Super God: If I punch you, you will die

Its power could only be considered C-rank at best, and might even be equivalent to D-rank. He used the puppet Roche had given him as a test of its power. As the distance from Berserker increased, the lightning strike gradually weakened, while the puppet beside her was completely reduced to dust.

If the Noble Phantasm were unleashed at extremely close range, it would likely possess enough power to annihilate most Servants—this was Corley's speculation. However, the cost would be far too great. To sacrifice one's own Servants to defeat Ikki is simply not worth it.

“Berserker, I think you should understand without me saying it, but generally speaking, you shouldn’t easily break the restraints of the ‘Thunder Tree of Crucifixion’.”

Upon hearing Colles' warning, Berserker tilted its head as if incredulous. Indeed, despite its high intelligence, Berserker was still Berserker—Colles sighed helplessly.

In short, with himself being a third-rate magician and a Berserker who struggles to unleash the full power of their Noble Phantasm, the only option left is to rack their brains and devise a strategy. Although he is a third-rate magician, as a Master, he must do everything in his power to secure victory.

"Speaking of which, my sister just asked me to read the newspaper, didn't she?"

Koles suddenly remembered what Fiore had said earlier, so he had the automaton bring him the local newspaper. He thanked it and opened the newspaper to read the article that Fiore had been interested in.

"I see, what she said does make sense." After reading the report about the serial killer, Coles stood up.

"Well then, Berserker, I'm sorry I have to leave for a little while, you can stay here."

"?"

Coles took several magical items from his desk, capable of summoning low-level evil spirits and beasts, and equipped them to himself. He put on bracelets that could be printed with the names of beasts on his wrists, and hid black insect eggs in the toes of his shoes.

Although these are mere grunts who wouldn't last even a second against a Servant, the swarm of earthworms that the leopard's familiar box infiltrates the body and causes excruciating pain would still pose some obstacle for the magician.

Coles's clothes were tugged a few more times. Berserker's eyes were glaring at him, demanding an explanation.

"It's nothing, I was just helping my sister with a small favor."

After speaking, Coles glanced at the computer screen. The received emails contained intelligence about the successive murders of magicians from the Magicians' Association stationed in Sighisoara.

This intelligence implies two things. First, the people who killed those magicians were at least not from the Yggdrasilian race. Second, since Fiore went there, it's highly likely that it was the Servant who did it.

Then, the next step is speculation—if the "Black" Assassin and his Master are hostile to the Yggdrasilian race while also being hostile to the "Red" faction... the possibility of conflict between the "Black" Archer, the Assassin, and the "Red" Servant is very high, which is the so-called triangular hostile state.

This situation is extremely bad.

“We absolutely cannot lose Archer now. In a one-on-one situation, a magus will naturally challenge, that's what a professional magus does. But in a two-on-one situation—no matter how insignificant I am, the opponent should choose to run away. After all, the opponent is a professional magus. However, it is indeed necessary to protect this fortress. So you will stay here. No problem, if there is an emergency, I will use a Command Spell to summon you.”

"Black" Berserker originally wanted to go with Master Koles to protect him, but the order to protect the fortress was also very reasonable.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of fighting to the death with them. Anyone who insists on fighting in a two-on-one situation is either really strong or just a complete idiot."

Koles wasn't lying at all; he truly had no intention of fighting. In short, his sister was incredibly strong. She wouldn't easily be defeated, let alone by an ordinary magician, or even by a top-tier one. Her altered magic mark, considered second only to Danic's, was so precise it was almost comparable to a finely tuned machine.

Her Servant, "Black" Archer, is also a top-tier Heroic Spirit. For their faction, "Black" Lancer is the banner, while "Black" Archer is the core.

That's why it would be terrible if anything went wrong. If the "black" Assassin and the "black" Archer clashed, and the "red" Servant took the opportunity to defeat the Archer, then our side would be defeated in that instant.

However, if another Coles appears at this moment, the "Red" team's magician will most likely choose to retreat, and the "Red" team's Servant will inevitably follow suit. If this situation were created solely by one's own existence, rather than through one's own power, it would be quite an easy task.

0132 Command Seals [Please Subscribe]

After watching Colles leave the room, Berserker suddenly noticed that Colles' computer screen was still on—it seemed he had forgotten to turn it off. What a careless Master; electricity is precious—Berserker sighed, then unplugged the computer without hesitation.

Master would surely appreciate such meticulous care from a Servant.

Thus, the largest Holy Grail War in history—the Holy Grail War—came to an end. The defeat of the "Black" faction and the victory of the "Red" faction were confirmed. It was regrettable that the Greater Grail's functions ceased, preventing wishes from being fulfilled, but the enormous reward from the Mage's Association was more than enough consolation. With the Greater Grail no longer functioning, there was no need to argue about it further.

