Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

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Volume 6: The Kyoto Holy Grail War Without a Nagging Talk: . The Twenty Faces of the Strange Man

A young girl wearing a light green haori hakama stood within the summoning circle, one-handedly leaning on her sword, her robe beneath the haori fluttering gently in the breeze. She was about to introduce herself when she sensed a slight instability in the demon. For an ordinary Servant, this minor issue might not even cause discomfort, but for this young girl, it was different.

——Sickly: A

From birth, she was gifted with a fragile constitution, like a withered leaf, vulnerable to the ravages of wind and frost. Upon her transformation into a Heroic Spirit, she not only inherited her past ailments, but the public's perception of her cast a shadow over her soul, altering her mind and imbuing her with a curse akin to that of an "innocent monster." This curse carries the risk of a rapid decline in her abilities with every action.

"Shin... Woohoo...!" As expected, Miss Okita felt the familiar and disgusting feeling of weakness as soon as she arrived. Her chest seemed to be tightly grasped by an invisible hand. She didn't have time to think about it. Her throat churned and she naturally spat out a mouthful of blood!

She covered her mouth and raised her head with difficulty, but was surprised to find that her Master was also coughing violently at this moment, with blood flowing from the corner of her mouth, staining her white chin red.

Well, if we don't rely on any holy relics and only use the earth veins as a catalyst, then summoning still depends more on compatibility.

"It looks like you are a member of the Shinsengumi? Sorry, Patty has lost her composure." The blonde girl who had been sleeping in the wheelchair has now woken up, her golden hair scattered beside her cheeks, revealing a hint of sickly paleness.

At this moment, she was trying to prop herself up with her thin arms, obviously trying to stand up from the wheelchair. Although her movements looked a little labored, she still managed to bow slightly, showing respect to Okita. "This is Mizuki Ringo."

"Patricia Hearn, also your Master." The black-haired girl gently wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, her movements skillful and nonchalant, as if this scene was commonplace. She immediately noticed the blood on the corner of the mouth of the girl standing in the summoning circle—Okita Souji. Patricia thought for a moment, then pulled a clean handkerchief from her coat pocket and handed it to her.

"Do you need a wipe?" Her voice was soft, yet tinged with a hint of resigned weariness. Although this was her first encounter with a Servant, she expressed her concern quite naturally, as if she were addressing an old friend.

"Ah...thank you." Okita Souji took the handkerchief and wiped the corner of his mouth. "Um...Captain of the Shinsengumi's First Division, Okita Souji is here to visit!"

"Speaking of which, before I even introduced myself," Okita Souji tilted his head slightly, frowning slightly, looking like he was thinking about something, "Why did Miss Guanyue see through my background at a glance?"

"Any Japanese person can understand the meaning of the haori you are wearing." Kanzuki Ringo looked at Okita's expression and chuckled softly, with a hint of mischief, but still polite.

"After all, that's the famous Shinsengumi," she said softly.

"Oh, so everyone's so famous, huh...!" Okita Souji's eyes lit up instantly, as if she had heard some exciting news. She subconsciously raised her hands, as if she was about to pat her chest with pride.

——However, just as she was about to move, the familiar feeling came over her again, her throat felt sweet, and she couldn't help but spit out another mouthful of blood.

Meanwhile, Patricia had already calmed the restless magic within her, and just as her condition was beginning to stabilize, she suddenly felt a suffocating pressure in her chest. After a few seconds, she could no longer hold it in and suddenly coughed up a large mouthful of blood, staining her pristine white handkerchief red.

"Ahem... I don't know why, but I feel a little restless again..." Patricia whispered, looking a little embarrassed, and reached out to wipe the blood from the corner of her mouth.

Guanyue Ringo stood quietly by the side, her eyes constantly scanning back and forth between the two of them, and a guess inexplicably popped up in her mind.

"Sorry, I lost my composure. I don't know why I'm feeling a bit agitated..."

"Ah, I understand, I understand!" Okita Souji tried hard to keep a smile. Although his face was pale, his tone was still lively. "This sudden feeling of wanting to vomit blood is like an inexplicable sneeze... I really can't help it."

