Chapter 32

This was his goal. To achieve it, he had spared no expense, buying an entire building in Fuyuki City and turning it completely into his own fortress.

"My family is still a newcomer in the Mage's Association. Participating in this Holy Grail War means staking my reputation on it. Unlike that half-hearted El-Melloi who treated the last one like a game, I intend to win. After all, the scale of the investment is completely different."

Atrum Galliasta sat on the sofa, embracing the beautiful women at his sides as he shared his thoughts with the Servant he had summoned.

She was the famous Witch of Betrayal from the distant age of Ancient Greek mythology, Medea.

Even when facing a being from legend, Atrum showed little restraint or fear. He remained composed, carrying the pride of a wealthy young master.

Like a middle-aged man well-versed in the ways of the world, he asked, "Do you think money can buy a title? Buy glory?"

Though he looked only twenty-five, Atrum somehow carried the weathered air of a man in his thirties when he said those words.

Or rather, a ridiculous sort of weathered air. He was clearly not that old, yet he put on such a seasoned act.

Medea listened without mocking him. She merely answered seriously.

"No. Anything that can be used, whether cheap or expensive, is your strength. If materials are used as weapons, then there should naturally be strategies suited to them."

Atrum sneered and shook the cigar in his hand. "Don't get confused. As a magus, I've already prepared to suppress the other Masters. Come with me. I'll show you something."

He rose to his feet and led Medea elsewhere.

As the elevator continued to ascend, they arrived at a sealed-off area. When the doors opened, Medea's expression shifted slightly at the sight within.

A massive machine stood inside. Tubes connected it to transparent glass containers around the room, all converging toward the center, where a device with an unusual structure stood like a control console.

That alone was nothing. What displeased Medea most was what lay in those glass containers around them: children, curled up and unconscious.

There were six children in total.

Medea recognized the place at once. Frowning, she asked, "Is this an alchemical workshop?"

"My family's thaumaturgy uses sacrifices to generate magical energy, the most primitive sort of curse involving living offerings. This workshop uses a system that's more modern and efficient than that. I'll demonstrate it for you."

As Medea wondered what he meant, the women beside Atrum, clearly his subordinates, picked up their tablets at his signal and tapped them. Soon, liquid began rising inside the containers, about to submerge the children.

Once they were fully covered, they would be refined into pure magical energy.

Medea frowned deeply and turned around. "Can you stop this? There is no need to gather magical energy in such a way."

But Atrum clearly had no intention of listening to his Servant. He gave no order to stop, and his subordinates did not stop either. The machine moved swiftly. In an instant, every one of those children had been reduced to crimson blood, leaving nothing behind as it flowed through the tubes into the central area.

At that moment, as electricity coursed through the system, the thaumaturgy activated. A small transparent crystal appeared upon the platform in the center.

It was a crystal of pure magical energy, dense and incredibly precious.

"How strange. Didn't you kill your own children without hesitation in the legends? Why do you care whether these things live or die?"

As Atrum spoke, he proudly continued introducing the machine. "Fresh materials are always best. It originally took a month to complete the refinement, but now it only takes an instant."

The more he spoke, the prouder he became. He even pointed into the distance, where numerous children hung suspended. Not a single one was awake. They were all obviously unconscious.

"And there's no need to worry about materials. They aren't from Fuyuki City. They're all top-quality imports from elsewhere."

"Ah, that really is unexpected. So that is how I am described in legend? The Witch of Betrayal."

Medea's sudden words made Atrum pause. He looked at her in confusion. "Don't you know what you did yourself?"

"Jason? That blond pretty boy? I did know him, and I even took part in the Argo's voyage, but it was nothing like the story you people recorded.

"He was also a silver-tongued blond boy, but compared to you, my Master, I find him far less disgusting. He was even rather cute."

With those mocking words, Medea gently raised her hand and lightly tapped the apparatus that had just produced a magical energy crystal roughly the size of a walnut using the lives of six children. At once, intense light burst from it, and a massive crystal appeared atop it, nearly as large as a soccer ball.

Atrum's expression turned incredibly ugly at the sight. He cried out, "What happened?! Why did magical energy appear out of nowhere?!"

"Out of nowhere? Oh, to modern magi like you, there truly is nothing to see. There is still a difference of a stage—no, an entire dimension—in magical energy generation techniques, isn't there?"

