The Holy Grail War. It is, a bloody conflict, where we magi will wager our lives for the sake of a wish.

Seven Servants, and Seven Magi chosen by the Grail. Heroic Spirits who once met an "untimely death" will revive into the modern world by temporarily obtaining vessels for their souls called Servants, gathering together in one place alongside the magi who are to be their Masters, they will kill each other until one Servant remains at the end, unfolding into a brutal battle that surpasses human intellect.

Magi and Servants. For the sake of having their wishes granted, together.

Fourteen hundred years ago...

Caliburn, the Sword of Selection. Lone it stood, bound to the unmovable stone, the final wish of king Uther Pendragon, for only the one able to pull the sword shall become King.

Many have attempted to draw the Sword—it couldn't be too difficult could it? However, even the bulkiest and the strongest of the country's men couldn't separate the blade from the rock. Hundreds of men, at one point, had lined for their turn to try, and every single one left the Sword, fatigued and defeated. So it was thought that the one to draw the Sword was of myth only. Perhaps they would decide their King through a more sophisticated method, such as a Jousting Competition.

The open area was seemingly empty, save for the fifteen year old boy and his teacher. The boy walked up to the blade, hand outreached. But before he touched Caliburn's ornate handle, he hesitated. The Magus clad in white, who sat upon a mound behind the boy, spoke up.

"Oh? You aren't going to do it?" The boy looked over his shoulder, and gave a solemn smile. The Wizard continued, "You should consider it thoroughly before you pick it up."

Finally, the boy spoke, "Yes. Once you pick this sword up, there is only cruel fate ahead."

"Once you draw the blade, you will stop living as a human."

The boy, replied, "No. If I can lead this country, help these people live happily, then I can't be wrong." With newfound resolution, he reached for the beautiful sword, and gripped the handle tight.

"I see then. May Britannia prosper under your rule, King Arthur."

Eight years ago...

Let us tell a story about a particular man. A man who believed in his ideals more than anyone else, and by those ideals was driven to despair.

His dream was pure. He wished for everyone in this world to be happy; it was all he asked. It is a childish ideal that all young boys will grow attached to at least once, an ideal they will abandon as they grow accustomed to reality's harshness. Happiness requires a sacrifice—this is something that all children learn when they reach adulthood.

But that man was different. Perhaps he was simply the biggest fool of all. Perhaps he was broken somewhere within his mind. Or perhaps he was one of those whom we call Saints, those entrusted with God's will. One whom common folk would never understand.

He knew that for any existence in this world, his only two choices were sacrifice or salvation, and he understood that Heaven's judgment granted nothing... Henceforth, he set his mind to tipping that scale. To abate the world's grief, there was no better way, no method more efficient. To save just one life on one side, he had to forsake a life on the other side. To let the majority survive, he had to leave a minority to die. Therefore, rather than protecting people for the sake of saving someone, he chose to excel at the art of killing people.

Again and again, he painted his hands the color of blood.

Never flinching, never questioning the righteousness of his acts or doubting his goal, he forced himself to only tip the scale faultlessly. He never misjudged the value of a life. With no regard to the humility or age of any existence, all lives were weighed evenly. Without discrimination, he saved, and without discrimination, he killed.

Regretfully, he realized—too late—that in order to value everyone with equal fairness, he could not love anyone. Had he carved that inviolable rule into his spirit sooner, he could have attained salvation. Freezing his young heart into necrosis to become a bloodless, tearless measuring machine, he sorted those who were to die, and those who were to live. There was no suffering for him. But the man was wrong.

A delighted smile would fill his chest with pride, and a wailing voice would shake his heart. Anger was added to his resentment, and he grew regretful as tears of loneliness longed for hands that reached out to him. For someone pursuing an ideal beyond the reason of men, he was too human. How many times had he been punished by this contradiction?

He did know about friendship. He did know about love. Even when he put that one beloved life and an uncountable number of complete strangers on opposite sides of the scale... He certainly never, ever made a mistake.

Beyond loving someone, and judging that life on the same level as other lives, he had to value it impartially, and impartially he had to forfeit it. Even when he was with someone precious to him, he always seemed to be mourning. And now, the man was being inflicted with the greatest punishment.

Outside the window, a snowstorm had frozen everything. A mid-winter night congealed the ground of the forest.

The room lay in an old castle built on the frozen soil, but it was protected by the gentle flame burning in the fireplace. In the warmth of that shelter, the man was holding a new existence in his arms. It was a really small one—a body so tiny it was nearly ephemeral, without any weight by which one could gauge its readiness.

Here, even a delicate touch could be dangerous, as with the first snow scooped by hand which crumbles with a mere jolt. In frail eagerness, the child slept to preserve her body temperature, breathing leniently. It was all the modestly throbbing chest could manage at the moment.

"Don't worry. She is sleeping."

As he lifted the baby in his arms, the resting mother laid on the couch and smiled at them. The mother's haggard look suggested she was not yet out of danger, and her complexion was imperfect; even so, her beautiful face, reminiscent of a jewel, had not deteriorated in any way. Above all, a blissful tone brightened her smile and erased the exhaustion that otherwise threatened to wear out her gentle look.

"She was always a difficult child, crying even when held by the nurses, whom she should already be accustomed to. This is the first time she let herself be held so quietly... She understands, doesn't she? That it is fine, because you are a good man."

"..."

Silent and dumbfounded, the man compared the mother on the bed to the child in his arms. Had Irisviel's smile ever looked so dazzling?

She had been a woman of little happiness. No one had ever thought of giving her that feeling called "happiness." She was not a creation of gods; she was created by men... For a homunculus, such treatment was normal. Irisviel never had any wish.

Created as a puppet and brought up like one, perhaps she never understood the meaning of happiness to begin with. And yet, at that moment, she was beaming.

"I am really glad I had this child."

Quietly bringing forth her love, Irisveil von Einzbern spoke as she watched over the sleeping child.

"Henceforth, she will be, first and foremost, an imitation of a human. It will be tough, and she might hate the mother who thrust such a painful existence upon her. But I am happy. This child is lovely; she is splendid."

She did not seem unusual in any way, and was by all appearances a lovely baby, yet—While still in the womb, a number of magical treatments had been applied on the unborn body, reconfiguring it to be different from a human's, and making it even more disparately inhuman than the mother's was. Even if it was born, its usefulness was restricted; the body was a mere cluster of magic circuits. This was the true nature of Irisviel's beloved daughter.

Despite the cruelty of such a birth, Irisviel still decided to go ahead with it. Having been born as such a thing, and having given birth to such a thing, she loved its existence, found pride in it, and smiled. That strength, that bracing heart, came about because she was, undoubtedly, a mother.

The girl—just a puppet—had found love, and became a woman who learnt of the immovable strength a mother. Nobody could meddle with that look of happiness. Right now, the bedchamber of the mother and child, protected by the warmth of the fireplace, was indifferent to all despair and sorrow.

But—the man knew better. In the world he was part of, the snowstorm blowing outside the window was most appropriate.

"Iri, I—"

As he spoke, the man felt his chest pierced by a blade—the blade of a peacefully sleeping face and the dazzling smile of a mother.

"I will someday be the plight that kills you."

A gagging sensation rose, bloody, in his throat. Irisviel nodded at his declaration, a peaceful expression on her face.

"I understand. Of course. That is the earnest wish of the Einzberns. That is what I am here for."

That was the future which had already been decided. Six years later, the man would bring his wife to her dying place. As the victim who was to save the world, Irisviel had become the sacrifice devoted to his ideal.

The matter had been discussed several times between the two, and they had come to an agreement. The man cried his heart out at the decision, and cursed himself for it. Each time, Irisviel had forgiven him and encouraged him.

"I know your ideals, and I grew attached to your prayers; that is why I am here now. You guided me. You gave me a life as someone more than just a puppet."

For that same ideal, she sacrificed herself. She had become a part of him that way. Such was the love which took the form of the woman Irisviel. If it was her... The man could permit it.

"There is need to grieve over me. I am already part of you. Enduring the pain of your own sundering would be enough."

"... So, what about her?"

The infant's body was light as plumage, yet a weight of different dimensions made the man's legs shiver. He could not understand yet. He was not prepared to understand how he would choose when that child was placed against his ideals.

Do not judge or forgive such a man's way of life. There is not the power for that yet. Even for such a pure life, the ideal was merciless. Without regard for the humility of one life, without regard to age, all were equally regarded—

"I am... not fit to hold her."

The man squeezed his dripping voice out, even as insanity threatened to crush its sweetness. A teardrop fell onto the plump, cherry-colored cheek of the baby in his arms. Sobbing silently, the man bent on one knee. To overthrow the world's heartlessness, he aspired to a greater heartlessness... To the man who still had love, that was inflicting the final and greatest punishment.

The one he loved most—he would protect her, even if it meant the world's ruin. But the man understood. When the time came for his justice to demand the sacrifice of such an innocent life—what kind of decision would the man Emiya Kiritsugu make? Kiritsugu wept, fearful of the day that might come, frightened by that one-in-a-thousand chance.

Her arms warmly wrapped around Kiritsugu's chest, Irisviel raised her upper body from the bed, and gently placed her hand on the shoulder of her husband, who burst into tears.

"Never forget. Wasn't it your dream? To bring about a world where nobody would have to cry like that. Eight more years... and your battle will be over. We will carry out this ideal. I'm sure the Grail will save you."

His wife, fully comprehending his agony, caught Kiritsugu's tears as kindly as she could.

"When that day is over, you must hold the child Illyasviel once more. Stick your chest out like a father."

He simply stared, solemnly, understandingly.

The darkness was surrounded by ambition, accumulated over a thousand years.