The conversation between the two seemed particularly comical, but the faint scent of blood in the air gave it a slightly eerie quality. Perhaps this was the first time in history that a master and servant had developed a relationship based on the sensation of vomiting blood.

And just when they looked at each other helplessly and smiled, the familiar feeling came over them again.

　"Cough cough cough...!" Patricia covered her mouth and coughed violently.

"Oops...!" At the same time, Okita Souji also made a muffled sound and spat out blood again.

As if they had made an appointment, the two of them coughed violently at the same time.

Now Guanyue Ringo was certain that his guess was correct. As long as one of the two people vomited blood, the other would vomit as well.

"But you two do look quite unique." Okita Souji felt it was inappropriate to keep the conversation focused on the embarrassing incident of them vomiting blood, so he quickly found a new topic to divert attention. "They clearly look Western, but they have Japanese names; they clearly look Japanese, but they have Western names."

"Well, that's a good question." Guanyue Ringo tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes sparkling in the light, as if she was pondering how to answer the question. Then, a look of sudden enlightenment appeared on her face. "It seems a bit complicated to explain... How about thinking of it as a soul swap?"

"Isn't this even more complicated?!" Okita Souji immediately complained, "Why do I feel like I'm turning into some kind of character who specializes in complaining..."

"Yeah...then understand it in a complicated way!" Kanzuki Ringo didn't seem to care about Okita Souji's confusion at all. Instead, she raised her fist with a bit of mischief and tapped her head lightly, "Hey, jiu-mi!"

"What does that incomprehensible sentence at the end mean?" As Okita Souji finished complaining, Kanzuki Ringo's eyes suddenly darkened, as if all her strength was instantly drained away, and her body fell backwards limply.

"Ms. Mizuki!" Souji Okita was shocked and was about to rush forward, but Patricia had already taken a nimble step and held Mizuki Ringo firmly, preventing her head from hitting the floor directly.

"Sorry, it's time. Ringo may not have noticed." Patricia smiled, with a hint of apology in her tone, and gently carried Ringo Mitsuki back to the wheelchair.

"What kind of inexplicable setup is this?!" Okita Souji completely gave up thinking and muttered softly, her shoulders slumping slightly, looking a little frustrated. "It seems like neither of them is very reliable. What should I do..."

But she quickly cheered up. "In short, please trust me, Ms. Okita!" She tried to put on a confident attitude, proving to her Master that he could completely rely on her. "I will bring you victory!"

"Ah, but I don't seem to be in a condition to fight now... Anyway, I just need to rest." Ms. Okita, who had just regained her strength, immediately realized that she was still under the influence of her illness, and added in a low voice.

"It's okay," Patricia soothed softly. She gently placed Ringo Mizuki in the wheelchair, her movements gentle and delicate. "The guest rooms and everything are ready, and there's no rush for the Holy Grail War. Rather, I'd like to avoid fighting if possible."

"Well... in this state, we should really avoid fighting..."

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A chill hung heavy, a chilly dampness permeating the air. The entire city was shrouded in a deep silence. The Fujiwara family residence was also enveloped in this chilling stillness. The dry landscape garden in the distance seemed especially tranquil beneath a thin layer of frost and snow, a few ancient pines swaying gently in the chill wind. As the sky darkened, the lingering rays of the setting sun shone on the eaves of the residence, gilding the calm black tiles with a warm golden edge.

In the old house's study, the patriarch of the Fujiwara family sat upright, his figure appearing particularly calm under the bright light. Although various antique furniture were neatly arranged in the study, and the bookshelves on the wall were densely packed with ancient books, the sudden appearance of an electric heater perfectly disrupted the solemn atmosphere of the study.

A cup of hot tea sat before him, its aroma lingering in the warm air from the electric heater, making the old man feel even more at ease. However, this tranquility was soon broken by a gentle knock on the door.

"Master, there's a strange letter taped to the door." The butler gently pushed open the sliding paper door and respectfully walked over to Fujiwara no Shigenobu, holding an envelope in both hands. The envelope was pure white, with the words "To Mr. Fujiwara no Shigenobu" written in large, neat, powerful handwriting. However, the envelope bore no signature.

