A Little Assassin Who Loved Courting Death

For a moment, the atmosphere at the banquet fell into a deadlock.

The Knight King and her finest knight stared at each other with eyes filled with equally powerful resolve. The King of Heroes sipped his wine, wearing a malicious smile as though enjoying a show. The King of Conquerors wanted to speak, yet in the end could only sigh helplessly and shake his head. The absent Masters—Irisviel, who watched her Servant with concern, and Weber, who was unexpectedly paying serious attention to the dispute—remained frozen in place as if struck by a binding spell.

Though everyone's thoughts were surely anything but simple.

The ones who had caused this situation, and who alone could break the deadlock, were Saber and Berserker. After Saber had uttered that forbidden phrase—Camlan Hill drenched in the blood of the setting sun—their argument had risen beyond a debate of principles and reached a far deeper level.

The end of a king was certainly regrettable, but could the epic jointly created by the knights truly be denied based solely on its outcome?

There was surely an answer, but whether it could persuade the other person—and oneself—remained unknown.

The others either remained silent out of respect, out of their own perverse amusement, or because they lacked the standing to speak, waiting for the two to reach a decision.

Perhaps they might have kept staring at one another until the Holy Grail War ended, if not for a group of black figures arriving to stir up trouble...

...The outstanding contestant in the Fancy Ways to Court Death competition, Assassin, made an entrance...

"Archer, you did this, didn't you?"

"Who knows? I have no reason to concern myself with the thoughts of mongrels."

"My, what a pity Caster isn't here."

"What does that dreadful woman have to do with this, Rider?"

"She's been complaining these past few days that Assassin hides like rats and is difficult to find. Now that so many have come at once, she'll surely be delighted."

Though their entrance had certainly drawn attention and their timing had been exquisitely chosen, after Jizi's spoilers, Assassin no longer posed any deterrence or threat to anyone present. Even the Queen Consort remained exceptionally calm as she jealously complained that her man was always mentioning "other women" in front of her.

Thinking about it, that made sense. Having almost every day been subjected to comments such as "These rats have no creed," "They're already weak as trash, yet they still split up their strength," "Heh, they ran as soon as they sensed my presence? The Brotherhood has lost all its face," and "I only killed two today. What a shame, what a shame..." Assassin had already become fixed in Jizi's allies' minds as "weak, very weak, incredibly weak, weak beyond belief." After watching Jizi's specially filmed video, A Step-by-Step Guide to Killing Assassin, even the Queen Consort felt that, given sufficient conditions, she could take down one or two herself.

As for Saber's side, Jizi's tireless monster grinding had greatly reduced Assassin's numbers. Although all of them coming out this time still looked rather imposing, for Miss Artoria, one Excalibur would wipe them all out without any pressure at all. It was just somewhat wasteful, so she would not use it unless necessary, but she certainly did not fear these black-clad creeps.

As for Archer, a performance brimming with delight had been interrupted. On top of that, assassins had been sent to a banquet where he had provided the wine, damaging the King of Heroes' reputation. He was surely spamming It's all Tokiomi's fault in his heart right now.

After being forcefully watched and then completely ignored, these Assassins naturally felt empty, lonely, and cold, eager to assert their presence. The tall purple-haired woman at their head drew a dagger and locked her killing intent onto the two Masters present. Though Irisviel and Weber rationally understood that they were in no danger, the killing intent of Heroic Spirits still made their human bodies feel thoroughly uncomfortable.

However, at that hair-trigger moment, Rider's rough and heroic voice suddenly rang out, carrying a strange power that forcibly suppressed the conflict before it could erupt.

"Everyone, if you have come to attend the banquet, then please restrain that ghostly aura around you. That is hardly the conduct expected of guests."

Saber, who had moved her female friend behind her, frowned in displeasure upon hearing this. "Do you intend to invite them to join us as well, King of Conquerors?"

"Of course." Rider scooped up a large ladleful of red wine from the cask and extended it toward the Assassins. "Didn't I say before that a king's words ought to be heard by all people? Since someone has deliberately come here, it does not matter whether they are enemies or friends."