Answering the summons of the Einzbern family head, Emiya Kiritsugu and Irisviel rushed to Einzbern's old castle, to a place sealed off by ice—a most grandiose but dark place—the Einzbern Castle's ceremony chamber. This place was not for praising the favor of gods, or for the spirit to seek peace. In this magi-inhabited castle, the so-called prayer room was the room where magecraft ceremonies were carried out through sacrificial offerings.

The colorful stained glass overhead displayed not a portrait of any saint, but rather the Einzberns' long history of pursuing the Grail. Of the Three Families of The Beginning, the Einzbern family had spent the most time on the Grail. Surrounding themselves deep in the icy mountains, stubbornly severing all ties with the outside world, they had begun seeking the miracles of the Grail almost a thousand years ago. But the search was filled with setbacks and humiliation, as well as suffering and opposition. In such a condition, their searching bore no results.

Finally despairing at this method of seeking the Grail alone, they reluctantly agreed to a pact of cooperation with the outsider families, Tohsaka and Matou, two hundred years ago. They never won in the Holy Grail Wars that followed, due to the abilities of their Master, which always fell short. The final solution was to hire, from outside, magi who were apt at fighting. This decision was made nine years ago. Emiya Kiritsugu could be deemed the trump card of the Einzbern family, which had always been proud of the purity of their bloodline; because of him, they even changed their family creed a second time.

Passing the halls, Kiritsugu's sight unwittingly found a relatively new painting on the colorful window. Drawn there was the Einzbern family's Holy Maiden of Winter, Lizleihi Justizia, and two magi waiting on her to the left and right. All three extended their hands to the Grail in the sky. From the painting's composition and the balance of its design, it was easy to see how contemptuously the Einzbern family looked down upon the Tohsaka and Matou families two hundred years ago, as well as their humiliation at having to rely on them for help. The painting communicated it all. If he was lucky enough to win and survive the upcoming war—Kiritsugu gave a bitter mental laugh in a low, sarcastic voice—his own image would probably be portrayed against his will on a window in this manner.

The old magus, king of this wintery castle, awaited Kiritsugu and Irisviel in front of the sacrificial altar. Jubstacheit von Einzbern. known as Acht after he became the eighth head of the Einzbern family. Through continuous prolonging of his life, he had lived for nearly two centuries now, leading the Einzbern family ever since they changed their focus from Grail-seeking to the Grail War.

Kiritsugu knew nothing of the Justizia era, but ever since the second Holy Grail War began, old man Acht had suffered more than once the pain of defeat. For him, the anxiety of facing this third opportunity must be extraordinary. Nine years ago, he had welcomed this ill-reputed Magus Killer, Emiya Kiritsugu, into the Einzbern family, for no reason other than Kiritsugu's amazing skills.

"The holy relic that we sought in Cornwall has finally arrived this morning."

Stroking his white beard, which invoked mental images of a frozen waterfall, old man Acht stared at Kiritsugu. An astute light came from deep within his eye sockets; this light within his eyes hid his senility. Despite having lived in this old castle for a long time, Kiritsugu could never tolerate the feeling of undue pressure from his eyes each time they met.

In the direction indicated by the old family head's pointing hand, a huge charcoal-colored box could be seen, tied ridiculously tightly atop the sacrificial altar.

"With this as a catalyst, it would be possible to summon the strongest Heroic Spirit of the Sword. Kiritsugu, consider this the Einzbern family's greatest aid to you."

"I am deeply grateful, dear head of the family." Feigning impassivity, Kiritsugu bowed deeply.

The Einzbern family had broken the rule, set since its founding, and brought external blood into the family, but the Grail seemed to have accepted it without opposition. The Command Seal appeared on Kiritsugu's right hand three years ago. Soon, he would shoulder the zealous thousand-year-old wish of the Einzbern family and participate in the upcoming fourth Holy Grail War.

The old head of family turned his eyes to Irisviel, who lowered her gaze respectfully.

"Irisviel, what is the vessel's status?"

"There are no problems. Even in Fuyuki, it will function normally." Irisviel answered fluently.

The wish-granting machine, the omnipotent chalice, was only a spiritual entity and did not possess a physical form. To allow its Holy Grail form to descend, a Holy Grail vessel must be prepared. This war involving seven Servants of the Holy Grail could be called a spiritual evocation ritual as well.

Since the beginnings of the Holy Grail War, the task of preparing a man-made Grail vessel had always been carried out by the Einzbern family. In this fourth War, the responsibility fell to Irisviel. Therefore, she must leave for Fuyuki with Kiritsugu; she must be at the battlefield.

Old man Acht, eyes shining with insane strength, nodded seriously. "This time... None must survive. Kill the six Servants! This time we must acquire the Third Magic, the Golden Grail."

"Yes sir!"

At the old family head's command spoken with such burning fervor, magus and homunculus, partners in fate, answered simultaneously. But in his heart, Kiritsugu could not care less about the rigid desire of this old head of family.

Achievement... Einzbern's head of family had condensed all emotion into this one word which held infinite interpretations.

One would think the only thing left in Einzbern's spirit was this stubborn desire for achievement.

The materialization of the spirit was a miracle. A thousand years had been spent seeking this lost miracle... During this long and arduous journey, they had long since lost their methods and purpose. If only to prove that their thousand-year journey was not for naught, if only for confirmation that it did exist, the Einzbern family fought with their lives to obtain the Grail. But to them, what the Grail would be used for once it had been summoned—that sense of purpose had long since disappeared.

It matters not. Per your expectations, through my hands I will grant you your sought-after Holy Grail. Refusing to lose to the old man's enthusiasm, Emiya Kiritsugu said this in his mind. But that is not all. I will use that omnipotent chalice to grant my own deepest wish…

Three Years Ago...

"The patterns that have appeared on your right hand are called the Command Seals. They are proof that you were chosen by the Grail, and also the holy marks that grant you the right to control a Servant."

The person who explained all this with a smooth but carrying voice was Tohsaka Tokiomi. In the room of an elegant villa, built atop a small hill in the neatest district in South Turin, Italy, three men sat in a lounge chair—Kirei, Tokiomi, and the priest who had introduced them and mediated the conversation, Kotomine Risei—Kirei's birth father.

As the friend of a priest who would soon be eighty, Tohsaka was a rather eccentric Japanese. He seemed to be about the same age as Kirei, settled and emanating an expert aura. His family lineage was old and distinguished even by Japanese standards, and this villa was—in his own words—his secondary residence. Most interestingly, he casually declared himself a magus.

Being a magus was not as strange as it sounded. Kirei was a clergyman like his father, yet the duties of the father and son already differed greatly from what ordinary people would expect of a priest anyway.

The Holy Church that people like Kirei belonged to had a doctrine outside the bounds of miracles and divine mysteries, which served to exterminate the stigma of heresy and bury it into oblivion. That standpoint allowed them to supervise the blasphemy called magecraft.

Magi conspired only with other magi, and they were organized in a self-preserving group that called itself the Association, which presented a rival threat to the Holy Church. Presently, both sides had agreed to preserve a temporary peace. Even then, a state of affairs that would gather a priest from the Holy Church and a magus in the same building for a lecture was unthinkable. As for the priest, Risei, the Tohsaka family was one to which the Church already had old connections, despite its status as a Magus house.

The night before, Kirei had discovered the surfacing pattern, shaped in three marks. He had then consulted his father, and Risei had immediately taken his son to Turin the next morning to meet that young magus. They greeted hurriedly, and Tokiomi proceeded to explain the situation concerning the Holy Grail War to Kirei in this secret meeting. The mark on Kirei's hand was the manifestation of Kirei's privilege—a chance at fulfilling his desire for a miracle, in the fourth recreation of the Holy Grail that was to happen three years later.

Not that he would have refused to fight. Kirei's duty in the Holy Church was, in essence, direct elimination of heresy—this implied that he was a full-fledged combatant. One could say it was his very duty to wager his life against a magus. The problem at hand was the contradiction inherent in having Kirei, a clergyman, participate as a magus in the Holy Grail War, a dispute between magi.

"The Holy Grail War is a battle which uses Servants as familiars. To sustain itself, elementary magic for their summoning is required. Essentially, the seven persons who are selected as Masters to the Servants have to be magi. It must be exceptional for someone like you, who does not practise magecraft for a living, to be recognized by the Grail at such an early stage."

"Does the Grail have preferences in its selection?"

Tokiomi nodded to the still-unconvinced Kirei.

"I mentioned the Three Families of the Beginning. Among those favored in the granting of this privilege are magi from the houses of Einzbern, Tohsaka and Makiri—now known as Matou. That also means that..."

Tokiomi lifted his right hand to show the threefold pattern.

"As the current head of the Tohsaka family, I will participate in the next Holy Grail War."

Was this man planning to cross arms with Kirei after having kindly guided him so thoroughly? Although Kirei could not comprehend it, he carried on with his numerous questions.

"I was wondering about the Servants you mentioned earlier. You said that Heroic Spirits were summoned and used as familiars..."

"It may be hard to believe, but that is the truth. That is one of the wonders of this Grail."

The legends of great men, supermen who had left their name in history and folklore—They are the ones who, after their deaths, remained in the memory of men; they were set apart from the category of mortals, and were promoted even in the spiritual realm; they were Heroic Spirits. They enjoy a status higher than the vengeful spirits or common evil spirits from nature that magi usually summoned as familiars. In a manner of speaking, a Heroic Spirit was an existence that enjoyed a spiritual status equal to a god. Although a part of that power could be brought out and borrowed, it was unthinkable that they could be used as familiars in the present world.

"If you consider an act of such impossibility as proof of the power of the Grail, you would understand how outrageous a treasure it is. Even the summoning of a Servant is but a mere fragment of the Grail's power." Tohsaka Tokiomi sighed deeply and shook his head, seemingly dumbfounded by his own words.

"Heroic Spirits who lived no more than a century ago, after the ancient age of gods, can be summoned. Seven Heroic Spirits follow seven Masters; each protects his or her own Master, and attempts to exterminate the enemy Masters. Heroes from any era and any country may be summoned in the present era, and they face off in a deadly competition for supremacy. That is the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki—Heaven's Feel."