Fujiwara Shigenobu frowned slightly, put down the ancient book in his hand, looked up at the housekeeper and said, "Didn't you see who posted it?"

"We checked the surveillance footage, and it looks like it was Mr. Yamada from the nearby sweets shop." The butler bowed slightly, his tone hesitant. "I've sent someone to investigate."

"Yamada? Is there something you can't just say directly? Besides, the handwriting doesn't look like his..." Fujiwara Shigenobu muttered. His eyes lingered on the envelope for a moment, then he reached out to take the letter and looked at it carefully.

He carefully opened the envelope, took his reading glasses from the box on the table, put them on, and slowly unfolded the letter. The letter trembled slightly in his hands, making a subtle rustling sound that intertwined with the hum of the electric heater.

The beginning of the letter was extremely polite and formal: "I apologize for writing to you without any introduction. Although if I introduce myself, you might be able to get a rough idea of who I am, but it is still better for me to introduce myself——"

Xing Qingfu was lying on the soft sofa at the moment, lazily holding the letter in his hand. Although the letter said that they wanted to steal his scanning tunneling microscope, he didn't have it now, right?

He was a little confused as to what the writer was planning. Was he trying to steal something that didn't exist?

"I'm just a thief. Well, that's enough about introducing myself—"

You Ruoyu sat at her desk, her brows slightly furrowed. The Japanese dictionary in her hand had been flipped through the pages until the corners were slightly curled. Her delicate fingertips gently brushed across page after page, the rustling sound particularly clear in the silent room. Next to her hand, a freshly torn letter lay scattered.

You Ruoyu sighed slightly. Her Japanese level was not enough to fully understand the overly formal expressions in the letter. She could only flip through the dictionary and try to string together those unfamiliar words and sentences, trying to piece together the meaning of the letter.

"Uh uh uh, it's all in Japanese and I can't understand it..."

Inside the cramped apartment, dim light shone through the messy room, casting a shadowy gloom. A young man stood in a corner, carefully hiding his piano deep in the closet.

On the table, a few messy newspapers were mixed with an opened letter. The letter had several creases, obviously read over and over again. The young man thought that this letter was probably a parody of the popular Phantom Thief theme, but he couldn't guarantee whether there were really any Phantom Thief Servants.

——But why did this person steal his piano?

"The purpose of writing this letter, in short, is that I have decided to steal the Western musical instruments in your house—"

Sharma slowly set the letter down, the coolness of the paper still lingering on his fingertips. He frowned slightly, the date mentioned in the letter somewhat perplexing. The Holy Grail War was scheduled to conclude at the end of the year, and he had already booked a return flight for January 1st. According to his plan, he should have left Japan by then.

Is this a declaration of war from an enemy Servant? But by this point, the Holy Grail War should have ended.

Yet, the tone of the letter was so resolute. Sharma's eyes swept over the letter again, carefully considering the words. It seemed as if the writer knew his itinerary intimately. Was the timing of the letter, right after his departure, deliberate?

"On the night of January 2nd of the following year, I will visit as scheduled—"

Patricia thought for a moment. She felt that the name at the end of the letter sounded quite familiar, but she couldn't remember where she had seen it for a while.

Is he Assassin? But he's clearly Assassin, yet he's so confident in his identity...

However, one thing he was certain of was that his base had been exposed. He needed to be more careful. He was considering moving to a new base, but now he was likely under enemy surveillance, and there was a chance the new base would be set up with traps or something.

"I hope you will take strict precautions."

At the end of the letter, there is the sender's name:

"—Twenty heads pay their respects."

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Good news, please take some time to update

Bad news, because there were no seats left at the dinner party, and now we're all waiting outside. I simply went back to the car and wrote a little more, and combined with what I wrote in the early morning and at noon, I managed to put together a chapter. I wrote it a little hastily, so please forgive me.

The idea so far is that there are at least two lines that are intended to ease the atmosphere, but I don’t know how it will feel.

