Tea Eggs Are All the Rage Now, Forget Sliced Cakes

"Huu, huu..."

Kiritsugu Emiya, clad in a black trench coat, sprinted through an alley in Fuyuki City under the cover of night, firing his submachine gun behind him as he fled.

The roar of gunpowder, the clatter of falling casings, but no sound of bullets hitting their target—not even the impact against surrounding walls or the ground. It was as if the fired bullets were intercepted by a barrier both strong enough to stop them and flexible enough to cushion their impact.

Could such a thing as body armor exist?

Science couldn't create such an item, but this feast unfolding in the Fuyuki night wasn't built on the foundation of primary productivity.

"Scalp!"

With a powerful shout, a silver ribbon whipped towards Kiritsugu Emiya's back. As it neared its target, the ribbon began to deform, its sides compressing. By the time it was about to strike, it had become a thin plate only a few micrometers thick, poised to slice the mage killer in half.

But...

"Time Alter, Double Acceleration!"

After a rapid incantation, Kiritsugu crouched down at a speed no human could possibly achieve, dodging the attack. He then rolled, got up, and swiftly rounded the next corner, disappearing from the sight of his attacker—Kayneth.

"To think that a rat crawling through the sewers could touch upon the mysteries of magecraft... truly..."

Clicking his tongue with disgust, Kayneth continued in a leisurely manner, following the mercury orbs of Volumen Hydrargyrum, which had been given the "auto-target" command, as they entered the corner Kiritsugu had just passed.

"Hmm?!"

Beyond the corner stood a wall; it was clearly a dead end. So, where had the prey gone?

Before he could ponder this question, an intense sense of danger suddenly surged from the depths of his heart. Mages, steeped in the mystical, were inherently idealists. They placed great importance on their sixth sense. Therefore, even without knowing exactly what was wrong, Kayneth quickly issued a command, ordering the mercury to form a protective shield around him.

"Boom!"

It was as if... no, it was the deafening explosion of several high-explosive grenades detonating in a confined space.

Above the blast, Kiritsugu Emiya clung to the building's external fire escape and glanced down. Seeing the mercury orb curled up like a pill bug in the center of the inferno, he knew his trap had failed to eliminate the persistent magus. He quickly climbed onto the roof, securing advantageous terrain for their next encounter.

The timeline is rewound slightly.

Hesitation was a word that shouldn't apply to someone like Kiritsugu Emiya. He was like a precisely operating machine, capable of making the most accurate judgments and executing them swiftly in any situation, never wasting a moment on "hesitation."

But this had its prerequisites.

The reason he could make decisions with maximum efficiency on a battlefield rife with danger and constantly changing circumstances was that he had long ago ingrained everything about "killing" into his instincts—machines operate according to pre-programmed procedures, don't they?

What to do when there's only one target, what to do when surrounded, what to do when out of ammo, what to do if the target uses fire magic, what to do if they use puppet magic, what to do if they use necromancy, what to do if the target is an artificial human, what to do if they are a Dead Apostle, and even in the scenario where "the target is an Ancestor, or a Magus"—he had considered all of these. Ancestors and Magus could be researched, analyzed, understood, and therefore killed.

But the Holy Grail War seemed to be an exception.

Heroic Spirits, constructed from humanity's noble fantasies, woven from human ideals, the highest beings that protect humanity. Their prototypes were those who had achieved great deeds in life, and after death, they became beings of "faith."

"Heroes... they're a concept completely unrelated to me."

Kiritsugu couldn't help but think this.

For him, while he could find information about heroes in history and legends, none of it could serve as a basis for analyzing Heroic Spirits. Those records were too unreliable, riddled with loopholes and contradictions from Kiritsugu's perspective.

The Noble Phantasms, abilities, and methods of operation of Heroic Spirits were unknown and not easily discoverable. Therefore, when formulating his counter-plans, Kiritsugu inevitably found himself restricted and hesitant.

It was with great resolve that he made the call to Caster, the number left by her.

After his repeated rational analysis, Caster possessed unknown means of information gathering—she could even discern his operational plans, which only he and Maiya knew. Furthermore, she seemed to be showing signs of alliance with him. No, she had used his plans to create the impression among outsiders that the Caster team and Saber team were allied.

So, why not see what she intended to do?

He arranged a meeting point with Caster's Master (who was, of course, Jizi herself in disguise), agreeing to go alone without his Servant. This was practically meaningless, as he could summon his Servant to his side at any time with a Command Seal. However, considering that his Saber had an attribute advantage that completely countered Caster, the situation was in his favor.

If you can't find the book by searching the title, try searching for the author. Perhaps they just changed the name!

Besides, he had chosen the location himself. To be safe, he had already had Maiya arrive via a different route and set up countermeasures for various situations.

