Though there were no explicit restrictions, those who participated in the Holy Grail War silently observed one rule: everything related to the war would take place in the quiet depths of night.
When the sun set and the city lights came on, that was when battle began.
An entire day passed in the blink of an eye. As dusk arrived, Matou Manor had already become busy.
"Quick, you there, use your spear to stir this."
"My lord, my name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, and my spear is a Noble Phantasm."
"What Noble Phantasm? That loser often uses that fruit knife to peel apples."
"...I was bored out of my mind. It's not like I wanted to do that."
"Enough with the chatter. Hurry up and see whether I've got the heat right. I worked damn hard to hunt these bears in the deep mountains. If you turn them into mud soup, I won't let you off today."
The entire Matou Manor was shrouded in smoke, firelight surged through the hall, and waves of meaty fragrance filled the air.
Clearly, this whole household was engaged in a cooking session that resembled a life-or-death battle...
Looking over, one could see Wu Biao standing bare-chested in the middle of the hall, carrying a huge pot on his shoulders as Hellfire continuously poured from his body.
Standing on the rim of the pot, the Lancer wore a miserable expression as he continuously stirred the broth with his crimson and golden spears... Meanwhile, Medea floated nearby with a cookbook in hand, constantly tossing all kinds of ingredients into the pot.
"Master, turn the heat down a little. Before I finish adding the seasonings, you'll have stewed the meat to mush!!"
Wu Biao's mouth twitched. "Hey, do you even know what you're doing? Bigger heat one