"... Such a monstrosity... occurring in a place inhabited by thousands of citizens?"

By consensus, magi conceal themselves; it was the only way to exist in an era where science was believed to be the universal truth. With the Holy Church as an additional consideration, revealing their existence was definitely not an option. However, with a Heroic Spirit in tow, one would also have to conceal a source of power capable of causing catastrophic disaster. Bringing seven Servants together in the present era, in a conflict between humans, and having them clash in battle... That was practically ordering a large-scale slaughter.

"—Of course, it is implicit that the confrontation must be held in secret. You will need well-prepared supervision to ensure that."

Having remained silent until then, Kirei's father, the priest Risei, came forward and voiced his part. "The Holy Grail War happens once every sixty years; this will be the fourth time it has occurred. The civilization of Japan had already begun when the second war occurred. Even in the most remote regions, we cannot overlook the possibility of people witnessing the spread of serious damage. Thus, since the third Holy Grail War, an agreement had been made; the Holy Church would dispatch a supervisor. To minimize disaster from the War, we must conceal its existence and have the magi comply in keeping the feud a secret."

"Does the Church serve as a referee in a conflict between magi?"

"Precisely because it is a conflict between magi. Because of the political complications, nobody in the Magus Association is fit to referee. There simply is no other way but to delegate it to an external authority such as the Church.

"Furthermore, the Holy Church would not let the name of the Holy Grail be used lightly. We cannot ignore the possibility that it really is the cup that received the blood of the son of God, either."

Kirei and Risei, father and son, both belonged to the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament. The recovery of holy relics numbered among their duties. The treasure called the Holy Grail had appeared in many tales and legends, and it was of particular importance in the Church's doctrine.

"During the third Holy Grail War, in the chaos of the World War, a meeting was held under similar conditions. I, still a youngster then, was appointed to an important task. For the next battle, I would proceed to the land of Fuyuki to watch over your fight." At his father's words, Kirei tilted his head.

"Hold on. Isn't the chosen Church supervisor expected to be fair? It is a problem if one of the participants is related by blood..."

"Now, now. You think this is a blind spot overlooked by the rules?"

The unusual smile of the stubborn father implied something that Kirei could not read.

"Kotomine, you should not trouble your son. Let us move on to the real question."

Tohsaka Tokiomi quickly urged the old priest to the point.

"Hm, right—Kirei, so far we have only explained the outward aspects of the Grail War. There is another reason I had you meet Mr. Tohsaka today."

"... Which is?"

"To tell the truth, since some time ago we have had positive proof that the Grail which appeared in Fuyuki was a different one from the holy relic of the son of God. In the end, this battle of the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki is being fought only for a mere copy of the omnipotent vessel, one that opens a way to a utopia. It is in no way related to our Church."

That was how things were. Otherwise, the Holy Church would not be content merely with the role of a silent supervisor. If the Grail turned out to be an actual Holy Relic, the Church would bypass the ceasefire agreement and plunder it off the hands of the magi.

"If a chalice is only a means to reach the Akashic Records, it is not the concern of our Holy Church. After all, the craving of magi to find Akasha, the origin, does not necessarily conflict with our doctrine.

"—However, for us to permit it being left alone, it has to fall into the hands of someone strong. If an unwelcome fellow managed to get his hands on it, we don't know what kind of accident might be caused."

"Then, if we eliminate it as a heresy—"

"That would still be difficult. The magi who yearn for the Grail have an uncommon tenacity. If we conducted a frontal trial, conflict with the Magus Association would be inevitable. That would create too many victims.

"Rather, as a second-best plan, finding a way to entrust it to a 'preferred party' would be most interesting."

Kirei was gradually catching up to the true motive of this interview. His father was mingling with Tohsaka Tokiomi, a magus, after all. Tohsaka Tokiomi nodded and resumed.

"Reaching the Akasha; there is no greater purpose to us Tohsaka than that. Sadly, the Einzberns and Matous, who once shared the same motive, have lost themselves to more worldly concerns, and have now forgotten their original intention completely. I will not even mention how they have invited four Masters from outside. They want the Grail for their despicable lust and nothing else."

That would mean that the Holy Church would approve no one else but Tohsaka Tokiomi as the Grail's bearer. Kirei slowly started to understand more and more about his assignment.

"So you would like me to participate in the next Grail War to let Mr. Tohsaka Tokiomi win?"

"Exactly."

Finally, Tohsaka Tokiomi revealed the first sign of a smile.

"Of course, we will stealthily join forces against the five remaining Masters and annihilate them to increase our chances at victory."

At Tokiomi's words, Father Risei gave an austere nod. The neutrality of the Holy Church as a referee was already turning into a farce. This Holy Grail War must be interesting, in contrast to the Church's original expectations.

Kirei found this turn of events neither right nor wrong. If the intentions of the Church were clear, there was only the fulfilling of his task as a devoted executor.

"Kirei, you will be transferred from the Holy Church to the Magus Association, and you will become my apprentice."

Without a break, and in a pragmatic tone, Tohsaka Tokiomi hastened his explanations.

"A—transfer?"

"The exchange has already been made formal, Kirei."

At this, Father Risei took out a letter. It was a notification with the joint signatures of the Holy Church and the Magus Association, addressed to Kotomine Kirei. Kirei was more than surprised at the merit of the performance: in the short time frame between yesterday and today, the letter had been taken care of posthaste. Kirei had no real reason to act up in the matter, nor did he have any reason for taking offense at the discussion; he had no purpose at all.

"Our most important priority now is to have you do nothing but practice magecraft in my house in Japan. The next Holy Grail War is in three years. By then, you must have a Servant who will obey you, and you must become a magus who will participate in the battle as a Master."

"But—is it all right? If I openly study under you, will there not be suspicion of our cooperation?"

Tokiomi gave a cold-hearted smile and shook his head.

"You don't know magi. In our world, if a teacher and his student encounter a conflict of interest, it is perfectly normal for it to end in a battle to the death."

"Ah, I see."

Though Kirei did not mean to understand magi, he had a good grasp of the tendencies of this clan known as magi. As an executor, he had had countless encounters with heretical magi. With his own hands, he had taken down at least twenty or more of them.

"So, do you have other questions?"

In response to Tokiomi's request for a conclusion, Kirei asked the question he had all along.

"Just one. The Grail that selects the Masters; what exactly is its purpose?"

Apparently that was not a question Tokiomi expected. The magus's eyebrows gathered in a wrinkle for a short while before he gave a relaxed reply.

"The Grail will... Of course, it will preferably select Masters who sincerely need it. As I said earlier, we Tohsaka will be included at the top of that list as one of the original three families."

"So all of the Masters have a reason to want the Grail?"

"It is not limited only to that. The Grail requires seven persons to show up. If an insufficient number turn up at the present time, irregular people who would normally not be chosen can also carry Command Seals. There might have been such a case in the past, but—ah, I see."

While speaking, Tokiomi seemed to realize Kirei's suspicion.

"Kirei, you think your selection by the Grail was a mistake, don't you?" Kirei nodded. No matter how hard one searched, one could find no reason for a wishing machine to notice him.

"Hm, it certainly is odd. The only thing that would link you to the Grail would be your father, who was appointed as supervisor, but... No, you could think that is the very reason."

"... Which means?"

"The Grail might have already anticipated that the Holy Church would support the Tohsaka family. Thus, an executor of the Church who could acquire Command Seals would support the Tohsaka." With those words, Tokiomi, satisfied and wishing to end the discussion, added.

"In other words, the Grail is giving me, a Tohsaka, two shares of command Seals. For that, it chose you as a Master. How about it? Does this explanation satisfy you?"

He delivered this conclusion daringly.

"..."

Such arrogant confidence suited the man Tohsaka Tokiomi. His dignity bordered on obnoxiousness. Certainly, as a magus he was a man of excellence; his self-confidence was born from that excellence. He probably never doubted his own judgment. You would never get any other answer from Tokiomi here and now— Kirei concluded thus.

"When do we go to Japan?"

Hiding his inner discouragement, Kirei changed the subject.

"I will visit Great Britain for a bit. I have a small task to do at Clock Tower. You will go to Japan a step ahead of me. I will tell my family."

"Understood. I will go at once."

"Kirei, go ahead first. I need to discuss something with Mr. Tohsaka."

Nodding at his father's words, Kirei stood up from his seat, and with a silent bow, left alone.

Remaining in the room, Tohsaka Tokiomi and Father Risei silently watched as Kotomine Kirei left.

"That's a reliable son you have, Kotomine."

"His strength as an Executor is guaranteed. None of his colleagues were as studious as he during training. I'm the one you should be doubting."

"Ho! Is that the exemplary attitude of a defender of the faith?"

"Oh, it shames me to say it, but this Kirei is the only pride of a senile old fool like me."

The old priest was known for his rigor, but feeling at ease with Tokiomi, he smiled. As his eyes turned to his only son, his trust and love showed clearly.

"Still childless past the age of fifty, I had given up on a heir... But now, I am amazed at how far my son has come."

"Though, he agreed more easily than I thought, didn't he?"

"My son would jump in a fire if that was the will of the Church. That's how far he would go for his faith."

Tokiomi did not mean to doubt the words of the old priest, but his impression of the faith demonstrated by Father Risei's son was not quite that of passion. The quiet appearance of the man called Kirei felt more nihilistic to him.

"To be honest, that was disappointing. No matter how I look at him, it seems to me that what he had gotten involved in is of no concern to him."

"No... This might really be his salvation."

Father Risei, looking gloomy, muttered ambiguously.

"To share a private matter, his wife died a few days ago. They hadn't been married for even two years."

"Oh, I—"

Met with this unexpected circumstance, Tokiomi was at loss for words.

