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*****
"So the book was right after all—the Throne of Heroes really can summon Heroic Spirits from the future!"
At this point, George could see it clearly: the white-haired Archer was also Emiya Shirou—not the Shirou of the present, but the Shirou of the future.
In other words, someday Shirou would become a hero, then die and have his soul enter the Throne of Heroes, becoming one of the spirits the Holy Grail War could call forth.
As for why Shirou would become a hero, or why he would die looking to be around thirty, George couldn't care less.
What interested him was what this implied: the Throne of Heroes truly existed—and it could collect heroes of both past and future.
He hadn't fully believed the magic texts when he'd first read them.
Gathering the souls of heroes who had already died in the past—nothing special; even he could manage that now.
But gathering the souls of heroes who would die in the future—that was another matter entirely.
It meant the Throne of Heroes existed beyond the river of time itself. Past or future, countless branching possibilities—so long as the conditions were met, they could all be drawn into the Throne.
That clearly touched on the world's very essence.
In that light, using the Grail War to reach the Root—maybe it wasn't impossible after all.
The core principle of the ritual was to inject the souls of six fallen Servants into the Lesser Grail through combat,
then borrow the power of their return to the "Throne of Heroes," which sits outside the world, to pierce a hole in reality,
and use the immense mana stored within the Greater Grail to stabilize that opening—thus creating a door leading beyond the world.
If the Throne of Heroes spanned the river of time, then it might indeed be situated within the Swirl of the Root itself. If the "hole" were opened correctly, slipping inside by stowaway means might not be out of the question.
"Well, nothing else pressing—let's take a look at Lancer's memories first."
Without lifting the time spell, George waved his hand and released the unconscious Lancer, Cu Chulainn, then began to read the memories within his mind.
He might as well keep everyone frozen a while longer—once they saw the aftermath, they'd have no choice but to believe him.
His father was the sun god Lugh, his mother Dechtire of the Ulster royal line; born with divine strength, he later joined the famed Red Branch Knights.
At sixteen, to pursue his love, he ventured to the "Land of Shadows," where its mistress, the witch Scáthach, took a liking to him and trained him in martial arts.
There he obtained astonishing magecraft and an invincible spear.
To defend his homeland, he slaughtered madly in war—cutting down countless enemy warriors, and even unnumbered women and children.
In the end, he died by the very lance he wielded and became a Heroic Spirit of the Throne.
Later he was summoned by the Association's female magus Bazett, using an earring as the catalyst.
Unfortunately, he hadn't been with his most compatible Master for long before that Master was ambushed and killed by her friend, Kotomine Kirei.
That hypocritical priest of the Church then became his new Master.
"Didn't expect this guy to have so much magecraft stuffed in his head. I thought he was just a spear-swinging brawler."
Letting go of Lancer and tossing him back into his small pocket world, George showed a hint of surprise.
From Cu Chulainn's fighting style he looked every inch a warrior, but reading through his life revealed he had learned quite a bit of magic—especially skilled in ancient rune magecraft.
He simply preferred close combat and disliked using spells in battle.
In the modern system of magecraft, his runic art had long since been lost; it was well worth studying.
What disappointed George, however, was that Cu Chulainn himself didn't understand the mechanism behind that causality-triggering technique of his. He merely invoked the Noble Phantasm's inherent move by instinct.
So if George wanted to master this kind of causal attack and research the associated laws, he'd still need to study Lancer's spear itself.
"Looks like I shouldn't kill him just yet."
If the spearman died, his Noble Phantasm would vanish with him.
"That should do."
An hour later, George raised his hand and lifted the time spell over the hall, and everyone returned to normal.
"Wh-why are our clothes like this?!"
Both the two humans and the two Servants noticed their outfits had been swapped and blurted out nearly the same question.
From their perspective, one moment they were listening to George, the next their clothes had been changed.
"Just changing our clothes doesn't prove anything!"
Tohsaka Rin protested, unconvinced.
To swap their outfits without anyone noticing—impressive, yes—but it could still be some special kind of magic.
If that unique spell only swapped clothing, it wouldn't be enough to defeat a powerful Heroic Spirit.
"If you take a look at the clock outside, you might think differently."
George pointed toward the hall's exterior—at the period-style clock tower standing in the city center. Its hands were frozen precisely at twelve o'clock.
"How could it possibly be midnight?"
Shirou's face showed disbelief first.
When Lancer skewered him and he staggered home, it was a little past ten. When they sat down for tea, it was not yet eleven. Now it should be, at most, a little past eleven.
"Don't tell me… you just now…?"
Rin stared at George, stunned.
At that moment, she had already guessed it: George hadn't merely swapped their clothing—he had stopped their time.
Magic that could manipulate time—this wasn't merely "high-tier" magecraft. It belonged to legend, to the divine era when gods still walked the earth.
The swordswoman and Archer were equally shaken; their thoughts matched Rin's.
"Seems you've figured it out. Which is why I said taking your Command Seals by force would be easy."
George turned his head to Shirou.
"Transfer the Command Seals to me. In exchange, I'll grant you a wish—anything within my reasonable power.
For example, making you the richest man in the world, or making the person you like fall in love with you, or even making you the leader of this country—none of that would be a problem."
"No need. I trust Mr. Maple. You saved me, and you promised not to make an evil wish with the Grail—that's enough for me."
Shirou lifted his right hand to reveal the Command Seals on the back.
He wasn't a greedy person.
George regarded him steadily.
"Think carefully. I don't only want the Command Seals—I also want the catalyst inside you that allows a Servant to be summoned, for research."
"The… catalyst inside me?"
Shirou plainly had no idea.
George pressed a palm to Shirou's abdomen and drew sharply. A lavishly ornate scabbard was pulled straight out of Shirou's body.
"That's… Avalon—the Distant Utopia!"
The swordswoman, silent until now, shot to her feet the instant she saw the scabbard.
(End of this chapter)