"Then, then what about the chant? I designed this workshop with everything I had so that the chant time could be shortened! That was why the alchemical chant only needed three days and three nights to complete!"

That only earned him more mockery from Medea. "I have no need for chants at all. To me, thaumaturgy is merely the issuing of a command."

Having said that, Medea looked around. "Although what you have done is quite excessive, as your contractor, I ask that you stop using this workshop and release these people."

"No, I suppose I really don't understand things like Servants very well yet." With a self-mocking remark, Atrum smiled at Medea, then raised his right hand. The Command Spell on it glowed red.

"By my Command Spell, I order you: do not use your Noble Phantasm against me!"

All amusement vanished from his voice, leaving only hostility. At that moment, one of the three Command Spells disappeared with the order. Immediately afterward, an incomparably powerful force bound Medea, preventing her from directly using her Noble Phantasm to harm the man before her.

Medea stared at him in slight surprise, as though she had not expected this turn of events. Seeing her reaction, Atrum smiled, stepped forward, and suddenly threw a punch.

"If the Witch of Betrayal ambushes me, I'll be in for it!"

Even as he swung, he continued taunting Medea.

He wanted her to understand that he was the master. No matter how legendary she might be, she was nothing more than a dog.

Yet his fist was blocked, as though something had stopped it. It failed to affect the woman before him in the slightest.

His hand felt as if it had struck something hard. The force of his punch rebounded almost entirely undiminished, twisting his expression in an instant.

It hurt. It hurt beyond belief, like punching a steel plate!

"You call me the Witch of Betrayal, yet you were the first to act and the one who broke our agreement, weren't you, my Master?"

Medea's mocking voice rang out. The hood over her head had fallen away, revealing her beautiful face. Her lips curved faintly upward, and she looked at him as though he were a clown.

"And do you not know that a magus should always have a territory prepared? Otherwise, you might have punched me in the face just now."

Medea's words stabbed into Atrum's heart like blades, piercing his pride.

"Though it does not match my own experience, this legend itself has given me certain conveniences." As Medea spoke, an eerie dagger appeared in her hand, curved like a bolt of lightning.

She raised the dagger and looked at Atrum.

"Y-you cannot attack me! That is the Command Spell's order!"

Yet Medea acted without hesitation. The dagger did not stab Atrum. Under his baffled gaze, it plunged into Medea's own body.

"Have you gone stupid?!" Atrum looked at her as if she were a fool and burst into loud laughter. "Since you want to die, then I'll grant your wish. Kill yourself, Medea!"

The Command Spell took effect, its red glow vanishing away. Yet Medea looked at him mockingly and lightly touched her wound. The place where blood had flowed began to heal.

The change shocked Atrum, and fear welled up within him.

"What is going on?! Why isn't the Command Spell working?!"

He shouted and raised his arm again, intending to repeat his earlier order.

Then a cold flash streaked past!

Excruciating pain surged through him, invading his brain and freezing his thoughts!

The Rampaging Holy Grail War

Atrum's arm fell to the ground. Along with the severed limb came spurting blood, splashing across the floor and immediately filling the room with a pungent stench of blood.

"Sorry, but I still have use for the Command Spells. I cannot let you waste them so casually, my former Master."

Magical energy gathered and formed a rope, binding the severed hand and drawing it before Medea. Medea glanced at the women, who now faced her as though confronting a great enemy, and the smile on her face deepened.

For the moment, she ignored Atrum's subordinates and instead looked toward the blond man rolling on the floor in agony.

"You may live for now as well. I will not let you die, after all. I still need you to provide the magical energy for my daily activities."

As she spoke, she even glanced at the glass containers around them. That look made Atrum briefly forget the pain of his severed arm as a greater terror rose within him.

If he were thrown into one of those things, he would surely die!

"I told you, I will not let you die. If you die, refining magical energy will become more troublesome for me. After all, I am only a Servant now, and I am still under quite a few restrictions."

Her gentle smile filled Atrum with terror. He cried out loudly, "Witch, Witch of Betrayal! I... I should never have summoned you!

"You, hurry up and kill her!"

He frantically urged his subordinates forward, but none of the women dared move. Crushed beneath terrifying magical energy, every one of them felt as though something weighed upon her body. Even taking a single step was incomparably difficult.

"Witch? Betrayal? Only the witch part was right."

