Man in Type-Moon, Now Offline Chapter 43

Countless forgotten secret arts were recalled once more. Matou Zouken found himself incredibly powerful, capable of fighting even Servants who stepped out of legend.

"Matou Zouken, how much have you remembered?" Li Zihan's gaze was unfriendly, the spear in his hand growing more solid.

"Of course, I remember," Matou Zouken laughed heartily. "With my soul repaired, isn't it natural for my memories to return?"

Although recalling memories from his soul was troublesome, handing over the knowledge of the Command Spells system to Li Zihan was part of their contract and could not be violated.

Knowledge as precious as that of the Command Spells system must surely be hidden in the deepest part of the soul. Matou Zouken proactively sank his consciousness into the deepest recesses of his soul, searching for information related to the Command Spells.

Something perplexing to Matou Zouken occurred. The deepest part of his soul held not knowledge of secret arts, nor his family's legacy, but a white-haired woman.

Who is she? Matou Zouken tried desperately to recall. Although he knew the urgent task was to remember the knowledge of the Command Spells, he found himself instinctively drawn to "her."

Did I forget something? Matou Zouken felt as if a thousand needles were jabbing and churning inside his head. He clutched his head, screaming with all his might, all pretense of dignity gone.

In his agony, Matou Zouken recalled his first encounter with that woman.

It was in the year 1800.

A Mage who had dedicated his life to eradicating All the World's Evil, humanity's inherent malice, and to excising it all, traveled to the Winter City, a place where homunculi were continuously produced.

His dream had already been shattered, but unwilling to accept this fact, he still visited the Einzberns, his last hope. There, he encountered that woman. Hope surged within him for his tragic wish to be fulfilled, and he felt envy for him who might achieve the Third Magic. He approached the woman proactively.

As in all heroic tales, the two quickly became Best Friends, striving towards a dream that was almost impossible to achieve. Their hard work paid off; eventually, they discovered a glimmer of hope for eradicating all evil in the world.

The Norseman named Zouken Matou and the Winter Saintess Justicia Lieselotte von Einzbern were both exceptionally brilliant Grand Mages. Thus, they collaborated to create a ritual that led directly to the Third Magic, the Heavenly Holy Grail, which the disciple of the Third Magic user could not complete.

To prevent anyone from forcefully seizing this sliver of hope, they left Europe, where Magecraft was highly developed, crossed the continent of Asia, brimming with mystery, and traveled to the backwaters of the Magecraft world—the Far East—where they took root.

His Best Friend sacrificed himself for the world, thus laying the foundation for the Holy Grail War—the Holy Grail. Despite his profound grief, Zouken Matou continued to advance towards their shared wish.

However, problems arose. That man was merely human, and human lifespans were limited. He was growing old and was nearing death.

The path to eliminating all the world's evil lay before him; how could he falter at the final moment! The Mage, discovering his hair turning white, was terrified. He couldn't die, at least not before the ritual was completed.

If only I could win one Holy Grail War. I just wish I could live until the ritual ends. The man prayed to the heavens, but it was useless. Failure was inevitable. Later, he discovered that due to the haste in constructing the Holy Grail ritual, there were numerous flaws within it. Sixty years passed, the ritual had not succeeded, and he himself was nearing the end of his life force.

I must survive by any means necessary. I cannot die!

The Grand Mage named Zouken Matou committed acts that disgusted himself. He consumed the life of a sinner to extend his own existence.

He comforted himself, telling himself that the person was just scum, a societal tumor, and that he had it coming. Was it not a logical choice to save all of humanity by sacrificing the lives of a few scumbags?

However, the second Holy Grail War still ended in failure. Sixty years of effort were once again wasted. Furthermore, the Magecraft's effectiveness had diminished; he needed to consume more lives to sustain himself.

The number of extremely wicked individuals was insufficient. Out of desperation, the Mage had to hunt down others who had committed lesser crimes, merely to prolong his miserable existence.

Over these sixty years, his soul had deteriorated slightly, and he had lost some memories.

Next came the third Holy Grail War, which also ended in failure.

To survive, he had to consume many lives. With his memories becoming somewhat hazy, he could no longer clearly recall his original ideals.

Never forget your original intention, and you will achieve your goals. But many people forget their original intentions along the path of their journey.

The Grand Mage named Zouken Matou, in his pursuit of immortality to save the world and humanity, had, with countless turns of his life, allowed that goal to become indistinct.

Thus, he used every method imaginable to extend his lifespan, ultimately forgetting his original dream and becoming a monster that abandoned its physical form in pursuit of eternal life, a disgusting existence on the verge of death.