Pale Sacrifice, Bloodstained Mercy

Meanwhile, at the Persian camp.

"So, Sparta's messenger has slipped beyond your control and entered Athens? Cain?"

The imposing figure upon the throne propped up his chin with one hand while swirling the Golden Chalice filled with wine in the other. His half-lidded eyes watched the ripples in the cup, and a brilliant golden gleam shone deep within his pupils.

"My Lord, the one who came to interfere was far too powerful. I beg for your understanding."

The pale young man, his body etched with crimson divine markings, knelt on one knee beneath the tent canopy. As he defended himself, he occasionally clutched his chest and coughed softly, needle-like pain stabbing through his abdomen.

Cain, meaning "acquired," was the eldest son born to humanity's first ancestor Adam and his wife Eve through God's grace—the "one granted by God."

Yet, consumed by jealousy and hatred over the divine favor Abel had received during his sacrifice, he had murdered his younger brother. Punished and cursed by God, he had become a "kinslayer."

Later, he had shown repentance, received the Savior's forgiveness and a protective mark, and been exiled to the land of Nod, where he multiplied his people.

Now, summoned by the Lord's grace, this former kinslayer had the fortune to stand among the Seven Servants of the Holy Grail, serving as an Assassin.

The Golden Chalice swaying in the imposing figure's hand abruptly stilled, and his raised eyes lowered indifferently.

"You failed?"

Beneath the gaze of those golden pupils, all things seemed humble and insignificant. Life was as fragile as ants and dust, utterly negligible.

The invisible pressure sent a chill down the sinner's spine and cold sweat pouring down his brow. His frivolous voice became dry and strained.

"Y-yes, my Lord. Please punish me..."

"The stench of decay left on