Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

"What is this, Lancer? What about the flaming spearman from the day before yesterday?" She murmured in a low voice, but it was particularly clear in the night.

Okita Souji's light green haori, which had once fluttered in the breeze, was now gone, replaced by a slightly dated winter school uniform. Her top was a traditional navy blue sailor tunic, the deep blue fabric gleaming softly under the dim light, the white stripes at the collar and cuffs contrasting sharply. A pale yellow scarf, neatly tied across her chest, rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing. A matching pleated skirt, reaching just below her knees, swayed gently in the chilly breeze like petals swaying in the night air. If you overlooked the sheathed blade in her hand, Okita Souji looked like a perfectly ordinary high school girl.

"Although the feel is very similar to the ones I killed last night, but... cough... wupu..."

A familiar feeling of weakness instantly flooded my heart. I hadn't taken any action yet it had triggered my weakness. Without a doubt, it must be the Master vomiting blood.

"—This compatibility is ridiculous, isn't it!?" Okita Souji grumbled inwardly, leaning weakly against the cold wall beside him. Although the stability of their mana supply had greatly improved since the contract was transferred to Kanzuki Ringo, the strange connection between her and her Master had become even more pronounced. Whenever one of them experienced a physical problem, the other would almost immediately feel it.

Even after the magic supply contract was terminated, there were no signs at all. There were signs of unstable fluctuations in the magic supply, but now I can feel it coming. I want to vomit!

"Ah... Seriously, where on earth did all these strange black shadows appear from..." Okita Souji sighed softly, leaning against the cold wall. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his skirt pocket, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and then gently stretched himself. Stretching, he tried to dispel the oppressive feeling of weakness in his body.

Amidst this tranquil atmosphere, Okita Souji's thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar ringtone. It emanated from a nearby bag, and she paused for a moment before realizing it was the cell phone her Master had provided her. While telepathy might have been more convenient, Miss Mizuki insisted, "Young girls should act like young girls," and she forced Patricia to provide her with a cell phone, insisting on using it for regular communication.

But Okita Souji actually likes this feeling. Even though it has nothing to do with him, it still reminds him of the Shinsengumi...

A chill breeze brushed against her face, bringing a chill to her touch. She bent down and pulled the small flip phone from her bag. The silver body shone faintly in the dim light. Okita Souji tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the phone screen. Her brow furrowed slightly, her fingers hesitating for a moment before finally pressing a key, only to discover—

——Hang up.

"Ah... I pressed the wrong button." Souji Okita muttered in distress as he looked at the darkened screen, a hint of embarrassment on his face.

In the dank Japanese workplace, if you hang up the phone without any reason like this, you will undoubtedly be subjected to the lynching called "Murahachibun"!

But all three of them are beautiful girls, so there’s no problem!

"That should be it..." She pressed the buttons on her phone unskillfully and finally successfully dialed back. The moment the call was connected, a smug look appeared on her face, "Hello? This is Souji!"

"Soji, how's it going? Did the battle go well?" Patricia's voice came briskly from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, I hope this didn't bother you."

"No problem, no problem. Just like yesterday, two swishes of the sword will easily take care of it." Okita Souji relaxed a little and replied in a casual tone, but her expression soon turned serious. "But there are still some differences. Hmm... I feel like the other party's appearance is a little clearer, and his martial arts skills are more advanced."

"What do you mean?" Patricia asked with a hint of concern in her tone.

"If yesterday's shadows were just wielding their weapons like sticks, today's spearman is completely different." Okita Souji's voice deepened. "His skills have become more sophisticated, and his movements more precise."

"Lancer?" Guanyue Ringo's voice suddenly appeared in the microphone. "Can you give a rough description of the gun?"

Okita Souji strolled down the silent streets, his attention focused on the phone. The night was deep, the streetlights dim, barely illuminating the pavement beneath her feet. She casually glanced up at the night sky, where the buildings lining the street cast long shadows. However, as she spoke to Kanzuki Ringo, the shadows beneath the utility poles behind her seemed to quietly come alive.

Two pitch-black flying kunai flew silently out of the shadows, slicing through the air and striking her back. It all happened so suddenly, as if the night itself was attacking.

"Zheng!" Almost the moment the kunai approached her back, Okita Souji had already quickly unsheathed her sword. With a flash of sword light, the two deadly flying kunai fell to the ground. Her movements were smooth, precise and swift.