"Though he does not show it—he seemed to endure it fairly well—he has too many memories in Italy. Maybe, for Kirei right now, returning to his old fatherland for a new mission could help heal his wounds."

Risei sighed at those words while Tokiomi gazed straight at him.

"Tokiomi-kun, does not one's true worth show as his hardship increases?"

Tokiomi deeply bowed at the old priest's words.

"I am obliged. My debt to the Holy Church and both generations of the Kotomine family will be carved as a family precept."

"Not at all. I am only fulfilling my oath for the future generation of Tohsaka. The rest is only praying for God's protection until your journey takes you to the Radix."

"Yes. My grandfather's regrets, the dearest wish of the Tohsaka, this is what my whole life has ever been for."

Hiding the suffocation his self-confidence endured from the weight of his responsibilities, Tokiomi nodded resolutely.

"This year, I will reach the Grail. I will make sure of that."

At Tokiomi's display of dignity, Father Risei blessed the memory of his late friend.

"My friend... You too have a good heir."

The wind of the Mediterranean sea rustled his hair. Kotomine Kirei returned from the villa atop the hill, alone and silent on the narrow winding path.

Now, in his mind, Kirei ordered his many impressions of the man Tohsaka Tokiomi, whom he had just met. Perhaps he had led a hard life. He was endowed with a firm dignity he could rightfully boast about, a pride that seemed to come from from experienced hardship. He understood that personality quite well. Kirei's own father was the same sort of person.

They were men who had defined the meaning behind their own birth and existence, and followed it without any doubt. They never wavered, and they never hesitated. Forged into an iron will with a clear objective, vectorized only by the fulfillment of something— that was their lifelong goal, in all aspects of their life. The form of this conviction could be, in the case of Kirei's father, a pious faith; in Tohsaka Tokiomi's case, perhaps it was the self-confidence of one who was chosen—a privilege not for the plebeians—and the self- consciousness of one with a responsibility to shoulder. He was one of the few remaining genuine aristocrats, hardly found these days. From that point on, Tohsaka Tokiomi's existence would probably hold important implications for Kirei... Even so, he and Kirei were incompatible. Tokiomi was essentially similar to his father.

Those who saw only their own ideals could never understand the pain of those unable to have one. People like Tokiomi had a sense of purpose at the base of their convictions, but such a thing was totally absent in Kotomine Kirei's mind. Not once in over twenty years had he ever felt such a sensation.

By such judgment, he could not consider the most noble idea, could not have comfort in any quest, could not find rest in any pleasure. Such a man could not have anything like a sense of purpose in the first place. He could not understand how he had become so far removed from the world's values. Kirei could not even find a passion to throw himself into.

He still believed there was a God, a supreme existence, although he had not the maturity to perceive it. He lived believing that one day, the holiest word of God would lead him to the supreme truth and save him; he lived betting on that hope, clinging onto it. But deep in his heart, he already knew—that salvation for a man like him could no longer come from the love of God.

Confronted with such anger and despair, he was driven to masochism. Under the pretense of penance for moral training, he wounded himself repeatedly. But those tortures forged Kirei's body like iron. Before he realized it, he had risen to the top of the elite of the Holy Church, as an Executor, a position few could follow him to.

Glory in the eyes of others; Kotomine Kirei's self-control and devotion were praised as a model for the clergy by all. His father, Risei, was no exception. Kirei understood very well why Kotomine Risei had so much faith and admiration for him, his own son, but that was a gross misunderstanding. In reality, his heart was shameful. Amending this misunderstanding would probably take longer than a whole lifetime. To this day, no one understood how much Kirei lacked. Yes, not even the only woman he loved—

Feeling lightheaded, Kirei lightened his pace and put his hand to his forehead. As he tried to remember his late wife, diffuse thoughts scattered and were lost in a rising mist. His mind before a precipice in heavy fog, survival instinct told him not to take a single mental step forward.

Before he realized it, he had arrived at the bottom of the hill.

Kirei stopped and looked back at the faraway villa at the top. He still had not reached a satisfactory conclusion in his interview with Tohsaka Tokiomi... That problem was of greatest concern to him. Why had a miraculous power like the Grail chosen Kotomine Kirei? Tokiomi's explanation was a desperate one. If the Grail sought a supporter for Tokiomi, there were many capable people who were worthy friends; Kirei was not the only one. There must have been a reason to his selection for the next Grail's appearance. Yet... The more he thought, the more Kirei found the inconsistency worrying. He essentially had no sense of purpose, nor any ideal or aspiration. From any perspective, he had no reason to be the bearer of a miracle like an "almighty wish-granting machine."

With a gloomy face, Kirei looked at the three symbols that had appeared on the back of his right hand. They said the Command Seals were a holy mark. Three years from now, would he find a pledge to carry?

One Year Ago...

He immediately recognized the woman he was looking for.

In the early holiday afternoon, bathed in the peaceful light of early autumn, you could see children playing on the lawn, their parents watching over them, smiling. The plaza around the fountain of the park was overcrowded with townspeople who had brought their families to relax.

Even in such a crowd, he did not lose his track. No matter how crowded, no matter how far, he was certain he could find her effortlessly—even if his chance of meeting her once a month was uncertain, even if she already had a partner.

Only when he walked up to her did the woman in the tree shade notice his arrival.

"—Hey, I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Oh—Kariya-kun."

Smiling modestly and courteously, she lifted her eyes from her book. She was worn out. Seeing her like that, Matou Kariya was seized with a helpless anxiety. Something seemed to be tormenting her.

He immediately inquired about it, hoping to do all he could to solve the matter whatever it may be. Although touched by the gesture, it was something she could not discuss with Kariya. He was not so close that he could devote such unreserved kindness; it was not his place to do so.

"It's been three months. The trip was pretty long this time."

"Ah... Eh, yes."

Her smile appeared in his sweet dreams, but standing before her, he could not find the courage to look her in the eye. It had been that way for the past eight years. Kariya would probably never be able to face that smile in the coming years either. She made him so nervous that he never knew what to talk about after the initial greeting; his mind drew a blank. That, too, happened every time.

Kariya looked for the one he could talk to easily, to break the awkward silence—there she was, playing on the grass among the other kids, her two ponytails dancing about happily. Though still very young, the girl already displayed traits of her mother's beautiful face.

"Rin-chan."

Kariya called, waving a hand. As soon as she noticed, Rin rushed toward him with a bright smile.

"Welcome back, uncle Kariya! Did you bring me another present?"

"Now, Rin, watch your manners..."

The young girl was oblivious to her mother's embarrassment. Rin's eyes shone with expectation, and Kariya, responding with a mirrored smile, held out one of the two presents he carried behind his back.

"Waah, beautiful..."

An elaborate brooch of various-sized glass beads captured the girl's heart at first sight. It was a bit too fancy for a girl of her age, but Kariya was well aware of Rin's precocious tastes.

"As always, thank you Uncle. I will take care of it."

"Haha! If you like it, Uncle is happy too."

Gently stroking Rin's head, Kariya looked for the other present's intended recipient. She was nowhere to be found in the park.

"Say, where's Sakura-chan?"

Rin's smile vanished immediately. All thought seemed to cease on the face of the child, resigned to a reality she was forced to accept mindlessly.

"Sakura. She's... already gone."

Blankly, Rin reply in monotone. Avoiding Kariya's questions, she ran back to the kids she was playing with earlier.

"..."

Bewildered by Rin's incomprehensible words, Kariya looked at Rin's mother questioningly, then with sudden realization. She turned her eyes away, looking gloomily at empty space.

"What does that mean...?"

"Sakura is neither my daughter, nor Rin's sister, anymore."

Her tone was dry, but more courageous than Rin's.

"She has gone to the Matou family."

Matou—The name, at once deeply familiar and abominable, violently ripped at Kariya's heart.

"That can't... What the hell does that mean, Aoi?!"

"You shouldn't even need to ask, right? You of all people, Kariya."

Rin's mother, Tohsaka Aoi, returned the harsh, cold-hearted reply with indifference, never looking at him. Kariya's heart was crushed.

"You of all people should know why the Matous need a child of wizard ancestry to succeed them, shouldn't you?"

"How... could you... accept that?"

"That was what he decided. It was the decision of the Tohsaka family head, acceding to a request from their old, sworn friends, the Matous... My opinion does not matter."

For that reason, mother and child, older sister and younger sister, were forcefully separated. Of course she would not agree.

But Aoi—and even the young Rin—understood well why they could do nothing but accept it. That was what it was like to live as a magus. Kariya knew that cruel fate all too well.

"... Are you fine with it?"

Aoi replied Kariya's stony voice with a feeble, bitter smile.

"When I decided to marry into the Tohsaka family, when I decided to become the wife of a magus, I was prepared for something like this. For one belonging to a wizard's bloodline, seeking the happiness of a normal family is a mistake."

Facing Kariya as he tried to speak again, the magus wife gently but firmly stopped him—"This matter is between the Tohsakas and the Matous. It does not concern you, who turned your back on the world of magi." She finished with a slight nod.

With this, Kariya could not move. His chest choked from weakness and helplessness, like one of the park's trees.

Since a long ago, when she was a girl, then when she became a wife, and even after she had two children, Aoi's attitude toward Kariya had never changed. Three years older than him, and a friend since their infancy, she had always attended to Kariya, kindly and without constraint, like a real sister to a brother. This was the first time she had pointed out their respective positions so clearly.

"If you ever get to see Sakura, please treat her kindly. She has always been fond of you, Kariya."

Aoi watched over Rin, who was playing brightly and full of energy, trying to chase her grief away. She showed him only the profile of a peaceful mother on holiday. Rin's behavior seemed to reply on their behalf, pushing the speechless Kariya beside her.

But Kariya did not miss it. There was no way he could miss it. The firm, serene Tohsaka Aoi, who had accepted her fate—even she could not completely conceal the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.

