In the dark alley, an angry voice echoed.
"Hold on, isn't this supposed to be Type-Moon? How the hell do you have the organizer's authority? You're just forcing people into the game, right? If this were Little Garden, you'd be branded as a Demon Lord and get conquered!"
Roland rubbed the back of his hand in frustration. The Command Seals had already fused into his skin, and no matter how hard he rubbed, they didn't fade or change.
Even though Fuyuki City's nightlife wasn't exactly lively, and now, deep into the night, the streets were empty, Roland still carefully took off his coat and draped it over his arm, hiding the Command Seals from view.
When he got home, his mind was spinning, busy working through his options.
The deal was already made; the Command Seals were branded on him. At this point… was it still possible to just walk away and leave Fuyuki City?
The answer was obvious. The Holy Grail War wasn't some underground brawl you could casually join or quit; it was a ritual jointly overseen by the Holy Church and the Mage's Association.
If you wanted out, if you seriously wanted to retire without fighting, you'd have to go to the Church and formally surrender the Command Seals, fully exposing yourself in the process.
If you tried to run away on your own? Well, there wasn't a recorded case of that yet, but even Roland, who knew almost nothing about magic, could guess there'd be punishment for it, possibly even a manhunt if it was bad enough.
Besides, doing so would interrupt the spiritual contract that was already starting to take root. And Roland? He wasn't the type to cut and run so easily.
He was, at heart, a good, honest young man, he worked hard, kept his promises, and even helped society clean up its messes in his spare time. It just so happened that, this time, the "dangerous elements" he was facing were a group of dehumanized terrorists…
Moreover, did anyone seriously think the Holy Grail would let him go? From the way the Command Seals had been slapped onto him without consent, Roland could tell: the thing they called the "Great Holy Grail" was filled with twisted malice, cloaked under its dazzling, sacred exterior, a pit of black mud, disguised as a wish-granting prize.
Counting on the Grail's goodwill was a joke. You were better off breaking it yourself.
And even if he obediently went to the Church to quit, would he really be safe?
Roland thought hard, and then firmly denied that possibility.
This year's overseer, Kotomine Risei, was known to be relatively fair. But in this Holy Grail War, Risei was secretly colluding with Tohsaka Tokiomi, aiming to rig things in their favor by summoning an extra Servant.
"So, we're going through with the Holy Grail War," Roland murmured softly.
His face settled into an eerie calm, but it wasn't the calm of despair or giving up. It was the calm that comes when a decision is made, when the heart stops wavering.
He didn't know if it was the effect of the words themselves or just the burning thirst in his chest, but adrenaline flooded his veins. For someone who was usually cool-headed, Roland felt his blood heat up, an excited fire kindling inside him.
An out-of-spec Servant? Fine. As for the Masters… if he prepared well, Roland didn't believe he'd lose to anyone.
Uryu Ryunosuke's old book had given him enough basic knowledge of the Holy Grail War. But to really participate, to compete, the supply of magical energy was critical.
If the Master couldn't even provide enough magical energy, the Servant would have to go hunting for it on their own just to sustain themselves, and when battle began, the consumption would only spike. One way or another, Roland had to figure out how to generate magical energy.
Based on his own circumstances, Roland had identified two options.
The first was relatively simple: eliminate a mage who had lingering obsessions and see if the Key of All Souls could turn them into a contracted spirit.
But there was a problem, contracted spirits weren't determined by a person's strength. Killing a powerful mage didn't guarantee you'd get a spirit; it depended on whether they met the right spiritual conditions.
Even if you succeeded, the spirit's abilities were determined by the life they'd lived, and they might not offer the power you actually needed.
After killing Ryunosuke, Roland had checked with the Key of All Souls, but Ryunosuke wasn't qualified to become a contracted spirit. Maybe because he'd never met his "true love" or hadn't completed more of his so-called "artworks" to achieve spiritual growth.
Honestly, given that guy's character, it was debatable whether he even knew he had a magic circuit. And even if he had become a Spirit, his abilities would probably have been some twisted killer's skills, or worse, some kind of bizarre, warped aesthetic.
Hunting down other mages would be even harder. The Tohsaka and Matou families had already occupied the two major leylines, and there weren't any vacant spiritual grounds left. Trying to find prey in a place like this was almost impossible.
"So… the only real option is to find an ally?"
Roland sighed.
Unlike the easygoing vibe of the Fifth Holy Grail War, where Masters could go to school by day, fight by night, and even casually break into other people's workshops, the Fourth Holy Grail War was conducted seriously.
Tohsaka Tokiomi had to secretly hide his trump cards even when seeking alliances. The other families were equally cautious, each protecting their special advantages.
Waver Velvet was probably the easiest to approach, but then again, his fate was already entwined with his destined Servant, and there was no cracking that bond.
Even with his high luck stat, Roland didn't believe things would just magically fall into place.
Therefore, based on his current situation, what he really needed was someone ambitious, someone with long-term vision, someone who knew how to balance interests, was willing to invest in the Holy Grail War (providing magical energy, helping track down relics, maybe even accepting a shared Command Seal), and who wanted to team up.
Summing up his own position and requirements, Roland could only sigh in deep disappointment.
"No matter how you look at it… I'm basically asking for someone to be taken advantage of. Does such a person even exist?"
Roland touched his chin thoughtfully, and then his eyes lit up.
"…Oh, wait. There is someone like that, isn't there…"
—
Early the next morning, in Fuyuki City's Central Park, an old man in a kimono sat quietly on a bench by the lawn.
The cool morning dew had already soaked his sleeves, and the air was damp and chilly. Ordinary people would instinctively hunch into their clothes for warmth, but the old man didn't seem to notice. His back was perfectly straight, and the cane he gripped in both hands looked more like a sharp blade than a walking stick.
This created a jarring contrast against his decayed, mummy-like appearance.
The old man gazed at his surroundings with lifeless, hollow eyes — but deep in those sunken sockets glimmered a terrifying sharpness. Inside his small, withered frame, you could faintly hear the squirming sound of insects.
Suddenly, the old man lifted his head and turned toward the far end of the road.
In this damp, cold weather, no one else would be strolling alone in the park. The only other person who might show up here… was the one who had promised to meet him.
"…Oh, so you really came," Roland said, smiling lazily as he looked at the rotting old man before him.
There was no trace of awe or fear on his face, just a relaxed, almost mocking grin.
"Matou Zouken. I've come to bargain."