"Ah, Miss Guanyue, you're awake too," Okita Souji said in a relaxed tone, completely unaffected by the recent attack. "As for the gun, it should be a Japanese gun. And I remember that the handle was very long. Judging by the appearance, it must be at least two meters long!"

"Clang!" She gently rubbed the hilt of the sword in her hand, turned her head casually, and glanced at the shadow behind her. However, there was no one there, as if everything just now was just an illusion.

"A Japanese rifle two meters long... No way..." Kanzuki Ringo pondered on the other end of the phone, uncertainty in her voice, "It can't be Tonkiri..."

"Tonokiri? Impossible, impossible! If it's really that Lord Tadakatsu, how could he be so weak?" Okita Souji's tone remained relaxed. She held the phone in one hand and casually swung her sword with the other, effortlessly slicing down the incoming kunai. With a flash of her sword, all the kunai that came from the shadows were knocked to the ground.

"Wow, this guy is so annoying..." She muttered impatiently.

"Hey? Are you still fighting? Don't be weak and sick. Keep it close to me." Patricia's voice was slightly worried on the other end of the line. "If there's no other way, I can use the Command Spell to call you back."

"Absolutely no problem!" Okita Souji replied easily, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly. She waited quietly for the attacker to reveal a flaw, ready to deliver a fatal blow the moment he emerged. Just when she thought the enemy would continue to hide in the shadows, a dark figure suddenly leaped out from her side.

"Wow, how could it be a ninja?!" Okita Souji was startled by the sudden appearance of the enemy, but as she shouted this, her body moved quickly and appeared behind the ninja almost instantly, with a speed so fast that it was dazzling. "Well, let's recite a haiku."

With a single, sharp thrust of her sword, she pierced the ninja's chest. Before the ninja could utter a single sound, he transformed into a puff of black mist, instantly dissipating into the air. The mist dispersed in the night wind, leaving no trace behind, as if the ninja had never existed. Meanwhile, Okita Souji's sword remained untouched by a single speck of dirt, as pure and spotless as fresh snow.

If a ninja doesn't respond with a greeting, he will be attacked one after another. It's natural that he will be killed instantly after three such attacks!

"Ms. Okita, great victory!" she shouted somewhat complacently.

"Ninja? Did you encounter Assassin?"

"No, no, it's still just a shadow," Okita Souji said in a relaxed tone as if he was talking about the weather. "But I was really scared. It sneaked up to me silently." She replied casually, but her eyes inadvertently swept around to make sure there were no other attackers.

"After all, in my time, ninjas were practically just legends." She swung the sword in her hand, as if to clear away the tension. "Don't worry, even if Kikuichimonji is no longer useful, Kishiki Kiyomitsu will be just as useful!"

"In fact, Qishi Qingguang is more convenient to use..." Before she finished speaking, she suddenly felt a familiar feeling of weakness from the bottom of her heart. Her face suddenly turned pale, and something seemed to surge in her throat. Then, an uncontrollable cough escaped her mouth, "Wupu...!"

"Cough cough cough...!"

Although Okita Souji's beloved sword during his lifetime was Kishiki Kiyomitsu, due to the effect of the Noble Phantasm "Haori of the Oath", her beloved sword was later upgraded to Kikuichimonji Norimune. However, as to why Kikuichimonji Norimune can no longer use it...

Time goes back to the night before yesterday——

Exhausted, Okita Souji entered the small Japanese-style room. The night shone through the paper door onto the floor, the moonlight faint and desolate. She gently closed the door, leaning against the wooden doorframe before sliding onto the floor. She felt as if all the strength had been drained from her body. Only a few scraps of charred fabric barely concealed her torso. Her fair skin was faintly flushed in the cold winter night. The charred edges, against her snowy white skin, were particularly glaring.

"Can you really sew it...?" Okita Souji's voice was filled with a hint of uncertain anticipation, and her gaze turned to Ringo Mitsuki, who was sitting at the other end of the room. She was sitting in a wheelchair, needle and thread in hand, concentrating on mending the almost tattered haori.

"No problem, no problem. Isn't the Noble Phantasm still usable?" Kanzuki Ringo's voice was calm and relaxed. She didn't look up, still focused on the work in her hands, her fingers moving quickly across the fabric. "Just enchant the fabric, cut away the burnt parts, and then repair it. It will be fine."

