"Is there anything else?"
Shirou asked Vlad III politely. If this meeting was simply to praise their accomplishments, then it should end here. After all, mutual assessments hardly required such exaggerated compliments.
At this point, Shirou Emiya took a moment to survey his surroundings.
A figure that should have been familiar was notably absent: Astolfo. Although Shirou wasn't particularly close to him, Astolfo was the only Servant among the Black Faction he could confidently recognize.
Moreover, another pair was missing from the hall—the Black Faction's Assassin team was nowhere to be seen.
"Nothing else at present," Vlad III replied with a shake of his head. Aside from the currently unreachable Assassin, all that remained was to wait patiently for Avicebron to complete his Noble Phantasm, then launch an assault on the Red Faction's territory to end this Holy Grail War once and for all.
Rather than dispatching someone to England in search of Assassin, it would be far better simply to wait here. The Grail War was being waged right in Romania, and Assassin, granted knowledge by the Grail itself, surely knew they must come here to participate.
Thus, it was merely a matter of patience. The barrier would notify them of Assassin's arrival when the time came, and they could meet directly in Trifas then.
"In that case, Saber and I will excuse ourselves," Shirou politely said to Vlad III before immediately turning around to leave the hall.
Arthur gave Vlad III a courteous nod before following Shirou out.
After an entire night of combat, it was only natural for them to require rest.
Of course, Shirou wasn't truly exhausted by the recent battle—in fact, he was feeling quite energized. Such assumptions were merely wishful thinking on the other Masters' parts.
No one could accept the idea that Shirou Emiya had overcome a Servant without sustaining any real exhaustion or cost.
They only knew Shirou had defeated the Red Faction's Archer, but the method of her defeat remained a complete mystery.
Only one familiar had followed Shirou and Arthur during their battle, and it had primarily focused on the Servants' fight. As for the duel between Master and Servant?
No one believed Shirou possessed the capability to defeat Archer on his own. Rather than watching a presumably futile fight, wasn't it better to study Rider closely for weaknesses and intelligence?
If they'd dared to move familiars too close to Archer, they'd certainly have been shot down immediately. One mustn't underestimate a Greek huntress, especially a Servant of the Archer class.
Thus, their familiars had kept a safe distance, unable to clearly observe Shirou's battle. Only after the explosion had occurred did a flying raven briefly capture Archer's figure, giving the Black faction's Archer some impression of her identity.
It wasn't because he'd personally encountered her before. Rather, her attire and presence felt familiar to someone so intimately acquainted with Greek mythology.
But the key factor in deducing her true identity was Archer's own disciple, Heracles. As a teacher, Archer had closely followed his most renowned pupil's stories and instantly felt a sense of recognition upon seeing her. Through careful deduction, he identified her as Atalanta.
It was precisely because Shirou had somehow defeated a famously swift huntress from Greek legend that the Masters now regarded him with deep apprehension.
A Master possessing Servant-level strength, partnered with a first-rate Servant, yet not explicitly loyal to the Black faction—such circumstances naturally sparked unease.
"At least he's not like a certain Master who nags incessantly at his Servant yet accomplishes absolutely nothing," a cold voice remarked sharply after Shirou and Arthur had departed, causing immediate tension to ripple through the hall.
"What did you say?!" An overweight, blond-haired man angrily pointed his finger at the provocatively dressed, bespectacled woman who had spoken.
"I said nothing wrong, did I? You not only failed to gain Ruler's favor but also exposed your Servant's true name. All your secrecy yesterday was utterly pointless," the tall woman sneered disdainfully, completely unbothered by the man's increasingly flushed face.
Hiding Saber's identity after openly battling Red's Lancer was obviously impossible now.
"Frankly, I'm concerned such a powerful Saber might be wasted by an incompetent Master."
"I-Incompetent Master…?" The man was momentarily stunned before rage overtook him again. He stormed towards the woman, indignantly pointing a finger. "You dare call me incompetent?"
"Where's your Rider, then? You can't even keep track of your own Servant. Exactly who here is the incompetent Master?!"
"Besides, didn't that third-rate Master's Servant also reveal his true name?" he retorted sharply, unwilling to yield an inch.
The woman grit her teeth, her expression gradually darkening. Indeed, even now she had no idea of Rider's whereabouts. She'd specifically told him to come to the hall this morning, yet he was nowhere to be seen.
"The King of Knight's identity was already widely recognizable," she shot back coldly. "Anyone seeing that sword would guess his true name immediately. Such exposure is meaningless. Moreover, the King of Knight has no easily exploitable weakness, does he?"
Indeed, King Arthur was the type of Servant with exceptional strength and no glaring vulnerabilities—at least according to legend. If one were to find a possible weakness, perhaps Mordred qualified. Based on legend, Mordred should possess special effectiveness against Arthur, potentially complicating matters.
However, Mordred and Arthur belonged to the same mythos, much like Black's Archer and Red's Rider. Once they met, they would inevitably recognize each other instantly, so blaming Arthur was pointless.
Yet that overweight man's Servant was a different case entirely.
"Now the Red Faction can easily deal with your Saber whenever they please," she continued, deliberately provoking his fragile ego.
"No, it isn't Master's fault. It was I who—"
But before Saber could finish, his Master shouted angrily—
"Silence, Saber! If you hadn't spoken out of turn, would I have suffered such humiliation?!"
He directed all his frustration towards his Servant, openly berating him.
None of the surrounding Masters spoke up on his behalf. Privately, they all agreed that treating one's own Servant in such a disrespectful manner—and forbidding communication altogether—was profoundly foolish.
---
T/N:
Hello again. For the final time.
My name is Enkidu. I was born without a soul, crafted only as a weapon. Yet through bonds—through friendships—I learned what it meant to feel alive. Even though my body records my memories rather than my spirit, the warmth of those moments remains.
Thank you, truly, for staying here with us. You've come at a good time—right now, a 25% discount code is available:
12DAYS
This code will last until December 26. I hope you enjoy it.
For those who wish to support the translator (the one who kindly gave me this voice)—you can find optional support at patreon.com/wisetl. Early access to upcoming chapters will be your small reward.
Also, as always:
Every 100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter
(100ps = 1 chapter, 200ps = 2 chapters, and so forth.)
Bonus chapters will arrive tomorrow, approximately 12+ hours from now.
And lastly, if you prefer company and conversations, the translator has prepared a Discord community: discord.gg/wisetl.
People gathering, talking, sharing—it's a good thing, isn't it?
This is where I say goodbye.
Even as a weapon shaped by the gods, I found meaning in the company of humans.
If these words reach you, then perhaps we've shared something too, if only briefly.
Be well, Master, and readers alike.
May the world remain gentle to you.
Goodbye.
BYE BYE ENKIDYU I LOVE YOU