Chapter Seventy-Three: The Invasion of Einzbern

“A winter forest, when there’s no snow, always feels a little eerie, doesn’t it?” Caster rolled her eyes as she followed behind Roland, who strode ahead. “Trust me, Master, compared to this forest, you’re far more frightening.”

“Is that so?” Roland sounded surprised. “Compared to those magi, what I’ve done is really nothing, isn’t it?”

In contrast to the original tale, because Roland had a habit of keeping everything firmly under his control, Fuyuki City was now quite peaceful. There had been a few accidents caused by gas explosions, but no casualties.

“Magi may be terrifying to ordinary people, but they operate with rules and recognizable patterns. They can be understood. You, on the other hand, are something else entirely.”

Caster said no more. Despite her close relationship with Roland, she still couldn’t comprehend him fully.

“Perhaps it’s just a matter of perspective and altitude,” Roland replied with a smile, his eyes growing deeper. “There are some things that, if you remain ignorant, you’re better off. But once you know, you can’t help but act. Even if the process is full of twists and turns, compared to this world’s original fate, humanity ought to thank me.”

He did not linger on this topic but turned to another matter.

“By the way, the Einzberns seem to possess a mystic code akin to the Rheingold.”

“That accursed treasure? Inexhaustible, never-ending gold—such a thing would be classified as a legendary Noble Phantasm.”

“Yes, it’s rather tempting just to hear about it. Once this Holy Grail War is dealt with, I’ll simply take it for myself.”

“The curse on something of that level has no effect on you, indeed. But are you really that greedy for wealth?” Medea looked at Roland with some confusion. For someone who had lived in the Age of the Gods, a princess, trained by a goddess, the modern value system was difficult to grasp.

“Or is it that your shadow ninjas aren’t efficient enough at gathering riches to fulfill your promise to that little girl?”

“It’s not that they’re insufficient,” Roland replied, nodding, a faint smile playing at his lips.

His shadow legion collected all the unclaimed wealth of this world in vast quantities. Eventually, money was little more than a number to him.

But truth be told, he had no intention of breaking his promise to Rin Tohsaka. For an existence like Ishtar, Roland didn’t mind paying a bit of wealth in exchange.

What was a jar of gemstones in return for the goddess of Venus working under him? Though the promise of tens of thousands of times more was perhaps a bit of a fantasy—especially with Angra Mainyu lurking in the Grail—if Ishtar truly delivered the charm, Roland wouldn’t go back on his word.

Of course, if he obtained the other charms himself, that would be another matter. At the very least, the jar of gemstones was a tangible gain. But now, it was hard to say how much would remain by the time Rin Tohsaka finally received it.

Given Ishtar’s unreliable nature, she’d likely only end up with that one jar. In theory, that wasn’t a loss, but ever since that call from Kirei Kotomine, everything had changed.

Now, as the Tohsaka family’s greatest creditor, even if Rin Tohsaka were to work for him wholeheartedly, that jar of gemstones would barely make a dent in her debt.

“They’re here.”

At that moment, Caster suddenly stopped in her tracks.

The forest in which the Einzbern castle stood was veiled in enchantments. Roland could have infiltrated using more subtle means, but to him, the Einzberns’ place was as good as his own home now, so he entered openly.

Sure enough, ahead in the hazy moonlight appeared a woman as pure as a pearl, as immaculate as winter snow.

“Irisviel, my dear wife, it’s been a while. Where’s Illya?”

Roland raised his lips in a familiar, easy-going greeting.

“Master of Caster, trespassing on the Einzbern’s forbidden grounds, what is it you intend?” Irisviel deliberately ignored his words, her face solemn.

“I’ve simply come to see my daughter. She’s in the castle behind you, isn’t she? I can feel it.”

Roland, still smiling, stepped closer to Irisviel.

“I won’t let you see her!”

Irisviel clenched her fists, trying to suppress the fierce pounding of her heart and the burning longing and sense of closeness that Roland’s approach ignited within her. She turned her face away, not wanting him to see her mingled shame and anger. Thankfully, as she retreated, the Silver Knight stepped forward, placing himself between them.

“If you withdraw now, I won’t act. Otherwise, unlike last time, Caster alone won’t be enough to stop me.”

“Tch, how arrogant,” Medea muttered behind Roland, irritation written across her face. With a single incantation, and thanks to her High-Speed Divine Words, she conjured great spells that would have required more than a dozen magi working together.

Several spell circles rumbled to life, their purple glow illuminating the silent woods.

Though she spoke with disdain, Medea knew full well that Saber’s magic resistance was formidable. Without the advantage of her territory, dealing with him would be difficult.

“Let’s not be so tense, Saber. I went to considerable trouble to prepare a special gift for you today.”

Roland grinned mischievously, clapping his hands.

“I’ve been looking forward to this very scene for a long time.”

As if completely oblivious to the tension between Caster and Saber, Roland continued to approach Irisviel.

Faced with such blatant provocation, even the good-natured King of Knights could endure no more.

His feet dug into the earth, and Saber’s body transformed into a silver-white meteor, streaking toward Roland.

The moment he moved, Caster’s magic cannons roared from her circles, aimed straight at Saber. But he didn’t even consider evading.

With a glance, Saber assessed their number, and under the power of the Red Dragon’s Heart, the dragon factor within him pumped vast amounts of mana throughout his body. The surge of magical energy shook the very air as it erupted around him, forming a storm that clashed violently with the incoming blasts.

For him, Caster’s ordinary attacks were nothing more than a hindrance.

Yet Saber felt neither pride nor relief. Even as a Servant, he saw Roland facing the onslaught with a casual indifference, as if he didn’t consider Saber a threat at all.

Having suffered at Roland’s hands before, Saber dug his heels into the ground and halted, his instincts flashing warnings of imminent danger.

Seeing that Saber had sensed something amiss, Roland chose not to keep him guessing.

“Berserker.”

In an instant, black mist coalesced into form—a raging beast needing no command, thundering toward Saber in a flash of lightning, unleashing a roar echoing yesterday’s battle.

“Arthur!”