The banquet of kings continued. The three rulers had expounded on the principles of kingship—order, strength, and responsibility—while also recognizing the inherent incompatibility of their ideals. Yet, thanks to Sakatsuki's interjection, Rider did not outright deny Saber's status as a true king. Judging by his silent drinking, it seed that Saber's vastly different life experience had left a deep impression on the King of Conquerors.
As for the oldest of the three, the golden Heroic Spirit, aside from a sigh after hearing Saber's story, he paid little attention to her. Instead, his gaze frequently landed on Sakatsuki, his eyes filled with an inscrutable smile and playful amusent.
Finally, unable to endure Archer's unsettling stare any longer, Sakatsuki set down his empty cup.
"...Hero King, why are you looking at like that?"
"You seem quite knowledgeable about Saber's story, chef."
Archer chuckled aningfully.
"I won't ask how you learned such secrets—but since you care so much about Saber's past, surely you have so thoughts on it?"
At these words, not only did Rider pause his drinking, but even Saber lifted her head, her expression tinged with unease.
From the beginning, Sakatsuki was fundantally different from the three kings at the table. Unlike the Heroic Spirits who had arrived in 1994's Fuyuki City from frozen monts in ti (with Saber being a special case), Sakatsuki was a modern human who understood true history.
"A thousand years later, will my kingship still be acknowledged by those who co after?"
Perhaps this was the question every king longed to ask as they traversed the ages.
But the white-haired, golden-eyed young man did not launch into a speech. Instead, he remained silent for a long ti before shaking his head.
"No, I have nothing to say."
"Why?"
Artoria's expression dimd.
"Why remain silent? Is it because my actions are truly aningless?"
"How could that be, Saber?"
Sakatsuki sighed with a helpless smile.
"It's simply that everything is already in the past. Looking back from the vantage point of ti is already an unfair advantage—why should I pass judgnt?"
Yes, everything was aningless now. The past was but mist and shadow.
Whether he expressed agreent or disapproval, none of it would change what had already happened. The only thing he could do was to understand the past and pursue the future. Nothing more.
And yet... there was still a lingering regret.
"The inner sage and the outer king..."
he murmured before shifting the topic to Archer.
"Speaking of which, Archer, the fall of Britain... you played a part in that too, you know."
"Hah?"
The sudden statent caused an uproar.
One was the King of Uruk from ancient Babylon, the other the King of Britain from the fifth century—separated by at least three millennia. Other than being kings, they seemingly had no connection.
So why did Sakatsuki claim that the fall of Britain had sothing to do with Uruk?
***
While the banquet continued, one Master had opted out, choosing instead to rest in the second-floor lounge of the Einzbern Castle.
That was Archer's Master—Tokiomi Tohsaka.
With Kiritsugu Emiya gone with Illya, and the others drawn into Sakatsuki's gathering, Tokiomi found himself alone.
And coincidentally, there was soone else who had no interest in the banquet but had instead set his sights on the lone Tokiomi.
That person, of course, was his "dear friend", his adversary—Kariya Matou.
After receiving Sakatsuki's ssage, Kariya rushed over with Berserker.
Oh, and along the way, he had a heated clash with Rider, blowing up Archer's Vimana in the process...
But tonight, Kariya's focus was not on the Servants. From start to finish, he had only one goal.
Especially after encountering Rin earlier that night, Kariya had made up his mind completely.
"Tokiomi..."
Ordering Berserker into spirit form and wait, he activated his Class Card, assuming the form of an unknown mountain hermit as he stealthily infiltrated the lounge.
The room was dimly lit. Dressed in a red suit and impeccably grood, Tokiomi sat facing the door, leaning back in his chair, seemingly asleep. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest confird that he was still alive.
Looking at this man—the one who took away the woman he loved, who sent his daughter into a living hell—Kariya no longer restrained his emotions.
"I'm going to kill you."
As he murmured, the bandages wrapped around his right arm unravelled, revealing the grotesque, crimson limb beneath.
It was an arm too long for a human. Even when bent and bound, it was nearly as tall as Kariya himself. As soon as the seal was broken, the cursed limb of the demon Zabaniya trembled with malignant energy, its hunger for blood and hearts laid bare.
Suppressing his fear of the monstrous entity grafted onto his body, Kariya raised his arm and chanted his Noble Phantasm's true na.
"Zabaniya!"
Invisible tendrils of magical energy extended outward, forming an illusionary replica of the heart within the figure before him. Then, Kariya crushed it in his grip.
Squelch!
A sickening sound echoed. The man in the chair suddenly gasped, blood gushing from his mouth as his body slumped lifelessly to the floor, his life force fading away.
Gazing at the familiar face now drained of life, Kariya, though panting heavily from magical exhaustion, let out a triumphant laugh.
"Heh... Hahaha... So much for the great head of the Tohsaka family!"
A voice answered him.
"So it was you, Kariya. To think you've fallen to this level... I'll have to reassess the Matou family."
"Wha—?"
Kariya turned in shock—only to be engulfed in roaring flas.
"Roter Drache."
With a swift incantation, the fire surged forward like a dragon, lashing at Kariya's body. Caught off guard, he let out a muffled cry as the flas sent him crashing into the wall. His Class Card was forcibly dispelled, the card clattering to the floor.
Though he had borrowed the power of a Heroic Spirit, Kariya lacked magical expertise. Moreover, Hassan of the Cursed Arm was not adept at countering magecraft, which led to him being overwheld by just two simple fire spells.
Through the searing pain, Kariya squinted and saw the figure standing before him—black-haired, green-eyed, his attire and hair perfectly neat.
It was Tokiomi Tohsaka, unhard.
Fire magic should have caused a shift in air pressure, and wild flas would naturally disrupt the surroundings. Yet, not only was Tokiomi unscathed, but even the furnishings remained untouched.
This was the result of Tokiomi's flawless magical control, honed through years of mastery.
Any ordinary magus would have admired such refined skill.
But Kariya was no ordinary magus.
In his heart, there was no awe—only hatred.
No admiration—only rage.
"You're always like this—"
Staggering to his feet, Kariya glared at Tokiomi with seething resentnt.
"You've changed, Kariya Matou."
Though the Class Card had vanished, Tokiomi still felt a lingering unease from that mont of transformation.
"I don't know where you obtained such filthy power, but just looking at your wretched state, the Matou family's na is already stained."
"You already know what kind of family the Matous are!"
Kariya spat. His gaze flicked to the corpse on the ground.
If the real Tokiomi was standing here...
Then whose heart had he just crushed?
***
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