Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

I led my colleagues to the hotel where Paracelsus himself was staying.

In the dead of night, the room was brightly lit—presumably not by kerosene lamps, but by some kind of magic. The warm glow shone out, strikingly bright against the night sky, almost as if guiding our way.

I couldn't help but recall the lament of my friend who teaches at the Clock Tower—

He was originally a genius full of creativity and hard work.

His steps were swift. He was undoubtedly a genius among magicians, but he was also branded with the "evil" decreed by the Clock Tower itself. Therefore, he was destined to be eliminated.

They entered through the main entrance properly, while also taking precautions. Even the most mediocre magician would not allow their territory to be left vulnerable and easily breached by anyone.

The man sitting by the window sat upright in a wooden chair, holding a book he had just closed. He turned his head to look at the person at the door and smiled gently.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time."

This is the first sight that catches the eye.

What surprised me even more was his overly relaxed demeanor. Seeing our combat uniforms, he should have understood what we were doing the moment he saw them, but he simply stood up easily and patted his slightly wrinkled white coat.

Meeting Paracelsus in person was quite different from the image I had in mind. His long, smooth, black hair was tied up on one side, and his handsome, gentle face, which was too beautiful for a middle-aged man, made him look more like a prince from the East than a magician who had broken the taboo. His composed and elegant demeanor, and his calmness that was not feigned, were undoubtedly the elegance of someone from a noble family.

"I will never fight. If I resist, you will suffer. And that goes against my will."

I wasn't surprised at all by this statement. But my inner turmoil only intensified.

Our actions have already been planned.

Are you planning to hand over your head just like that?

I questioned him.

"Yes. That's settled then."

why?

Choosing to die like this will not do you any good.

Deep down, I hoped he would resist. It would be absurd to hope that the blood on my hands would be worthwhile at a time like this. But if you are a truly incurable idealist, obsessed with something, then I will be more decisive when I take action.

Then I heard him sigh helplessly. I looked away.

Is this a decision to fight to the death? I remained wary.

He took a few steps toward the window, but I didn't move. There were colleagues guarding the area around the hotel.

He simply put the book he was holding on the table.

"In my eyes, you are all lovely children. I cannot bear to hurt you."

Difficult to understand—no, I can understand, but interpreting a magician this way is inappropriate, and the possibility is too small.

There was no falsehood in his words; it was his true feeling, and there was no mistake about it.

However, the magician was not such a simple person, especially since he had been through a lot in the world and had tasted the malice from conservatives and the powerful.

Calling us, who came to take his life and end his career, "lovely children"? Considering the information I've read before, it's less that he naively believed in the goodness and beauty of humanity, and more that he suffered from an incurable disease that made it impossible for him not to show the utmost kindness to others.

Were they not the creators of utopia, but rather its inhabitants?

Let's leave the speculation here. To be honest, even if I knew what kind of person he was, it wouldn't do me any good. My job is simply to deal with him and investigate his crimes.

I then asked him about his purpose or motive for revealing the mystery.

The responses I received were no different from those recorded by my previous colleagues in the documents, except for the wording and the warm smiles on their faces.

Five minutes and twenty seconds after we met, we realized that continuing the conversation would not yield any more useful information.

"After you all go home..."

Please cherish children. Even the neighbor's child is fine. There, you'll find the light I'm seeking.

After saying this, he calmly accepted the end of his life.

That concludes my record of Paracelsus. However, regarding my own conjectures, I have been cautious and only written down speculations that might appear from an outsider's perspective, making the least possible attempt at denigration. Although the Clock Tower's records do not demand absolute objectivity, the thought that future generations might see these ramblings I have written makes me decide to keep these conjectures buried in my heart.

Frustrating!

Every word and action is too easy to understand.

I complained to my colleagues afterwards.

There are more pure-hearted people among magicians than the average person.

He responded with an expression that seemed perfectly natural.

perhaps.

What bothers me isn't his purity, but rather that I'm not that kind of person.

