"Plan?" Kanjuro seemed to have just returned from his "admiration." He tilted his head slightly, revealing a playful smile. Instead of answering directly, he threw out a seemingly unrelated question:
"Jeanne, have you noticed an interesting phenomenon? Waver Velvet is already dead, and his soul should have returned to the Throne of Heroes, right? But the Servant linked to him by contract, Iskandar... is still 'alive' and so 'active.' Guess why that is?"
Without waiting for Jeanne's answer, he raised his hand. A wisp of dark magical energy, deeper than the night, swirled around his fingertips. This magic wasn't simply for destruction or erosion; it carried a strange paradox of granting "existence." With a flick of his finger, that black light, like a living venomous snake, crossed space and silently sank into the depths of the saint graph of Iskandar, who was rampaging through the city.
"The more he kills," Kanjuro's voice carried a demonic, whispering magnetism, echoing clearly in Jeanne's ears and also seeming to resound directly in Iskandar's chaotic mind, "the longer he can 'live'."
Below, Iskandar, who was driving the gordius wheel over a busy commercial street, suddenly stiffened. He clearly felt a cold and powerful force, like a shackle and a source, imprinted onto his core. A simple and cruel rule was implanted into his consciousness like an instinct:
For every life taken, his existence could be extended... by one minute.
"He can only go on killing endlessly," Kanjuro said, toying with the codex of rlyeh in his hand, which emitted ominous fluctuations, as if he were tuning an interesting toy. "Using endless blood and souls to pay for his fragile 'existence.' This isn't my command; it's his own 'choice'."
Looking down, he spoke in an instigating and seductive tone. His voice wasn't loud, yet it reached Iskandar's ears with precision:
"Kill, king of conquerors! Kill to your heart's content! Don't you want to live? Look around you, look at these 'resources'! The more you kill, the longer you can live!"
Iskandar snapped his head back, his eyes bloodshot from madness and the will to survive. He peered through the chaotic battlefield, looking toward Kanjuro on the high ground from afar. He growled hoarsely, repeating his sole obsession:
"I want to live!!!"
The smile on Kanjuro's face grew even more brilliant. He was like a patient mentor, guiding a lost student:
"That's right! Live! Haven't you noticed? Every person you kill stabilizes your collapsing saint graph for another minute! What a simple math problem! So, continue, don't stop! Kill everyone in this city! Kill everyone in this island nation, kill them all, kill them clean! Use their lives to pave your path to 'eternal life'!!"
These words exploded in Iskandar's mind like a thunderclap!
His first reaction wasn't fear or resistance, but a twisted, extreme excitement! Like a traveler dying of thirst in the desert seeing a mirage of an oasis!
Killing everyone in the entire island nation... how much time would that buy? Years? Decades? Or even... longer?!
Once this thought sprouted, it spread like wildfire, instantly consuming what little remained of his weak sanity. Slaughter was no longer just a madness driven by survival instinct; it was given a clear, cruel, and extremely seductive "goal"!
"Hahahaha!!!" Iskandar let out a laugh even more manic and unbridled than before, filled with the ecstasy of discovering a "way to live" and an ultimate contempt for life!
"So that's it! So that's it!! This King sees it! I see the path to the future!!"
He no longer had any hesitation, nor any resistance to the slaughter itself. The gordius wheel erupted with even more dazzling lightning, and the Sword of Cypriotes swung even more fiercely! He was no longer satisfied with aimless destruction; he began to consciously charge toward densely populated areas, pushing his "slaughter efficiency" to the limit! Every roar of thunder, every flash of sword light, meant the passing of more lives and another "solid" step toward that ethereal "eternal life."
Standing on the high ground, Kanjuro admired Iskandar's form as he transformed completely into a killing machine, nodding in satisfaction.
"Look, Jeanne," he said softly, "the so-called way of the hegemon, the so-called desire for conquest—in the face of the most primitive desire for survival, how ugly and... efficient they are."
He gently closed the codex of rlyeh in his hand, as if completing a trivial matter.
"This is... true 'conquest'." Listening to Kanjuro's explanation, a flash of understanding crossed Jeanne's ice-blue eyes, but it was immediately replaced by a deeper indifference. She was indeed used to it; following Kanjuro, she had witnessed too much destruction based on desire and deception. Iskandar's madness was just another act in the play.
"If he does this, who can stop him?" she asked plainly, not out of concern, but more like curiosity about the script's direction.
Kanjuro chuckled, as if he had heard an interesting question.
"Stop him? Why stop him?" he asked back, then as if thinking of something, added, "However, there are always some who pride themselves on being maintainers of order who won't be able to sit still. For example... those old fogeys from the Clock Tower (Mages' Association)."
His tone was relaxed, carrying undisguised contempt.
