Chapter Forty-Three: The Contamination of the Lesser Holy Grail

“Caster, it’s over. Let’s leave.”
Without sparing another glance at the motionless Irisviel behind them, Roland walked toward the alley on his own.

“Aren’t you going to take her Command Spells?”
Medea, who was still locked in a standoff with Saber, turned her head in puzzlement. When her gaze fell upon Irisviel, her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a mocking smile.
“So that’s how it is. I suppose there’s no need for me to bother, after all.”

“Irisviel!”
Ignoring Roland as he walked away, Saber rushed to Irisviel’s side at once.

“Oh, by the way,” halfway down the street, Roland seemed to recall something and turned back toward Irisviel.
“I didn’t see the homunculus maid or your luggage. I suppose they’ve already gone ahead to the castle in the countryside with Illya, haven’t they? Do me a favor—pass along my regards to her. Tell her I’ll need a little more time before I can come to take her away.”

At the mention of Illya, Irisviel’s eyes grew complicated; the daze vanished from her face, replaced by a determined look as she clenched her fists and stared at Roland.
“That child belongs to no one. She is free!”

“That’s not for you to decide. After all, the Einzberns still owe me a debt—one that’s yet to be repaid. Did you think offering yourself would be enough to appease my dissatisfaction?”
He shrugged, each word dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that right, dear Madame?”

The term made Saber glare at Roland in anger. But the previously strong-willed Irisviel fell into a strange silence at his words.
She pressed a hand to her chest, lowered her head, and said nothing.

“Let’s go, Caster.”
Medea’s gaze flickered curiously between Roland and Irisviel, but at his call, she simply replied and followed obediently behind him.

Saber made to pursue, but Irisviel stopped her.
“Let them go, Saber.”
Biting her lip, Irisviel watched Roland’s figure recede into the darkness. “After all, he is… Illya’s father.”

“Master? That child—Illya—what is she to you?”

“Well, how should I put it?” Roland’s tone grew helpless at the question. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, who would have imagined the Einzberns would pull such a stunt?
“She’s… my daughter, I suppose, though we’ve never met.”

Medea blinked but did not press further.

—

“Now, the Lesser Grail is within your grasp as well, though your methods were a little crude.”
Trailing behind Roland, Medea chatted idly. “I’m no expert on homunculi, but that Lesser Grail was a specialized vessel created based on your power, wasn’t it, Master?”
“Yes, today has been full of surprises. In fact, we ought to thank Illya’s birth for that.”
Recalling the day’s events, Roland couldn’t help but smile.
The entire Einzbern family existed for the sole purpose of reviving the Third Magic. The Third Magus was etched into their very genes as their Master.
In the previous Holy Grail War, when the Saint’s familiar possessed Ahad, the homunculus survived without his mind shattering, but in the process, the Master in his mind was replaced by something unseen.
It wasn’t that his obsession had changed, but that he now believed that the only one who could bring salvation and become the Third Magus was the one who possessed the soul of the Saint.
He clung to this belief with such stubbornness that, ignoring all else, he used Einzbern technology—taking advantage of his possession—to obtain the lingering demonic essence of fire.
Yet the power of that essence was not something an ordinary person could wield. But as the inheritor of the family legacy left by the disciples of the Third Magus, he came up with a clever workaround.
Using the former Winter Saintess as a template, he created a clone to assist in the return of his Master.
Irisviel herself probably never realized that, deep in her design, obedience to the Lord of Fire was written into her very being.
Thus, once Roland discovered this, he easily contaminated Irisviel with the demonic essence, seizing ultimate authority over her.

“And what’s mine will always remain mine.”
Roland spoke with indifference. The demonic fire he bestowed upon Irisviel was both a mark of ownership and a safeguard to control her.
With this, the right to make a wish was firmly in his hands. Next, all that remained was to send the Servants on their way as soon as possible.

“Still, by the looks of it, even if I did nothing, they’d still fight each other tooth and nail, wouldn’t they? This Holy Grail War—compared to previous conflicts among Servants, the Masters seem to harbor an absolute murderous intent toward one another.”
Roland stretched lazily, his tone casual.
“But it makes no difference. Even if Archer is that King of Heroes again, I now have a trump card to deal with him.”

“You mean King Arthur? He seemed so upright—I doubt he’d submit to you so easily, Master.”
“It hardly matters. Who would want the obedience of a male King Arthur, anyway? So long as I can wield the Sword of Promised Victory, that’s all I require. I don’t even need to remind her—she’ll realize it herself.”

After Roland’s figure completely disappeared, the temporary bounded field that Medea had been supplying with magical energy held for a time before finally shattering.
Throughout, Irisviel stood in silence, staring ahead. If not for the faint sound of her breathing, she would have seemed nothing more than a beautifully crafted doll.

“Irisviel?”

Upon hearing Saber’s call, Irisviel forced a smile.
“Sorry, I was a little distracted.”
“Shall we return to the Einzbern castle now?”
Saber glossed over what had just occurred. Though a knight’s honor demanded the protection of a lady’s virtue, now that Roland had gone, Saber could sense there was more to the situation than met the eye.

“No need. Tonight marks the first battle. No matter what, in this Holy Grail War, I must ensure that child’s freedom.”
Irisviel rubbed her brow, unconsciously caressing her abdomen. Despite all self-diagnostic scans showing nothing amiss—as a homunculus should—she could still feel the searing traces etched into her skin, burning as ever.

—

At the top floor of the Hyatt Hotel in Fuyuki City—the thirty-second floor—Waver stood by the window, peering down. He’d heard there would soon be a taller central tower, but for someone with no such experience, this was already an astonishing novelty.

He sighed unconsciously, glancing at Kenneth seated on the leather sofa. If not for Kenneth, he’d never have known such luxury in his life.

“Don’t just stand there daydreaming. How is the bounded field functioning?”
Kenneth shot him a glance. “It’s nothing but a rural town with a veneer of luxury—a cheap imitation of a proper hotel. You’re my student; don’t disgrace me.”

“Yes, Professor Kenneth. The bounded field is stable, and the mana generators are operating normally.”
After some time together, Waver had realized that Kenneth’s sharp tongue wasn’t personal, but simply his nature. He’d grown used to the occasional barb and could now respond calmly.

Of course, it was still irritating that Kenneth dumped all the chores on him, but just assisting in the construction of such a magnificent mage’s workshop had taught Waver more than he could have hoped. He had no right to complain.

After all, the more advanced a private workshop, the less likely someone of Waver’s rank would ever have access to it. For that, he was genuinely grateful to Kenneth.

“Hey, this magical workshop of yours—is it really so impressive? You’ve been busy with it all day.”
On the other side of the room, a burly man with a chiseled face and massive build sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the television. Hearing the conversation, he turned to ask.

“Hmph, so much for the famed King of Conquerors’ worldliness.”
Kenneth snorted with pride. “This thirty-two-story building has twenty-four floors under the bounded field. There are three mana generators, and I’ve even converted the sewers into another realm. Even a Servant would be hard-pressed to break in.”

Listening to Kenneth boast, Waver looked at the dizzying height outside the window and hesitated, then voiced a practical concern.
“But, Professor Kenneth, what if the other Masters don’t bother attacking the workshop directly and instead just blow up the whole building? What would we do then?”