"Hah! You're asking who I am, are you? Fine—since you've asked so sincerely, I'll graciously—"
"You think I'm going to tell you? Idiot. Asking someone's True Name the moment you open your mouth—did your brain get kicked loose by those two oxen of yours?!"
The forest, already loud with tension, rang with an even stranger kind of noise.
Because the one skulking around and getting caught red-handed—Cu Chulainn—didn't panic in the slightest.
Instead, he leapt out of the bushes like he owned the place and fired back at Iskandar with shameless arrogance.
"Before you ask someone else for their True Name, shouldn't you at least give your own first?"
Then he threw his voice at both of them without restraint.
"You're acting all 'heroic honor' while hiding your faces, but isn't what you're trying to do even uglier?"
"Oh? Then perhaps this was indeed my discourtesy," Iskandar said, rubbing his chin without a trace of shame. "Though the moment I summoned my chariot, I had no intention of hiding my identity. Still—if you insist, then I shall introduce myself once more."
He spread his arms with theatrical grandeur.
"As you have seen—my Class this time is Rider. My True Name is Iskandar. Alexander the Third. The King of Conquerors."
"Y-you absolute moron…!" Waver clawed at his hair in despair. "You just said it out loud! What is wrong with you?!"
"Don't interrupt."
Iskandar flicked Waver's forehead with a meaty finger.
"Now then," he continued smoothly, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, "does that satisfy you, warrior? And would you kindly tell me—"
"Your True Name and Class?"
The last words came lower, heavier.
The night wind passed through. The air itself tightened.
Cu Chulainn's mouth curled into a feral grin, eyes still wild and defiant—as if the idea that these two might already be allied meant nothing to him.
"You think I'm stupid?" he scoffed. "Even if you didn't say your name, your divine bulls and chariot make you obvious. I'm asking about the guy next to you."
He jabbed a thumb toward Diarmuid.
"One hand on a sword, one on a spear. What Class is he, huh? Don't try to feed me that 'I'm the Conqueror King' line and call it good faith. If you're that insincere, we're done talking."
Then his grin sharpened.
"Or what—are you two going to fight me right here?"
He paused, then added as if tossing scraps to dogs:
"Oh, and for convenience, just call me Lancer."
Iskandar stared at him for a second… and instead of being offended, his eyes gleamed with admiration.
Unbowed. Quick-witted. Confident. Strong enough to back it up.
A fine man. A true hero. I want him in my ranks.
Meanwhile, Waver's eyes bulged.
"Hold on! You're holding a staff! That's Caster at first glance! Who the hell holds a staff and calls themselves Lancer—ow!"
He barely finished before Iskandar flicked his forehead again, signaling him to shut up and watch.
And then—
What happened next completely shattered what little remained of Waver's sanity.
Cu Chulainn casually tossed his staff aside.
Then, as if pulling it from nowhere, he produced a brand-new spear—green, polished, clearly wooden in texture—and spun it in his hand, snapping out a clean spear flourish.
"Spear?" he said brightly. "Now I have one. So I'm Lancer."
Waver: "..."
Diarmuid: "..."
Diarmuid stared at that spear—so new it looked freshly carved—and felt an almost spiritual level of exhaustion.
Iskandar, however, turned to Diarmuid with the curiosity of a child seeing a new toy.
"Then you're Saber?"
Diarmuid's mouth twitched.
Somehow, in the span of a minute, he'd been kicked out of his own Class.
He wanted—deeply—to bury a spear in Cu Chulainn's head and restore order to the universe.
But for the sake of concealment, he swallowed it.
He raised his left-hand sword and said flatly:
"Yes. I'm Saber."
"Oh! So you're Saber!" Iskandar clapped, looking genuinely enlightened.
And then—
A gust roared through the trees.
Footsteps followed.
From the other side of the forest, a third figure stepped out.
"So you're Saber…? Interesting. But I can't pretend I didn't hear that."
A knight entered with calm, measured steps.
Golden hair. Emerald eyes. A handsome face carved like something from a fairy tale. Silver armor that shone softly under the moon.
In his hand, an invisible sword, wrapped in pale green wind.
Even among men, it was impossible not to acknowledge his beauty—paired with an air of stable nobility that made him look like a prince who had simply walked out of legend.
"I sensed magical energy fluctuations here," the knight said, voice steady. "So, as a participant, I came to investigate. I did not intend to eavesdrop."
He offered a knightly salute.
"Greetings, King of Conquerors. And greetings to the two unknown heroes who call themselves Saber and Lancer. I too was summoned by the Grail—though I cannot disclose my True Name—I was summoned as Saber."
He lifted the wind-shrouded invisible blade as proof.
Diarmuid's expression went subtly stiff.
When Cu Chulainn faked being Lancer, Diarmuid had endured it to preserve concealment.
Now that Diarmuid was pretending to be Saber—
the real Saber had arrived.
Which meant the one "hiding" now was him.
Across the scene, Waver looked like his brain had crashed.
"Why are there two Sabers?!" he blurted.
"Idiot," Cu Chulainn said, grinning. "Obviously one's lying."
Then he whistled, eyes narrowing as he looked at Diarmuid with open delight.
"Wow. Two Sabers. Really hard to guess which one's full of it."
Diarmuid: "..."
God, this guy is annoying.
Iskandar, meanwhile, didn't get angry at being toyed with.
If anything, he laughed louder.
"Hahahaha! Now this is interesting! Even I didn't foresee this. The Grail War truly is a treasure trove of absurdity!"
