Waver suddenly recalled something Shakespeare had written in Hamlet. "I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space."
Do not be trapped by circumstances, nor confused by outward form. Do not change because of external forces; always hold fast to your true heart. No matter what situation you are in, keep your heart open and full of hope.
Wasn't that the true reflection of Rider's life, chasing the nonexistent Endless Sea? That fool who could still laugh even after learning that the Endless Sea did not exist at all, that the pursuit of his entire life had been denied.
With infinite dreams in my heart, I am the king of infinity.
Waver suddenly did not know how to get along with Rider from now on. Did a mage as utterly talentless as him truly have the right to fight shoulder to shoulder with a king whose heart held infinite dreams?
Maybe it would have been better if he had not stolen that cloak in the first place. If Rider's Master had been a Grand Mage like Kaineth, he could have charged across the battlefield to his heart's content instead of having to deliberate for ages before using a Noble Phantasm...
He was holding Rider back. Waver stared at the crimson Command Spells on the back of his hand and remained silent for a long time.
"Hey, little Master! Berserker's Master has invited us to a banquet. We should get going!" Rider's booming voice came through the door, startling Waver out of his profound thoughts.
"Hey! Rider, what are you talking about? What banquet? How come I don't know anything about this?" Waver sprang out of bed. He had only taken a nap; what kind of nonsense had Rider gotten up to in that short time?
Interrupted by the person in question while deep in thought, Waver displayed athletic ability far beyond his usual level.
Then he slammed into the ceiling.
"Hey, Master, something's off with you today." Rider pushed open the door, carrying a large bag of snacks that definitely had not been cheap, and saw a hamster rolling around while clutching its head.
"I'm fine. Explain this banquet thing already!" Waver forced himself to his feet, holding his head. "Li Zihan invited you to a banquet?"
Waver was extremely wary of his classmate. That guy was a genius who had broken the Clock Tower's record as the youngest Red Mage. Yet his greatest source of fame at the Clock Tower was not the title "Ash of Disorder," but his fighting style, like that of a rabid dog off its leash, and his bizarre way of thinking.
Dealing with someone like that was truly difficult, because you never knew what he would do next. There were also personal reasons: whenever Li Zihan had still been at the Clock Tower, he would always stare at Waver as if looking at a hardworking donkey turning a millstone, then come over and say incomprehensible things to him. It gave Waver the creeps.
He was genuinely worried that he would wake up one day in the El-Melloi family's underground dissection room, becoming the necessary sacrifice for Li Zihan to advance further along the path of magecraft.
"To be precise, he invited every Servant and Master in this Holy Grail War." Rider set the snacks on the coffee table. "Do you have some sort of grudge against Berserker's Master? You don't seem very eager to go."
"No grudge." Waver did not voice his thoughts. Admitting that his classmate's gaze had frightened him was far too embarrassing, and being stared at as though he were a donkey was simply too ridiculous. He immediately changed the subject. "So what did Li Zihan invite you all for? Just a banquet?"
"That lad is called Li Zihan?" Rider rubbed his chin with a finger as thick as a carrot. "He seems like a very cautious man. If I could take him under my command, he would surely make an excellent strategist."
Come on, don't joke around. You had never seen that guy in action. His policy was never to solve the problem, but to directly eliminate the person who raised it! He only refrained from acting when his odds of victory were below fifty percent! Thinking of this, Waver relaxed a little. Since Li Zihan had not attacked directly, it proved that he still feared the power of Heroic Spirits.
"What part of that guy is cautious? He's the combat type who attacks the moment he has even a fifty percent chance of winning," Waver muttered.
What greeted him was a thick index finger, followed by a sharp smack. The pain shooting from his forehead nearly made Waver shut down.
"What was that for, Rider?!" Waver covered his forehead, feeling especially wronged.
"Boy, if you won't risk your life when your odds are over fifty percent, then when will you?" Rider blew on his index finger like a cowboy cooling off his beloved gun.
"Blindly pursuing safety will only make you lose opportunity after opportunity." Rider spoke sternly. "Listen well. If a man only dares to act when he is one hundred percent certain, then perhaps he is a wise man—but more likely, he is a coward. And cowards are nothing to fear."
"Do not say such things in front of me again. You are a man who fights by my side! A man with the seed of conquest in him! Do not cultivate the habits of some spineless rat!" Rider's voice was like a bronze bell, shaking Waver to his core.
Waver felt somewhat ashamed. He asked himself whether he truly deserved such praise from this king.
"You could have just told me that directly, Rider. Why did you have to flick my forehead?" After hearing Rider's admonition, the resentment in Waver's heart abruptly faded, though he still complained out of habit.
"Pain is the best teacher. Do not look at me like that. When I learned fighting techniques from my teacher, I was beaten up terribly too." Rider sighed. "Even now, Lord Aristotle's fighting techniques remain endlessly beneficial whenever I think back on them."
"You learned fighting techniques from Aristotle?" Waver felt as though he had touched upon something that had never been recorded in the history books.
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