Humans x Heroic Spirits, Dead Apostles x Executors

He mistakenly believed that this was a sacred relic prepared for him by his teacher, and excitedly ran alone to this city in western America to participate in the Holy Grail War.

But Flat was unexpectedly chosen by the Holy Grail as soon as he arrived in Snowfield, and then unexpectedly succeeded in summoning Servant using the dagger he obtained from Lord El-Melloi II.

The one who answered the call was a nameless servant, yet there was indeed proof that he existed in this world.

However, no one knew his true identity.

Their appearance, their real name, whether they are male or female... no, they don't even know if they are human.

As a symbol of terror that terrified the world, and whose gender was ambiguous, he was soon imagined in various forms by different people and recorded in countless stories and papers.

Doctor, nobleman, prostitute, butcher, demon, monster...

In truth, it's uncertain whether he was truly alone; people, even in fear, freely depicted his existence, until it was elevated to the level of a legend.

However, he is not just a legend; he actually existed.

The evidence is well-known: the gruesome remains of five prostitutes in a corner of London known as Whitechapel.

An unmistakable proof of its existence.

That's what people called him, because there were words on the letter paper that were thought to be his self-identification.

Jack the Ripper!

At that moment, Jack, who had transformed into a wristwatch, said in a neutral voice, "That was undoubtedly Saber. Both the attack she delivered from the opera house and her claim to be a descendant of King Arthur demonstrate it."

Flat blinked, then said noncommittally, "And what about the girl who called King Arthur' Father King'? If it's Mordred, she should also be Saber, right?"

"Could there be two Sabers?"

The watch suddenly went silent, and he was stumped. Flat seemed playful and unserious, but his insight was exceptionally sharp, or rather, it was just his intuition.

An eccentric genius, Flat's words hit the nail on the head.

After a long silence, the wristwatch spoke again, "Perhaps one of them is a Rider? All the Knights of the Round Table are capable of fulfilling the Rider class."

"I don't think so," Flat said, tilting his head. "It's not impossible for two Sabers to appear!"

It must be said that Lord El-Melloi II's students were all a bit different from others. If Flat Second Generation had heard what Frat said, he would have smashed his head in.

They dare to come and join the fun without even having the most basic information about the Holy Grail War. Don't they want to die even faster?

But as fate would have it, Flat's wild claim turned out to be the truth.

Sometimes geniuses are just that irrational; they seem to be on the right track even when there's no logic to it.

Fortunately, Berserker Jack isn't a difficult Servant, otherwise he would definitely be driven crazy by his Master Flat.

The wristwatch said calmly, "Insufficient intelligence; ultimately, we know nothing about them."

"I really want to have a good chat with them, maybe we can become friends!" Flat said with anticipation, his eyes shining brightly.

Berserker Jack remained silent in the face of his Master's playful attitude.

At the same time.

On the rooftop of a tall building next to the police station.

The assassin calmly adjusted his breathing, focusing his attention on the police station he was looking down at.

According to her investigation in the city, the Saber summoned at the opera house appears to have been arrested and brought here.

The assassin thought: In that case, I'll infiltrate the police station. This time, I must carry out the assassination with absolute certainty.

But through observation, she realized a terrible truth.

The police station is surrounded by several layers of Magecraft barriers, resembling a fortress that completely refuses entry to outsiders.

She focused her attention and observed again, discovering that she could also sense the presence of several Magus inside the building.

Although the city was originally dominated by pagans, it also had people who worshipped the same gods as her.

In this situation, Magus who are not even considered heretics actually plan to secretly dominate the city and take control of its judicial and administrative organizations.

She couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

It's highly unlikely that an organization capable of setting up such a massive Magecraft barrier could be unrelated to the Holy Grail War being held in the same city.

More importantly, Saber, who is an enemy, is also present in this building.

She took a deep breath and made up her mind to break into the enemy camp.

If it were the leader of her era Hundred Faced Hassan, it would be possible for him to brush past various barriers like a graceful dance and sneak into the interior.

But she knew very well that she wasn't that agile; she wasn't mature enough yet.

Assassin is a fanatic of the Hassan Order; she seeks to destroy the Holy Grail that has misled the leaders.

Their god has no Holy Grail!

Her convictions did not allow her to back down; only by constantly moving forward, even if it meant being shattered to pieces, could she find meaning in life.

"No! It doesn't need to mean anything!"

With a quiet resolve beneath her black attire, she leaped into the air.

Transforming into a cannonball, it forcibly blocked the entire barrier and barged into the police station's territory.

Seconds later, the barrier above the police station was shattered, and the fanatic charged fiercely into the battlefield, abandoning her advantages as an assassin.

Such a reckless approach is completely contrary to the principles of the Assassin Order.

Of course, if the First Hassan saw this, he might laugh.

