Chapter Thirty-One: The Contract Spirit That Was Reclaimed

Taking advantage of Roland’s momentary daze, Kiritsugu Emiya burst through the door, swiftly removed his coat, wrapped the grenade whose pin he had just pulled, and hurled it into the air. Roland’s gaze flickered as he stepped back, and in that instant, Killer Queen produced a pebble in her hand, poised to strike the airborne grenade. At such close range, with the abilities of his Stand, her aim was flawless.

The trigger of the explosive was pressed quickly. The prematurely detonated grenade unleashed terrifying damage within the cramped room, and this was exactly what Kiritsugu desired. Hidden behind another door, he gripped the weapon he had just retrieved from his coat—a gun of remarkably simple design, made of walnut wood, reminiscent of late medieval firearms.

The essence of this weapon was a single-shot rifle, with only one round loaded. Kiritsugu had modified it to maximize its power, enabling it to withstand sniper rifle ammunition, and this immense firepower served to accentuate its lethal one-shot capability.

Ordinary physical defenses could not stand up to such a weapon, and when the enemy increased their magical output to defend with full force, using their techniques, that was precisely what Kiritsugu was waiting for.

For the true reason this firearm served as Kiritsugu’s ace was never the gun itself, but the bullet.

Origin—engraved deep within a person, it dictates the fundamental root of their existence. Origin is not exclusive to magi; every being possesses it from birth, including ordinary people. Awakening one's Origin is the easiest way for non-magi to acquire superhuman abilities, but even without awakening, people unconsciously manifest traits related to their Origin in personality and direction.

For example, Shirou Emiya’s Origin is “Sword.” Though he is inept at conventional magecraft, it allows him to manifest the Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works.

Kiritsugu Emiya, while not awakened to his Origin, found a special method to harness its power.

His body tensed, rising fiercely, eyes locked on Roland and Killer Queen standing together, raising the dark barrel of his gun.

“It’s over.”

Kiritsugu’s voice was cold as he pulled the trigger. Everything was within his expectations. After the barrage and explosion, this enigmatic magus was forced to use his peculiar guardian spirit in full defense.

At such a moment, even if the Origin Bullet failed to strike the body directly, through magical connection, his Origin would manifest within the target.

Severance and fusion.

That is the source of the name “Kiritsugu”—things touched by this Origin are destroyed, then recombined in chaotic fashion.

The struck area becomes necrotic at once. For magi, the consequences are far worse. Given their intricately structured magical circuits, akin to circuit boards, such effects would render the entire person crippled, blood vessels and nerves haphazardly fused.

The more gifted the magus, the more tragic their fate.

To date, thirty-seven magi had perished this way. This time would be no exception…

“What the hell is this?”

Killer Queen nonchalantly batted the Origin Bullet aside, sensing something unusual in the feel of it. Roland looked at Kiritsugu in confusion.

“So this is your ace?”

“Impossible…”

Kiritsugu’s expression froze instantly, and he realized the implication behind Maiya’s earlier words.

Maiya knew his trump card—Origin Bullet was a deadly move against magi. But conversely, if the target was not a magus, it was little more than a slightly unusual bullet.

A heavy silence fell. Kiritsugu realized he had made a grave error.

“So you really are just a lucky bastard?”

“That’s undeniable, isn’t it? I am indeed fortunate.”

Roland turned his hand over, gazing at the old scar-like mark on the outside of his palm, frowning in pain.

His Stand had precisely replicated the injury caused by the Origin Bullet onto his own hand. Though the mark was small, this hand was unusable for now.

Fortunately, he had already found a substitute.

“In this sense, externalizing the source of magical energy does have its advantages.”

“You… Did you steal Command Spells from someone else?”

Kiritsugu’s face turned gray, his hand trembling. He realized he might have uncovered the truth lurking behind the abyss.

A Master was already dead, and the wandering Servant had found a new Master, transplanting the Command Spells.

That being so, the two serial murders he’d seen before coming to Fuyuki City were likely the result of this pair preying on ordinary people to obtain magical energy.

“I absolutely cannot let you go.”

This duo had no scruples, probably cared nothing for the Holy Grail War, and simply regarded the city as their hunting ground.

If they were allowed to continue, before acquiring the Grail, they might cause even greater destruction. Kiritsugu’s eyes glimmered with a resolute light, signifying his determination.

Even if it meant wasting a Command Spell…

“Let me go? It seems you still don’t understand the situation, Kiritsugu Emiya.”

As if he had heard something amusing, Roland walked slowly toward Kiritsugu, wearing a warm smile. “You think that, with only Killer Queen, I can’t approach you immediately? Well, my Stand—there are two of them.”

“Look at me!”

A familiar voice sounded from behind Kiritsugu. The ghostly, ever-present little car had appeared at his back, crawling toward him.

“When you arrived, I already summoned Withering Heart Attack back. So, what will you do now?”

Roland ahead, the car behind.

Kiritsugu was caught in a bind, his heart pounding violently, the red glow of the Command Spell intensifying.

But, as if deliberately toying with Kiritsugu’s nerves, Roland suddenly stopped, revealing a genial smile.

“To waste a Command Spell here and trade blows with me—is it truly worth it?”

“Of course not. But I don’t believe you’ll let me walk away just like that.”

A brief, clear answer. In the past, Kiritsugu had broken promises countless times; naturally, he wouldn’t trust the other’s mercy.

“So you’re projecting yourself onto others, Magus Killer. Honesty and integrity are my greatest virtues. Naturally, letting you go when I have the upper hand would leave me dissatisfied, so—shall we make a deal?”

“I heard from that Maiya woman that your relic is King Arthur’s scabbard, isn’t it? You recovered from Withering Heart Attack’s explosion thanks to it, didn’t you? Hand it over, and I’ll let you leave.”

Hearing Roland’s low yet undeniable tone, Kiritsugu had no doubt—at this point, if he showed any sign of refusal, the other would summon his Servant simultaneously, using every means to eliminate him.

Because he would do the same.

Is it worth exchanging a relic for a Command Spell?

“I don’t trust you.”

“But you have no choice, do you? Even if I break my word, you lose nothing but a relatively inconsequential relic.”

Such candid words made Kiritsugu bow his head. The Command Spell was a tool that directly affected his odds of victory, while Avalon was merely a relic with healing and ageless effects—something Irisviel’s magecraft could substitute.

If he agreed, tonight’s trouble might be resolved with minimal loss. If not, given the other’s resolve and abilities, regardless of whether Saber could arrive in time to kill him, Kiritsugu himself would be doomed.

Instinctively, Kiritsugu reached for his pocket, seeking a cigarette, but then realized the one who bought them was no longer here.

He said nothing more, withdrawing the golden scabbard adorned with enamel from his breast and tossing it aside.

After this gesture, he managed a bitter smile. This enigmatic enemy was right—he had no choice left.

But in the end, he had to know one thing.

“Seventh Master, what is your name?”

“Roland. Just call me Roland.”

With light steps, Roland carefully picked up Avalon, as if cradling the entire world.

In his eyes, the scabbard radiated a dense, unyielding crimson glow, like blood.

“Contract Spirit: Soul of the Lord, recovered.”