Medea looked down at Atrum. At that moment, her gaze was majestic, like that of a sovereign standing high above all others.

"The one standing before you participated in the Gigantomachy, slew several children of Typhon, befriended the gods, and ultimately became the ageless witch-princess of Colchis. Was it this insignificant Command Spell that gave you the courage to speak of me that way?!"

Terrified, confused, and regretful, unable to understand why he had failed or why the Command Spell had suddenly become ineffective, Atrum trembled. Feeling life constantly drain from his arm, dizziness overcame him. If the bleeding continued, he would certainly die of blood loss!

Medea merely raised her hand lightly. Instantly, Atrum felt an extreme agony erupt from his severed arm.

He looked at it in terror, only to see flames rising from the wound. As the flames licked at it, the wound rapidly charred, the blood vessels and everything else burned shut, stopping the bleeding in an instant!

This woman was a demon. She was absolutely a demon!

Atrum wailed inwardly, yet he did not dare say a word. He trembled. Though he still did not understand what was happening, he no longer dared ask, afraid she would suddenly think of some new way to torment him!

Then Medea gave an order.

She gave it to the women who had originally belonged to Atrum.

"Release these children. Of course, you may take them hostage if you wish, but I am releasing them merely to improve my mood. If my mood turns bad, I would not mind killing every one of you."

That simple sentence immediately erased any thought of taking the children hostage to threaten Medea into releasing Atrum.

The witch who had supposedly killed her own children in legend might truly be as she said. She was releasing these children only because it pleased her. If they did anything against her wishes, this place might very well be drenched in blood.

Everyone would die!

No one wanted to test such a thing, because no one wanted to die!

After finishing all that, Medea merely used magical ropes to bind Atrum in that place. Then she turned and left, returning to the comfortable living room. She sat down on the sofa as though she were the owner of the place.

"With the Holy Grail's power, I should be able to find him."

Medea's lips curled upward, determination flashing in her eyes.

"This time, I will definitely win the Holy Grail War!"

Then she looked once more at the strange dagger in her hand and carefully played with it.

"Rule Breaker. It breaks all thaumaturgy affecting the one it pierces, ending contracts and the like. A Noble Phantasm representing betrayal, said to have been born from my own divinity, yet I know nothing about it. How... strange.

"Perhaps when I find Mephistopheles, he can give me some explanation."

As she thought this, anticipation inevitably rose within her heart.

Located in Fuyuki City's New City, this area had been rebuilt after a great fire ten years earlier. As a result, it had shed its old-fashioned style and become a jungle of steel and concrete.

This was a bookstore, but it had already closed, with no staff remaining.

Going farther down, one could enter the basement by following the stairs. Quite a few people had gathered there.

Candles burned around them, each positioned in a particular way corresponding to certain specific directions.

At the center of the room was a magic circle on the floor. It looked exceedingly complex and was covered in all manner of writing.

Numerous people clad in black cloaks surrounded the magic circle, seemingly engaged in prayer.

Finally, after the prayer ended, the figure seated at the front spoke in a low voice. "The Holy Grail War has begun. To destroy this dull ritual that brings nothing but destruction, we too must take action!"

Those people all knelt and expressed their reverence toward that figure.

"We obey your will, Saintess. May God bless us and erase this sinful existence!"

The figure known as the Saintess nodded gently and spoke again.

"Though we walk the path of magecraft, we are unlike them. We are driven by goodness. To prevent the tragedy of ten years ago from happening again, we shall dig out the root of this sin and destroy everything, so this world need no longer bear such sorrowful things!"

Her voice was full of persuasion. One by one, the others voiced their agreement, before it became a unified shout.

"We obey your will, Saintess. Under the gaze of the great God, we shall carry out righteous deeds and spread God's gospel, all so that goodness may be scattered across this filthy world!"

At last, these people rose and left one by one. Soon, only the woman called the Saintess remained in the basement.

She stood up and left as well. As she departed, she removed her cloak, revealing the petite figure beneath it.

Purple hair, purple eyes, and a Homurahara Academy uniform. Everything about her pointed to her identity.

She was merely a high school student, an ordinary high school girl no one would notice.

A voice emerged from the void and entered her mind.

"Why did you show me all that?" The woman's voice carried confusion, as though she did not understand why she had just witnessed such a thing.

Something so secretive should have been kept hidden from her.