Chapter Thirty-Four: The Second Pact

Facing Roland’s declaration, Zouken Matou felt a chill run down his spine. He carefully reviewed his own words—he hadn’t said anything particularly revealing, had he? How had this man intuited such an inhuman truth?

Could it be that Roland had broken somehow?

Given Roland’s strength, if he went mad, he might blow the Matou household to pieces—a scenario completely at odds with Zouken’s style of fading from public view and plotting from the shadows.

With that in mind, he coughed a few times in feigned nonchalance, signaling the black-haired girl hiding behind the door to come out.

“Your magical energy channel is ready,” Zouken said in a deep voice. “She’s still quite immature as a magus, but as a source of mana, she’s sufficient. The Caster class naturally gathers magical energy on its own; the Master’s supply is only necessary to maintain their existence.”

Perhaps fearing Roland’s dissatisfaction, Zouken listed Sakura’s merits in terse phrases.

But Roland paid these words no mind. He glanced first at the girl’s hair, then his gaze lingered briefly on her small hands.

“This child is named Sakura Matou, adopted from the Tohsaka family. She hasn’t had my worms implanted in her yet, so you needn’t worry. Afterward, use her as you please. If she survives the Holy Grail War, you may return her to me for whatever use I can make of her.”

Catching Roland’s gaze, Zouken let out a malicious, satisfied laugh.

The punishment for Kariya Matou was now in place. After struggling so bitterly, that man would discover his dearest goal had been handed over to another. Watching his feigned righteousness shatter would be a delight.

“Oh, and here’s your Holy Relic. Of all the Casters in my collection, this is the finest.” He handed Roland a small box and continued, “When the war begins, I trust you’ll honor your promise—make killing Darnic your priority.”

“This time, the Matou family has chosen the Berserker class. If it’s convenient, perhaps you can lend a hand.”

“I understand. It’s nearly eleven; I need to rest,” Roland nodded and, without further reply, left through the Matou gates. Sakura, already instructed, followed obediently. Though being handed off once more, her expression changed little, displaying none of the emotions one would expect from a six- or seven-year-old girl.

She seemed almost like a soulless doll. Roland instinctively slowed his pace, and Sakura matched his steps, always keeping a fixed distance between them.

It was difficult to imagine that such a well-behaved, doll-like girl would feel no fear at following a stranger. Was it that she had seen horrors beyond her years? Roland glanced at Sakura’s eyes. Unlike the numbness born of simple trauma, her gaze was filled with a dead stillness. She had not yet entered the worm pit, nor suffered physical pain—was her spirit already so deeply damaged?

Still, Roland had no intention of offering her comfort. His tone was cool, almost indifferent, as he spoke first.

“You’re called Sakura Matou, yes? I am Roland.”

Sakura lifted her head slightly, regarding Roland’s back without any flicker of emotion.

He paid no heed to her silence and continued, “First, you must understand—your grandfather has given you to me. You need to be clear about your situation. For now, I require your presence. I won’t ask of you anything beyond your ability, but you must not cause trouble.”

“Lastly,” Roland turned to look at her, “Though I don’t think you harbor such fantasies, I’ll say this plainly: I won’t let you go. Whether returning to the Matou house or the Tohsaka family—it won’t happen.”

By rights, Roland ought to offer generous words of comfort, to ease Sakura’s mind. Yet he refused. This magical channel had been won through deadly risk in this Holy Grail War—it was his hard-earned gain. He was not the one responsible for Sakura’s misfortune; why should he feel guilty?

“Well, I do understand your circumstances. Sometimes I even feel a bit of sympathy. As an adult, perhaps I should say the right thing—promise you freedom after the Grail War, for instance.”

“But I won’t.”

Roland looked at Sakura with unwavering candor. “What belongs to me, unless I so choose, I will never hand over to another.”

Perhaps because of his upbringing, Roland had always been possessive of what was his. Even as a child, in games, he would hoard useless items rather than discard them.

“—Perhaps I still haven’t learned how to be a proper adult,” he said with a self-mocking smile. “Prepare yourself for that, Miss Sakura Matou.”

Perhaps caught off guard by his unexpected frankness, Sakura froze for a moment. Then, she turned to him and offered the sweetest of smiles.

“Yes, Lord Roland. As long as you need me, I will never leave your side.”

“Ah…” Perhaps her answer was too mature, for Roland tilted his head in uncertainty, observing the little girl.

Compared to before, when she followed several steps behind, Sakura now trailed him like a little shadow—was this a sign of growing closer?

What was going on? Whether it was Kirei or Ryuunosuke, they all suddenly acted much more familiar. He hadn’t said anything profound, just spoken his mind.

Roland shook his head in confusion, abandoning the thought as he pressed onward.

After some time, they returned to his lodgings. Once inside, he had Sakura sit quietly with him on the sofa.

“We’ll begin the summoning soon. Your grandfather explained what you need to do, yes?”

Receiving her affirmation, Roland nodded. “Wait here a moment.”

He had no intention of delaying further. Tonight, he would seize the shortcut to eternal peace of mind.

—Key of All Spirits, grant me the soul of the Lord of the Contract.

As he gave the command in his heart, Roland’s face turned deathly pale. The Key of All Spirits in his hand shone with silver light, which slowly seeped into his body.

Suddenly, his senses sharpened unbearably; his soul seemed to plunge into deep space. His vision blurred, his mind grew foggy, and every blink brought a wave of fatigue.

“A miscalculation… This isn’t like with Yoshikage Kira. As expected of a red contract spirit…”

At last, Roland lost consciousness. His body swayed, then collapsed onto Sakura beside him.

“Lord Roland?” Sakura gasped softly, reaching out to steady him, but paused.

For even in sleep, Roland’s eyelids fluttered open slightly. At this proximity, Sakura could see it clearly—his eyes, once deep and dark, were now suffused with a crimson glow.

There was no longer any boundary between whites and pupils—only a mass of scarlet, dim and chaotic, pulsing as if alive, flickering like a wavering flame.