"Iskandar is making too much noise now. Massacring civilians and using Noble Phantasms indiscriminately has seriously violated the bottom line of 'Concealing the Mystery' in the mage world. The Clock Tower cannot play deaf and dumb forever. He is just a pawn used for amusement and to cause some trouble for those guys."
Kanjuro turned around, no longer looking down at the purgatory below, but turning his gaze toward the more distant, seemingly eternal starry sky. He seemed to be merely stating a foregone conclusion rather than plotting some conspiracy.
"As for us?" He shrugged, his tone languid. "Let's just quietly enjoy this performance woven from madness, desire, and so-called 'justice.' Let's see how this play eventually ends."
...Meanwhile, at Fuyuki Church.
Gilgamesh's figure materialized within the dim church, his golden armor still seemingly stained with the smoke of the distant battlefield and a hint of unvented anger. Kirei Kotomine stood in the shadows; the Assassin clone he had sent had been heavily damaged while trying to touch the codex of rlyeh, and was now lurking in the deeper darkness with a withered presence.
Kirei Kotomine looked at the returning king of heroes. On his usually expressionless face, a rare trace of a "priest's" seemingly worried expression appeared.
"Archer, the king of conquerors, Iskandar, is currently on a killing spree in the city, and the commotion is getting bigger. We cannot sit idly by; we must find a way."
Gilgamesh's crimson, serpentine pupils flickered toward him, and he let out an unceremonious sneer.
"Hmph, Kirei, drop that hypocritical tone of yours. Aren't you looking forward to seeing this scene of chaos and suffering? Rivers of blood and wails of despair everywhere—isn't this the perfect stage to bring 'pleasure' to your hollow heart?"
Faced with this blunt exposure, Kirei Kotomine did not deny it. He merely sighed softly, a sigh that seemed to carry a genuine sense of 'responsibility'.
"Personal feelings aside for the moment. The Mages' Association (Clock Tower) will never stand by and watch a riot of this scale. If I can step forward now and have you, the king of heroes Gilgamesh, defeat or even kill the maddened Conqueror King, it would be an act of great merit for both the Church and for ending this disaster. It would also give us more initiative in our subsequent actions."
At that moment, Risei Kotomine—Kirei's father and the supervisor of this Holy Grail War—walked slowly from the back hall. His expression was solemn as he followed up on his son's words.
"Kirei is right. Regarding the Clock Tower, Lord El-Melloi (Kayneth) has been confirmed dead, and their influence is damaged. If we can resolve the Rider who created this massive crisis now, we will gain immense prestige and a voice, both in the secular world and within the mage community. This is... beneficial for our ultimate goal."
Gilgamesh crossed his arms, appearing completely uninterested in so-called 'merit' or 'prestige.' He was more concerned about another existence.
"Credit? A voice? Hmph, boring. Then, what about Kanjuro?" He asked the key question directly. "That mongrel who toyed with this King and manufactured the root of this chaos—how do you plan to deal with him? Do you intend to just let him watch from the sidelines?"
At the mention of Kanjuro, Kirei Kotomine fell silent for a long while, seemingly weighing the pros and cons. The 'worry' on his face was replaced by a deeper expression, a mixture of wariness and scrutiny.
"Kanjuro... this man is unfathomable," he spoke slowly. "The power system he displays is vastly different from the magecraft we know, and his goals are difficult to fathom. More importantly, he seems to have intervened as the 'Eighth Master,' yet he appears to transcend the rules of the Holy Grail War..."
He looked up at Gilgamesh, his tone becoming pragmatic, even somewhat conservative.
"Before we have completely figured out his background and goals, the risk of a full-scale conflict with him is too high. Our primary goal is to win the Holy Grail War and fulfill our long-cherished wish. As long as we can ultimately obtain the Holy Grail, temporarily avoiding a direct confrontation with Kanjuro during the process is the wiser choice."
Risei Kotomine also nodded slightly from the side, acquiescing to his son's judgment. Faced with an enemy whose power was eerie and could not be measured by common sense, temporary forbearance was necessary.
Gilgamesh looked at the father and son, an extremely ironic smile appearing on his face. He understood that in the eyes of these 'pragmatic' people, defeating a mad, obvious target like the Conqueror King was a cost-effective achievement, while dealing with Kanjuro, that truly dangerous 'monster,' was a risk to be avoided.
"Heh... a bunch of cowards," he commented mercilessly, though he did not explicitly oppose the proposal. For him, if he had the chance to personally crush that Conqueror King who had caused him so much humiliation, it would be a form of venting. As for Kanjuro... he had his own plans.
Inside the church, a consensus seemed to have been reached on the plan to crusade against the Conqueror King, while they chose to temporarily turn a blind eye to the true threat—Kanjuro.