Kariya hastened through the scenery of the hometown he thought he would never see again. Each time he returned to the city of Fuyuki, he never crossed the bridge to Miyama town.

It must have been ten years since then. Unlike the Shinto area where business went on everyday, nothing had changed in this neighborhood where time seemed to stop. Quiet streets were filled with memories, but no pleasant ones would come to mind if he stopped to look. Ignoring worthless nostalgia, Kariya ruminated over his dialogue with Aoi from an hour ago.

"... Are you fine with it?"

The thoughtless reprieve Aoi threw at him as she turned her eyes away. He had not used such a sharp tone for several years. Raise not your eyes, be not a bother. That was how he had lived. Anger, hatred—Having left it all behind in the desolate streets of his hometown Miyama, Kariya never made a fuss over anything. Even the foulest, ugliest matters were nothing compared to the things he hated in this land.

It must have been eight years since his voice last harbored such feelings. That time—had he not used the same tone, the same words, with the same woman?

"Are you fine with it?" He had shot the same question then. Turning to his childhood friend, the night before she took the name Tohsaka.

He never forgot her expression at that time. She had given a small nod, seemingly sorry and apologetic, blushing shyly. Kariya had been defeated by that quiet smile.

"... I was prepared. It was a mistake to seek the normal happiness of a family..." Those words were a lie.

That day eight years ago, when she was proposed to by the young magus, her smile definitely showed her faith in happiness. Kariya fully accepted his defeat because he trusted that smile. Perhaps only Aoi's fiancé could make her happy.

That was a mistake. He, of all people, should have realized that fatal mistake. Had he not rejected his fate and left his family because he fully realized how despicable magecraft was?

He could still forgive himself for that. But he, who had turned his back in fear, who was well aware of how abominable magecraft was, could not forgive one thing—his woman had surrendered to one of those hated magi.

Kariya's chest burned in regret. He had chosen the wrong words, not once, but twice. His words should not have been "are you fine with it?", but rather, "you must not do that."

Eight years ago, if he had restrained Aoi, there might have been a different future. If she had not bound herself to Tohsaka that day, she would have been lifted from the cursed doom of a magus, and could have led a normal life.

If he had reacted differently today, to the decision between the Tohsakas and the Matous, it would probably have shocked her. She would likely reject the nonsense of an outsider.

Even so, she should not blame only herself. She should not need to suppress her tears completely. Kariya could not forgive himself for repeating the same mistake. As punishment, he would return to the place he had left behind. Certainly, there would be some way to atone there—the world he once turned his back to, the fate he clumsily escaped.

But now, he could confront that, if he thought of the only woman in the world he did not want to grieve—

Under the sky of the nearing twilight, he stopped in front of a towering, luxuriant western-styled house. After ten years, Matou Kariya stood before the gate of his home once again.

Starting at the front door inside the Matou residence, where Kariya settled on a sofa in the drawing room, a small but risky dispute soon broke out.

"I thought I told you never to show yourself before me again."

Sitting facing Kariya, the small, old man who spat the detestable words was Matou Zouken, the head of the family. He was so withered that his bald head and limbs made him look mummified, yet a light deep in his eyes filled his spirit; both his appearance and personality made him an uncommon, mysterious person.

Truthfully, not even Kariya could determine the old man's exact age. The aberrant entry in the family register showed he was the brother of Kariya's father. But since the time of his great- grandfather—his ancestor in the third generation—there were records of an old man named Zouken in the family tree. There was no way to find out how many generations this man had reigned over in the Matou family.

He was a magus who could be considered immortal, having stretched his lifespan again and again, a person at the root of the Matou bloodline with little direct connection with Kariya. He was a genuine specter still surviving in the current era.

"I caught wind of something inexcusable. About how the house of Matou was disgracing itself in outrageous manner."

Kariya readily admitted that the magus he now faced was powerful and unequaled in cruelty. Here was a man who was the personification of everything Kariya had come to hate, despise, and scorn throughout his existence. If that man were to kill him, Kariya would sorely hate him at his life's end. Ten years ago, Kariya had faced that strong spirit and escaped the Matous, thus earning his freedom.

"I heard you took in the Tohsakas' second daughter. Do you want to preserve the Matou lineage of magi so badly?"

Zouken scowled at the provocative tone of Kariya's inquiry. "Do you want to talk about it? Nothing else to say? Who do you think is responsible for the downfall of the Matous? Byakuya's son turned out to be devoid of Magic Circuits. The pure-blooded Matou line has collapsed with this generation. But you are one who has the basis of a magus, Kariya, more than your big brother Byakuya did. If you had obediently accepted your heritage and inherited the secrets of the Matous, we'd not be pressed by circumstances. This is all yours..."

Kariya snorted, deflecting the threatening attitude of the old man who was getting fired up, and foaming at the mouth.

"Stop this comedy you vampire. What's the big deal about preserving the Matou family line? Don't make me laugh! Nothing would happen to you even if there is no new Matou heir. This discussion is pointless; you will continue to live for another two hundred years, or even a thousand years, eh?" Zouken gave a leery smile, as though his anger up to now was a lie. Kariya had guessed correctly. That was the smile of a monster that treated human emotions as mere splinters.

"As always, you are a loveless fellow. You speak and behave frankly."

"Whatever. That's how you trained me. I'm not one to beat around the bush."

A wet sound came out of the depths of the old man's throat; he seemed to be laughing pleasantly.

"That's right. You will probably outlive me in the distant future, longer than Byakuya's son would. Still, it is a question of how long I can guard this body against its inevitable rotting. Even if a Matou heir is not needed, a Matou magus is required. To obtain the Grail, that is."

"... In the end, that's what your goal is?"

Kariya's guess went well. It was immortality that this old magus was firmly chasing after.

The wishing-machine called the Grail could fulfill that once it was completed. What was choking this monster, refusing to die even after centuries, was the hope in this miracle.

"Next year marks the end of the sixty-year cycle. But in the fourth Holy Grail War, there will be no player from the Matous. Byakuya does not have a prana level high enough to summon a Servant. He does not have the Command Seals. But even if we must desist in this battle, we still stand a chance at the next one sixty years later. There is no doubt that an excellent magecraft user can be born from the Tohsakas' daughter. I expect great things from this one; she will be a good vessel."

The face of Tohsaka Sakura appeared on Kariya's eyelids. A late bloomer, always behind her sister Rin; a frail-looking girl. A child far too young to bear the cruel fate of a magus.

Swallowing his seething rage, Kariya feigned a calm attitude. Right here and now, he was negotiating with Zouken. There was nothing to gain from being emotional.

"If that's all there is to it, if you want the Grail, there's no need to involve Tohsaka Sakura, right?"

Zouken's eyes narrowed, suspicious of the hidden meaning in Kariya's words.

"You... What trick do you have in mind?"

"A deal, Matou Zouken. I will bring the Matous' name to the next Holy Grail War, and you will release Tohsaka Sakura."

Taken aback only long enough to draw a breath, Zouken sniggered scornfully.

"Kha, don't be stupid. Could a failure who never studied anything be the Master of a Servant in just one year?"

"You have the secret to make it possible, don't you? Put those worm-using skills you're so proud of to use, old man." Kariya went straight to the point, staring head-on into the eyes of the old magus.

"Plant your Crest worms in me. You can do that to the flesh and blood of the filthy Matous. Compatibility should be far better than with a daughter of another family."

Zouken's humanistic expression changed, and he was a magus again, betraying no emotion.

"Kariya—do you want to die?"

"Don't tell me you're worried, 'Uncle'?"

Realizing that Kariya was serious, Zouken coldly evaluated Kariya, gazing at him, and then took a deep breath.

"I had always hoped to see more from you than from Byakuya. If we expand your Magic Circuits with the Crest worms and train you thoroughly for a year, there's a chance the Grail will select you... Still, I don't understand. Why would you go so far for a little girl?"

"Let the Matous' tenacity be carried by Matou hands. Outsiders should not be involved."

"Again with your admirable dedication."

Zouken displayed a complacent smile, full of his evil disposition. He seemed to be enjoying it.

"But Kariya, if your purpose is to not get anybody involved, aren't you a little late? Do you know how many days it has been since the daughter of Tohsaka came to our family?"

Despair rushed in, crushing Kariya's chest. "Old man, you mean—"

"There were terrible cries for the first three days, but she was silent by the fourth day. Today, she was thrown into the worm storage at dawn to see how long she would last, but, ho ho, she endured it for half a day and still breathes. What do you know? Tohsaka material certainly isn't defective."

Kariya's shoulders shivered with murderous intent, provoked by something greater than hatred. He wanted to seize this evil magus by the neck, strangle him with all his strength and break it off, right this instant—the impulse raged madly inside Kariya.

But Kariya accepted it. Even though he was thin to the point of withering, Zouken was a magus. Kariya could not possibly kill him off right here; he did not have even a fraction of the power required to do that. To save Sakura, there was no other way but negotiation. Seeing through Kariya's self-conflict, Zouken let out a satisfied, gloomy chuckle.

"So, what will you do? The little girl is already broken, filled from head to toe with the worms. But if you still want to save her, well, I won't think twice."

"... I have no objection. Let's do it."

Kariya replied in a chilling voice. Of course, he had no other choice.

"Excellent, excellent. Well, we can still train you as much as possible. But know that I will continue Sakura's training if you do not make any progress." He cackled gleefully. The good mood of the old magus was making a fool of Kariya and his rage and despair.

"Rather than reinstating a failure who betrayed us, the success rate with a child is far higher. I favor getting the best out of each opportunity as it comes along. I am giving up on the Holy Grail War this time, since I already consider it a lost battle. But in the one-in-a- million chance that you did manage to obtain the Grail—I agree. If that happens, naturally I would have no business with Tohsaka's daughter, having accomplished the one thing I am training her for."

