"So you know my name. It seems you aren't some lucky fool who knows nothing about the Holy Grail War."
A strange smile curled Zouken Matou's lips. "What do you want from the Matou Family, sending me something like this?"
The decaying old man drew an ancient book from his kimono sleeve. It was the very trophy Roland had taken from Ryunosuke Uryu.
"Just a little, insignificant help."
Roland smiled, seemingly not frightened by Zouken Matou's appearance at all. Granted, the old man had a bald head, scrawny limbs, and deeply sunken eyes, enough to outclass everyone on Halloween without even dressing up. But after yesterday's events, Roland's tolerance for disgusting things had improved considerably.
"So you want help?"
Zouken Matou narrowed his eyes slightly and tapped lightly with the hand holding his cane.
"This book dates back more than a hundred years, around the second Holy Grail War. It must have been left behind by that fellow who was brought in to make up the numbers, then slunk away after losing in the first few days."
"But even so, that fellow could just about be called a proper mage. So even after his defeat, he must have been filled with frustration and longing. Yet I sense no such distinct desire in you."
The old man stared at Roland, a keen glint shining in his eyes.
He was one of the original architects of the Holy Grail War, that major event that had shaped Type-Moon.
Though they were all among the Three Founding Families, unlike the Tohsaka, with their orderly succession, or the Einzbern, composed entirely of homunculi, the Matou Family had always been ruled by this seemingly emaciated old man.
He had abandoned his former name and his former family, pouring everything he had into that pitiful grand ambition. Ironically, even that wish had been discarded over the long years. Now he was merely an old monster named Zouken Matou, kept alive by obsession.
But although his strength had declined somewhat, his discernment had only grown deeper.
With Magic Circuits deliberately shut off, detecting the presence of magical energy was difficult. Yet Zouken Matou was certain that the young man before him was no mage.
Anyone who had devoted himself to the magical arts, whether his ideals were righteous or evil, whether his talent was exceptional or poor, could never have worn such a look.
He was as tranquil as a plant, as though he had been forced to participate and had no interest in it whatsoever.
"Ah, that's right. I'm not a mage. More precisely, I don't have those things called Magic Circuits."
To Zouken Matou's surprise, Roland readily admitted it.
"You can't even establish a channel for magical energy. Just how arrogant must you be to enter the Holy Grail War? What qualifies you to join this grand occasion?"
Zouken Matou felt a wave of disappointment. When the book and a note specifying a location had suddenly arrived in the Matou Family's mailbox that morning, he had thought he might find some new amusement. Was this merely another arrogant madman after all?
"I've lost interest in you. You can have this back. Boy, try to live a little more wisely in your next life."
Zouken Matou tossed the book to Roland. His visitor had indeed chosen a good location. To prevent the exposure of the mysteries, mages could not cause any major disturbances. But for a monster like him, who survived by feeding on life, that prohibition was not absolute.
The book was already riddled with his worms. Once it approached the other man, they would swiftly burrow into his body, devouring their host's flesh and organs before turning him into a corpse puppet under Zouken's control.
That would certainly be amusing.
"Heh heh..."
Zouken Matou let out a bone-chilling laugh that slowly seeped into the cold air.
The battered book sailed through the air in a steady arc. What had once been only a few wormholes now covered its entire surface, and black worms occasionally poked their hideous mouthparts out of the holes.
"Really? I don't think so. Talking about qualifications is rather funny, but if you insist on discussing them..."
Roland said with an icy smile, "...then my power is my qualification."
Killer Queen's arm emerged from his body and caught the book before he could. The next instant, a flame flashed and vanished, and a silent explosion was over in a heartbeat.
The object Zouken Matou had transformed into a miniature worm nest, something that could already be considered a Mystic Code, was destroyed instantly, without the slightest chance to resist.
Zouken Matou's laughter cut off abruptly.
He knew just how tough his familiars were. Although they looked disgusting, those worm familiars had mouthparts as sharp as blades and incredibly hard bodies. Ordinary weapons could not harm them, and they were highly resistant to heat. Yet the fellow before him had destroyed them in an instant.
"A guardian spirit...? But its strength and abilities are quite unusual. Is this psychic power, or some other supernatural ability?"
In Type-Moon, although mages were the main group wielding supernatural powers, ordinary humans could also possess unusual powers through factors such as fairies or innate talents.
And in many cases, such abilities were even stronger than those of an ordinary mage.
"He's called Killer Queen. His ability turns anything he touches into a bomb I can detonate at will. Anything at all, whether it's a little coin or an entire human being."
"Is it wise to reveal your ability so readily?"
"It doesn't matter. There's no harm in people knowing what Killer Queen can do anyway." Roland looked at Zouken Matou and slowly extended his right hand. "Besides, when it comes to an ally I'd like to have, I believe a little necessary honesty can build a good relationship."
Zouken Matou stared at the three crimson Command Spells on the back of Roland's hand, and even his clouded eyes seemed to brighten.
He studied the young man before him anew. On a face that could certainly be called handsome sat a smile that never reached his eyes, accompanied by a sense of danger utterly at odds with his build.
What weighed on Zouken Matou most was the cold blackness of Roland's eyes.
There was not a trace of needless anticipation in them, only despair and stillness like falling into a bottomless abyss, along with a void tinged with destruction.
Merely meeting those eyes allowed Zouken Matou to understand the other man's true nature.
He immediately accepted Roland's requests, whether it was providing a suitable holy relic, supplying financial support and information, or arranging the most troublesome matter of all: a channel for magical energy.
It was not because he had much hope that Roland would win. The reason was far simpler.
They were the same kind, both needing to devour the lives of others to find satisfaction.
Though their methods differed, as did the nature of what they did, that innate evil could not be erased.
Pushing someone like this over to the enemy's side was certainly not something a clever man should do.
Besides, he already had a reason to need a sharp blade in this Holy Grail War.
"Then what do you want in return?"
Once they had reached an agreement, Roland said casually, "Is it the chance to make a wish on the Holy Grail? I don't mind letting you have that."
Having long known the truth about this particular war, Roland was determined not to get involved with that poisonous wish. He had already decided that, given the chance, he would blow up that damned cup and show it what happened when it dragged people in at random.
He was also very curious about Zouken Matou's objective. Even if he had demonstrated his abilities as a powerful outside ally, the old man should not have held any hope for this war in the original story. Yet judging by his behavior today, this Old Worm had been far too accommodating, readily agreeing to every one of Roland's requests.
"No, no, no... how could I dare ask for so much in return for an initial investment?"
Zouken Matou forced a feigned, kindly smile onto his face. "You could obtain these things yourself even without relying on the Matou, so I won't make any presumptuous demands."
Then he slowly held up a finger toward Roland. "This is my request to you: during this Holy Grail War, I would like you to give killing one particular Master as much priority as possible."
"Who?"
At the mere thought of this person, the ugly old man broke into a vicious smile that sent a chill down the spine.
"That shameless thief from the Clock Tower!"
"Huh?"