As she spoke, the needle and thread made a slight "hissing" sound in the air, and she repaired the haori bit by bit under Okita Souji's expectant gaze.

"It's just a few minor cosmetic fixes, no problem for me..." Guanyue Ringo's voice grew softer, her hands still working, but her tone gradually became unclear. Before she finished speaking, Guanyue Ringo closed her eyes, tilted her head, and fell into a deep sleep. Her body lost its support and she nearly fell out of the wheelchair.

"Miss Mizuki—!" Okita Souji exclaimed, and quickly rushed over to Mizuki Ringo, trying to hold her up. However, before she could complete the action, Patricia had already arrived and steadily straightened Mizuki Ringo to ensure that she would not fall out of the wheelchair.

"Ah, it seems using magic will significantly reduce her waking time." Patricia put Ringo Mitsuki back to bed, as if she was already accustomed to this situation. "I know a little about sewing, but I don't have the skills to enchant cloth and thread. I guess I can only continue after she wakes up."

"Why do you force yourself like this, Miss Guanyue--!" Okita Souji almost wailed as he said this.

Patricia sighed softly and, while briefly gathering the sewing tools from Mitsuki Ringo's lap, whispered, "Well, do you want to rest for a while?" Her voice was gentle and calm, as if to soothe Okita Souji's inner anxiety. She lifted Mitsuki Ringo up, her movements gentle and skillful, carefully placing her on the bed and covering her with the quilt.

"The bath water is ready." Patricia said gently to Okita while tucking in the quilt for Ringo Kanzuki.

"Huh? I clearly lost..." Okita Souji muttered to himself, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes.

"Since he's so strong, someone's bound to give up and join forces to take him down," Patricia smiled calmly. "If he can take down everyone individually, then there's no point in haggling over it. Might as well just enjoy these few days."

"Master, you are simply an angel..." Okita Souji looked at Patricia with emotion, tears of gratitude glittering in his eyes. After saying this, she took off the sword from her waist and said, "Then I will protect the Kiku-Ichimonji for a while, and then go take a shower."

For a swordsman, daily maintenance of his beloved sword is an essential task. Even after becoming a Servant, Okita Souji still retains this habit. In her free time after each battle, she always carefully disassembles the sword and carefully maintains it. But when she pulled the Kiku Ichimonji out of the scabbard this time, the scene before her stunned her -

——The tip of the sword seemed to have melted a bit.

Her hand froze in mid-air, her eyes instantly becoming hollow and lifeless, as if she had lost all life. Her pale face contrasted sharply with the broken blade in her hand. In that moment, it felt as if the entire world had stopped.

"How could this be..." Okita Souji's voice trembled, she couldn't believe her eyes.

Although Okita-san had indeed broken through Karna's defense and pierced through Higurashi's defenses—

—'Sun, transform into armor.' While it could not defend against attacks from within, it could generate flames within its body, cyclically burning and purifying. After Okita Souji's sword pierced Karna's body, Karna briefly released 'Magic Release: Flame.' Though it lasted only a scant two seconds, combined with the Sun Armor...

The tip of the sword that pierced his body melted.

Miss Okita quickly sheathed her sword. She tried hard to suppress her inner panic and forced a smile to herself.

"Well, it seems the battle was too intense and it made me, Ms. Okita, hallucinate." She said to herself

Then, her hands trembled involuntarily as she slowly pulled the Kikuichimonji out of the sheath again. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the snow-smooth sword made her feel familiar and at ease.

Then he witnessed the slightly melted tip of the sword appear before his eyes. The tip, which should have been smooth and sharp, now looked as if it had been licked by flames. The tiny melt marks left an indelible mark on the tip, losing its original edge.

Ms. Okita fell silent again.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaa--?!” Finally, Miss Okita could no longer suppress her inner collapse. She suddenly hugged her head and let out a painful wail.

“Woohoo…!”

Miss Okita couldn't help but spit out blood! She hadn't taken any action this time, nor had the Master's influence, but she had actually triggered her weakness just by her inner collapse!

--------

I don't know why, but I couldn't help laughing when I wrote about Okita Souji's group and You Ruoyu's group. It was so funny, I almost laughed to death.

The idea is to insert some comedic plots to lighten the mood a bit and make the overall rhythm not too serious.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please give me your feedback. Thank you!

