girl seem more affectionate than toward Mordred?
She was really doting on the girl like a true daughter.
Under the sun, his intuition had always been sharp—it couldn't be wrong.
Why though?
That guardian of Kirina's—who treated her like a daughter—and his King both seemed to view her the same way.
Who could make the King act so tenderly?
Then a bold thought flashed in Gawain's mind!
Eliminating all impossibilities, the only truth remained—
Could it be that Kirina's guardian, the one who represents the students welcoming the Heroic Spirits, is actually the young Nameless himself?
As soon as he reached that conclusion, his whole body shuddered slightly.
Everything made sense now—why the King had been sneaking off so often lately.
She was absolutely going to secretly meet with Nameless!
Gawain's expression grew strange as he looked at Mordred sulking beside Artoria.
She'd met Kirina several times yet never realized who he really was—poor little Mordred!
Just as pitiful as that French saint said to be blessed by "God."
Soon after, Mordred pulled Kirina by the hand into her room.
Gawain could sense it—the King's aura had changed slightly again. Clearly, she had slipped away from the hotel once more.
After a while, Mordred and Kirina were also preparing to leave.
"Hmm? Where are you two off to?" Gawain asked curiously.
"Nowhere special—just going to her place for a bit," Mordred said casually.
"...!!!"
Gawain immediately straightened up.
The King had already left earlier—most likely headed to that house.
And now Mordred was going there too… meaning the two might meet face-to-face!
It was coming—the most anticipated scene of all!
He hadn't come all the way here for nothing—
cough cough—he meant, of course, that he was here to discuss Britain's future and seek assistance!
A shining knight of justice like the Sun Knight would never come just to watch drama… right?
Suppressing his excitement, Gawain smiled.
"Go on, go on. Just be careful not to cause any trouble."
But inside—he was screaming with joy:
Fight! Fight! Nothing better than a catfight!
"Hmph, as if I'd cause trouble for anyone," Mordred rolled her eyes.
As Britain's Prime Minister, she always kept her image spotless in public—no matter what happened, she'd never tarnish it.
"Good, good."
Gawain simply nodded and saw the two off.
Once they left the hotel—
The bright Sun Knight couldn't resist hurrying down the stairs himself.
But don't misunderstand—he wasn't going to watch a show, of course. He was just concerned about Britain's future!
After all, someone had to rebuild Britain's glory!
And yet, after a quick disguise to make himself less conspicuous—
Just as he stepped out of the hotel, he saw a tall figure standing on a streetlight, bathed in gold.
Even with pedestrians passing below, no one noticed him. Clearly, he'd cloaked himself from ordinary eyes.
The golden man—Gilgamesh—smiled and raised his wine glass. "Yo, Sun Knight. And where might you be heading?"
"Just out for a stroll," Gawain replied calmly.
"Then shall we stroll together?"
Gilgamesh's grin widened.
Ah. A fellow connoisseur.
"Hmm?"
Gawain blinked.
The ever-arrogant King, suddenly being this friendly and casual—as if he'd become some warmhearted Fuyuki citizen?
Could it be… that he had the same goal in mind?
Their eyes met—and in that instant, everything was understood without words.
Of course—this Hero King had already noticed it too!
At the marketplace.
A black-haired young man walked beside a blonde girl, weaving through rows of bustling stalls.
They drew quite a few curious glances.
But in Fuyuki City, blondes, redheads, even silver-haired types were nothing unusual anymore.
Sanjiro pointed ahead casually.
"That stall's tomatoes are the freshest. The one next to it makes amazing buttered flatbread. And that shop sells real farm eggs…"
He'd been shopping here often—knew the place like the back of his hand.
All those vendors who cheated on weight or quality? They'd start sweating the moment they saw him.
Not that he made a fuss—he'd just stop buying from them.
This—this was ordinary life.
And since the "Foodie King" wanted to experience the warmth of humanity, he'd brought her here for a stroll through the marketplace.
If the crowd knew that this "ordinary girl" beside him was actually the newly Grand Saber, the place would explode instantly.
Artoria didn't seem to mind, though. Her clear eyes wandered around, watching him haggle with shopkeepers and carefully select vegetables.
Ordinary, noisy, mundane—yet full of life.
So this is the kind of world he cherishes…
Even in her roughest youth, she had been fostered by a noble knightly family.
She'd never truly experienced a commoner's day-to-day life.
Everything here felt fresh, unfamiliar—and strangely wonderful.
At the fish stall—
Cu Chulainn looked up in surprise.
"Yo, buddy, that your girlfriend?"
A few days without seeing him, and he'd already picked up a cute blonde girl?
"Ahem, just a friend. She wanted to see what grocery shopping's like. Give me a carp, will you?" Sanjiro coughed lightly.
The classic 'I have a friend' excuse—tried and true.
This big blue-haired fishmonger still had no idea who he really was, yet treated him as an equal. That, too, was rare.
"Got it, I'll pick you a good one—half price for today!" Cu Chulainn said cheerfully.