"... You're not double-dealing, are you? Matou Zouken?"

"Kariya, if you think you need to be five-faced to face me, try enduring the Crest worms first. Yes, try nursing the worms with your body for a week first. If you haven't died of insanity by then, I will take it that you are indeed serious."

Leaning on his cane and straightening his back with difficulty, Zouken turned toward Kariya, wearing an alien smile that fully displayed his wickedness.

"Then, let us begin the preparations without delay. We will finish the treatment immediately. If you want to reconsider, do it right now."

Nodding silently, Kariya discarded all final hesitation. Once he let the worms inside his body, he would be Zouken's puppet. There would be no way to rebel against the old magus. If he could even qualify as a magus, Kariya and his Matou blood would definitely receive the Command Seals.

Holy Grail War—the only chance of salvation for Tohsaka Sakura; a choice he would never be able to reach with this flesh and blood. He might lose his life in this exchange. Even if he did not get taken down by the other Masters, his flesh would be devoured by the worms as he raised them—even for only a year—and he would not have more than a few years to live.

But that did not matter. His decision had come too late. Had he showed the same determination ten years ago, Aoi's child would be living peacefully with her mother. The fate he refused had been passed around, and had fallen on a blameless girl. There was no redemption for that. If there was a path to atonement, it could only be through returning the girl's life to normalcy.

In addition, if he had to completely wipe out the remaining six Masters to reach the Grail... Among those who brought tragedy to the girl named Sakura, there was at least one person he could bring a requiem to.

"Tohsaka Tokiomi..."

As the head of one of the Three Families of the Beginning, there was no doubt that he would bear the Command Seals. A dwelling hatred had been building up to this day, one unlike his sense of crime toward Aoi, and his hatred toward Zouken. A dark feeling of revenge had quietly started to burn, like a banked fire, in the depths of Matou Kariya's heart.

285 Hours Ago...

Nobody had ever understood Waver Velvet's talent.

As a magus, he was neither born of famous lineage, nor lucky enough to have met a good master.

The youth's education was largely self-taught, and he was finally fortunate enough to be accepted by the Magus Association, which controlled magi across the world, into its headquarters—the London educational institution known as Clock Tower. Waver believed without a doubt that this cause was incomparably honorable, and was also very proud of his own talent. "I am the most capable student of Clock Tower since its founding. Everyone would have to respect me." At least, that was what Waver thought of himself.

In truth, the magus lineage of the Velvets only stretched three generations. Waver's Crest concentration and Magic Circuit quantity paled in comparison to those from well-established magi families. With each generation, the number of Magic Circuits and concentration of Crests constantly increased and expanded. In Clock Tower, many of the students who had received scholarships came from families with more than six generations of pure magi blood.

The wonders of magecraft could not be taught to completion within one generation. The results of a lifetime's research by the parents are passed on to their children; only in this way could magecraft become increasingly refined. For this reason, those with a longer magus lineage tended to have stronger prana. Furthermore, although the quantity of a magi's Magic Circuits were already determined at birth, there were some ancestral magi families that deliberately contrived to increase the amount of Magic Circuits in their offspring, hoping to distance themselves from newer Magi families. Advantages within the world of magecraft could then be predetermined even before birth. This was a commonly accepted point of view.

Waver did not see it that way. Differences in ancestry could be compensated by building one's experience. Even without exceptionally developed Magic Circuits, the difference in quality at birth could be bridged by a deep understanding and skilled utilization of magecraft. Waver had always deeply believed that.

He believed himself to be an excellent example of that, and strove to show off his abilities.

But reality was too cruel for such an ideal. Students who boasted about their ancestral bloodline, and students who endlessly pursued and flattered these students from ancestral bloodlines— they comprised the mainstay of Clock Tower, and determined its workings. The lecturers were no exception, expectant only of students from famous lineages. To a pauper-researcher like Waver, they were reluctant even to let him into the library to browse its tomes, let alone teach him magecraft.

Why should expectations of a magus's future depend on his lineage? Why should a theory's credibility depend on the experience associated with one's lineage? Nobody cared about Waver's questions. The lecturers tricked Waver with verbal flourishes when he presented his research thesis, then acted as though Waver had been convinced otherwise, laughing it off and ignoring it. It truly was unbelievable. This anxiety drove Waver to take action.

To expose the Magus Association's corrupt system, Waver wrote an exposition. It was titled An Inquiry of Magecraft's Path In the New Century, the result of three years of conceptualization and a year's writing. Viciously attacking traditional views, the painstakingly written exposition showed clear and intense thought, without a single flaw. If seen by the Inquisitors, it would definitely cause much unrest.

But—the lecturer from the Department of Eulyphis tossed it out after casually reading through it just once.

His name was Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald. He was the heir of the Archibald family with a magus lineage nine generations long, a popular man whom everyone addressed as Lord El-Melloi.

Engaged to the daughter of the principal; a lecturer at such a young age; he was the best of the best. He was also representative of the authority that Waver despised.

"A man given to delusions, such as you, is not suited to research, Waver." Lecturer Kayneth said in a condescending manner, without a shred of pity in his voice. Kayneth's ice cold gaze was a sight Waver would never forget. In the nineteen years of Waver's life, he had never been humiliated in worse fashion.

Since he had the talent to be a lecturer, it was impossible for him not to comprehend Waver's exceptional exposition. No, that man was probably jealous precisely because he understood. Afraid of Waver's hidden talent, he had grown jealous, and treated Waver as a threat to his own position. That was probably why he responded in such a violent manner upon reading Waver's exposition. Ripping an exposition of gathered wisdom; is this the attitude a scholar should assume?

Unforgivable. His world-shaking talent had been arbitrarily written off by a figure of authority; there was no justice. But not a single person sympathized with Waver's frustration. The Magus Association was—from Waver's point of view—already corrupt to the core.

But... while putting up with these infinitely frustrating days, Waver heard a rumor. It was whispered that the reputed Lord El-Melloi, in the hope of adding another entry to his résumé for vanity's sake, had decided to join a nearby magecraft competition in the far East.

Waver began researching the details of this Holy Grail War overnight, and was deeply mesmerized by the horrific details.

The wish-granting Holy Grail, holding a huge amount of hidden prana at stake, summoned Heroic Spirits into the present world and commanded them as familiars, initiating a death match. Title, authority; everything was of little value in the face of such a reward.

The competition relied purely on true skill. The details were a little barbaric, but it was a simple yet fair method of judging superiority.

For an unrecognized genius, this was an excellent opportunity, an ideal stage to exhibit himself. Lady Luck had finally smiled on the excited Waver.

It began with the financial department's negligence. Waver was tasked to deliver, along with other normal parcels, a holy relic that Lecturer Kayneth had requested from Macedonia, even though it was a parcel to be opened only when Kayneth himself was present.

Waver immediately realized that it was a catalyst used to summon Servants in the Holy Grail War. And thus, he received a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity.

He no longer had even a shred of love left for the corrupt Clock Tower. The glory of graduating as a valedictorian was mere chaff compared to the honor brought by Fuyuki's Holy Grail.

The moment of Waver Velvet's victory in the war would be the same moment when those insignificant members of the Magus Association grovel at his feet.

From that day on, Waver left England, heading for the island country in the far East. Clock Tower immediately realized who had stolen Kayneth's parcel, but did not chase after him. No one was aware of his interest in the Holy Grail War.

But there was something Waver did not know. Everyone thought that he had done no more than hide Kayneth's relic in rage. No one thought he would risk his life knowingly to participate in a magecraft competition. Clock Tower had really underestimated Waver.

In the far East village, at the place that decided his destiny—Fuyuki City, Waver was hiding under the blanket of his bed, trying desperately to hold back peals of laughter. No, it was impossible to hold it back. Illuminated by the dim sunlight coming through the cracks of the curtain, he raised his right hand every few seconds, letting out some muffled laughter.

With the relic in his hands, himself in Fuyuki, and he a qualified magus... How could the Grail turn a blind eye to someone like that? Indeed, the patterns of the three-fold Command Seals had materialized clearly on Waver's right hand last night—proof of a Master who could summon a Servant. Even the ruckus made by the roosters in the courtyard as dawn drew near went unnoticed.

"Waver, breakfast time."

The voice of the old woman calling him on the stairs sounded different this morning; it was less annoying. Wishing to begin that memorable day safely, Waver quickly began changing.

Although a backwater place for an island nation, Fuyuki City saw a lot of tourists from other places. Thanks to that, Waver's appearance, though obviously different from that of a Japanese, did not attract too much attention. Even so, Waver maintained utmost caution. He had cast a spell on the old couple, who lived alone all this time, making them think that Waver was their grandson who had returned from studying abroad. He had used the fake identity to live comfortably with great success. Also, he had no need to pay hotel rates; it was killing two birds with one stone. Things worked out perfectly and Waver began to admire his ability to adapt.

Seeking full enjoyment of the mild morning, Waver descended the stairs to the first floor kitchen and dining room, mentally filtering the cacophony of the crowing roosters. Like any other morning, the plebeian dining room table was decorated with scattered newspapers, while the news on television and the aroma of home cooking welcomed the freeloader openly.

"Good morning, Waver. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Grandpa. I was sound asleep until morning."

Waver answered with a smile while he spread jam thickly on his toast. The soggy bread cost only a hundred and eighty yen per catty, and was unpleasant to chew. The unsavory texture could only be mitigated with a thick spread of jam.

Glen and Martha Mackenzie had migrated to Japan from Canada more than twenty years ago, but their son could not get used to the Japanese lifestyle and decided to go back, starting a family in his home country instead. The grandson, raised in Japan until the age of ten, had also gone back. Not a single letter was sent, and they never visited again. Ten years had passed in this manner. The above information was obtained by Waver from the old couple through hypnosis. This kind of family was ideal for Waver. Planting hints in their memory, Waver transformed the old couple's impression of their grandson into his own image, successfully becoming their beloved grandson, Waver Mackenzie.

