"As your professor, I'll give you an assignment—go and make contact. In the name of El-Melloi."
A little earlier, inside a cheap motel in Snowfield City.
Lord El-Melloi II spoke these words over the phone to his disciple, Flat, who had secretly run off to participate in the Holy Grail War.
Flat Escardos—born into a family of magi established in the Mediterranean, the eldest son of the Escardos house.
Originally, he had been welcomed as a prodigy by other professors. But the headaches he caused soon became unbearable, and in the end, they all said: "Only you can handle him." And so they handed him off to Lord El-Melloi II.
Over the years that followed, he not only caught up with the other students but even surpassed them in magical talent, continuing to grow. Yet, because of the mountain of other problems he caused, he had still not graduated from the Clock Tower.
And so, a few months ago, with nothing but a game-themed dagger he had received from El-Melloi II, Flat came on his own to Snowfield. Simply polishing that catalyst had been enough to trigger the summoning ritual—and he had summoned the False Berserker: Jack the Ripper.
"Eh? Is that really okay?" Flat asked curiously. "Can our classroom's name really carry so much weight in a Holy Grail War?"
"…Honestly, you're hopeless. To put it in one word: idiot. No—let me be clearer. El-Melloi. Do you understand? El-Melloi."
On the other end of the line, a man in his thirties with long hair let loose his irritation.
His red coat was adorned with yellow straps. Though his expression was clearly sour, it quickly shifted into genuine concern. This was none other than the Star of London of the Clock Tower—Lord El-Melloi II.
Flat, however, looked utterly devastated by his teacher's words: "That's not fair! At least use two words to describe me!"
"You're both a fool and an idiot. That's all there is to it! I told you not to come, and yet here you are. That's why you're an idiot! Unbelievable…"
"But I didn't think the catalyst to summon Mr. Jack wasn't something you prepared, teacher!"
"Master, perhaps you should first listen to what Lord El-Melloi II has to say."
The voice that chimed in was that of a refined gentleman, coming from the steampunk-style wristwatch fastened to Flat's left hand.
This was his Servant—Berserker, Jack the Ripper. Capable of taking any form, at present he had manifested as a watch.
"…You never cease to amaze me."
El-Melloi II let out a weary sigh.
When he had first learned that the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, was also participating in the American Grail War, his face had gone deathly pale. The grief that Flat so often caused his stomach even seemed to vanish—no, not just his stomach. For a moment, even his breath, his blinking, perhaps even his heartbeat itself had stopped.
But soon after regaining composure, he had become deeply worried for Flat's safety, and so had immediately called him.
After all, if something happened to his idiot disciple in Snowfield City, it would be deserved—but Flat had not yet graduated under his guidance. As long as that was true, he bore responsibility to see the fool safely through this war.
And so, after several minutes of scolding, he shifted into analyzing the situation for Flat. Above all else, he warned him not to recklessly approach the King of Heroes.
During the conversation, reports of the last-minute arrival of Novia also reached him, delivered by Clock Tower agents stationed in Snowfield.
By rights, as the founder of the Church, Novia ought to be aligned with Lawful Good. But this was still the Holy Grail War—Servants all came seeking the Grail. Thus, El-Melloi II hesitated to let Flat approach him too easily. Like most magi, he thought: If Novia truly held the qualifications of a "Saint," then why would he come to fight for the Grail?
Could it be, like his own teacher Kayneth years ago, he intended to bring the Holy Grail to the Holy Grail War?
But his doubts were dispelled not by Flat, but by another of his disciples—Gray.
"…That man… He looks very much like the one in the old portraits kept in the village."
Her murmured words caught El-Melloi II's ear.
He remembered—Gray hailed from the village of Blackmore in Wales. The villagers there had ties to King Arthur, but even earlier, they had inherited a power as the "Gravekeepers." Their ability to transform into crows had originated from the progenitor of Dead Apostles, the Black Winged Lord.
And according to their oral tradition, long ago, they had once been saved by one of the El-Melloi Lords… Attila the Hun, who had destroyed the Western Roman Church in the 5th century.
Most did not believe such claims. Attila had indeed gone to Britain, but no detailed records of his time there remained.
"Gray… are you certain?"
"He's very similar. It wouldn't be strange to say they're the same person…"
"…I see."
With Gray's confirmation, El-Melloi II made up his mind. That was why he instructed Flat to go directly and make contact with Novia.
"In short, that's the task, Flat. Do you understand? When you meet him, call me so that I may speak with him."
"Yes, understood, teacher."
With that, El-Melloi II ended the call.