"Come now, do not be shy. If you wish to drink with us, come and take a cup yourself. This wine shall be one with your blood!"

Rider's enthusiastic invitation was answered by the sound of something slicing through the air. A silver-white flash of steel swept past, severing the ladle from its handle and sending it to the ground. The wine within spilled onto the courtyard floor.

"..."

Completely unaware that they had just performed a feat that would rank among the top three even in a multiversal Fancy Ways to Court Death competition, the Assassins mockingly laughed at Rider as he stared speechlessly at the wine on the ground.

If Jizi had been here, she would surely have sighed, "Heaven's sins may yet be forgiven, but one's own sins cannot be escaped. The ancients truly did not deceive us." Even she would not dare pull off such an advanced act of courting death—hell, not even the author would dare!

"Do not say that I failed to warn you."

Rider's tone remained calm, but the feeling behind it had changed noticeably. The first to sense that change were the two who had been drinking with him earlier.

"I said that 'this wine' would be 'one with your blood,' did I not? Since you so casually spilled it onto the ground, then I shall..."

Before he could finish, a violent whirlwind rose.

The wind was scorching and dry, as though it would burn everything away. It was not the wind that should have existed in a forest at night, much less in a castle courtyard. This wind seemed to come from a desert, roaring beside their ears.

Feeling sand enter his mouth, Weber hurriedly spat. It really was sand—hot sand carried by the wind, sand that should never have been there.

"Young lady bound by 'correctness,' knight tormented by her own moral conscience, and most ancient King of Heroes, listen to this king's final question!"

Wrapped in that strange hot wind that eroded the real world, Rider's crimson cloak rose from his shoulders.

"—Is a king solitary?"

Archer laughed aloud, apparently believing the question did not need an answer.

"A king..." Saber answered without hesitation, but at the last moment she avoided Berserker's gaze. "Of course a king is solitary!"

Was that the answer he had expected? The disappointment on the Knight of the Lake's face lasted only an instant before being replaced by resolve.

"Your Majesty..."

The raging wind and Rider's booming laughter drowned out the knight's remaining words. The surroundings seemed to respond to that laughter as they underwent a change that overturned everyone's understanding.

"This will not do! Let me teach you today what a true king truly is!"

Everything the dry gale swept across changed shape.

"H-how can this be...?"

Weber and Irisviel cried out in astonishment. This was a phenomenon only those who understood magecraft could comprehend.

"It is... a Reality Marble?!"

A sun scorching the earth, a clear sky stretching endlessly, and a horizon blurred by blowing sand. There was not a single obstruction anywhere within sight.

The nighttime Einzbern estate had transformed in an instant, undeniably proving that this was not merely an illusion eroding reality. It could be called the absolute limit of magecraft worthy of the name miracle.

"How is that possible...? You manifested a landscape from within your heart... but you are not even a magus!?"

"Of course not. How could I accomplish this alone?"

Standing within the vast bounded field, Iskandar proudly smiled and denied it.

"This is the land my army once crossed. The warriors who shared both hardship and glory with me have this scenery deeply engraved in their hearts."

As the world changed, the six who had previously been surrounded also found their positions altered.

The Assassins, who had formed an encirclement, were moved alone to one side. Rider stood in the center. On the other side stood Saber, Archer, Berserker, and the two Magi. In other words, Rider stood alone before the Assassins.

—Was Rider going to face them alone?

Everyone widened their eyes as they stared at mirage-like images appearing around him. One, two, four... the images gradually multiplied, taking the shape of an army. Their colors slowly became richer and more vivid.

"This world can be recreated because it is engraved upon every one of our hearts."

Before the stunned gazes of the others, materialized cavalrymen appeared one after another beside Iskandar. Their races and equipment differed, but their powerful physiques and fearless bearing all displayed the strength of an army.

Only one person understood what this strange scene truly was.

"These people... are all Servants..."

Because he was the only Master present, he understood. The true trump card of the Heroic Spirit Iskandar, the true form of his ultimate Noble Phantasm, had appeared before his eyes.

"Behold, my peerless army!"

Filled with pride and glory, the King of Conquerors stood before the cavalry ranks and raised both arms as he shouted.

"Even though their bodies were destroyed, their Heroic Spirits have still answered my summons. They are the loyal warriors of legend. They are my eternal friends, answering my call across time and space.

They are my greatest treasure! They are my kingly path! Iskandar's strongest Noble Phantasm—Army of the King!!"

An EX-rank anti-army Noble Phantasm, the continuous summoning of independent Servants.

There were war gods, kings of Mahārāja, and founders of successive dynasties. Gathered before them were unique Heroic Spirits who existed only in legend.

Every one of them possessed a renowned name—they were warriors who had once fought alongside the great Iskandar.

A riderless horse galloped toward Rider. It was a massive, splendid steed with a lean and powerful build. Had it been human, its majesty would surely not have lost to the other Heroic Spirits.

"It has been a long time, partner."

Rider smiled like a child and hugged the horse's neck. Clearly, she was Bucephalus, the legendary steed celebrated in later generations. Following the King of Conquerors, even a horse had become a Heroic Spirit.

No one could make any sound beyond astonishment. Even Archer, who also possessed an EX-rank supreme Noble Phantasm, no longer sneered after witnessing such a dazzling army.

These were outstanding heroes who had staked their dreams as kings and galloped across battlefields alongside their king.

Loyalty that had not ended even in death—the King of Conquerors had transformed it into an extraordinary Noble Phantasm.

Saber was shaken. It was not the power of the Noble Phantasm that frightened her, but how it shook the conviction she had always held with pride.

That perfect support—

The bond between king and retainers called a Noble Phantasm—

The thing the Knight King, who had pursued her ideal, had never gained even in the end—

"Your Majesty! Arthur!"

Seeing Saber's wavering, Berserker urgently called her name, but the Knight King, overwhelmed by the sight before her, gave no response.

She continued staring at the figure mounted upon Bucephalus.

"A king must live more vividly than anyone else—so that all may admire him!"

"The one who gathers the convictions of all heroes and begins an expedition with them as his goal is a king. Therefore—"

"A king is not solitary. For his aspirations are the wishes of all his subjects!"

"Indeed! Indeed! Indeed!"

The spirited cries of the Heroic Spirits pierced the sky and soared into the heavens. No enemy or barrier could seem threatening before the King of Conquerors and his companions. Their soaring fighting spirit could cross the earth and cleave the seas.

Therefore, before them, the Assassins were no more than passing clouds.

"Very well, Assassin. Let us begin."

Rider's smiling eyes were full of savagery and cruelty. Faced with those who had ignored a king's words and refused the wine bestowed by a king, he had no intention of showing mercy.

"As you can see, the battlefield I have manifested is a plain. I apologize, but when it comes to winning through numbers, I hold the advantage."

If you cannot find the book by searching its title, try searching for the author instead. It may simply have been renamed!

At that moment, the Assassins forgot the Holy Grail, forgot victory, and forgot their mission of Command Spells. They had lost themselves.

Some fled. Some shouted in despair. Others stood blankly where they were. The skull-masked figures, thrown into disarray, were truly nothing more than a rabble.

"Trample them!"

Rider gave the order without hesitation. Then—

"AAAALaLaLaLaLaie!!"

A massive roar answered him. The invincible army that had once swept across Asia now shook the battlefield once more.

This could no longer be considered a battle. A cleansing would be more accurate.

Even grinding mustard seeds beneath a millstone would have provoked more resistance.

Wherever the Army of the King passed, not a trace of Assassin remained. Only a faint scent of blood and whirling sand lingered in the air.

"—Uwooooh!!"

Cheers of victory rose. Offering the victory to their king and praising his glorious name, the Heroic Spirits who had completed their task returned to spirit form and vanished into the distance.

Then the bounded field, sustained by the combined Mana of the army, was lifted as well. Everything shattered like bubbles, and the landscape returned to the original night. The group once more stood in the courtyard of Einzbern Castle.

Pure white moonlight shone with quiet serenity, and not a speck of dust could be seen in the air.

The four Servants and two Magi returned to their previous places and raised their cups once more. The Assassins had vanished without a trace. Only the broken remains of the ladle handle, severed by a dagger, proved that what had just happened was real.

"—What a disappointment."

Rider muttered as though nothing had happened and drained the remaining wine from his cup. Saber did not respond, while Archer gave a dissatisfied snort of laughter.

"Indeed. No matter how weak the mongrels were, having so many charge together must have taken considerable effort even for a king. Rider, you truly are an eyesore."

"Let me say this first: no matter what, I must settle things with you someday."

Rider rose with a laugh, entirely unbothered.

"We have all said what we wished to say. Let us end things here for today."

But Saber still could not let go of Rider's previous words, and she refused to let him leave so easily.

"Wait, Rider, I still have—"

"Be silent."

Rider cut off Saber's words in a forceful tone.

"Tonight was a banquet between kings. But Saber, I do not recognize you as a king."

"Do you intend to continue mocking me, Rider?"

Impatience had entered Saber's voice, but Iskandar merely looked at her with pity. He drew the Sword of Alexander and swung it through the air. With a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder, a divine bull chariot appeared. It lacked the overwhelming grandeur of the Army of the King, but it was still more than enough to seize everyone's attention.

"Get on, boy. Quickly."

"..."

"Hey, boy?"

"—Ah? Ah, right..."

Ever since witnessing Assassin's effortless defeat, Weber's heart had been clouded by a strange shadow. It was his first time seeing a Noble Phantasm so far beyond common sense, so such a reaction was perfectly natural. Moreover, that had been the power of his own Servant, and today was the first time he had truly witnessed it.

After Weber climbed unsteadily into the chariot, Iskandar gave Saber one final glance and spoke with complete sincerity.

"Listen, young lady. Wake from that painful dream of yours soon. Otherwise, one day, you will lose even the most basic pride of a hero. The 'king' you speak of is nothing more than a curse you have placed upon yourself."

"No, I—"

Ignoring Saber's final rebuttal, the lightning-wreathed chariot shot into the sky. In the end, only the rumble of thunder remained, and the chariot disappeared into the eastern heavens.

"..."

It was natural for Saber to feel humiliated by Rider, who had refused to listen to her until the very end. Yet what she could not shake at that moment was an inexplicable anxiety.

A tyrant who carried out violence to satisfy his selfish desires, possessing neither benevolence nor ideals. Yet even so, there were retainers so loyal that they were willing to form an eternal bond with him.

That went against the Knight King's principles. She could not accept such a belief.

Yet Saber could not simply dismiss Iskandar's words as a joke and forget them. She felt an unwillingness to let him take those words back—and it was precisely those words that continued to weigh on her.

"You need not concern yourself with it. Saber, you only need to persist along the path you believe in."

The one who interjected from the side was Archer, who had been mocking her all along. Hearing such inexplicable encouragement from him, Saber replied coldly.

"You mocked me just now, and now you wish to flatter me, Archer?"

"Of course. The path of kingship you describe is utterly correct, without the slightest flaw. What an enormous burden it must be for that frail body of yours. This anguish, this conflict... it truly makes one want to go over and comfort you."

His appearance was refined and his voice deep, yet his expression and tone still concealed boundless malice and lust.

As long as that golden Servant remained before her, Saber would not feel the slightest uncertainty. Unlike Rider, who could communicate through words, Archer was merely an unforgivable enemy.

"Continue painfully playing the little clown along the righteous path you claim to follow. I enjoy it greatly. Saber, entertain me more. Perhaps I might grant you the Holy Grail as a reward."

The white jade wine cup shattered in Archer's hand.

"Rider has left. The banquet is over. Archer, either leave at once or draw your sword."

Though it could not be seen, Saber's sword still radiated overwhelming pressure as she swung it. Archer's expression did not change even after his cup had been crushed. Whether it was because of extraordinary courage or extreme stupidity, it could only be one of the two.

"My, my. Do you know how many kingdoms have been destroyed over a cup like this? Ah, forget it. Punishing you would be pointless. Becoming angry over a little clown's rude behavior would damage a king's dignity."

"Shut your mouth. I will warn you only once—next time, I will strike without mercy."

Archer paid no heed to Saber's rebuke and rose with a smile.

"Do your best, Knight King. At times, I find you rather adorable. As for that mad dog beside you, when we next meet..."

The moment those final words fell, Archer turned into spirit form and vanished. The courtyard, deprived of the golden light that had illuminated it, seemed to awaken from a dream, leaving behind only emptiness.

"Your Majesty..."

"What is it? Are you going to mock me too, Sir Lancelot?"

"Eh..." Seeing that her king's emotions were unstable, Berserker could only leave behind a sigh in the end.

"Your Majesty, how I wished that I had not manifested under the Berserker class, but as your knight, becoming the Noble Phantasm that protected you and fighting alongside you on the battlefield."

The Knight of the Lake's body scattered into a field of azure spirit light.

Knowing that words could not persuade his king, he had already resolved to remonstrate in a knight's way.

And the original meaning of a knight was nothing more than a lance and a sword.

-------A certain rooftop----------

"Hehe, no-zuo-no-die, why-you-try. The ancients truly did not deceive me."

Holding a black figure hostage, Jizi smiled wickedly.

"You say that wasn't said by the ancients? Don't sweat the details~~"

In truth, she was merely talking to herself, because no one present could answer her—the black fellow had long since lost consciousness.

Rip!

She reached out and tore off the white skull mask covering the person's face—the reason it was called tearing was because the mask had originally been sewn into the flesh with steel needles, designed specifically to prevent its removal. Now that it had been forcibly ripped away, there was no need to describe just how horrific the wounds on his face were.

Yet even such pain did not make the man let out the slightest groan or struggle.

"It looks like after most of the spiritual foundations have been destroyed, this tiny remaining vessel is no longer enough to sustain the concept of a Servant. In other words, there's no need to kill them all; once only a few are left, they're effectively useless."

That body belonged to an Assassin. After leaving Kiritsugu Emiya, Jizi had lain in wait on the only road leading to Einzbern Castle. When the group of Assassins set out together, she ambushed them from behind, kidnapped one of them, and severed his connection to the other copies.

The purpose of doing this was—

"Although each portion is weak after being split into so many pieces, they still bear the name of Heroic Spirits. Their Mystery is quite high, so they're not easy to tamper with~"

A new mask covered Assassin's mangled, bloody face.

"But once they've already been judged 'dead,' doing whatever I want becomes much easier. Heh~ heh~"

Red patterns instantly spread across Assassin's entire body. As the flow of Mana within them intensified, the mask gradually fused into the head of that body.

Jizi's body grew increasingly transparent until it finally vanished into the night sky.

"A male body after so long. Not bad, not bad. I'll have some fun with it before the expiration date."

The "dead" Assassin stood up as if he had regained consciousness. "He" stiffly moved his joints, then performed several backflips. A new set of features emerged on the face whose wounds had somehow vanished, and when he spoke, his voice was the same as Jizi's had been.

"Hmm, it's not that I'm discriminating against black people, but this pitch-black skin is still unpleasant. I'd better cover it up first; I'll deal with it when it's time to put on an act."

Conjuring a set of Brotherhood robes and draping them over himself, Jizi, controlling Assassin's body, leaped forward—

"Leap of Faith!"

If I said this chapter wasn't copied and pasted, you definitely wouldn't believe me... I wouldn't believe it either, but it really wasn't copied directly from the original! I changed a lot of the details—though probably not many people would read it seriously anyway.

I won't copy over the part later where Airi consoles Saber to pad the word count. It's been done countless times already, anyway.

Also, although Jizi could change faces, the changes couldn't be too drastic, and she couldn't alter her body shape, so she had no choice but to take over a ready-made one.

As for what she wanted to do by taking over a body? She definitely didn't want to experience having a dick and generating electricity by herself again... Ow, who hit me with a fireball?... Could it be that I accidentally hit upon the truth?

Finally, this really was the last update before July...

If you can't find it by searching the book title, try searching for the author instead. Maybe it was just renamed!