If the guy was bringing a girl along, he had to help him!
"Thanks. I'll treat you to a meal next time."
Sanjiro smiled and took the prepared fish.
As they left the stall, he said casually,
"That guy also chose a peaceful life, running a little fish shop."
Artoria nodded softly.
As a Grand-class Heroic Spirit, she could instantly tell who that man really was.
It only made her heart feel heavier.
The great hero of Celtic myth, the Child of Light himself—content to be a fishmonger in a market.
It seemed not all Heroic Spirits sought glory and battle.
Just as they reached the market's exit, a burly man came walking toward them.
Even in winter, he wore only a thin shirt—his body steaming with heat.
Sanjiro waved.
"Yo! Just the guy I wanted to see."
"What's up?"
Heracles casually wiped sweat from his brow with a towel.
As the mighty demigod of strength, of course hauling bricks wouldn't actually make him sweat—he was just keeping up appearances.
Sanjiro grinned.
"The elementary school little Illya goes to needs a PE teacher. The job's easy—lots of 'sick days,' barely any real classes. Want to give it a shot?"
"PE teacher?"
Heracles frowned slightly.
Modern PE teachers did live the easy life.
Always "calling in sick" and giving their class hours to other subjects…
Could a demigod really stoop that low?
Sanjiro added casually,
"It's Illya's PE teacher position. You sure you're not interested?"
"I'll take it."
Heracles agreed instantly.
Money wasn't the point—he just wanted to help raise good kids.
"Alright then, deal. Just contact my friend Julian when you're ready," Sanjiro said.
The Ainsworth family name had taken a hit after Oath Beneath the Snow became public—
But that was another parallel world entirely. In this one, their clan had only ever acted for the sake of saving humanity.
Their foundation remained firm.
In Academy City, it was still considered a family of magi.
Sanjiro casually brought up another topic: "So, about the Berserker class—have you thought about it yet?"
In the world of Type-Moon, whenever someone mentioned "Berserker," almost everyone would immediately think of the mighty demigod before him.
You couldn't blame them—it was just that iconic.
Possessing unmatched strength and the Twelve Labors that granted him twelve lives, his madness turned him into a force so overwhelming it bordered on absurd.
And for the Grand Berserker title, apart from him, there really weren't many other candidates.
Kou possessed an analytical ability rivaling Clairvoyance, fighting with cold, flawless logic.
The rest simply didn't have the same renown.
"Let me think about it a bit more," Heracles said after a pause, his gaze drifting toward the golden-haired girl standing quietly nearby.
The title of "Grand" wasn't just an honor—it was a responsibility.
To bear it meant walking the path of saving the world and protecting humanity itself.
But compared to guarding humanity, he'd much rather protect his beloved daughter, Illya.
In that sense, he and the King of Knights standing before him were fundamentally different.
"Alright, take your time," Sanjiro replied, not pressing him.
As the one most favored by Alaya, he himself held the qualification to appoint Grand Servants.
But to become one meant joining him in battles against terrifying, world-ending foes—the kind that could shatter your Saint Graph and erase you completely.
It wasn't a decision to make lightly.
Artoria's emerald eyes were filled with awe.
First, a fishmonger who turned out to be the Celtic hero of light—now, the Greek demigod of strength himself.
Both choosing to live humble, ordinary lives.
And here they were, casually discussing the possibility of becoming Grand Servants at the entrance of a market—with the same calmness as debating what vegetables to buy.
Unbelievable.
Or rather… so like him.
Sanjiro, arms full of grocery bags, turned and smiled.
"Alright, we're done here. Let's… go home."
"Okay. Let me help you with those," Artoria said softly, taking a few bags from his hands.
The two walked side by side out of the market, leaving behind Heracles, who watched them with open envy…
Meanwhile, on the bus, Kirina texted her "mom" at home to say she was on the way.
She looked a bit uneasy.
"My family's just really normal… I hope you won't be disappointed."
Her home truly was ordinary—just a high schooler, a grade-schooler, and a cat.
Oh, right—the cat had run away from home, too.
For someone as powerful as an Heroic Spirit to visit such a plain house… surely she'd think it was beneath her.
"It's fine, I don't mind at all," Mordred replied with a warm smile.
For her, as long as it meant being far from her father, that was more than enough.
When dealing with reporters, she always had to put on that "loving father and child" act—it was exhausting beyond words.
By contrast, visiting an ordinary household sounded wonderfully relaxing.
When they finally reached the apartment, Kirina pulled out her keys and opened the door.
Peeking inside, she noticed another familiar golden-haired girl already there—Lily, the glutton who always came over to eat.
Hopefully Sanjiro had made enough food this time…
"Please, come in," Kirina said shyly.
"Thank you for having me," Mordred replied politely, slipping on a pair of slippers and stepping into the cozy little home.
Then she froze.
In the kitchen, a golden-haired girl was cooking dinner—and for some reason, she looked very familiar.
Her movements, her aura, even that profile…
Why did she look so much like—Father?!