Speaking of bass, I'm not exactly a quick learner. While I'm primarily a front-end guitarist, I often guest-play bass. It's actually quite easy to spend half a day rehabbing and then practicing a piece that isn't too difficult. For string instruments like these, the fundamentals are pretty similar, and with a good grasp of music theory, learning new pieces that aren't too difficult is pretty easy.

As for performing on stage... to be honest, quite a few bands couldn't even sync up the rhythm. After all, it wasn't a big venue or a big stage, so our skills were pretty good by comparison (

These guys are just as fucked up as always, ugh.

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By the way, I want to recommend this book that I promised yesterday: "I Want It All!"

The book about harem is now on sale at a discount price. If you are interested, you can go and have a look.

Volume 7: The Kyoto Holy Grail War That Doesn’t Make You Nag: . Are Spirits Also Living Things?

A chill had seeped deep into the night. Outside, the wind howled, and the occasional falling snowflakes shimmered under the streetlights, punctuating the tranquility and solemnity of the ancient city. Yet, inside a private room in a nightclub, the scene was quite different.

Xing Qingyu hadn't originally wanted to come here. It took him a long time just to find out about this kind of place. What else could he do? Should he just ask Emiya Kiritsugu directly?

"The servant I summoned wants to find the Oiran. Can you show him the way?" Is that what he should ask?

Regardless of whether he would be killed by Irisviel, he really couldn't bring himself to say it.

Anyway, let’s skip over how they found the place—

The room was warm and ornately decorated, filled with a subtle aroma, a blend of alcohol and sandalwood. Soft light streamed from paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with folding screens imbued with Japanese charm. The closed paper doors around the room sealed off the cold and bustle of the outside world, creating a unique sense of privacy.

Schrödinger half-leaned on the tatami, a glass of sake in hand, his eyes slightly hazy, as if lost in thought. Beside him, a woman in a kimono nestled quietly in his arms. Her kimono was an exquisitely woven tapestry, intricately embroidered with plum blossoms and snowy scenes. Under the warm light, the satin shone softly, highlighting her fair skin. Schrödinger, holding a glass of sake, gazed down at the liquid, which shimmered a faint amber in the light.

"You still haven't considered enough." Schrödinger's voice was slow and a little lazy. His eyes moved away from the wine glass and fell on Xing Qingjiu who was opposite him.

Across from him, Xing Qingjiu lowered his eyelids slightly. He sat on the tatami, a jug of sake on the low table before him, and a few delicate Japanese side dishes beside it. His fingers tapped lightly on the wine glass, but his thoughts remained on his own project.

"You lack experience. Did you just graduate?" Schrödinger's eyes wandered, and he didn't seem to be fully focused on the conversation.

Xing Qingjiu sighed softly, picked up the wine jug, filled it up, and replied calmly, "I still have a year to complete my bachelor's degree." He picked up the glass and put the wine into his mouth. The cold sake passed through his throat, bringing a bit of chill. "Right now, I'm just gaining experience."

"Oh, if I had known your problem wasn't theoretical but practical, I wouldn't have come down." His eyes wandered aimlessly around the box. After a while, Schrödinger suddenly whispered in German, "Is your research on spirits?"

"Yes, although we are also studying the properties of magic fields, our main focus right now is on the relationship between spirits and magic fields." Xing Qingqiu was slightly startled, then replied in German, "I suspect that spirits are actually based on a special kind of magic field."

"That's a correct idea." Schrödinger turned his head slightly, looked at the woman in his arms, and then said softly, "But before that, let's first clarify the definition of a spirit."

The atmosphere in the private room was slightly tense. A light breeze from outside rustled the paper door, bringing a touch of coolness. Xing Qingjiu tapped his fingers lightly on his wine glass, pondering Schrödinger's question.

"You mean...?"

"Define 'what a spirit is,' then design an experiment based on the hypothetical definition, and use the experiment to determine its properties." Schrödinger explained, "Your way of thinking is too classical, still stuck at the level of macroscopic physics—"

He paused, then smiled softly, lowered his head and placed a light kiss on the cheek of the woman in his arms, and said as if teasingly: "-Or rather, you are too serious. Why do you have to do the experiment yourself?"