Finally, it must be admitted that he was indeed a magician with genius.

I secretly picked up the book he was browsing before he left, *Archidoxen*, and started flipping through it. Presumably, it was a work he was satisfied with.

Alchemy seems like a very romantic form of magic—that's what I think.

————————Plot Break—————————

As a public library open to the public, even if the Ainsworth family were generous, they wouldn't keep any rare or precious magic books inside.

However, due to its long history, a considerable amount of basic books on magic, historical biographies, and all sorts of complex records from that era have been preserved.

The item in the hands of Misaya of the Linglong Pavilion is a mission log from a designated seal executor inside the medieval clock tower.

The object to be sealed is self-evident.

After reading it, the girl's excitement lingered for a long time. Her mind went blank, and her thoughts seemed to still be immersed in that turbulent, ignorant, yet brilliant era, based on this old record.

With a hazy consciousness, based on the description in the text, a near-perfect humanoid wheelchair was sketched out.

At the same time, the fantasies in her mind and the images in reality overlapped and merged inch by inch, causing the girl's heart to pound wildly, a faint blush to rise on her pretty face, and she bit her cherry lips, unable to help but murmur.

“Caster…Teacher…”

"Huh? Master? Are you calling me?"

However, before Misaya of the Linglong Pavilion could savor the moment for long, a hunting dog that was yawning behind a pillar suddenly sprang out upon hearing the unintelligible call, like a large dog that had seen a bone being thrown at it.

"no!"

Suddenly awakened, the black-haired beauty looked at the large face that was close to her, full of frivolity, and couldn't help but roll her eyes and snort in disgust.

"So, have you finished looking at all of these?"

"finish watching!"

Seeing her spear servant glancing at the precious documents in her arms as she spoke, Reirōkan Misaya immediately became wary. She clutched the record she had painstakingly found tightly, her expression turning hostile.

"So, we can leave now?!"

However, the handsome man with blue hair and a tight-fitting bodysuit and red eyes was overjoyed upon hearing this, as if he were a dog that had been chained up for a long time and was about to be released. He raised his right hand and familiarly put it on his master's shoulder, his face full of anticipation.

"Master, you've been busy all day. How about we sneak into town and find a place for a couple of drinks? It's on me!"

"Sorry, I am a minor."

Reiko Misaya expressionlessly pried open the other person's hands and gave a cold snort of annoyance.

"How about I order you a glass of juice, and you watch me drink it?"

"..."

Hearing her servant's unthinking answer, the black-haired beauty's cheek twitched slightly, and she couldn't help but kick the heartless Heroic Spirit.

"Drink, drink, drink your head off! This is a crucial moment in the Holy Grail War, get back and guard the gate!"

"Tch, boring..."

Hearing his Master so cruelly reject one of his few hobbies, the blue-haired handsome man sullenly dragged his crimson spear, whistled to summon the black dog that was roaming nearby, and strolled leisurely into the courtyard to wait outside.

Ah, I really miss the mead from my hometown, or maybe a beer from a roadside stall would be nice too...

Under the cold moonlight, the Irish dog, cruelly rejected, was deeply depressed.

Just as the man was bowing his head and lamenting, a gust of wind blew behind him, and he instinctively raised his hand, and a bottle of whiskey, gleaming with amber color, fell into his palm.

"Although we can't go to the bar, I asked the Ainsworth family for a bottle of Irish liquor. You can make do with that for now."

Linglong Pavilion's beautiful night came out from the shadows, arms crossed, humming softly.

"Master, well done! You are exactly the Angus I've always dreamed of!"

The spirit, who had been weak and listless just moments before, immediately and impatiently unscrewed the bottle cap, gulped down several mouthfuls, wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth, and, radiant with joy, offered his praise without reservation.

Angus, the Irish god of love, youth, and poetic inspiration, and also the god of dreams.

Using this as a metaphor is a very grand compliment.

However, upon hearing this praise, Misaya Reirōkan's face darkened, and her teeth chattered.

"If you want to drink, shut up!"