Whether he could gain anything from this meeting was uncertain, but at least he wouldn't be at a disadvantage. At worst, he could kill Caster's Master.

Everything was planned perfectly.

So why did the situation at the beginning occur?

[Kiritsugu: Damn it, I want to know too! Why did I run into the Lancer team halfway there! Running into that guy can only be attributed to bad luck! And he didn't even die from that explosion; his defense is too damn high! Why would a mage put so much into defense! Can't you even form a tank party, so you have to be the tank yourself? You're not even an ice mage!]

It was also fortunate that Kayneth, like Tokiomi, enjoyed adopting a noble and magus-like demeanor. Thinking that he didn't need a Servant to deal with a mere rat, he hadn't dispatched Lancer and intended to confront Kiritsugu himself. Otherwise, Kiritsugu would have already been skewered and made into grilled mochi by now.

However, I don't want to spend money, so I'll probably lose the will to keep playing soon after being attacked by wealthy players.

When Kayneth reached the rooftop via the Volumen Hydrargyrum elevator, he first cautiously extended a mercury thread, scanning the surroundings in a 360-degree, no-dead-angle sweep like a street vendor. After confirming there were no traps, he stepped onto the rooftop—and he even maintained a protective membrane around himself.

This was a perfect example of "once bitten by a snake, you fear a rope for ten years."

Although this spirit of never stumbling on the same stone twice was admirable, unfortunately, the guy who wanted to trip him wasn't just a slightly uncomfortable stone.

Origin Bullets can't be defended against with Mystic Codes, you know.

Fortunately, a flat area like a rooftop was truly unsuitable for ambushes and sneak attacks. Facing him head-on—especially an established great magus—the words "head-on confrontation" simply didn't exist in Kiritsugu's vocabulary. Otherwise, Director Kayneth would have met his end here.

So, the current situation was Director Kayneth, his constantly writhing tentacles swaying, cornering a "magical boy (adult)" who firmly believed in justice in a place where escape and retreat were impossible. The boy naturally didn't want to be taken by the tentacles, so he was resisting with all his might. Unfortunately, the muzzle of the gun spitting fire in his hand could only slightly slow down the opponent's advance.

"Click!"

Just like a scene from a cheesy third-rate script, at this critical juncture, events always occurred that put the disadvantaged party in an even more unfavorable situation—the sound of an empty chamber just now was a prime example.

"Damn it, my grenades are all used up—I didn't prepare for an encounter with another team when I came out this time. Do I have to use a Command Seal to summon Saber? But that Rider fellow... Airi..."

Kiritsugu Emiya, in critical danger!

However, just like in the plots of those third-rate screenwriters, a savior always appears at such times to rescue the "righteous" side from the enemy, achieving a great reversal. So—

"You're so late, I thought you were stuck in traffic. But then I suddenly remembered this isn't China, so just in case, I decided to come check myself—Hmm, it looks like a tentacle play is about to happen here. As a pure and innocent author, how can I tolerate such vulgar content appearing in this book? I'll be the one to shatter your perverted plan!"

"Caster!" x2

--- Level 37 team's total combat power exceeds 60,000. Just how rich are these whales? ---

(King's Banquet)

... (I've seen this countless times, so I'll skip it.)

"A king without ** is no better than a vase!"

Rider's angry roar, combined with his massive physique, made him seem even more terrifying.

"Saber, you just said 'appeared for the sake of ideals.' Indeed, in the past, you were an incorruptible saint, pure beyond compare. But who would expect martyrdom for an ideal? Who would wish for a so-called saint who can only comfort but not guide the people? Only by displaying ** and celebrating extreme glory can a nation and its people be led to the right path."

Finishing the wine in his cup, Rider, as if about to say something more, shook his head as if remembering something and sighed, "These words, spoken by me, probably won't be very convincing to you. Then, noble King of Knights, let someone who, like you, exists as a model, but then abandoned that so-called model, and became a berserk beast at the cost of their life to settle karma with you, discarding the glory of a hero, offer you counsel."

"What..."

"Hurry and appear. Although this is called a king's banquet, the king's words should be heard by all his people, and at the same time, the king must listen to his subjects' advice."

"Since you've said as much," after Rider's invitation, a steady, deep male voice followed, one that caused Saber's emotions, which had remained unfazed even by the mockery of the other two kings, to shake violently, "then, my king, please allow me to join the discussion, just as I did at the Round Table all those years ago."

"Berserker... No, it's you, Lord Lancelot!"

--- How can this make me, level 42 and still hovering around 50,000, feel? ---

Author's Note (Sophistry): Actually, last week wasn't that much filler... that was daily life! Without daily life, where would affection come from? Where would the points of contention come from? Where would the lightheartedness come from... No, that wasn't filler! That was daily life (I clenched my fist tightly to convince myself...)

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