As the figure formed by countless golden light particles—the first and oldest Hero King of humanity—appeared in the courtyard, everyone present instinctively halted their movements.
Although most had little interaction with the Hero King, and the Holy Grail War had only just begun two days ago, the few battles that had taken place were all instigated by Alaric.
This unexpected situation led to a temporary alliance among the Servants, including Artoria, in what was supposed to be a war of conflict.
Clink.
The Hero King, clad in golden armor, wore a cold expression as his crimson eyes swept across the courtyard.
In this Holy Grail War of seven Servants, three of them had gathered here.
Of course, if he counted himself, that would make four. However, Gilgamesh disdained associating with these people, so he did not include himself in the count.
Beyond that, Gilgamesh's gaze lingered momentarily on the Little Red Riding Hood-like figure wandering in the courtyard—a masterpiece of ancient magecraft. Though her origins were unclear, her existence was significant enough to leave a mark on history.
"Isn't this the Hero King?"
Emerging from nowhere, Alaric raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Gilgamesh, then gave a faint smile. "How about it? Want to join in?"
With that, he gestured toward the figures at the center of the courtyard.
Seated on the ground were Artoria, Iskandar the King of Conquerors, and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, who had already set his weapon aside.
"As if a banquet could be complete without inviting this king?"
Gilgamesh shot Alaric a glance, then strode decisively toward the courtyard's center. After sampling the wine from Iskandar's barrel, he scoffed disdainfully.
"What is this cheap swill? Do you truly believe this is worthy of serving heroes?"
Iskandar, holding the ladle, looked at the remaining wine and remarked, "Is that so? This is already considered fine wine in the local markets."
Hearing this, Gilgamesh promptly opened his Gate of Babylon, retrieving a golden goblet and a cask of exquisite wine from his treasury. Smirking, he declared, "Let me show you what real wine tastes like."
With that, he casually tossed goblets to Iskandar, Artoria, and the others.
With Gilgamesh's arrival, the banquet officially began.
...
Meanwhile—
Deep within the cavern under Ryuudou Temple, Merlin, using his Clairvoyance, watched the scene with great amusement. Turning to Irisviel beside him, he smiled and said, "Mmm, mmm, Miss Irisviel, you may leave now. For the time being, Alaric shouldn't pose a threat to you."
"Eh?"
A bit bewildered, Irisviel hesitantly stepped toward the cavern's entrance. Seeing that Merlin made no move to stop her, she quickened her pace and soon exited the underground chamber.
No longer paying attention to Irisviel, Merlin eagerly resumed watching Artoria's livestream.
For Merlin, his interest in the entirety of humanity was nothing compared to his fascination with Artoria—the only person who could stir genuine emotions within him.
Moreover, this banquet featured a particularly significant guest.
Three kings and two knights sat cross-legged on the ground, each holding a golden goblet filled with wine. Even Gilgamesh himself had praised this vintage, so naturally, it was met with admiration from Artoria and Iskandar.
Having already tasted similar wines in Uruk, Alaric casually sipped his drink, appearing relaxed as he attempted to coax Waver into joining them.
However, Waver, who had been utterly terrified since Gilgamesh's arrival, hid cautiously behind a nearby bush, warily observing the unfolding feast.
Aside from Alaric and Diarmuid, this was truly a banquet of kings.
"Whoa—this is good wine!"
Iskandar, ever bold and exuberant, raised his goblet high, excitement shining in his eyes.
Seeing this, Gilgamesh remarked matter-of-factly, "Whether it be wine or swords, my treasury holds only the finest treasures.
Only such things are fit for a true king."
Hearing this, Iskandar waved a hand dismissively and chuckled. "Archer, your top-tier wine certainly deserves to be paired with the finest goblets. But circumstances have changed—I'd still like to know, what is your wish upon the Holy Grail?"
Meanwhile, Alaric, holding his goblet, subtly closed the distance between himself and Artoria. Before Gilgamesh could begin his usual speech about how all treasures rightfully belonged to him, Alaric discreetly struck up a conversation with Artoria.
As the King of Knights, Artoria possessed great composure and would not hold a grudge against Alaric over past battles. Considering that Merlin himself had acknowledged Alaric as the final member of the Round Table, she was willing to converse with him openly.
However, what made Artoria feel slightly uneasy was their close proximity—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath.
More importantly, Alaric's appearance bore a striking resemblance to her own.
