Arrived in Type-Moon, Now Out of Contact

Waver suddenly remembered Shakespeare's words in Hamlet: "Though I am in a nutshell, I still deem myself a king of infinite space."

Not trapped by circumstances, not disordered in form. Unchanged by external forces, always adhering to one's true heart. No matter the situation, one must broaden their inner world and be full of hope.

Isn't this the true portrayal of Rider's life, chasing the non-existent Endless Sea? That fool who could laugh even after knowing there was no Endless Sea in the world, and that his lifelong pursuit was negated.

With infinite dreams in my heart, I am the King of Infinity.

Waver suddenly didn't know how to interact with Rider from now on. Did he, a Mage with extremely poor talent, really have the qualifications to fight side-by-side with that king who held infinite dreams in his heart?

Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't stolen that cloak back then. If Rider's Master had been a great Mage like Kaineth, he could have galloped freely on the battlefield, instead of having to think for half a day before unleashing a Noble Phantasm...

He was dragging Rider down. Waver looked at the scarlet Magic Crest on the back of his hand, silent for a long time.

"Hey, little Master! Berserker's Master invited us to a banquet, we should go!" Rider's rough voice came from outside the door, startling Waver from his profound thoughts.

"Hey! Rider, what are you talking about? What's going on with this banquet? How come I don't know anything about it!" Waver jumped up from the bed. He had only slept for a while, and what new trouble had Rider stirred up in that time?

Disturbed by the person himself while deep in thought, Waver erupted with a burst of physical ability far exceeding his usual.

And then he hit the ceiling.

"Hey, Master, you seem a bit off today." Rider pushed the door open, carrying a large bag of snacks that were definitely not cheap. He saw a hamster rolling around on the ground, clutching its head.

"I'm fine, hurry up and explain about the banquet!" Waver stood up with difficulty, covering 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 record for the youngest Mage of the "Sephira" rank at the Clock Tower. However, his greatest source of prestige at the Clock Tower wasn't the title "Ash of Disorder," but his battle style like a runaway mad dog and his bizarre thought processes.

Dealing with someone like that was truly difficult because you never knew what he would do next. Besides that, there were personal reasons. When Li Zihan was at the Clock Tower, he always stared at Waver with the look one gives a donkey working hard at a mill, and then said inexplicable things to him, which made Waver feel very creeped out.

He was genuinely worried that he would wake up in the El-Melloi family's dissection room, becoming a necessary sacrifice for Li Zihan's further advancement on the path of Magecraft.

"To be precise, it's an invitation for all Servants and Masters participating in this Holy Grail War," Rider placed the snacks he was holding on the coffee table. "Do you have any grievances with Berserker's Master? You don't seem very keen on going."

"No grievances," Waver didn't speak his true feelings. Being scared by a classmate's gaze was too embarrassing, and being stared at with the eyes of a donkey was simply too ridiculous. He immediately changed the subject, "By the way, what did Li Zihan invite you for? Just a simple banquet?"

"That kid's name is Li Zihan?" Rider rubbed his chin with a finger as thick as a carrot. "He seems like a very cautious person. If he could be brought under our command, he would surely be an excellent strategist."

Big brother, stop joking. You haven't seen that guy in action. His operational principle is not to solve the problem, but to directly eliminate the person who raised the problem! He only refrains from acting when he doesn't have more than a fifty percent chance of winning! Thinking of this, Waver also felt relieved. Since Li Zihan hadn't acted directly, it proved that he was still quite wary of the power of Heroic Spirits.

"How is that guy cautious? He's a martial artist who will act as long as he has a fifty percent chance of winning," Waver muttered.

He was met with a thick index finger, followed by a "snap." The pain from his forehead almost made Waver give up on life.

"What the heck? Rider!" Waver clutched his forehead, feeling extremely wronged.

"Kid, if you have more than a fifty percent chance of winning and don't go all out, when are you going to wait?" Rider blew on his index finger as if a Western cowboy was cooling his beloved gun.

"Blindly pursuing safety will only lead to continuous loss of opportunities," Rider said sternly. "Listen up, if a person only dares to act when they have a hundred percent certainty, they might be wise, but more likely, they are a coward. And cowards are not to be feared."

"Don't say such things in front of me again. You are a man fighting alongside me! A man with the seed of dominance! Don't develop the bad habit of a timid rat!" Rider's voice was like a bronze bell, shaking Waver's heart.

Waver felt a bit ashamed and asked himself. Did he really have the qualification to accept such praise from this king?

"You could have just told me something like this directly, Rider. Why did you flick my forehead?" After listening to Rider's admonishment, the resentment in Waver's heart suddenly subsided, but he still habitually complained.

"Pain is the best teacher. Don't look at this King with that kind of expression. I was also severely disciplined when I was learning combat skills from my teacher," Rider sighed with emotion. "Mr. Aristotle's combat techniques are still incredibly beneficial even thinking about them now."

"Learning combat techniques from Aristotle?" Waver felt as if he had touched upon something not recorded in history books.