He raised his voice toward the darkness behind them.
"Since we've gathered, will those still watching from the shadows continue to hide? Come out! Let us meet!"
No Servant present looked surprised.
They'd been here too long. The earlier extermination of Assassin had spilled magical energy into the night.
By now, most of Fuyuki's participants would have sensed something.
"…There really are more?" Waver asked, craning his neck.
An answer came almost immediately.
"What an entertaining spectacle. I have learned much simply by observing. A Rider, two Sabers, and a Lancer… I intended only to watch from afar, but since the King of Conquerors calls us out, I suppose I must show myself."
A black-haired middle-aged man in silver armor manifested from spirit form and walked forward with casual composure.
On his shoulder was a long weapon wrapped tight—like a banner-lance concealed beneath layers.
"Good evening," he said. "Since there are two Sabers, I will balance the scales by joining the 'blue Lancer' over there."
He raised the flag-wrapped lance.
"My Class is also… Lancer."
A heavy pressure rolled out from him.
The group stared at the silver lance, then at the man's older, stern face—
and the battlefield's "balance" shifted again.
Two Sabers. Two Lancers. One Rider.
Waver looked ready to faint.
"Another Lancer…? What is wrong with this war?!"
Even Iskandar rubbed his forehead.
"I'm getting dizzy too, but… that silver knight looks more like a Lancer to me. He's holding an actual banner spear."
Diarmuid didn't even bother to respond anymore.
At this point, the universe had clearly decided to bully him.
Only Cu Chulainn was laughing so hard he nearly folded in half.
"Hahahahaha! Fine, fine—if you're Lancer and I'm Lancer, then we'll do this: you're Silver Lancer, I'm Blue Lancer."
He pointed around as if arranging pieces on a board.
"And those two Sabers—one's Black Saber, the other's Gold Saber. Works for everyone, right?"
"Acceptable," Silver Lancer said, nodding.
"No objection," Gold Saber agreed calmly.
"…Fine," Diarmuid said through gritted teeth, accepting his fate as "Black Saber."
And just like that, the already ridiculous scene became even more ridiculous:
Rider vs two Lancers vs two Sabers—a lineup so rare it almost felt like parody.
Iskandar opened his mouth, seemingly ready to finally bring up the topic he'd wanted from the start—
"The thing is, we—"
"Dodge!"
The warning hit like a blade.
Everyone's gaze snapped sharp.
SHK—SHK—SHK!
Several cutting, air-tearing impacts ripped through the night, interrupting Iskandar mid-sentence.
"Hmm?" Gold Saber's ears twitched.
He knew that sound.
But there was no time to think.
He swung the invisible holy sword in one fluid motion—blocking every strike with perfect precision.
And then—
"Fuhahahahahahaha—!"
A laugh, arrogant and ringing, fell from above.
A shining figure stood atop a streetlamp like a monarch surveying vermin.
The light beneath him was so blinding that his features were hard to make out.
But Gold Saber's mouth twitched.
He knew that voice too well.
He would never forget it.
Another golden portal opened in the air.
Then another.
And then—
A storm of weapons shot downward.
Gold Saber stepped forward, the wind around his invisible sword roaring as he swept aside spearheads and blades in a dazzling flow of parries.
The other Servants stared—because the weapons that struck the ground weren't mundane.
They were saturated with magic and unique properties.
Noble Phantasms.
"Those are… all Noble Phantasms," Silver Lancer muttered, shocked.
Who fought by hurling treasures like ammunition?
But the barrage didn't stop.
More portals bloomed. Twice the number of weapons fired—entirely aimed at Gold Saber.
Gold Saber's expression grew grim.
He tightened his grip, continuing to block—so clean, so refined that even the other Servants couldn't help but acknowledge it.
This is a top-tier hero.
From above, the golden figure snorted.
"Hmph. Holy sword bearer—your skill hasn't dulled."
He leaned forward slightly, voice sharpened with old hostility.
"I answered the call of another version of myself to come here. Seems it wasn't a waste. Our past grudges end tonight."
He dropped from the streetlamp like a falling star.
In his hands were two oddly-shaped golden curved blades, slashing toward Gold Saber with ferocious speed.
And then—perhaps out of sheer malice, perhaps out of twisted humor—he spoke a self-introduction mid-attack.
"Looks like you were having fun playing tactics. Fine—let me join. My Class is…"
"…Caster."
As if to "prove" it, even more golden portals erupted behind him, vomiting out countless treasures in a dazzling flood.
The other Servants' faces tightened into a shared, silent disbelief.
Because—
What kind of Caster charges a Saber with twin blades like a mad dog?
In a war where almost nobody was honest, the first night's "meeting" collapsed into a bizarre melee.
Two Sabers. Two Lancers. One Rider. One "Caster."
And somewhere in the darkness, the remnants of Assassin who had been hunted like prey.
The first night had barely begun—
yet all seven Servants had already appeared.
The Servants, in their own chaotic way, seemed to be enjoying themselves.
But for the Masters watching from the shadows, gathering information with clenched teeth—
this scene was not "fun."
It was a warning.
Especially for Tokiomi Tohsaka.
As he monitored the situation, the unease in his heart only deepened.
This Grail War—
was slipping out of his hands.
And every Master observing drew the same conclusion:
"These ancient heroes…"
"…are all dirty-minded tacticians."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 90)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 95)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 80)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter70)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter70)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter50)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter60)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 20
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 20
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