And at the highest point of the city, Kanjuro seemed to have insight into everything. Still wearing that inscrutable smile, he admired the city beneath his feet, which was gradually sliding into a deeper abyss under his manipulation.
Atop the ruins of Fuyuki City, Iskandar drove his Lightning Chariot, immersed in that twisted'survival race.' Every scream of a civilian, every collapse of a building, made him feel the morbid pleasure of his saint graph being forcibly sustained. He laughed wildly, spreading destruction to even wider neighborhoods.
However, a golden radiance far more dazzling than his lightning suddenly descended before him, like the rising sun tearing through the night curtain. Golden spirit particles converged, and the figure of the king of heroes, Gilgamesh, appeared proudly. He crossed his arms, his crimson serpentine eyes filled with undisguised killing intent and contempt.
In the distance, Saber, who was temporarily resting on a hillside and relying on Irisviel's meager magical energy to barely recover a trace of strength, also saw this golden light. Her tense heartstrings relaxed slightly; although her body was still entwined with black mist and extremely weak, at least someone had gone to stop that massacre.
"Mongrel, your unsightly display ends here." Gilgamesh's cold voice rang out. He didn't look in Saber's direction, but his words carried over clearly. "king of knights, watch closely. This time, this King will make an exception, for you... and for my own pleasure, to personally clean up this pile of irredeemable trash."
Saber was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, then nodded with difficulty, her voice raspy but sincere: "Thank you, Archer."
Gilgamesh's reasons for wanting to kill Iskandar were complex. There was the need to vent the rage of being toyed with by Kanjuro and forcibly constrained by command spells, as well as an extreme disgust for Iskandar's betrayal of his master and descent into a butcher. But undeniably, it was also mixed with a trace of... admiration for Saber's persistence that never quite extinguished even in desperate straits, and perhaps even a trace of an unusual emotion that he himself had not yet clearly perceived.
Looking at the king of heroes blocking his path, Iskandar felt no fear; instead, he let out an even more frenzied laugh, his laughter carrying a sort of insightful irony.
"Hahahaha! king of heroes! And the king of knights in the distance! How ironic! In the end, for us so-called 'Kings,' our greatest enemy isn't that Kanjuro who toys with everything, but instead, we are here killing each other! Ridiculous! Too ridiculous!!"
"Shut up, scum!" Gilgamesh barked. The golden ripples behind him surged violently like a sea of rage, and the tips of countless Noble Phantasms poked out, locking onto the Conqueror King. "A wretch like you still has the face to mention 'Kings'? To survive, you could personally strangle the master who made a contract with you and followed you sincerely! You are willing to be used as a puppet for slaughtering civilians by that mongrel Kanjuro! You have long since been unworthy of the title of 'King'; you are nothing but a walking corpse driven by the desire to survive!"
Faced with Gilgamesh's rebuke, a very brief moment of daze flashed through Iskandar's crazed eyes, but it was immediately covered by a deeper paranoia. He didn't argue about the parts concerning Waver and Kanjuro; instead, he snapped his head up and threw out a question that struck at the heart, his gaze scanning back and forth between Gilgamesh and Saber in the distance.
"Heh... spoken so grandly! Gilgamesh! Artoria! If... if you were also in this King's position! If there were a chance that, as long as you kept killing, you could obtain near-eternal life! To allow you to exist forever, to forever chase your 'treasures' or practice your 'ideals'! Would you... really not make the same choice as this King?!"
His voice was hoarse, yet it carried a desperate frenzy, an attempt to drag others into the same moral abyss.
"Eternal life! Endless time! Facing such temptation, could your proud kingly ways and chivalry really remain unshaken?! Answer me!!"
This question was like a heavy hammer, striking the hearts of the two kings.
A look of extreme disgust appeared on Gilgamesh's face, as if he had heard the most sacrilegious statement in the world.
"Eternity? An eternity exchanged for by slaughtering ants?" He sneered, his tone filled with supreme arrogance. "That is the greatest insult to the word 'eternity'! This King's life is precious because it is finite; this King's treasures are brilliant because they are unique! What is the difference between a pathetic continuation bought through slaughter and carrion by the roadside? It would only tarnish this King's style!"
And the distant Saber, upon hearing this question, seemed to have the black mist surrounding her body pause for a moment. She thought of the sunset of Camelot, of the utopia she had pursued all her life but ultimately lost. Eternal life... to protect forever? This thought was like a venomous snake, taking a light bite in the most vulnerable corner of her heart. But she quickly and forcibly dispelled this dangerous thought, her emerald (yet still blood-streaked) eyes refocusing with determination.
"Eternity... if it comes at the cost of the blood of the innocent, then this eternity will carry only sin and suffering. Such an eternity is meaningless. My ideals do not allow for such defilement!"
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