It wasn't unheard of for someone to share her likeness—after all, the rebellious knight Mordred was an exact replica of her, possessing identical features. However, since Mordred typically wore the Secret of Pedigree helmet, Artoria had never experienced such close contact with someone who looked so much like herself.
Although she did not particularly care about gender distinctions, something about this situation just felt… odd.
Just then, as Gilgamesh proclaimed his belief that all treasures belonged to him by right, Iskandar, recalling the title Alaric had used earlier, deduced Gilgamesh's true name.
Not that it particularly mattered—what intrigued Iskandar more was Gilgamesh's reasoning.
"So, Archer, you're saying that to obtain the Holy Grail, one merely needs your approval?"
"Precisely."
Gilgamesh gazed into his goblet, the aged wine reflecting his regal visage. Then, he declared, "But this king has no reason to bestow it upon you mongrels."
"Hah! So you're just a stingy miser, then?"
Iskandar pouted, narrowing his eyes at Gilgamesh.
"What nonsense. My benevolence extends only to my subjects," Gilgamesh scoffed. Glancing at Iskandar and the chatty Alaric, he continued, "If you would swear fealty to me, I could grant you a goblet or two at any time."
"Archer, I can tell you're not particularly interested in the Holy Grail itself, but for now, its ownership remains uncertain," Iskandar observed. "Let's set that aside for a moment—what greater cause or principle drives your actions?"
"It is law. The law decreed by me, the king. Those who steal my treasures shall be punished accordingly."
Gilgamesh added, "As for the Grail's ownership—Alaric, do you take issue with it?"
"Me?"
Alaric smirked at Gilgamesh's pointed question. "If we're talking about sovereignty, it hardly matters. In the end, I'll be the one to claim it.
None of you can defeat me as I am now. But let's set that aside—what do you all wish for from the Grail?"
With Alaric steering the conversation, the dynamic subtly shifted. As the most formidable warrior present—aside from Gilgamesh—his declaration carried undeniable weight. Even Artoria had to acknowledge this fact.
Though he had lost all his magical energy and could no longer fight, the Conqueror King remained unfazed. Smiling slightly, he responded, "Are you so certain you'll claim the Grail? Because I desire it greatly as well.
And if I want something, I will seize it—that is my way. As for my wish… I desire a physical body."
"Eh?!"
His words elicited surprised glances from all present. Even Waver immediately ran over, exclaiming, "I thought your wish was to conquer the world!?"
"To conquer the world using a mere cup—what meaning would that have?"
The King of Conquerors, Iskandar, raised his wine cup high, his eyes shining with longing:
"Using the Holy Grail to fulfill a wish is merely my first step toward conquering the world.
Even though we Servants have been granted what could be called a miraculous second life, we are still merely constructs of magical energy. I want to become a true, living being in this reborn world and take root here.
To challenge the heavens and the earth with my own body—that is the true essence of conquest! To begin, to advance, and to ultimately achieve—that is my path to supremacy."
Facing the gathered individuals, the King of Conquerors declared his wish upon being summoned into this world. It was an untainted, pure desire—burning like fire, without a single flaw.
Iskandar was born in the ancient capital of Pella in the Kingdom of Macedon and became one of the most renowned military leaders and statesmen in ancient history.
At the age of 20, he ascended the throne, unified all of Greece, and launched his great eastern campaign. After defeating each nation, he returned their lands to the local nobility.
Without shedding a single drop of blood, he occupied all of Egypt and was acknowledged as Pharaoh. He crushed the Persian Empire in the battles of Issus and Gaugamela, absorbing its territories. His conquests extended as far as the Indus River, establishing one of the greatest empires in human history. With Babylon as its capital, his empire stretched from the Aegean Sea in the west to the Ganges in the east, from the Nile in the south to the Jaxartes in the north. His rule greatly facilitated the cultural exchange between the Greek and Persian worlds and laid the foundations for the Hellenistic era, which would last until the rise of Rome, profoundly influencing human history.
His lifelong dream was to see the ocean at the world's end. Even after death, his warriors remained steadfast in their loyalty, continuing to guard the will of Iskandar.
This dream represented the ultimate pursuit of Iskandar.
With his declaration, even the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, could not help but take notice of the King of Conquerors.
"Now it's your turn, Saber."
Iskandar smiled and raised his wine cup toward Artoria, waiting for the King of Knights to respond.
