Fuyuki — The Tohsaka Estate
Gilgamesh stood overlooking Tokiomi, who was kneeling before him. The king's gaze narrowed, his eyes as sharp as arrows. Without a word, he turned and slowly approached the window, then suddenly clenched his fist…
[Crash!]
A heavy blow shattered the glass.
"That impure mongrel…" Gilgamesh hissed each syllable, rage contorting his features. Memories flashed through his mind—the countless Noble Phantasms Zoth shattered, the insults flung in public.
A man not recorded in history. A mortal… daring to sully the prestige of a true king!?
Gilgamesh gritted his teeth and activated Sha Naqba Imuru – Eye of True Sight. He sought to locate that insolent Ruler—but all he saw was an impenetrable veil of darkness, as if fate itself shielded Zoth.
"Tsk… mongrel." Gilgamesh turned with a chilling tone. "If you're any good, hide your existence for the rest of your days."
His gaze then locked on Tokiomi as he stepped forward, his presence suffocating.
"Tokiomi… You dared force me to return using Command Spells?"
His voice dropped, laced with lethal intent.
"Even if I die, I don't need the help of a worthless wretch like you."
Tokiomi remained bowed, respectful: "Great King… I beg forgiveness. But at that moment, circumstances truly exceeded my control."
Gilgamesh was silent for a few moments, then snorted: "Hmm! I'll let it slide this time. But if you cross me again… there will be no mercy."
With that, he transformed into his spirit form and vanished in an instant, leaving the room empty.
Tokiomi slowly rose, straightened his vest, and with composed poise murmured: "Just another historical hero…"
He walked into his magic workshop, where Tohsaka relics and spell circuits were kept under lock and key. Deep within, he pulled out a comm crystal and spoke into it:
"Kirei, have you uncovered anything about that Servant's past?"
Kirei's calm voice answered through the crystal: "Yes. His identity: Zoth Vari-El—a famed French hero, alongside Jeanne d'Arc and Gilles de Rais."
Tohkiomi furrowed his brow. A hero born in medieval France—yet strong enough to overshadow Servants of a divine era? Such power defied all logic.
"Understood. Continue surveillance on Assassin. And keep an eye on that Ruler too," he said, resting his chin in his hand, eyes narrowing as he plotted.
Kirei paused, then spoke again: "One more thing... According to my master, Caster still shows no intention of 'letting go.'"
Tokiomi rubbed his temple, exhaustion showing on his face.
A Ruler had intervened in the Grail War, destabilizing its precarious balance.
Caster remained un-summoned.
Too many anomalies had occurred. Their grand design was unraveling.
He looked at his hand—only one Command Spell left. Two had been used: one to override Zoth's suicide order on Gilgamesh, the other to force him back.
Just one chance remained.
Tokiomi gazed out the window, his expression distant and heavy.
---
Fuyuki — Hotel Hyatt Crescent Moon
In the top-floor suite, the soft yellow light cast shadows across the cold face of Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. Standing before a large glass window, hands buried in the pockets of his coat, his gaze was dark as he stared into the city of Fuyuki shrouded in night.
Behind him, Lancer – Diarmuid Ua Duibhne – knelt with his back straight, the picture of respect and discipline.
Kayneth glanced at him through the glass's reflection.
He hated this knight.
From the beginning, Kayneth had only entered the Holy Grail War to elevate his reputation, polish his credentials as a mage. Everything was supposed to go according to plan—Lancer would scout the city, gather intelligence on other Servants, and eliminate them one by one using superior strategy and magecraft.
But then…
Zoth.
A name not found in any records. A "Ruler" who shouldn't even exist.
And he—alone—shattered the entire strategy Kayneth had meticulously crafted.
Kayneth turned around, his voice like ice:
"Lancer. You've faced him before, haven't you? That man who calls himself Ruler. Be honest... Is he stronger than Saber? Or Archer?"
New scenarios began to take shape in his mind—temporary alliances with other Masters? A coalition to take down Zoth first, then turn on each other afterward?
Still kneeling, Lancer kept his eyes lowered, his voice weighed down by pressure:
"No... No one is stronger than him. He… is the strongest in this entire Holy Grail War."
"Ruler…" Kayneth muttered, brows furrowed.
Lancer continued, his tone tight as a bowstring:
"His power… it's eerie, beyond comprehension. It feels like he can see through every move, every intention—as if he knows the future itself."
"What did he do?" Kayneth's voice sharpened.
"When I fought him… it felt like every strike I made was already predicted. It didn't feel like combat—it felt like… a rehearsal in front of him."
Lancer raised his head, eyes filled with terror.
"When he fought that Archer… I could feel it—he was toying with him."
The words hit Kayneth like a hammer to the skull.
Lancer clenched his fists, sweat forming on his brow. The memory still haunted him—Zoth swinging his sword in a blazing X-shaped arc, obliterating all of Archer's Noble Phantasms. And that strange phenomenon… something akin to a Reality Marble.
Yet even then… he wasn't going all out!?
Just as the heavy silence hung over the room, a soft, alluring female voice spoke up from behind:
"Lancer~ You've done your best. No one could blame you for that."
Both men turned around.
A red-haired woman, graceful and refined, stepped into the room—Sora-Ui, Kayneth's fiancée.
"Sora-Ui…" Kayneth murmured her name, eyes momentarily dazed.
