In the darkness, the magic circle glowed red.
The crystalline forest of amethyst interlaced with crimson runes as the mana circuits activated, constantly converting ambient magic energy. Violet-red Honkai energy particles infused the etched array, powering it further.
Amid the radiant glow, the exposed Honkai crystal pillar had grown to about human height. Though the foreign deity's upper-body projection had faded, the spatial rift it tore open remained.
Thump. Thump.
A deep, beast-like heartbeat echoed intermittently. With each beat, resembling the pulse of a Behemoth, a wave-like tremor spread from the rift, subtly but steadily distorting the surrounding environment.
"Environmental alteration..."
Watching this, Caster Medea's blue eyes dimmed. Her clenched fists slowly relaxed as she exhaled a murmur.
"The level of mana accumulating here goes far beyond what can be explained by territory construction. It's beyond the limits of a regular Servant's territory or even a proper 'Temple' or 'Workshop.'"
As a mage from the Age of Gods, daughter of Aeëtes of Colchis and disciple of the goddess of magic Hecate, Medea's magical talent and insight were far from ordinary.
Naturally, she could perceive the deeper intentions behind Durandal and her companions' actions.
The ritual circle had already been activated, and the spatial transformation had begun. It was similar to a Reality Marble. In some sense, the violet-red crystals functioned as a projection of their internal mental landscapes.
The only difference was that a Reality Marble is temporary, vanishing once the user's mana is exhausted.
But this—this distorted space infused with an unknown, mana-like energy seeping from the rift—was changing the world permanently.
Medea couldn't identify what the particles were, but she could feel it: the mystery of this place was increasing.
And in this environment, she felt herself growing stronger.
Many restrictions imposed on her by the Holy Grail War system—her Spirit Origin, her class, her mana—were loosening.
Though only slightly. At the same time, she could sense that this new mystical field was also suppressing her.
Durandal and the others, however, were not only unaffected—their magical output had clearly increased.
Which made sense. This "Reality Marble" had a built-in friend-or-foe distinction.
As for that magus's goal—if Medea had guessed right, he planned to use the Holy Grail to connect to the Root and summon some being, thereby restoring mystery and reviving the Age of Gods.
"Servants... do you truly seek to revive the Age of Gods?" Medea asked.
"And your classes don't seem to fall within the standard seven of the Holy Grail War."
Replacing that self-proclaimed "immortal" brat with the bad attitude, the one now watching over her was a refined woman clad in a white and blue frost-like armor.
She was tall, graceful, and strikingly beautiful, with soft golden-gray hair and peach blossom eyes that glistened like water, brimming with spirit and allure.
Though she had respectfully stood behind Durandal earlier, she was in no way overshadowed by the knight's imposing presence. Instead, the two appeared perfectly complementary.
Even in the Age of Gods, where goddesses were everywhere, Caster Medea couldn't help but be awed by the sheer beauty of the woman before her. Anyone who saw her would be struck speechless—a beauty capable of toppling kingdoms.
Had she lived in Medea's era in Greece, it might have sparked a war of desire no less fierce than the Trojan War.
"Hmm~" Rita studied Medea for a while. Seeing the way she held her arms across her chest, her charming peach-blossom eyes curved slightly into a soft smile. "The Age of Gods? You could say that."
"Miss Medea, there's no need to be so guarded. 'Servant' sounds so distant..."
Unlike the bewitching allure she carried with her hood on, with it removed, Caster Medea now gave off a serene and modest beauty. The weariness and sorrow on her face made her all the more pitiable.
After further observation, Rita had to admit that she found nothing suspicious about Medea. So, in the spirit of responsibility, she came to "confront" her directly.
"Oh my, how rude of me—I haven't introduced myself."
"Rita. Rita Rossweisse."
"As for my class—as allies, it's only right I tell you."
Her lovely face shone with a soft glow as her wine-red eyes sparkled.
Under Medea's dull but alert gaze, Rita rested her cheek against her hand and continued casually, "We don't belong to any of the standard Servant classes in the Holy Grail War. We are Foreigners."
"Foreigner...?"
In the Fate system, the Foreigner class typically designates those affected by external entities—connected to, or possessed by, Outer Gods. In the early stages of Fate/Grand Order, Foreigners were exclusively tied to H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu Mythos. Later works like Fate/Requiem expanded the definition to include Heroic Spirits originating outside of Earth.
And clearly, Durandal, Rita, Kiana, Raiden Mei, Fu Hua, Senti, and Li Sushang all hailed from beyond Earth (at least by Type-Moon's world standards).
They were also empowered by a certain Divine Empress and had ties to "foreign gods."
From the perspective of the Root, the Counter Force, and the Throne of Heroes, these women perfectly matched the Foreigner class.
"Miss Foreigner Rita, as you can see, I will uphold our bargain. I will finish connecting the array to the underground leyline... I will also turn over all the information I gathered about the other Masters participating in the Holy Grail War, including the Golden Fleece."
"I only hope you don't break your end of the deal..."
Taking a deep breath, Caster Medea bowed her head deeply.
Rita smiled, returning the gesture with the most formal of maid courtesies. "Rest assured, Miss Medea. Valkyries keep their word."
...
"Noble Phantasm..."
Standing at the center of the ritual circle, Durandal murmured softly.
Looking back now, there were indeed many powers within her spiritual body as a Servant that didn't originally belong to her.
A gift from Her Majesty Selene, perhaps...
Passing over the Noble Phantasms related to weapons, armor, and mounts, Durandal's consciousness reached out to a strange artifact within her—one that resembled both an imperial axe and a tiger tally.