"Don't worry, with me here, I guarantee not even a fly will be able to get in!"

Seeing his master reach out as if to snatch back his precious treasure, the blue-haired handsome man immediately hugged the bottle to his chest and hurriedly made a promise.

Tch, how could I have summoned such a frivolous drunkard!

After failing to snatch the item, Misaya from the Linglong Pavilion stopped indignantly. Looking at the heroic spirit who was squatting in a corner drinking heavily like an old man on the street, carrying a gun, she couldn't help but rub her forehead and complain, feeling extremely embarrassed.

Cú Chulainn, whose true identity is the demigod hero of Celtic mythology—the "Child of Light"—is a representative hero of Ireland. If the story were set in Europe, he would be a figure who shines alongside Hercules and King Arthur. If summoned in his homeland of Ulster (present-day Northern Ireland, UK), he will receive a "fame boost" to his new Noble Phantasm and abilities, such as the Twin-Horse Chariot, the Castle, and the Blessing of Sleeplessness.

Even after arriving in Fuyuki City, his strength remains undeniable.

However, in contrast to his fame and illustrious achievements, he also had an explosive personality and a chaotic private life.

To be honest, Misaya from the Linglong Pavilion was not satisfied with this.

She prefers the perfect sage to the warrior with a distinct personality.

Just like...

The black-haired beauty instinctively clutched the manuscript in her arms, stole a glance at her father's bedroom, and quickly looked away. Her pretty face, which hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, was flushed with a captivating blush.

Chapter 201 Fighting for a Bed with My Sister? (4.3k)

Meanwhile, to the north of Xindu, in the center of the city.

The Kotomine Church, located here, was brightly lit. Inside the spacious church, a dark figure sat quietly on a bench that should only be open to believers, flipping through the materials in his hands, his brow gradually furrowing.

As the last page was turned, the Demon King, emerging from the shadows in full form, looked up and frowned as he asked a question.

"Kiri, is this all the eyewitness information you've collected?"

"If they weren't hiding anything..."

The priest on the pulpit closed his Bible, looked down at the darkness beneath the light, and answered calmly.

"If that's the case, we're in big trouble."

Samael raised his hand to rub his temples, his gaze sweeping over the documents and comparative profiles spread out in front of him, feeling a growing headache.

"Do you already have a clue about the cards the opponent has drawn?"

Upon hearing this, Kirei Kotomine was somewhat surprised and slowly stepped down from the pulpit to ask curiously.

"To be honest, it's very tricky..."

Samael nodded, and with a frustrated expression, began to explain the other's hand to his disciple, card by card.

Saber: Attila, the Hunnic king, is also the incarnation of the Star Vanguard. When he gets serious, even the Grand Magician King Solomon has to temporarily give way to him.

Lancer: Cú Chulainn, the Irish Son of Light, is absolutely no less famous or powerful than King Arthur on our side.

Archer: Angelica Ainsworth, through the unique substitution magic of the Ainsworth family, impersonated the Hero King Gilgamesh and came into the world, mastering all of that guy's Noble Phantasms and trump cards. Although Samael himself can easily overpower her, it is by no means so easy to defeat her.

Berserker: Bertris Florchard, along with Angelica Ainsworth, belonged to the Dolls of the Ainsworth family. Her power came from Manny, the Norse demigod and son of Thor.

Manny is a powerful god in Norse mythology, the eldest son of Thor, and the strongest of all the gods.

Legend has it that Manny will inherit Mjolnir, Thor's weapon, during Ragnarok, after Thor and Jormungandr perish together, and will assume Thor's position when the world is reborn, meaning he will become the new god of thunder.

Judging from Scáthach's reaction to the battle, this small, violent loli is highly compatible with Manny, or rather, Thor. She can perfectly unleash the power of Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, and smoothly use other divine artifacts such as the Megingjord belt and Járngreipr gauntlets.

It's safe to say that girl's strength is absolutely terrifying, let alone Scáthach.

Samael would avoid them if possible.