Chapter Twenty-Eight: Withering Heart-Piercing Strike

“What a pointless struggle. Since you’re Kiritsugu Emiya’s assistant, I would have expected better judgment from you.” Roland’s voice brimmed with self-satisfaction as he watched Maiya Hisau, who had somehow produced yet another dagger from somewhere unknown.

“You know perfectly well that if I wanted you dead, you would already be dead. So why not cooperate? At the very least, you might be able to stretch out what little time you have left.”

Maiya’s face darkened at his words, but she only gritted her teeth, refusing to answer further. She had already revealed as much intelligence as she dared—any more would have crossed her bottom line. Were it not for her intent to turn the tables, exploiting his underestimation to buy time, she never would have made such a concession.

She understood well: her enemy’s frightening abilities made any resistance here little more than a death sentence. If she were killed now, Roland would no doubt turn his attention to the so-called second bomb and hunt down Kiritsugu. So rather than submit, she would fight with all she had, trying to buy Kiritsugu as much time as possible to escape.

Forcing Roland to kill her was the final gambit to win time.

He wasn’t wrong—the information she withheld was indeed dangerous not to know. But Maiya also understood exactly what kind of man Kiritsugu Emiya was. If even she—his sole confidant—were to die, then even without any warning, Kiritsugu would respond with the utmost vigilance to everything around him. He might even summon his Servant outright, denying Roland any chance for a quiet assassination.

“Tch… how tedious.”

Roland curled his lip in disdain. “You intend to trade your life for Kiritsugu Emiya’s survival, do you?”

“How admirable, your loyalty. You make me sound like some universally despised villain.” His tone was dripping with irony, as if mocking the situation. Heaven knew he was only doing his job, hadn’t provoked anyone, yet was inexplicably taken hostage and thrust into the peril of command seals being coveted.

Without Killer Queen, he would likely have been a cold corpse by now.

Of course, such words would have no effect on Maiya. Her coldness ran bone-deep, except when it came to matters concerning Kiritsugu.

“Still nothing to say? How dull. No matter—I suppose you’re just unlucky to have run into a good man like myself. I’ll grant your wish and end your life.”

Roland shook his head, stepping toward the ashen-faced Maiya, prepared to snuff out her last hope.

—

Kiritsugu Emiya advanced cautiously, his footsteps quiet enough not to draw attention even in the dead of night.

Just moments ago, Maiya Hisau had used a coded message over the radio, summoning him to a nearby safehouse.

Strictly speaking, the Holy Grail War hadn’t begun yet, so there shouldn’t have been any real danger—not enough to warrant using codes for routine reports. After all, tonight Maiya was only out to buy cigarettes; she never shared her intel lightly, and certainly shouldn’t have been tailed.

But Kiritsugu didn’t question her. Despite all his doubts, he could only assume that Maiya had run into some emergency.

He trusted her implicitly, seeing her as his strongest weapon. Her calm judgment often surpassed his own, which is why she handled all the Holy Grail War preparations at the Einzbern castle. With her, Kiritsugu felt completely at ease—never ashamed of his own moral compromises, never resentful of her coldness.

If there was anywhere in this world that Kiritsugu could call home, it was in her presence.

Two streets away from the safehouse, Kiritsugu rapped gently on his radio, calling for Maiya.

…

Only a monotonous hiss replied—no answer.

A frown creased his brow in alarm. Maiya was not one to make mistakes; she was the elite warrior he had personally trained. If she failed to answer, there could be only one possibility: something had happened.

Realizing this, Kiritsugu reacted instantly. Fortunately, since he was out deploying safehouses, he was carrying his weapon case.

He swiftly drew his usual firearm, preparing to open fire at a moment’s notice. Concealed by his voluminous black coat, he kept his gun hidden as he crept toward the safehouse.

Yet, to his surprise, he encountered no traps or obstacles.

This was all wrong.

Maiya might be a second-rate magus, but she was a first-class assassin—the combination made her a formidable opponent for any ordinary magus, who would stand no chance against her.

Had his own cover not yet been blown? He couldn’t discount the possibility, but he dared not lower his guard.

With every step, an ever-growing sense of unease gnawed at him. The streets were empty, silent, yet years of battlefield instinct made Kiritsugu halt in his tracks.

He drew a special artifact from his pocket and hurled it forcefully at the ground. Though he preferred modern weapons, in anticipation of magical combat he had requested a few alchemical tools from the renowned Einzbern family.

He could handle physical attacks, but when it came to spirits, Kiritsugu’s skills fell short—unlike Roland.

As the artifact detonated, invisible dust spread outward in a ring, forming a barrier capable of harming spirits and exposing their presence.

Then, in the glittering dust, a pair of spectral tire tracks appeared, crisp and unsettling, heading straight toward him.

The tracks were neither wide nor fast—moving at a pace reminiscent of a remote-controlled car—but now that his fears were confirmed, Kiritsugu could not allow himself any carelessness.

Those tracks were less than two paces away.

“Damn it!”

With a terse curse, Kiritsugu opened fire instinctively while pulling a vial of blue liquid from his pocket and gulping it down.

He had acquired this experimental potion from a local family during his younger days working in Japan. After testing its effects, he had bought up the limited supply without hesitation.

Though it always left him with splitting headaches, the potion compensated for his greatest weakness against spirits.

For a short time, it granted him the Mystic Eyes of Purity—the ability to see things that should not exist.

Even prepared as he was, Kiritsugu couldn’t help but be startled when his attacker materialized as a toy-like car.

But he had no time to dwell on it. While he retreated and prepared his countermeasures, the little car had already closed the gap.

Now, the toy car was right at his feet.

And then something truly uncanny occurred. Veins bulged at Kiritsugu’s temples as he stared at the car, his usual composure breaking.

For as the skull atop the car’s roof snapped its jaw open and shut, Kiritsugu realized he could hear the car’s voice.

It spoke in perfect Japanese: “—Look at me!”

The next instant, a deafening explosion erupted.