"Propose a hypothesis experiment and make it public, and there will always be people who will help you." Schrödinger put the woman in his arms down, his tone becoming more relaxed. "Whether it's for fame or profit, as long as your hypothesis has the value of being proven or disproven, there will naturally be no shortage of talented people willing to help you."

"You're still too independent. Do you wait until you've come up with your own results before publishing anything?" He smiled and said casually, "None of us can be as talented as Mr. Einstein. That's okay."

"Indeed..." Xing Qingwu nodded thoughtfully and drank the sake in the cup in one gulp. The cold wine slid down his throat, but at this moment it brought him a warm and hot feeling.

"Well, let's get back to the definition. What do you think a spirit should be?" Schrödinger seemed unwilling to let the topic end easily, and brought the topic back to the previous question.

Xing Qingfeng pondered for a moment, then replied, "A spirit body is the product of the coupling of specific information and a specific magical structure."

"Does it have a 'metabolism'? In other words, does the spirit possess the ability to delay reaching thermodynamic equilibrium?" Schrödinger pressed, his lips curling slightly as if considering an intriguing possibility. "In other words, can the spirit avoid death? Ha! Clearly deceased, yet still trying to avoid 'death'."

"According to current research, this phenomenon does exist," Xing Qingqiu replied thoughtfully. "Spiritual bodies will actively acquire external magical power to maintain the stability of their own magical structure."

"Very good, then it has properties similar to those of organic matter." He paused, then added with a smile, "Then what you are studying is not pure physics—"

"—It's biology in a certain sense." He swallowed the fruit the woman in his arms fed him and said with a smile, "Haven't we already taken the first step now?"

"Spiritual bodies also thrive on negative entropy and can be considered living beings. So, let's use our minds as our laboratory for now and continue our deductions." Schrödinger spoke slowly amidst the thick aroma of alcohol. His fingers gently slid across the wrist of the woman in his arms, feeling her warm pulse. "Different spirits have different properties. What do you think determines a spirit's properties?"

"Differences in magic structure." Xing Qingjiu replied after finishing his glass. He smacked his lips, as if feeling that drinking from such small cups was a bit unsatisfying. "But from my observation, differences in magic structure are the 'effect', not the 'cause'. The same magic structure will change after summoning different spirits."

"Very good," Schrödinger murmured. "Then we can make a hypothesis: spirits also have some kind of genetic material. This genetic material has similar properties to the genetic material of ordinary life, namely, persistence and biological stability."

"Hmm...hmm?" Xing Qingyu's eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had realized something, and his tone was filled with anxiety and surprise. "Wait, if you think about it from this perspective--"

"-Is the soul something like genetic material that can also determine the characteristics of the body and at the same time has stability..." Xing Qingqi's speech speed increased and his thoughts became clearer.

Schrödinger gently sipped his sake, quietly awaiting Xing Qingjiu's conclusion. But he noticed the woman in his arms didn't understand German and seemed a bit bewildered. Although she was deliberately using another language to cover it up, Schrödinger still placed a kiss on her forehead as a gesture of comfort.

"The soul's blueprint exists in the Astral Realm," Xing Qingjiu sipped glass after glass of wine. "There, it possesses almost immortal stability. However, once it leaves the Astral Realm and connects with the body, it will change with the changes in the body..."

Xing Qingjiu's eyes gradually became fanatical. He grabbed the wine jug and drank directly from it. The wine slid down his throat, but it did not interfere with his thinking at all.

"Isn't this..." He put down the wine flask, a strong smell of alcohol emanating from his mouth, and said excitedly, "Isn't this the transformation of isomers, the chemical explanation of gene mutation?!"

"Wait a minute, you're stretching it a bit too far." Schrödinger suddenly interrupted Xing Qingjiu's divergent thoughts. "Although there are indeed similarities between the two, I don't recommend equating them completely."

"Then think about it from another angle. If we consider the soul as information or material that determines the characteristics of the body, similar to genetic material, then—"