"But Martha, ever since dawn the chickens seemed to be very noisy. Do you have any idea how this happened?"

"We have three chickens. Where did they come from...?"

Hastily making up an excuse, Waver hurriedly swallowed the bread in his mouth.

"Ah, that... I have a friend who sent us his pet chickens to be taken care of for a few days. He's going on a trip and won't be home, so they'll be here temporarily. I'm returning them this evening."

"Ah, so that's how it is."

The couple did not really mind, and easily believed it. It was a good thing that these two old people were starting to lose their hearing; the incessant crows of the three chickens nearly annoyed the surrounding neighbors to death that day. But the one under the most stress was Waver. As soon as he discovered the Command Seals on his hand, Waver excitedly began preparing the sacrificial offerings needed for the ceremony.

He never thought that finding a nearby chicken farm would be so difficult. Finally finding one, he wasted nearly an hour trying to catch three chickens. He finally got home just as the sky began to grow bright, his body covered with chicken droppings and his hands pecked bloody.

Back in Clock Tower, animals used as sacrificial offerings were always prepared beforehand. Here, a genius magus such as him had fallen to such piteous state after merely catching three chickens; Waver almost cried out in lamentation. But as he stared at the Command Seals on his right hand until morning came, his mood gradually began to brighten. He decided to hold the ceremony that night. Those annoying chickens could live until then.

Waver wanted to have the strongest Servant. The relic hidden in the closet of the second floor bedroom; that would be the catalyst for summoning a great Heroic Spirit. Waver already knew that much. The withered, half-decomposed piece of cloth was a piece of a cape that once hung on the shoulder of a king. Waver's Heroic Spirit would descend upon him during the summoning tonight, to guide him to the glorious Grail.

"... Grandpa, Grandma, I'm sending the chickens back to my friend's house tonight, so I might be a bit late. Don't worry about me."

"Okay. Be careful; Fuyuki isn't too safe lately. That fabled serial killer has appeared once more. This world really is too scary."

Eating cheap sliced bread at that long dining table, Waver was surrounded by life's greatest happiness. The noisy cries of the chickens only grated on his mood slightly.

282 Hours Ago...

Kiritsugu and Irisviel went back to their own rooms. Opening the long box entrusted to them by the family head, they were mesmerized by its contents.

"Who would've thought? They were actually able to find this thing..." Kiritsugu, usually composed, seemed deeply impressed.

A scabbard, made of gold, and decorated with dazzling blue enamel; such luxurious equipment, in the class of crowns and scepters, should be called treasures, to attribute dignity and nobility which ordinary weapons did not possess. Engraved along the middle was an inscription written in long-lost Fairy Letters.

Inscribed on both Excalibur and Avalon, it proved that this scabbard was no work of man.

"... There is not the slightest flaw. Is this really the genuine relic made over a thousand and five hundred years ago?"

"This thing is a type of Conceptual Weapon. It suffers no physical deterioration, and it is a holy relic that will be used as a catalyst. This treasure belongs to the realm of magic." Irisviel took the golden scabbard out of the lined box carefully, holding it in her hands. "Legend says that keeping this scabbard on one's body will heal one's wounds, and stop aging... Of course, those are magical powers provided by its original owner."

"This means that as long as the summoned Heroic Spirit is functional, this thing can be used as a Master's Noble Phantasm."

The scabbard's ingenious one-of-a-kind design and exceptional beauty entranced Kiritsugu, but in just a few moments, his train of thought quickly turned toward ways of using it as a tool. Watching Kiritsugu, Irisviel could not help but show a small, bitter smile.

"That's so like you. A tool is a tool no matter what, right?"

"If you put it that way, Servants are the same too. No matter how famous the hero, as long as it is summoned as a Servant, to the Master he is a tool. It is impossible for one with unrealistic expectations of one's Servant to win this war."

Quite unlike his personality as a father or husband, Emiya Kiritsugu became extremely callous once he adopted the attitude of a soldier. Before she understood her husband more thoroughly, Irisviel had been really afraid of Kiritsugu when he was like that.

"Only someone like you would be worthy of this scabbard— that was Grandfather's judgment."

"Is that really how it is?" Kiritsugu's expression was one of obvious dissatisfaction. If old man Acht knew how his hired son-in-law had reacted to the holy relic he spent so much effort searching for, he would certainly be speechless from rage.

"Are you dissatisfied with Grandfather's present?" Irisviel did not blame Kiritsugu at all for his impertinent remarks, but thought the question would be amusing.

"Why would I be? He has done more than enough for us. No other Master could possibly have gotten a trump card as good as this."

"Wherefore this dissatisfaction then?"

"The Heroic Spirit summoned from such a perfect holy relic would definitely be the one we want. But his personality and mine are far too different. The nature of the summoned Heroic Spirit is heavily affected by the Master's personality. Theoretically, all summoned Heroic Spirits should have personalities similar to their Masters'. However, the holy relic's origin overrides this determinism. The more explicit the origin of the holy relic, the more likely the summoned Heroic Spirit will be locked to a particular identity."

"... Which means you are uneasy about the contract with the King of Knights, right?"

"Of course. No one else in this world could be more incompatible with the ways of the knight than I." Half-jokingly, Kiritsugu's lips curled in a slight smile. "A head-on battle is not my style; especially not death matches. If I attack, it will be from behind, while the enemy is asleep. With no regard for time or place, the purpose being only to eliminate the enemy most efficiently, using the method with the greatest probability of success... Do you think that prestigious knight would aid me in such battles?"

Irisviel fell silent, staring at the shiny scabbard with great focus. Kiritsugu was the type of soldier who would attain victory by whatever means necessary. Undoubtedly, the personalities of Kiritsugu and the scabbard owner were definitely incompatible.

"... But isn't it such a waste? The owner of Excalibur is, no doubt, the strongest in the Saber Class."

That is right. The glory-radiating scabbard was the only fit partner to that supreme sword. This was definitely the relic of the King of Knights, whose tale had been passed down in legends since medieval times—King Arthur.

"Indeed. Saber is already the strongest of the seven classes conjured by the Holy Grail. And if the King of Knights were to be my familiar... I would have a virtually invincible Servant. But the key question here is how to use this most powerful force effectively. Honestly, in terms of ease of control, Caster and Assassin would fit my style more closely."

Just then, a light electronic sound—clashing with the extravagant nandi-flame-style decor of the room—interrupted their conversation.

"Ah, it is finally here."

On the heavy black sandalwood table was a haphazardly placed notebook computer. The combination was a marvel, like a stitching machine on an operating table. Magus lineages with long histories had not discovered the convenience of technology; the Einzbern family was no exception. The small electronic device, strange beyond compare in Irisviel's eyes, was a personal item brought in by Kiritsugu. Rare was the magus who was not repulsed by the use of such machines; Kiritsugu was one such magus. When he requested the installation of a telephone line and power generator, a huge argument broke out between him and the old family head.

"... That sound—what is it?"

"A report from a fellow I sent to infiltrate the London Clock Tower. I asked him to investigate the status of the participating Masters in this Holy Grail War."

Kiritsugu sat in front of the machine and began operating the keyboard in a skilled manner. The LCD monitor displayed a new mail notification. That was the new technology known in the cities as the Internet—Irisviel had already heard an explanation of it from Kiritsugu. But her forced patience toward her husband showed that she could not comprehend any of it.

"Then let's go over what we know, Iri. Alright, of the seven Masters the Grail has chosen, we've identified four of them.

"Tohsaka Tokiomi, Tohsaka family head. Fire mage, specializing in jewel magecraft.

Matou Karia—The Matou family seems to have forced that failure, who could not succeed as the head of family, into being a Master. What nonsense... That old man must be desperate.

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald—the first-rate lecturer from Clock Tower. Possessing both wind and water attributes, an expert proficient in necromancy, summoning and alchemy. He is currently the most renowned magus in the Association. How troublesome.

And the fourth Master is representing the Holy Church... Kotomine Kirei. Originally the representative of the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament, he is the son of the supervisor, Father Kotomine Risei. Sent to Tohsaka Tokiomi to learn magecraft three years ago, then broke away from his teacher after being granted the Command Seals."

Kiritsugu moved the screen with the cursor while browsing the detailed contents of the investigation. Watching her husband like this, Irisviel became extremely bored. Unnoticingly, she realized that at some point, Kiritsugu—who had been staring at the screen all this time—had suddenly put on a serious and tense expression.

"... What's wrong?"

"This son of Kotomine. Even his past has been wiped—"

Irisviel stood behind Kiritsugu and looked at the LCD monitor, following his pointed finger. To Irisviel, looking at text not printed on paper was very difficult, but seeing her husband's serious expression, she did not complain.

"... Kotomine Kirei. Born in 1967, accompanied his father Risei to the holy grounds since youth, graduated in '81 from the Theological College of Manresa St Ignacio... Skipped two grades, was the student council president. He seems to be quite an accomplished man." Kiritsugu nodded unhappily. "At this rate, he could definitely have reached the position of cardinal minister, but he willingly abandoned such an outstanding opportunity to join the Holy Church. In fact, he had lots of choices. Why did he choose to dedicate himself to such a secret organization of the Church?"

"Perhaps he was influenced by his father? Kotomine Risei is part of the Holy Church too, right?"

"If that's the case, he should have shared his father's goal of retrieving lost holy relics all along. Indeed, Kirei did join the same department as his father in the end, but prior to that he had been transferred three times, and was once chosen as an Executor as well. He was only over ten years old then, too. Such a job cannot be done without a certain amount of willpower."

That was the Holy Church's bloodiest department, called "Shura's Den" because of its responsibility to punish heresies.

Gaining the title of Executor meant that he was a first-rate murderer, and signified that he had passed brutal, pious training to become mankind's weapon.