The "Red" team's Masters, each with their own thoughts, entered a resting state, slowly healing their post-war fatigue.

"Everyone, thank you for your hard work."

Just like when they first met, Shirou Kotomine offered everyone black tea.

"Thanks."

The moment it entered my mouth, a cool, fragrant aroma instantly permeated my chest. It wasn't just my lungs; it felt like it was penetrating my entire being, a truly blissful sensation. And because the work had been completed so smoothly, I hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time since becoming a magician.

"Very good tea."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Shirou, aren't you going to drink?"

"No, although I'm very good at brewing tea, I'm not used to drinking black tea..."

He gave a wry smile, then poured some water into his cup. "Is this how the Japanese are?" the magicians wondered vaguely.

"Oh, right, I just remembered. I also need you to hand over the Command Seals."

"Command Seals? Why?"

Command Seals—are extremely important—and must be firmly grasped—in order to achieve victory in war.

"Hey everyone, the Holy Grail War is over, isn't it?"

"That's true, really."

"That makes sense."

Yes, the Holy Grail War is over. Although I was terrified when I heard that Ruler had sided with Yggdrasil, he ultimately resolved the situation perfectly thanks to his quick thinking. It was truly a tough battle. The preparations before the battle—yes, the preparation phase itself was arduous.

"As the supervisor, I must collect your Command Seals to prepare for the next Holy Grail War. I'm truly sorry, but this is absolutely necessary..."

"There's no other way; there's no point in continuing to hold onto this anyway."

"That's right."

"How about you all ask the church to pay the fees? We can handle it by having me pay money to receive the Command Seals..."

"Then we can accept that... but is this really okay?"

"Because it was the church that was asked to pay, not me. Let's just consider it a little revenge for them pushing such an important task onto a young person like me."

Seeing the boy's mischievous expression, everyone naturally laughed. At the beginning of the battle, they thought he was an assassin sent by the church and were wary of him, but now, looking back, they realized he had indeed worked very hard.

"You've truly worked hard under the heavy responsibility of being a supervisor. We'd love to repay your efforts..."

"Oh, please don't worry about this. I've also received some very good things from you."

Someone immediately asked what it was, and Shirou, as always, gave an enigmatic smile and said:

"This is your Master rights. Isn't that more than enough as compensation?"

"I see," someone replied.

Is one kind of thing enough?

"Yes, of course. Now, I will prepare for the Command Seal transfer ceremony. Please feel free to chat here first."

"Just do it."

As a result, the magicians did not realize the unnaturalness of the situation until the very end, and gladly gave "that," which was more important than their lives in a sense, to the smiling boy without any compensation.

"By the way, what are your plans for the reward?"

"We plan to take a break and enjoy some leisure time for now, since we've been working too hard lately."

"It is said that the Clock Tower will hold an auction, and with this reward, I can buy at least three books that I have wanted for many years."

"I intend to use it as a private donation to the department, because the budget has always been very tight."

"Serving the Mage's Association isn't so easy. As for me..."

The war was over, and all that was left was to wait for their pay. But there was one thing they just couldn't understand.

How exactly did I achieve victory?

It should have been something absolutely impossible to forget, but for some reason, no one could answer that question. However, after taking a few sips of black tea, those things became insignificant.

My memories are filled with a life of peace and decadence, everything about it seems dazzlingly glamorous. There is no glory, no honor, only the slow, meaningless passage of peaceful time—

Volume 2: Black Rondo / Crimson Festival, Chapter 2

Participants in the Holy Grail War sometimes dream. This is probably because Masters and Servants have a close connection on a deeper spiritual level.

They would see each other's past in their dreams. This was also a common phenomenon during the Third Holy Grail War.

Therefore, when Shiki-Kai-ri found himself in old-time Britain, he was not at all surprised.

"Yeah, that kind of thing can happen."

This must be a scene from her Servant Mordred's past. Without realizing it, she was already standing beside him. The sword she held was her favorite weapon from this Holy Grail War—"Clarente, the King's Blade of Radiant Light."

"This weapon did not originally belong to her. It was a sword that King Arthur kept in his armory after he obtained it, and it could be said to be a symbol of the throne."

Mordred later seized the sword and, claiming to be "king," instigated a massive rebellion. Then, she challenged King Arthur to a one-on-one duel, wielding the sword before him.

"So, this is Kamlan?"

Indeed, this is Camlann Hill, the battlefield where Mordred's rebel army and King Arthur's regular army fought their final battle. The magnificent chivalrous tale of King Arthur concludes with this tragic war.