Flat lowered his phone, pulled back the curtain, and stretched his arms high into the glow of the setting sun. "Finally! I can get out of here. Honestly…"
"Master, his advice was sound. Even through a phone call, I could tell—he is a capable 'professor of magecraft.' Given that he also survived a previous Holy Grail War, his skills as a magus must also be first-rate."
Flat only shook his head slightly at Berserker Jack's assessment.
"That's not it, Mr. Jack."
"…Call me Berserker. Then what do you mean?"
The watch tilted its hands inquisitively. Flat, with a crestfallen look, replied:
"When he's at the Clock Tower, Professor is always buried in work. He never wastes even a single minute… But because of me, he wasted hours today. I really messed up…"
"…You're more considerate of your teacher than I expected."
"Of course! A disciple who doesn't respect his professor is just… Oh, wait, another call."
Flat answered without hesitation, even though the number was unfamiliar.
"Yo, Flat-kun. I hear you're in Snowfield now. How's life treating you?"
"Eh… eh!? Lord Van-Fem?!"
"Hahaha, that's right, it's me. Been a while, hasn't it? Next time, you must come visit my ship."
"Um… yes, I remember you said that. But surely this isn't just a social call, Lord Van-Fem."
"True enough. The whole world of magecraft is stirred up right now. I only wanted to give you a word of advice."
The Dead Apostle, master of the Night Banquet, raised his wine glass in a quiet toast—to Flat, the experimental child of a long-lost friend.
"Flat-kun, to that one—in fact, to humanity itself—you are… unique. A being poised between the present and the future. Perhaps you might even die because of it."
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"Hahaha, nothing at all. Think of it as drunken rambling. But should you meet that gentleman… pass along my regards. Tell him Van-Fem sends his greetings to him and to the Princess. And should they ever wish to visit Monaco, my doors will always be open. Of course, if possible, have the White Knight refrain from coming."
With that, Van-Fem hung up without waiting for Flat's reply.
"Lord Van-Fem sounded strange today…"
"Master, who was that?"
Flat answered with nostalgic fondness:
"In my homeland, Monaco, there's a great casino ship. I used to play there often. Normally, there's an age restriction, but after everything I went through, the owner let me in anyway. In return, he asked me to show him the magecraft I could perform. So I demonstrated several spells for him."
"…Wanting to see magecraft? Could it be that ship's owner is also a magus?"
"Well, he used to be, or so I heard."
"…'Used to be'?"
"Yes. That man… turned from magus into a Dead Apostle. Lord Van-Fem himself. …Ah, damn, it's nearly nightfall! I have to find Novia quickly—Professor gave me that assignment, I can't delay any longer!"
"Do not worry, Master. I will guide you."
---
Later, at Novia's hotel, Flat relayed the entire story faithfully.
The meaning behind Van-Fem's cryptic words, Novia of course understood. The "Financial Demon King" had been referring to the "New Humanity," Tia, within Flat. So long as Flat remained alive, Tia would not awaken in wrath and annihilate everything.
As for the invitation, Novia decided to leave the choice to Altrouge. To him, it didn't matter much—at worst, it could serve as a bit of relaxation.
Perhaps they might even encounter Zagreus, present under the name Bai Ruolong—an obscure Greek god who wielded Ba Gua Palm and mental magecraft under a Chinese guise. But that would only occur if the "Adventurous Sea" incident unfolded. If it did not, then Kiz, the magus of Wandering Sea who held the "Gate of Preservation," would never permit such an appearance.
After all, the divine vessel of Osiris—meant for Alexander IV, and once stored in the sunken Library of Alexandria—had long since been destroyed. That left only the divine vessels of Sun Wukong and Set prepared for Alexander IV.
"By the way, Professor said that once I meet you, I should let you speak with him by phone. Is that alright?"
Although it was his teacher's request, Flat felt it polite to ask Novia's permission first.
"That's fine," Novia replied with a smile. "After all, I once bore the title of Lord El-Melloi myself."
…Though in truth, he had never set foot in the Clock Tower for even a single day.
"Ehh!? Really!?"
Flat was shocked, but before he could question further, the call connected again. Novia took the phone, gave a brief introduction, and then listened as El-Melloi II spoke.
"Greetings, Lord Novia. I am the current head of the El-Melloi family, known as El-Melloi II. This is an unreasonable request, but… I beg of you, please protect my hopeless disciple, Flat Escardos. I entrust him to you."
Every word carried the weight of sincerity.
This did not surprise Novia in the least. This was exactly the kind of man El-Melloi II was.
Moreover, as someone who had once been a teacher himself, Novia could sympathize with such worry.
And so, to that request—one with no repayment, no bargain—
"Rest assured. It's no problem at all."
Thus, the second day of the Holy Grail War came to a close. The True Berserker faction and the False Archer faction had fallen. Of the thirteen Servants, eleven remained.