Hearing this, Artoria paused her conversation with Alaric and, in a tone of absolute certainty, declared:
"I will change the fate of Britain's destruction."
As if he had heard something unbelievable, Iskandar hesitated before speaking:
"Wait a moment, Saber. That country called Britain… it was destroyed in your era, wasn't it? It fell under your rule, didn't it?"
"That's right. And precisely because of that, I want to correct my mistakes."
Artoria's gaze was unwavering—this solemn wish was the very reason she had become a Heroic Spirit.
The King of Knights did not waver in her declaration. The sheer willpower contained within her words was enough to make the nearby knight, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, take notice.
Yet unlike Diarmuid, the golden king, Gilgamesh, upon hearing her words, could not help but burst into laughter:
"Hahaha! A person who calls themselves a king, one who is acknowledged as a king, actually speaks of regret?"
While the King of Heroes laughed uncontrollably, Iskandar regarded Artoria with a serious expression and said:
"Saber, are you saying you wish to deny the very history that you inscribed?"
"That is correct, King of Conquerors."
Artoria placed her cup down. Even as Gilgamesh continued to mock her, she remained resolute, looking directly at Iskandar.
"This is my responsibility as a king."
Beside her, Alaric silently observed the exchange.
"No, you are mistaken."
Iskandar stated firmly:
"What you are doing is sacrifice, but a king should not sacrifice themselves—it is the country and its people who should sacrifice for the king.
A true king should be the one with the greatest greed, the loudest laughter, and the fiercest wrath. A king must embody both virtue and vice to their fullest extent. Only then will their subjects admire them, be drawn to them, and ignite within their hearts the fire of 'I too wish to be king!'
You, the embodiment of chivalric ideals, may have saved your country and people through your justice and ideals. But tell me—what ultimately became of those who were merely saved?
You were always saving your people, but never guiding them. You ignored the confusion of your subjects, choosing instead to remain alone, upholding your lofty ideals while immersing yourself in an illusion of nobility.
Thus, you are not a true king. You are merely a girl who exists only for others, bound by the title of king—a mere idol of royalty."
Silence.
Faced with Iskandar's rebuke, Artoria appeared to fall into contemplation. However, this silence was not due to doubt or hesitation about her path.
It was simply a reflection.
After a moment—
"It seems that our understanding of kingship will never align."
Gazing at Iskandar, Artoria slowly spoke:
"As a king, I must forge a path forward for my people, no matter how arduous that path may be."
Artoria still remembered the day she drew the Sword of Selection—
Artoria Pendragon was born in 5th-century Britain.
At that time, the once-mighty Roman Empire had fallen into chaos and war, its days numbered.
Though once believed to be invincible, the empire was now merely awaiting its inevitable conquest by invading barbarians. The Romans, preparing for a desperate final stand, abandoned Britannia, withdrawing all their military forces from the island.
Without the empire's protection, Britannia had no choice but to face fragmentation and internal strife. The land quickly splintered into several small kingdoms.
During this period, barbarian invasions and feudal conflicts ushered in what later generations would call the Dark Ages.
Among the war-torn British lords, the tyrant Vortigern sought to unify the land by allying with foreign invaders.
The previous king, Uther Pendragon, had been the last ruler blessed by Britannia's mystical forces.
Fifteen years earlier, Uther was defeated by Vortigern, leading to a desperate hope for the next ruler. However, as Britannia's magical power waned, it became uncertain whether the next king would receive its blessing.
Thus, Uther and the magus Merlin devised a bold plan—the next king would not merely be a ruler blessed by Britannia, but a being who transcended humanity from the very beginning.
Through a mystical conception, the bloodline of the King of Britain and the essence of the Red Dragon, Britannia's guardian spirit, were fused within a noblewoman—Igraine, Duchess of Cornwall.
There was no romance in this act. And thus, Arthur was born.
Ten years later, Merlin proclaimed a prophecy:
"Uther's successor has already been chosen. This person shall be the next king. The incarnation of the Red Dragon, the new king, shall gather the Knights of the Round Table, and the White Dragon shall be vanquished.
The king still lives, but the proof of his successor shall soon appear."
From that moment, every knight in Britain anticipated the new king, each secretly hoping they were the chosen one.
Meanwhile, Vortigern, fearing the prophecy, ruthlessly hunted for this supposed heir.
At the age of five, Artoria was taken in by the old knight, Sir Ector.
There, she lived a humble life, trained in swordsmanship and knightly conduct, and worked alongside her foster father and brother in agriculture.
She was raised as a boy and called Artorius by the neighbors.
Most of Artoria's days were spent in rigorous training as a future king.
And ten years after the prophecy, the moment of destiny arrived—the day she was meant to draw the Sword of Selection.
She grasped the sword.
It fit perfectly in her hand.
A hidden power surged within her, and her body felt lighter.
Now, all that remained was to draw it forth.
["Before you pick up that thing, you'd better think carefully. I won't hurt you, so don't do it. Once you pick up that sword, you will cease to be human until the very end. And that's not all. Once you pick it up, you will be hated by all of humanity. A tragic death awaits you."]
From behind came the voice of the magus who had appeared in her dreams.
["—No, many people are smiling. I believe this must be the right choice."]
…At that moment, she was still afraid.
It wasn't fear of her demise, but fear of whether this decision was truly the right one.
The one who drew the sword from the stone—was there someone more suitable to become the promised king? If it were that person, wouldn't they be able to build a more peaceful nation? That fear lingered in her heart.
Yet, there was no such person.
At least, not for another ten years. During that time, someone had to shoulder this duty.
She drew the sword and became someone else.
Everything she had feared until now became part of the past.
This was a ritual to kill her self.
For one with a human heart cannot protect the people as a king.
A king, by definition, is someone who protects the people by being the one to kill the most people.
The young girl thought about this every night, trembling until dawn. There was not a single day when she wasn't afraid. Yet, that fear would end today.
No matter how many times she would be shunned, feared, or even betrayed from this moment onward, her resolve would not waver.
To live for the people, to live alongside the people, and to leave a future for the people.
That was what it meant to bear the responsibility of the nation. To display the proof of kingship.
—And to live within the burden of the king's responsibilities.
For the sake of what mattered most to her,
She chose to part ways with what she saw in her dreams,
That which mattered most to her.
The magus' words still echoed: ["Ah, you've chosen a difficult path. But miracles come at a price.
King Arthur, you shall trade away what is most precious to you."]
The sword was pulled from the stone as if it had always been destined to be. At that moment, the land was bathed in sunlight.
Artoria became something other than human.
End of the memory.
Facing two kings from different worlds and nations, Artoria's kingly resolve remained unshaken. Everything had already been decided on the day she pulled the chosen sword.
To be a king was to leave a future for the people.
But Artoria believed herself to be a failure. She had been unable to prevent the fall of Britain. A failed king was not needed.
What if someone else had pulled the chosen sword back then? What if someone else had become king? Surely, the outcome would have been better than what she had achieved.
These thoughts of guilt haunted her heart. That was why Artoria, before her death, made a contract with the Counter Force and became a Heroic Spirit. Responding to the call of the Holy Grail War, she sought the Holy Grail to undo her mistakes.
Even so, Artoria did not believe that her resolve was wrong. Even when held accountable by two other kings, her heart remained as steadfast as it had been in the past.
"The King of Conquest, a King who marches forward to satisfy endless desires—"
The Knight King, Artoria Pendragon, gazed at the king before her and spoke slowly:
"Your kingly way is indeed reasonable, but my kingly way exists to forge a future. My lifelong efforts were for that purpose.
If I am unable to achieve it, then let someone else take my place.
This is not about sacrificing myself for an ideal. This is my ideal, my life's wish."
"...…"
Faced with Artoria's unwavering will, the King of Conquest, Iskandar, couldn't help but frown.
Seeing this, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, who had remained silent for a long time, finally spoke:
"I am deeply awed by the Knight King's spirit. To show my respect, please allow me to share my wish.
I have no desire for the Holy Grail to be fulfilled. I simply wish to uphold the honor of a knight. To once again be granted a battlefield.
To pursue untainted glory, judged solely by valor—
That is the greatest blessing for me, and my deepest longing."
As Diarmuid's declaration came to an end and the Heroic King's laughter subsided, Alaric, who had been observing silently, spoke up.
"In the end, different paths cannot coexist."
Pouring himself a fresh drink, Alaric smiled and said:
"Compared to all of you, I don't have any grand wishes. No mistakes I want to correct, and no second life I long for.
Compared to you all, I simply want to keep moving forward.
Thus, anything that obstructs me must be eliminated."
Raising his cup, Alaric smiled and said:
"Let us toast to the birth of this Singularity."