Gilgamesh's laughter echoed through the lavish living room—pure, from the heart.
He'd rarely seen a dignified magus lose control and expose his deepest desire so chaotically.
Meanwhile, Tokiomi's cheeks were as red as if bleeding.
He struggled to compose himself, forcing his will to prevent further disgrace.
With trembling hands, he drew a pristine white handkerchief to slowly wipe the wine from his lips—every movement ritualistic, as if trying to reassemble his shattered "elegance."
Steve did not rush him, simply watched quietly, giving him time to process the shock.
"…Cough…"
At last, Tokiomi composed himself, spine straightening though his face remained pale.
Yet his eyes now blazed—what had been panic was now an almost fanatical fervor.
No more suspicion or vigilance, only the pure gaze of a seeker in awe of the ultimate truth.
Steve seized the moment, launching directly into meticulous detail—leaving no room for his opponent to retreat or hesitate.
"Master Tokiomi, by now I trust you know my offer is no empty boast."
He began to explain the full operations of the "Jewel Sword Project"—a calm yet logically forceful voice:
"The essence of the Holy Grail War is a zero-sum game.
But its rules are not absolute.
The vast magical energy necessary to activate the Great Grail cannot be supplied by Servants' souls alone.
As long as a suitable alternative exists, this meaningless slaughter can be avoided."
Steve combined ancient Einzbern memories of the Grail ritual (within Irisviel's soul) and the Tohsaka family's hereditary blueprints for the Jewel Sword, plus the vital power of his partner's "projection" magecraft.
"…The Einzbern offer the 'image', the Tohsaka the 'blueprints', and my partner at my side can perfectly analyze and reproduce the structure through 'projection.'
Thus, with the right time, place, and people—we have everything we need.
A miracle that recreates the Second Magic is not out of reach."
As he explained the technical details, Steve keenly noticed impatience start to flicker in the regal king's eyes.
He knew that, for this sovereign, the magi's endless interrogation amounted to nothing more than tedium.
So he shifted his focus—looking straight from Tokiomi to the golden-haired king.
"Of course…for the king who witnessed the end of the Age of Gods, this may well be just another magic show."
But honestly, don't you think, Your Majesty, that this entire 'Holy Grail War' orchestrated by so-called 'magus' is a crude, vulgar farce?"
Masters and Servants, upon a tiny stage (Fuyuki), fighting with tragic, faulty wishes—
Such laughable struggles for a common "wish."
"Wouldn't such an experience deserve your personal amusement?"
Gilgamesh raised his brow, his smile widening.
"And I—"
Steve straightened his back, voice brimming with confidence.
"What I desire is to overturn this tedious drama and start anew.
With the theme 'Recreating the Second Magic,'
I'll stage an unprecedented spectacle—all of Fuyuki as the stage, overturning the conventions of the era with my own special script.
What you'll witness then will be humanity challenging the realm of gods—a single sword channeling the power of limitless worlds.
Surely this is far more interesting than watching a few bugs bite each other, is it not?"
"Hah!
You certainly have a clever tongue, mongrel,"
Gilgamesh laughed anew.
"Not bad… compared to those crawling at my feet in fear, you know well how to please me."
He carelessly waved his hand.
"Tokiomi, as king I approve this mongrel's proposal.
Play along with his so-called 'special script'—let's see how wondrous it truly is."
That seemingly casual pronouncement settled Tokiomi's fate like a god's decree.
Relieved, Tokiomi bowed deeply to Gilgamesh, then turned to Steve, eyes burning with feverish light.
"Understood, Caster.
I—Tohsaka Tokiomi—will cooperate with your plan for my family's dearest wish."
Squaring his shoulders, the decisiveness and efficiency of a magus family head returned to him at last.
"Please wait a moment while I fetch the blueprints for the ancestral treasure sword from the warehouse.
Would you accompany me? I'd like confirmation on the projection magecraft, directly from you."
The young Red Archer glanced at him, then followed at Steve's nod.
Quickly, the two left the living room, footsteps disappearing down the empty corridor.
The heavy wooden door closed, and at once the living room fell utterly silent.
The earlier mood of multinational negotiation vanished in a heartbeat.
Instead, the air itself carried an invisible, freezing pressure.
Now, this was the king's court.
Steve knew—this was when true negotiation began.
Instead of sitting, he walked straight to the king, and calmly extended his right hand.
No magic weapon, no dangerous curse—
Just a multitude of minuscule motes of starlight, slow to gather.
They swirled and danced, finally forming a tiny, ever-changing starfield in his palm, as though bearing the passage of time and civilization.
Steve had cast on himself the same "memory illusion magic" that won over the Saber camp.
"Hero King,"
His voice was steady, neither flattery nor fear.
"You are the ruler and collector of all treasures in the world.
But in the end, words are shallow.
Rather than me trying to persuade you with words—
would you not prefer to experience my 'performance,'
to judge for yourself whether my existence brings you true pleasure?"
Hand outstretched, starlight swirling, he offered a handshake.
"Contained in this are my life's memories…
By no means dull—
they'll surely afford you joy as a collector.
If you find them boring, my 'treasure' isn't worth your interest, and should naturally be destroyed."
Steve smiled, unwavering.
"But I am confident—these memories, you won't find in your 'Gate of Babylon.'"
That remarkable conviction—offering up his own life and memories as "treasure" to be judged—finally satisfied this oldest king.
"Hahahahahahaha!"
Gilgamesh roared, laughter full of rare delight.
"Marvelous! An utterly 'unprecedented collection'! You, mongrel, I acknowledge your arrogance!"
Gold-clad and resplendent, the king completed his full regalia and rose—extending his golden-braced hand slowly to meet Steve's palm.
"Let me see with my own eyes—
if your life is truly grand and tumultuous enough to delight me!"
Two hands, reaching out, moments away from contact in mid-air.
A face-to-face encounter of souls, transcending time and civilization, was about to begin.
...
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