At her mental prompting, the artifact began to stir, resonating from silence to life.
"This body was born for battle. Our names may fade, our bones turn to ash, but our sacrifice shall be immortalized in the annals of the Empire!"
"When the trumpet sounds, I shall behold Her radiance. Now is the time to etch our names upon the stars!"
A surge of unknown heat erupted. Centered on Durandal, it swirled violently, twisting the air like a spiraling vortex.
"In Selene's name—Imperial Army, assemble!"
Her long, golden wavy hair fluttered slightly, the minimalist hairpiece accentuating her solemn yet stunning face.
All around, violet-red particles converged in an instant.
Buzz—!
The commotion drew Kiana and the others to look over. "Durandal, what is this?"
Everyone widened their eyes, watching in astonishment as mirage-like phantoms began appearing around them—one, two, then four. The silhouettes multiplied, resembling a vast military force.
The colors gradually sharpened and became clearer.
"Lady Durandal?"
"They're all Servants... is this a group-summoning-type Noble Phantasm?" Caster Medea recognized it at once. But before she could marvel further, Durandal extended her hand.
Crack!
In a chorus of stunned reactions, the hazy projections around Durandal took physical form, materializing fully into soldiers who filled the courtyard of Ryuudou Temple.
Their uniforms and gear varied, but their scarred faces, razor-sharp gazes, and hardened physiques told the story of warriors forged in battle. The scent of blood and fire clung to their presence.
The ferocity and discipline of the Imperial Army was unmistakable.
"I ask you, are you my Mas—huh?!"
The leading officer, towering over Durandal, was mid-question when he froze.
The entire summoned army fell silent. Those already formed, those materializing, all stopped in place, staring blankly at Durandal.
Their smiles vanished. Pupils contracted. Their voices faltered.
"Y-Your... Your Majesty?!"
Thud! Thud thud thud!
"All eyes upon the Imperial Crown! Hail the Empress!"
Seeing Durandal in her radiant silver [Radiant Moonlight] armor, they dropped to their knees in unison, weapons touching the ground.
Just moments ago, these fierce warriors had been radiating brutality—now they cowered like timid kittens, claws sheathed, throats tight with reverence.
What the hell?! How could the summoner be Her Majesty?! That shouldn't be possible! The unique summoning signal from Her Majesty was unmistakable—how did we miss it?!
Yet before them stood the figure they'd seen in countless oil paintings, stained glass windows, and imperial engravings—the silver-armored Selene.
Without her permission, none of them dared lift their heads.
This was fear engraved into their very souls. This was the unique majesty of Selene.
"What is... this..."
With a scrutinizing gaze, Durandal finally took a close look at the radiant Valkyrie armor she wore. She had assumed it was merely a stylized result of Selene's mythic embellishment or modification.
This "Bright Knight" armor only seemed like a more ornate, full-coverage version of her original suit—more elegant in form and intricate in design. But now, she suspected it might carry deeper significance.
Noble Phantasm: Radiant Moonlight | A
Not [Bright Knight: Excelsis] but [Radiant Moonlight]? Durandal noticed the distinction.
Type: Anti-Unit (Self) Noble Phantasm
Range: 0
Target: 1
This armor reduces all hostile interference (physical attacks, magecraft, curses, etc.) to one-tenth of its original damage. (Note: Only attacks with Divinity are judged at full power.)
It is the personal armor of a foreign Divine Empress, the most famous and widely discussed "Teigu" of the Sacred Selene Empire—even the Ultimate Teigu could not match it. Though its origin and full capabilities remain a mystery, none of that diminished public fascination, even giving rise to false rumors.
It is also one of the divinely ranked artifacts specially recorded in the Throne of Heroes.
A few seconds later, Durandal hurriedly helped the lead officer to his feet and transmitted her voice telepathically. "Everyone, I regret to inform you—I am not Her Majesty Selene. I am Bianka Durandal Ataegina of the Empire's auxiliary Valkyrie forces."
Not the Empress.
At those words, the kneeling Imperial soldiers finally dared to lift their heads. Yep—wrong height, wrong eye color, wrong hair color. Definitely not the Empress.
Phew. You could've said that sooner. Not the Empress. Scared us half to death.
As for accusing Durandal of blasphemy for wearing the emperor's armor? Please.
They weren't fools. If she had the authority to summon them, that said it all. Clearly, she was authorized to wear gear of this level.
"Lady Durandal, what are your orders?"
True to their efficient reputation, the Imperial soldiers quickly collected themselves. The lead officer, now back to business mode, asked respectfully.
Rita approached Durandal and whispered, "Lady Durandal, Caster Medea has disclosed information on the other Masters currently active. According to her, the key location is the private Homurahara Academy. It appears three Servants' Masters are connected to students there."
"Three Servants, all linked to one tiny school? And the place hasn't been blown up yet? Are they allied or what?"
"Unclear."
Rita cast a sidelong glance at the slightly flustered and delicate-looking Medea, now surrounded by disciplined Imperial soldiers. With a soft chuckle, she added, "Including Caster's group, that makes four Servants tied to one small school."
"Homurahara Academy, huh..."
Durandal turned to the officer standing tall and straight before her. "Begin city-wide surveillance. Prioritize investigating Homurahara Academy. Locate the three Servants and their Masters. If an opportunity presents itself, act immediately. No need to report first."
"Understood."
"Wait. If possible, minimize harm to innocent students," Durandal added.
"Yes, ma'am!"
...
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