After all, as long as everyone who sees him is killed, it will be a successful assassination.

Chapter 6, Section 520: Humans X Heroic Spirit, Dead Apostle X Executor

The fanatics stormed into the police station like berserkers.

In the police station lobby, Chief Orlando Reeve is talking with Father Hansa Serbandis of the Holy Church.

The atmosphere in the hall was heavy; clearly, this was not a friendly exchange.

However, both sides remained relatively restrained and did not engage in a major fight.

The arrival of the fanatic interrupted their conversation; her gaze was sharp as lightning, and she instantly recognized Orlando Revere as her Master.

"Zabaniya" (狂想闪影)

In an instant, her long, razor-sharp hair sprouted from her hood and stretched wildly toward Orlando.

This is a fanatic imitating and learning the special skills of a certain generation of Hassan.

She did not create her own unique skill, but she could imitate and use the skills of all the other Hassan except for the Hundred Faced Hassan of her time.

Orlando saw a dark shadow rushing towards him and immediately jumped back, narrowly avoiding the fanatic's attack.

He drew his long sword and swung it swiftly, a faint glint of light flashing as it traced an arc, severing the continuing spread of long hair.

The police officers behind him simultaneously pulled out various weapons.

These weapons, like the longsword in Orlando's hand, are all 'Noble Phantasm'.

Noble Phantasm created using the abilities of Orlando's Servant, Caster.

"Don't be afraid. Even if it destroys the hall, it doesn't matter. We must find a way to suppress her!"

Orlando stared intently at the fanatic, issuing instructions to his subordinates in a stern tone.

The fanatic's eyes turned cold as she scanned the entire room.

They were all Magus, and they also possessed weapons that were clearly not ordinary.

But she was fearless.

"Zabaniya" (Imaginary Computer)

"Dream Marrow (Zabaniya)"

"Broken Thought Temperature"

"Zabaniya (Meditation Nerve)"

One after another, they unleashed their extraordinary skills, leaving the marble floor of the entire hall in ruins.

In the battle between Heroic Spirit and humans, the Assassin, who had abandoned stealthy assassination methods, still held his own against dozens of opponents.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

"What a wonderful performance, it was truly delightful."

A voice came from the main entrance.

Immediately afterwards, a young man appeared through the door, clapping rhythmically as he walked.

Each clap felt like a hammer blow to the hearts of the crowd, sending chills down their spines.

"This battle was absolutely wonderful."

The young man continued speaking in a clear and loud voice, "I never expected to challenge Heroic Spirit with my own body! It seems to have become a contest of even strength."

"If I hadn't sensed the loss of magic, I really wouldn't have been able to find you, my lovely one."

The young man turned his gaze to the fanatic, "Although it's a bit late, let me introduce myself."

"My name is Jesta Carl."

"It is as a master that fully affirms your actions... and as a non-human Dead Apostle, that takes everything from you."

Dead Apostle! Master! Magic!

A few words flashed through the fanatic's mind like fleeting shadows.

She had heard about the Dead Apostle, terrifying monsters that unleash violent storms without regard to faction.

Master? She had already killed her master the moment she was summoned, and the person in front of her looked completely different from the one who summoned her.

But she already had a vague feeling that the other person wasn't lying.

She uses her Noble Phantasm so extravagantly, yet she can still stand here. The source of her inexhaustible magical power is self-evident.

Did they evade death through unknown means?

The fanatic was ashamed of his immaturity for allowing such filthy magic to flow into his body.

Shame was followed by anger.

Destroy the monster before you! Cleanse yourself of your filth!

The fanatics pounced on Jesta in a frenzy, however...

"I command you by Command Spells to move to a location as far away from this city as possible."

The fanatic was enveloped in a beam of light. She roared at Jesta with all her might, but still disappeared into the hall without any resistance, her whereabouts unknown.

Then, Jesta scanned the officers present and shrugged, declaring:

"The handover is now complete. Can you all just die already, blood bags?"

As soon as Jesta finished speaking, with a soft splash, he felt himself being bathed in warm, black liquid from behind.

The aroma of coffee filled the air and entered his nostrils.

Hansa Serbandis, who had been watching the show while enjoying free coffee, could no longer stand idly by.

As a priest of the Holy Church, when he sees the Dead Apostle face to face, he can no longer pretend not to see them, after all, the Dead Apostle are their mortal enemies.

"You talk too much nonsense, you stinking corpse."

The priest folded the empty paper cup and threw it into a nearby trash can.

"Father? Executor?"

"Your work Executor is temporarily suspended..." Hansa said lazily, "But that doesn't stop me from beating you up."

He took out several sword-like hilts from his pocket and held them between his fingers.

The hilt materialized into a silver blade in the next moment, allowing Hansa's hands to outline shapes like giant iron claws.