"Perhaps he is a faith fanatic. The younger they are, the purer; there is such a thing as having a fanatic love of belief that surpasses certain limits."

Even after hearing Irisviel's opinion, Kiritsugu still shook his head.

"It's not that simple... If it was, then his situation in the past three years cannot be explained. If his faith was chaste, it would be impossible for him to transfer to the Magus Association; it seems to be an order from the Holy Church, or it's also possible that he was more faithful to the religious doctrine than the organization. But even this does not explain it, because there is no need to train in magecraft this seriously—Look. Tohsaka Tokiomi's report about Kirei, given to the Association. The scope of training included alchemy, spiritual evocation, summoning, divination... He is even more adept at healing magecraft than Tohsaka Tokiomi himself. What exactly is the reason for this enthusiasm?" Irisviel continued reading the document to the end, where the summary of Kotomine Kirei's ability was.

"... I say, this Kirei really is kind of strange, but is it worth it for you to scrutinize him to this degree? Although he seems very talented, he's not really much better than the others."

"Ah, that's what I find strange." Kiritsugu patiently explained to an imperceptive Irisviel. "No matter what he does, he would never achieve first-rate level. All considered, he's not some sort of genius; just a normal man. But his rapid achievement of results solely through total effort is indeed scary. Certainly, he would have to exert ten or twenty times more effort than others to achieve this. But he always stopped short at the final step, transferring somewhere else with no lingering sentimentality. Everything he had laboriously built up... tossed out like trash."

"..."

"He clearly chose a lifestyle many times more exciting than others, but he never showed any affection to other people in his life either. This guy... is definitely a dangerous man." Kiritsugu concluded thus. Irisviel understood the meaning behind his words.

When he used the word troublesome, Kiritsugu did not mean that the opponent was a threat, not even the particularly thorny ones. The methods of dealing with such opponents, as well as the likelihood of success, were things that Kiritsugu was already eighty percent assured of. But if he rated someone as dangerous... Emiya Kiritsugu reserved that rating for opponents he had to fight wholeheartedly.

"This man does not believe in anything. He experienced so much because he was always seeking answers. Although in the end, he did not find anything... He is that kind of morally devoid man. If I had to make a guess at what lies in his heart, I would say it's probably filled with anger and despair."

"... You are saying that this Executor is to you a more powerful foe than Tohsaka Tokiomi and Archibald are?"

Pausing for a while, Kiritsugu nodded resolutely. "... A terrifying man. Indeed, Tohsaka and Lord El-Melloi are strong adversaries. But I think Kotomine Kirei's way of existence is more fearful."

"Way of existence?"

"This man's heart is completely empty. He has nothing that can considered a wish. But why would a man like this bet his life to fight for the Grail?"

"... Is this not the intent of the Holy Church? Supposedly, they mistakenly believed that Fuyuki's Grail is the real relic, and targeted it because of this, isn't it?"

"No. With only that level of motivation, the Grail would not have granted him Command Seals. He was chosen by the Grail as a Master; he must have some reason to obtain it. This inability to see his wish is precisely what makes him so terrifying."

Kiritsugu sighed deeply, looking at the monitor drearily, attempting to fabricate something more of the character of Kotomine Kirei from the dull text.

"What do you think would happen if this kind of empty, desireless man obtained the Grail? This man's whole life was built from despair. The power of the wish-granting machine, the Holy Grail, might be tainted by the color of his despair."

Kiritsugu was indulging his melancholy too much. In advice, Irisviel shook her head vigorously.

"What's stored within me, the vessel of the Grail, I will not give to anyone. When the Grail is filled, the one who has the privilege of owning it—it will only be you, Kiritsugu."

The elders of the Einzbern wished only for the completion of the Grail; that was their sole desire... But for this young couple, there were wishes, dreams, to be realized after this had been achieved. Kiritsugu shut the lid of the notebook computer, and hugged Irisviel tightly.

"Whatever happens, we cannot afford to lose." Right now, as his wife, Irisviel was putting their own ambitions before her family's desire. Kiritsugu was deeply moved.

"... I found it—a way to use the strongest Servant's power most effectively."

270 Hours Ago.

"A base, of silver, of steel.
Of stone, the foundation,
Of the Archduke of the Contract.
Hear me in the name of our Ancestor,
the Archmagus Schweinorg.
Let the descending winds be as a wall.
Let the gates in all directions be shut,
rising above the crown,
and let the tri-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve."

In the basement workshop of the Tohsaka residence, identical preparations were being made for the same ritual. Tohsaka Tokiomi chanted the incantation loudly as he inscribed the magic circle, using not sacrificial blood but the molten essence of magical gems. To prepare for this day, Tohsaka had used up all the prana-filled gems stockpiled in his hoard. Beside him were the Kotomines, Risei and Kirei.

Kirei gazed intently at the holy relic on the altar. At first glance it looked like a broken fragment of a mummy, but it was apparently fossilized skin shed by the first snake in the world, in ancient times eons ago. Feeling a wave of fear, he shivered at the thought of the Heroic Spirit it would summon. Tokiomi's confidence was finally understood. No Servant could possibly defeat the Heroic Spirit Tokiomi had chosen.

...

"Heed my words. My will creates your body."

In a clearing surrounded by bushes, Waver Velvet began his preparation for the summoning ritual. The entire day, Waver's nerves had been so tautly stretched by the incessant crowing of the chickens that a ritual of purification for the mind was needed before the conduction.

The shape of the magic circle was drawn on the ground while the chicken blood used was still warm. He had practiced the procedure many times, drawing the four encircling patterns of departure quickly inside the summoning circle. No mistakes could be made.

"And your sword creates my destiny!" The scholar continued the chant. "If you heed the Grail's Call, and obey my Will and Reason, Then Answer My Summoning!"

...

"I hereby swear that I shall be all the Good in the world
I swear to be the force who will defeat all Evil in the world!"

Pregnant with the foul odor of rot and dampness, a green darkness like the sea depths—this was the worm storage hidden deep beneath the grounds of the Matou residence, which stood on the hill of the small mountainous town.

Kariya Matou was preparing the summoning ritual at this moment, too.

"This time, give the summoned Servant the attribute Madness Enhancement!" Zouken declared loudly with an overjoyed face, openly welcoming the disastrous implications of his decision. "Kariya, as Berserker's Master, fight with all you've got."

Kariya was different from the other magi; his Magic Circuits were other organisms living within him as parasites. The anguish that came from inciting them and activating his Circuits was incomparable to what the other magi faced. As he chanted the incantations, his limbs twitched in spasms, and blood seeped out from his burst capillaries. Sanguine tears flowed from the remaining intact eye on the right and dripped down his cheek. Kariya did not grow lax in his concentration. By thinking about his duty, he found the courage not to shrink away.

"Let thine eyes be clouded,
With the fog of Turmoil and Chaos…
Thou, who are trapped in a cage of madness,
And I, the Summoner, who holds thy Holy Chains!"

...

"—I make my oath here.
I am the one who is become the virtue of all Heaven.
I am the one who is covered with the evil of all Hades."

And in the grand room of the distant Einzbern Castle, it was Kiritsugu who chanted the summoning ritual, a brilliant gold Scabbard placed in the alter in front of him.

Kiritsugu's sight darkened. The Emiya family crest, passed down through the generations and carved on his back, began to chant the incantation separately, as an individual entity, supporting Kiritsugu's magecraft. His heart, in a dimension that escaped his mind's control, began to beat rapidly like a hurrying clock hand.

Tormented by the prana gathered from the surrounding air, his flesh had already forgotten its function in a human body; instead, it now became a component of the mysterious ceremony, purely a circuit connecting the ethereal to the material. The severe pain created by this discord was enough to make one scream out loud, but Kiritsugu paid it no heed, concentrating instead on pronouncing his incantation. Even the presence of Irisviel, who stood beside him with her breath held, was no longer present in his consciousness.

...

"Seventh Heaven Clad,
And the Great Words of Power,
Come forth from the Circle of Bindings,
Guardian of Balance!"

As his prayers ended, Tokiomi felt the acceleration of the prana racing in his body reach its utmost limit. Thunder and lightning roared, accompanied by rolling clouds borne on a mighty wind. In the ferocity of a gale so violent that onlookers like Kirei could not open their eyes, the patterns of the summoning circle glimmered brilliantly. Finally, the Magic Circuits connected with a plane that lay beyond men... From the dazzling light shining forth, the golden silhouette of an upright figure emerged.

But... While the summoning was successful, there was an air of uncertainty in the room. Awed by august solemnity, Risei began to mutter dreamily in spite of himself. "... We have won, Kirei. Our battle is won..."

But to Tokiomi who saw the mist clear, all he could muster to say was, "Who...?"

Irisviel's heart strained as she saw the gold-blue glow fading around the silhouette. Kneeling in the middle of the circle, a young man clad in silvery-white armor, bowed in salute towards Kiritsugu.

"You did it..."Irisviel whispered, excitedly. Kiritsugu stared down at the bowing Servant, a look of half skepticism and half awe. Every creature who could see felt an ominous presence, the Knight seemed to glow with power. And his lips finally parted, his deep voice rung in the airy room.

"I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"

Author's Note: Basically just the events of Fate Zero leading up to the Grail War. Mostly small changes, save for order of dialogue and character swapping, but I do have plans for more major changes in future chapters. Also, this was a long chapter by my standards, and I wouldn't expect this kind of consistency, though I will aim for a pleasing middle ground of 5-10k per chapter. 16182 words for the first chapter is a little much.

Also don't expect me to put many ANs in this, because I want the word count to be fairly accurately reflected instead of inserting a thousand words of fluff. If you would like to have an actual conversation, check the bio for contact.

I hope people enjoy this Chapter. R&R!

Update 7/4/2018: Grammar fixes and word usage. Chapter name updated.