20 advance chapters on [email protected]/Saintbarbido.
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The morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting golden patterns across Mark's room. The soft hum of the city outside served as background noise as he followed his routine. First came the exercise a disciplined series of stretches, bodyweight movements, and resistance training that left his muscles warm and his breath steady.
Afterwards, he sat cross-legged on the cool floor, palms resting on his knees, eyes shut in stillness.
He entered a meditative trance, letting his awareness sink into the network of magical circuits pulsing faintly within him. With each breath, the channels of mana within his body grew more responsive, more refined.
In just a few days of intense training, he had begun to summon fragments of the noble phantasms gifted to him by the kings.
Then, like clockwork, the chat group awoke.
[Artoria: Your progress has been quite gradual. You are a man worthy of the title of a knight.]
[Solomon: I suppose it can't be helped, considering your rate of growth. I hope I was of some help to you.]
That message from Solomon tugged at something in Mark. He felt a lump in his throat, memories of sleepless nights and silent meditation echoing through his mind. He'd poured himself into this journey—and someone had noticed.
[Iskandar: I see you've built some muscles. In due time, you'll have a physique like mine.]
[Mark: Thank you, everyone, for your help. And because I'm in a generous mood today, I'll award each of you some points.]
[Ozymandias: …]
[Gilgamesh: …]
Mark smiled as he manually awarded each of the kings ten points. The ranking board shifted subtly, and each one of them took notice. It wasn't just numbers—it was status, prestige, and closeness to the Grail.
Solomon now stood at the top with 250 points. Artoria followed with 210. Iskandar held third with 190, Ozymandias with 170, and lastly, Gilgamesh trailed at 150.
Truthfully, Gilgamesh hadn't done much to deserve the reward. Most days, all he did was criticize, constantly provoking or belittling others.
But Mark was playing a longer game. Gilgamesh's arrogance was grating, yes—but he also held the largest treasury among them.
Earning his cooperation, even if just through careful appeasement, could prove invaluable.
Just as he was pondering this, a knock echoed from the front door downstairs.
It was Saturday. Mark's mind immediately jumped to Raven—they had planned to hang out today. She had no problem teleporting straight into his room, but if his mother ever found out he'd invited a girl over without permission... well, he'd rather not imagine that storm.
With eager steps, he raced down the stairs.
But just before he reached the door, a message popped up.
[Gilgamesh: You sure are fond of that devil.]
[Mark: She's not a devil. Shut up.]
[Gilgamesh: And yet, what's the difference between the child of a devil and the devil himself?]
[Mark: Maybe I'll become a devil just to shut your mouth. I'll banish you to the black waters again.]
[Gilgamesh: I've grown used to that place, mongrel. You've sent me there enough times. Your threats are getting dull.]
[Mark: Then how about I cut your access to my senses altogether?]
[Gilgamesh: That won't work either. This is a pact of mutual benefit.
Once a connection is made, it cannot be undone. You'll have to come up with something better.]
[Artoria: Will you let the boy breathe for once?] she interrupted, her tone sharp.
[Gilgamesh: And who are you to speak? At least I didn't fail my kingdom. You have no ground to speak down to me, failure.]
Mark clenched his fists. Artoria didn't respond. Gilgamesh's words had hit a nerve, and though painful, she knew they weren't lies.
But Mark wasn't about to let him insult her like that. She was his favorite among the kings—brave, just, and dignified.
With a thought, he imposed a penalty.
(Gilgamesh has been subtracted 50 points.)
The chat went silent for a moment.
None of them had known it was possible to take points away. Until now, they'd believed Mark's system only allowed for reward, not punishment. But this moment proved otherwise Mark held the key to the Grail, and they were all bound to his judgment.
He reached the front door at last and opened it, heart still hoping for Raven.
But it wasn't her.
Standing there was a tall man in a drenched coat and wide brimmed hat, water dripping faintly from its edges. He stood at around six foot two, with a thick, unkempt beard that looked like it had been growing for months. Honestly, the thing could've hidden a weapon inside.
Mark stared at him in silence.
Then the man turned toward his mother and her face lit up.
"Welcome home, honey," she said with warmth, stepping forward to embrace him.
Mark's heart dropped a little. This? This guy was my dad? The word "honey" felt like a miscast spell it didn't fit.
After their long embrace, the man finally looked at Mark, eyes scanning him with a faint air of expectation. His smile was friendly, but there was disappointment beneath it—like he'd been hoping for more.
Mark didn't run up to him. He didn't help him with his bags or hug him like he used to. Instead, he just stepped forward and offered his hand.
His father smiled and accepted it.
Later, his mother told him to go freshen up,shower while he shaved off that wild beard. She began preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming quietly.
Mark sat at the edge of the couch, still adjusting to the realization. Curious now, he turned to his mom and asked what exactly his father did.
She explained that his job often kept him away for weeks at a time. He was a scientist—one who specialized in alien technology, both in designing and researching it. Mark couldn't help but be impressed. It sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie. If nothing else, it gave him bragging rights.
Eventually, his father returned to the table, freshly shaved and in clean clothes. Without the overgrown beard, his features were clearer, sharper—and undeniably similar to Mark's.
As they began to eat, the chat pinged again.
[Gilgamesh: So this is your father... I was wondering how a creature like him could sire someone like you. But now I see it]
[Mark: Like really handsome, right? ]
[Gilgamesh: No. More... goatish, mongrel. ]
Mark rolled his eyes. Gilgamesh had an incredible knack for being insufferable. Still, he didn't let the insult get to him.
Other kings chimed in.
[Iskandar: I thought the same thing, but the resemblance is undeniable. ]
[Ozymandias: Who cares what your parents look like? Honestly, I thought the beard gave him character. ]
[Iskandar: That's rich, Pharaoh. I thought your culture frowned upon facial hair. Now that's something to laugh at. ]
Ozymandias stayed quiet after that.
Then Solomon spoke up, shifting the topic.
[Solomon: Doesn't anyone else find the idea of studying alien technology fascinating? I studied every known art in my time—divine magic, alchemy, science—and yet I never encountered extraterrestrials. ]
[Artoria: What are aliens? ] she asked innocently.
[Solomon: Beings from other worlds. You should expand your studies, Artoria. The world isn't just Britain or Camelot. ]