Volume 16: The Kyoto Holy Grail War That Doesn't Make You Nag: 26. Lonely Rock, but a -year-old decadent young man as a substitute

"boom--"

A dull gunshot suddenly rang out in the narrow dark alley. The sound was quickly carried away by the cold wind and dissipated in the silent Kyoto night.

Twenty Faces sat slumped in the corner of the alley, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, mixing with the chill of the night wind and the sticky blood that soaked his clothes. In his hand, he held a delicate, small pistol, a faint puff of smoke still emanating from the muzzle. Although his strength was nearly exhausted, his finger remained firmly on the trigger, his gaze fixed on the black shadow that had vanished into nothingness not far away.

This dark alley was secretive and secluded, and the gunshot hadn't attracted anyone's attention. The night cast a deep shadow over the alley, with only the dim streetlights emitting a faint glow in the distance.

"Luckily, one shot was all it took," he muttered. The shadow's spirit core was pierced with a single, precise shot, and its black mist-like form instantly disintegrated, dissipating into thin air. Fortunately, the creature wasn't very intelligent; a simple trick was all it took to easily expose its weakness.

He glanced down at the pistol in his hand, carefully checking the ammunition. The battle just now, though thrilling, had nearly cost him his life. But it hadn't been anything beyond his expectations. The spirit's physical strength was comparable to the one he'd encountered a few days prior; he could still kill it with a single shot. Otherwise, he'd have to wait until he was nearly killed, then, through the connection of the Command Seals, Ryosuke would discover him and summon him back with a single stroke of the Command Seals.

However, Twenty Faces did not feel relieved. The chill of that moment lingered in his mind. The moment he looked at the shadow, he realized with his years of experience observing others that—

——This thing is gradually gaining intelligence.

"Sigh, this thing...will it become more and more like a Servant as time goes by?" He sighed softly and began to tend to his wounds. "Well, these things are not something a mere writer like me should worry about."

Although the previous battle had left him battered, he had fortunately dodged in time, and most of the wounds were superficial. For a Servant, these injuries were nothing, merely the pain and exhaustion that had temporarily disabled him. He wiped the blood from his hands with a handkerchief, feeling the cold, hard touch against them, and his heart gradually calmed.

Next, he carefully removed the tattered fishing bag from his back and checked the Muramasa sword hidden inside to make sure it was intact. After confirming that the blade was still sharp and undamaged, he turned to open the guitar case and examined the guitar inside. He had used the case to block attacks many times during the battle, but fortunately, the guitar was not affected and remained intact.

After confirming that everything was safe and sound, Twenty Faces finally breathed a sigh of relief, the tension in his heart easing slightly. He leaned against the cold wall, closed his eyes, and tried to relax. The cold wind still lingered in the alley, bringing a biting chill, but he had no time to care about it. He just quietly recovered his strength.

A faint light came from the entrance of the alley, and the halo of the street lamp cast a warm orange color on the ground in the distance, but the light only stopped at the entrance of the alley and did not dare to step inside.

——————————————S Flag Zero=+⑧V Things Stayed ⒎ Qi Ling-Dream————

The night was quiet, the slightly chilly air carrying a hint of dampness. Alex sat in a small office at the Kyoto Prefectural Police Department, rubbing his temples wearily. The dim light cast his shadow on the wall.

"Yes, that's right. I'm traveling in Japan," Alex said in a low, hoarse voice. He tapped his fingers on the table from time to time, looking a little anxious. "I found this letter in my rented apartment a few days ago. I thought it was a prank." He paused, as if recalling the scene.

The policeman nodded slightly, indicating that he should continue.

"As a result, my guitar was stolen today just as I was returning to my apartment after a performance with my buddy."

"I'm the only one who's touched this letter," he said, carefully pushing a plastic bag containing an unfolded letter toward the police. "Can you check for fingerprints or something?"

"My Japanese is not very good, I can only understand that the other party is going to steal my piano," Alex added.

In fact, Alex knew very well the origin of this letter. It was most likely written by an enemy Servant. Therefore, he did not make it public. Even though he did not quite understand the contents of the letter, he did not ask others to translate it.

——As for why he didn't let the Servant who had been indoctrinated with the relevant knowledge translate... His Servant was Bercerker. Although his level of berserk was very low and he still had some rationality, he still couldn't communicate directly.

The police officer carefully put on gloves, removed the letter from the envelope, unfolded it, and read it carefully. The air in the office seemed to freeze at this moment, only the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.