The arrows pierced the bodies of the lightly armored soldiers. But Mordred, protected by steel armor, ignored all the attacks and charged straight forward.

King Arthur, possessing immense charismatic leadership, finally unified Britain. Given this, why did so many soldiers support Mordred's betrayal?

0133 Knights [Please Subscribe]

One reason for the growing anti-war sentiment within the country in the face of unification was the prevailing sentiment.

Despite being hailed as a perfect being, the Lake Knight's unrequited love and the Queen's scandal led to the decline of the King's authority—this was also a reason.

The knights felt a sense of fear and contempt for the king, who was so incorruptible and devoid of any personal feelings—this was also a reason.

However, there is another point.

Seeing Mordred the Lion on the battlefield made it very clear. Her fighting style was extremely savage. The magnificent and powerful swordsmanship that knights were so proud of was as fragile as withered branches in front of her.

Although it seems like acting on instinct, it is the most efficient way to kill.

The soldiers following behind her were in incredibly high spirits, moving with a rhythm that seemed to unleash human instincts. The sound of their marching forward was as powerful and resounding as a drumbeat.

That was a natural disaster like a tornado.

Mordred was a renowned knight. She put in tremendous effort for it, and indeed she succeeded. Even so, if she had continued to fight as a "knight," she probably wouldn't have had 100,000 soldiers following her.

Her strength is undeniable, and it also contains a certain madness. But on the battlefield, that kind of madness is what is most admirable.

Faced with her monstrous power, who crushed enemies like a storm, the soldiers followed closely behind her as if controlled by madness.

I'm really looking forward to seeing what kind of bloody path this frenzied warrior can forge.

This was a kind of fanatical belief, and the soldiers' motivation was probably just that. But even with their high morale, their strength was still limited. The number of soldiers dwindled one by one, with hundreds, then thousands, being wiped out in succession.

Mordred never looked back at what was behind her. Soldiers—no, people—were something that naturally increased after a victory…that seemed to be her understanding.

She prioritized attacking the positions with the largest enemy forces. After utterly crushing them, she charged towards another position teeming with enemy troops. She completely annihilated all the cowardly, resisting, and fleeing opponents, piling up countless corpses.

Meanwhile, Mordred paid no attention to any of the soldiers. Her focus was none other than her father—King Arthur.

"Where is King Arthur?! Where is the King of Knights?!"

She shouted loudly, cutting down the enemy soldiers surrounding her one by one. She deliberately chose to attack a heavily fortified position because she felt there was a high chance the king was there. However, as if rejected by fate, the two never met on the battlefield.

However—once the barrier is gone, destiny will eventually be fulfilled. King Arthur's army and Mordred's rebel army were almost completely wiped out, leaving only corpses strewn across the fields. King Arthur finally appeared before Mordred, who was supporting himself with his sword.

His expression was utterly serene, revealing not a trace of pity or disgust. Seeing his emotionless face, Mordred visibly grew impatient.

Regardless, the two finally faced off on the battlefield. Life was practically nonexistent in their path.

Mordred opened her arms and shouted passionately. She shouted, pouring out anger, joy, and indescribable emotions.

"Well done! Well done, King Arthur! Your kingdom is over! It's finished! Whether I win or you win—everything is destroyed!"

Standing before her was a king whose appearance was strikingly similar to Mordred's, almost like a young boy.

Despite Mordred's passionate shouts, he remained unmoved and did not even respond to her questions, mechanically assuming a sword-raising stance.

This was probably the most unforgivable response Mordred could receive. Mordred immediately roared and swung his sword fiercely.

King Arthur drew his sword to meet the challenge. Sparks flew as the two holy swords clashed. Despite their exhaustion, both fought fiercely to avoid defeat. However, the outcome remained unchanged. As Mordred had said, whoever won in the end, the kingdom would soon perish.

"You should have known it would turn out like this! You should have known it would turn out like this! You knew that if you had given me the throne, none of this would have happened...!"

However, Mordred's sword did not slow down.

Born as the son of an unjust man, he initially yearned for his father, but this yearning turned into hatred upon rejection—and so they began to fight each other on the battlefield.

I hate you, I hate you. I hate you for being the perfect king. I hate you for refusing to acknowledge my existence. I willingly played the role of your shadow, but you never once looked back at me.

So this is the just punishment, King Arthur. I have utterly destroyed everything you have!

"Do you hate me!? Do you hate me that much!? Do you hate me, Morgoth's child, that much!? Answer me... answer me, Arthur!!"

In response to her cry, Arthur, still fighting, finally answered. The king declared in a cold, emotionless voice: