"Everyone, evacuate this place immediately!"
Rin announced to everyone in the shelter with the loudest voice she could muster.
Upon closer listening, her voice carried a faint tremble.
Zenjou, who had been roused in the middle of the night for overtime work, hurried over without even greeting anyone, immediately urging the staff to leave.
Nakano Ichika and over a dozen other refugees also lowered their heads and followed the staff out of the hall.
Atram glanced around, sensing something amiss.
But for the sake of his pride, he forced himself to remain composed, standing motionless in place, his face still wearing an expression of arrogance.
Bang!
The shelter's door was slammed shut by Rin as she left.
In the blink of an eye, the entire shelter hall was left with only Roy and Atram. The vast space now inexplicably filled with a creeping chill.
"What, are you looking to duel me?"
Atram secretly raised his guard.
His eyes locked onto the motionless Roy across from him, but he sneered coldly as he spoke.
"Ha..."
Roy let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Atram, I'm actually in a pretty bad mood today."
He raised his hand and slowly removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose.
In that instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped.
The smile on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by a thick, ink-like malice.
"What do you think you are? Do you think you're Rin Tohsaka?"
Roy grinned to the fullest extent, tilting his head back with a scornful smile.
A storm seemed to brew in his eyes.
He took a step forward—tap. The sound of his leather hiking boots against the tiled floor echoed sharply in the empty hall.
Beads of sweat formed on Atram's forehead.
"What... what are you trying to do? If it's a magecraft battle, I won't back down!"
As Roy drew closer,
Atram's mental defenses crumbled. He knew Roy's magecraft prowess was formidable—evident from how he had repaired his bounded field—so before Roy could get any nearer, he let out a threatening roar and directly pulled out his Mystic Code.
It was a small ceramic jar.
The mottled marks on its surface spoke of its considerable age, and the patterns crafted by its maker were filled with the imagination of ancient humans.
It had been excavated from a certain ruin in the Middle East, widely believed to be the world's oldest battery—developed by accident in an era when its creators had no understanding of battery structures, originally intended for gilding purposes.
In the world of magecraft, extracting concepts from such history gave rise to a spell known as the "Primitive Battery."
This was the specialty of Atram's lineage, a spell that perfectly matched the impression of nouveau riche.
"You've only studied magecraft for a few years, right? Then let me teach you—the depth of magecraft knowledge doesn't equate to combat strength!"
Atram sneered, his confidence surging back as he held the ceramic jar.
He channelled his magical energy into it, and pale arcs of electricity immediately rippled across its surface. In the next moment, those arcs explosively expanded, forming an electric net that shot toward Roy.
In the world of magecraft, the level of one's magecraft only reflected their breadth of knowledge. True prowess lay in transforming that knowledge into power—that was the benchmark of a modern magus.
The Primitive Battery spell of his family could convert various forms of magical energy, including life force, into electricity—a force revered as divine across countless myths and regions since ancient times.
Among all spells, this was one with exceptionally destructive potential. If twenty or thirty people cast it simultaneously, he could even alter the weather!
But—
"Boring."
Roy opened his eyes.
The light of Mystic Eyes bloomed within them.
In an instant.
Atram felt as though something had interposed itself between him and the ceramic jar.
In the blink of an eye, the jar slipped from his control.
Though it was his own spell, it now felt as though it belonged to someone else entirely.
The electric net in midair dissipated like mist, soundlessly.
"—M-Mystic Eyes?!"
A trace of fear seeped into Atram's voice, unbeknownst even to himself.
Mystic Eyes were the mark of a first-rate magus, and those born with them were prodigies—gifted with supernatural abilities.
Jewel-rank Mystic Eyes could only be innate.
But wasn't he a homunculus?
How could a homunculus possess innate Mystic Eyes?
Roy wiggled his fingers.
The electricity on the ceramic jar suddenly surged, forming a giant hand that violently clenched around Atram.
"GAAAAAH—!!"
Before Atram could sort through his chaotic thoughts, the lightning hand seized him. Amid his screams, currents raced across his body, the high heat charring his skin black.
Eventually, even his vocal cords were destroyed, leaving him unable to scream.
Throughout this process, Atram could even feel his magical energy steadily depleting.
That's right.
The attacks the ceramic jar launched at him were still fueled by his own magical energy!
Was there anything more humiliating than this?
His magical energy was limited and soon ran dry.
Atram collapsed on the ground, his entire body pitch-black, covered in burns as if roasted over charcoal.
For an ordinary person, such injuries would have been fatal, but for a magus's vitality, this wasn't enough to send him to the underworld just yet.
Roy stepped forward, his expression one of insatiable hunger.
His face seemed to ask, How are you already done?
Spare me...
Atram instinctively wanted to beg for mercy.
But in his current state, he couldn't make a sound—he couldn't even plead.
Roy inscribed runes on his own arms and legs, then crouched beside Atram. Placing one foot on his shoulder and grabbing his arm, he yanked hard.
With a sickening crunch, an arm was torn off.
Joyful malice spread across Roy's face.
No screams.
No resistance.
Like a death row inmate counting down to his execution, awaiting his inevitable end.
***
Over ten minutes later.
With a creak, the shelter's door reopened.
Roy stepped out, glasses back on, a smile playing on his lips.
"...How do you feel?"
Only Rin remained outside. When she saw Roy emerge, she looked at him with a complicated expression.
"Refreshed beyond words!"
Roy exhaled deeply, as though expelling all the pent-up negativity in his heart at once.
"What about the refugees? Let's go—the sun's almost up. After staying awake all night, I'm exhausted. Let's hurry and finish the servant registration, then go home and sleep!"
Before leaving, Rin glanced inside.
No bloodstains.
No remains.
Not even clothes.
All that remained were thin, scattered patches of ash.
Her heart felt as heavy as lead.
"Sometimes, I can't help but wonder if you're a serial killer."
"How rude. I deeply love humanity, you know?"
The smile on Roy's face showed not a hint of falsehood.
***
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