"The letter says... your Fender Jaguar will be stolen before the end of the night," the officer asked in broken English. "Is this the model you lost?"

"Yes," Alex nodded, his tone firm and slow. He knew the other person's English was not fluent, so he paid special attention to his speaking speed. "To be precise, it's a 1965 Fender Jaguar with a three-color gradient finish."

"Twenty respectfully submitted... Copycat?" The police officer muttered as he looked down at the last sentence on the letter. Then he looked up. "We've understood the situation and will open a case for investigation. Please leave your contact information so we can contact you for more details or to inform you of the progress of the case."

Alex nodded, pulled a small piece of paper with a phone number written on it from his coat pocket, and handed it to the police officer.

He might be the only Master who, in a fit of rage, called the police after Assassin stole something from him during the Holy Grail War.

Just a few hours earlier, around ten o'clock in the evening, Alex had been performing at the Metro Livehouse, a venue near Kyoto's subway station. Under the dim lights, his guitar emanated a harsh, captivating melody, and the audience swayed to the rhythm in the cramped space. The musical enthusiasm and the sweat mixed together to create an intoxicating atmosphere.

But in fact, Alex is not the protagonist, he is just hired to work for other bands. He has very little money left in his pocket, almost all of it has been used up. Buying plane tickets, renting an apartment, these expenses have made him stretched to the limit.

——It seems that he is a little more reserved than Weber. When he ran out of money, he didn't just find a couple of empty-nest elderly people to hypnotize and then move into their homes as a matter of course.

To be honest, Alex had no desire to participate in the Holy Grail War. His family had forced him to join simply because he was one of the few magi whose magic circuits were still intact. They had promised him that they would leave his life alone after the war.

Alex always found this thought amusing. The family's decline, the depletion of their magical power, were ultimately their own fault. They were plunderers, seizing the spiritual land and the magical base, yet they never considered the potential for acclimatization. Now facing backlash, they kept shouting curses, blaming all their failures on those vague curses, as if this could help them escape the reality of their own incompetence.

What's even more ridiculous is that even though the European masters are still alive, these colonists are holding on to the piece of meat in their mouths and refuse to spit it out until they are choked to death. It's really ridiculous, these colonists -

——Alex found it even funnier when he thought about the blood of these colonists flowing in his veins.

So, Alex rejected his family's request without hesitation. How could a group of so-called magicians whose circuits were blocked and unable to perform even magic, a group of summoners whose responses were rejected by the local spirits, restrain him? His public insults against the Jews had a greater impact and restraint than his own declining family—

——It is said that the Jews would really send magicians to kill people.

But somehow these bastards managed to contact their own record company and start messing around. Ha, a family of magicians, yet their methods lack any trace of magic at all. Instead, they act like some small-time vendors who only know how to use tricks. It's disgusting.

Faced with this situation, Alex could only reluctantly accept the assignment. However, he also clearly told the family that it was impossible for them to win any victory or gain any benefits, that this was just wishful thinking on their part, and used this as an excuse to refuse any form of support.

——In the end, Alex really didn't get a penny.

Although Alex was filled with disgust at his family's persecution, when he finally succeeded in summoning his own Servant, he felt an unexpected satisfaction deep in his heart.

Although his servants were weak and unable to communicate properly, their frenzied state made it nearly impossible for them to communicate verbally. Even though Cobain was unable to speak, unable to even roar, Alex could truly "feel" the shock and resonance deep within his soul through his performance.

Standing before him was Kurt Donald Cobain, the rock star who passed away in 1994. He had been summoned by Alex as a Berserker. Now, before Alex's eyes, he existed once again in another form.

The moment Cobain was summoned, Alex realized that the entire Holy Grail War had completely changed its meaning for him. From that moment on, the so-called Holy Grail War became a complete "star-chasing" event for Alex. His wish was simple: to share a stage with Kurt Cobain.

But the problem was, he had no money.

Performing at a livehouse in Japan is no easier than in the United States, and in some ways, it's even more demanding. The livehouse system in Japan is similar to that in the United States. Small bands seeking to perform must first commit to selling a certain number of tickets before the show. This means the band must first purchase these tickets out of pocket and then work hard to sell them to the audience. Any unsold tickets are the band's responsibility. Furthermore, they must pay for the rental of the livehouse equipment.