Though it was a Subspecies Holy Grail War that took place here, the summoned Servants were not all nameless. For example, in one of the seventeen recorded wars, the four Servants were: the Savior-King of Britain, King Arthur; the legendary thief, Robin Hood; Hassan of the Cursed Arm; and the princess of Colchis, Medea.
Yet without Masters, the Servants couldn't unleash their full potential and became little more than prey for the vampire breeds.
The guardian of the third level of the labyrinth was a man-made dragon forged from twelve spirit cores—a being that could be called a Dragon Golem or a Replica Dragon.
Its head bore two identical dragon faces—reminiscent of the "double-headed serpent" of antiquity, later reimagined in medieval Europe as the "twin-headed dragon."
Each fang radiated magical energy nearly equal to that of a true dragon. Its skull and likely much of its skeletal frame were crafted from actual dragon bones. Its limbs were wrapped in even thicker plating than before, and its twin necks were thick and long.
Spanning twenty meters in length, its chest pulsed with a vivid red magical glow—clearly indicating immense magical power. Deep within its body, a massive magical reactor churned, surrounded by crystals dense with mana, bathing the entire cavern in a faint ethereal glow.
It was the ideal pet for vampires hunting Servants. As time passed and the number of spirit cores grew, its power steadily increased. By now, it had become an opponent nearly impossible for any Masterless Servant to defeat.
Now, faced with three reappeared foes, the man-made dragon's two heads began to fire beams of magic with no pause between them—streams of burning light, as if spewing pure heat. The seven massive reactors operating in parallel converted that enormous magical energy into sweeping magical beams that blanketed the area in a full 360-degree arc. The twin heads' coordination allowed it to unleash indiscriminate devastation—merciless storms of magical light that surged toward the trio before it.
It was an attack akin to a natural disaster—an overwhelming threat that the people of the modern world could scarcely imagine surviving. In theory, even top-tier Masterless Servants could be annihilated by such condensed magical force.
Yet at the heart of that magical calamity, just before the sweeping light could incinerate everything, a warm glow called "Salvation" enveloped two of the figures. It shimmered like a beacon amidst endless fire.
Seeing this, the dragon stretched out its necks and roared, pouring its internal mana into its twin heads.
Clearly, this dragon had fought Servants before. It had devoured them. And in the world of magecraft, counterfeits could sometimes surpass the originals.
Above the twin dragon heads, a magic circle began to rise. Power coalesced, and the two heads merged into one. Another beam was fired—but this time, it had a target.
Beneath the crushing pressure of the magical force, a figure walked forward step by step. Unfazed, not even slowed. It was as if attacks composed of searing elemental transmutations—superheated flame, vacuum implosions, diamond-hard compression, and high-pressure jets—could not so much as scratch his real body.
"A dragon, huh? Come to think of it, I've been bitten by a real one before."
Even as Novia walked straight into the magical onslaught, his body showed no sign of distress. This wasn't because he was in a state similar to a pseudo-Servant. It was because his body's natural resilience needed no magical reinforcement. It had been blessed by something unknown—granted a miraculous durability—as if deep inside him still lingered the breath of a dragon heart that could no longer beat.
And that was why: a man-made dragon, cobbled together from the remains of dragons influenced by residual Age of Gods elements, could never pose a threat to a true "dragon's heart."
As Novia steadily approached, the artificial dragon felt as if time itself had slowed unnaturally. Every second became a torment, like falling into a sea of burning flame—a sensation of pleading, suffering.
In other words, the dragon was afraid. It was experiencing suppression from the very concept of "dragon." Even in its mechanized form, it shuddered.
And so, when Novia was nearly upon it, untouched, the dragon went mad with overconfidence and desperation.
In a flash, twelve spirit cores materialized around it. The roaring Dragon Golem, now reconstituted into a massive illusory form—an ancient phantasm that should no longer exist in the modern age—launched a charge using its brute strength.
Boom!
Novia raised both hands and caught the dragon's colossal weight. The power granted by the "Dragon's Heart" exploded outward in that moment. He forcibly hurled the charging dragon backward, slamming it into the cavern walls and causing the entire labyrinth to tremble.
Agonizing pain shot through the dragon's body, and it let out a shrill wail. Rising once more, it swallowed the twelve spirit cores in one gulp. They transformed into a crimson storm. Slowly, the dragon floated into the air, preparing to release a final, devastating attack—powered by the twelve spirit cores and the seven massive magical reactors within.
Yet in the next instant, that crimson storm was immediately engulfed by a burst of brilliant blue aurora. The world, once awash in blood-colored storms, suddenly turned into a boundless sea of blue light.
Why?
Because a gleaming blue-black armament had manifested itself in Novia's hands—of its own will.
"So, you've found me again, Melusine… Don't worry, I'll find you soon too."
With that, he grasped the weapon—and hurled it like a spear at the apocalyptic beast before him.
There was no time to even register the overwhelming heat—
And thus, the false dragon was annihilated.
Blue, black, red—an illusion of unnatural colors not meant for this world filled every inch of space.
This was none other than the ultimate fantasy—a radiance emitted by the strongest dragon of the Age of Gods, now reborn in the modern sky.
"...Is it gone?"
"Do you want to rest? I think I saw a hot spring nearby…"
"No need. We need to end this Subspecies Holy Grail War quickly."
Novia shook his head. It seemed that something terrible had gone wrong with this labyrinth's Grail War.
Even this artificial dragon contained twelve Servant spirit cores. Then the one pulling the strings—Wolfgang Faust—might have even more. If he succeeded in ascending in class, he might attempt something monstrous using the solar ritual array of the 666 ranks.
After all, Wolfgang Faust—who should've only had three spirit cores—had accomplished the impossible through this Subspecies Grail.
He had, somehow… linked to the Throne of Heroes, enabling the physical manifestation of Heroic Spirits without having contracted them as Masters.
---
And then—
The heartbeat that should never beat again suddenly did.
Darkness was swept away in an instant, as if daylight had broken over the battlefield.
A smaller masked figure stood atop a distant ledge. As the long-stilled heart stirred after millennia, she lifted her gaze in a daze—
And looked toward the heavens. Toward her true homeland, on another timeline.
"...No...No...Novia..."