But then he saw… her gaze.
That gaze—was not directed at him.
It was aimed at Lancer.
Longing.
Admiration.
Completely unhidden.
Kayneth froze for a moment, then drew a deep breath, covering half his face with a trembling hand, his fist clenched.
"That damned mole…"
He gritted his teeth, voice dripping with jealousy.
He wanted to step forward… and crush that infuriatingly attractive face marked with the cursed mole.
---
Fuyuki – Einzbern Castle
In the central chamber of the castle, dim lamplight fell across a large wooden table where a detailed map of Fuyuki lay spread out. Kiritsugu Emiya stood in silence, cold, empty eyes locked onto the map. Behind him, Maiya Hisau waited quietly like a shadow. Across from him stood Irisviel and Artoria, both awaiting his orders.
Kiritsugu's finger hovered over two locations—Misaki Town and Miyama District.
"That Ruler… he's been sighted around these two areas," he said in a low voice. "He has a habit of visiting shopping centers… and arcade parlors."
He delivered the information like he was describing an assassination target—emotionless and clinical.
"As of now, we still haven't identified his Master… but it won't be long. I'll drag them out."
With that, Kiritsugu rolled up the map, his gaze shifting to Irisviel.
"Iris, have you finished setting up the bounded field around the forest?"
"Yes," she replied. "I've cloaked the entire forest with interference magic… but…"
She bit her lip, worry gleaming in her eyes.
"…What really troubles me is—his purpose. Ruler is supposed to remain neutral. So why is he fighting… as our enemy?"
Kiritsugu paused, then answered slowly, voice as firm and cold as steel:
"Don't concern yourself with his purpose. Just focus on using the terrain to our advantage. Make it hard for anyone to approach."
He stopped, his gaze sharpening.
"If Ruler gets close—don't engage. Stall for time. Saber will be the one to face him."
He turned toward Artoria, his expression frozen like winter frost.
"Saber. I need you by Iris's side at all times. He could come for her at any moment. If he attacks… protect Iris with your life if you must."
Artoria didn't answer immediately. She tightened her gloves, her face as resolute as a general before battle.
"Understood. I won't let anyone lay a hand on Irisviel. Whether it's Ruler… or any Servant."
Kiritsugu gave a small nod, his eyes softening—if only slightly.
Irisviel looked at the two before her—one a cold-blooded assassin, the other a noble queen—both ready to risk everything for her. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, heart pounding.
She didn't say it aloud, but deep within—
She was afraid.
Afraid that Zoth would find this castle. Afraid he'd descend like a storm and crush everything. Afraid she would fall before ever seeing Illya grow up. Afraid that Kiritsugu—the quiet, tormented man she loved—would vanish forever into the shadows of his ideals.
Amid her tangled thoughts and growing dread, she quietly whispered:
"Kiritsugu… do you think… we'll survive this war?"
Kiritsugu looked at her, his eyes shadowed. A moment later, he turned away.
"No," he whispered—barely audible. "If I want to save this world…"
"…Then I have to accept the price."
---
Fuyuki — New Matou Residence
Zoth sat silently in the study, the pale yellow glow of the lamp spilling across the pages of an old history book. In his hands was a tattered manuscript about the French Renaissance. He flipped through the pages, until—
His eyes stopped.
A hand-drawn illustration… and beneath it, a note:
"Zoth Vari-El — The Fallen Knight of Medieval France."
He froze. The image showed a man clad in ancient European armor, helm concealing his face, wielding a sword identical to Caladbolg. His cloak billowed amidst the smoke and fire of war.
Zoth stared at the drawing, mesmerized.
This was… him.
"But… that makes no sense. I've never even been to France…" he muttered, doubt rising like bile in his throat.
He remembered clearly—from the moment he first opened his eyes, he had been inside the [Akasha]. He had watched every timeline, every event, every world… and not once had he seen himself in France's history.
"Wait a second…"
A sudden memory struck him. When he was summoned, he wasn't wearing his university uniform—but clothing from the 16th century.
And more than that… there was a different layer of Mystery wrapped around him. Something older. Deeper.
A thought surfaced—Magician?
Zoth mumbled: "A Magician… Could I be like Aozaki Aoko? Or Zelretch…?"
He looked at his hand, eyes gleaming.
"Stir time itself! I command all beings! Unseal the Prime Source of Thaumaturgy!"
…
Nothing happened.
No light. No effect. No Magecraft.
He stood frozen, face darkening.
"…Goddammit. I don't even know what True Magic is and I'm out here shouting divine declarations," Zoth muttered, sinking into his chair, face red with embarrassment.
But then—
He remembered. The [Omni Force]—the omnipotent tome that had always been with him.
Zoth summoned it into its book form. He opened it…
The first page.
The words seemed etched directly into his soul:
"So… you've finally realized, haven't you—my reincarnation."
Zoth's heart nearly stopped. Hands trembling, he flipped to the next page—
[FWWSSHH—!!]
A beam of light engulfed him.
The [Omni Force] dropped to the floor with a dull thud. The room fell empty.
---
??? — The World Beyond Time
Zoth slowly opened his eyes.
The stench of blood hit him immediately.
Before him—lay a dead battlefield.
Bodies strewn everywhere. Spears and swords driven into the ground. Countless crosses and toppled pillars marked the land. The soil was crimson. The sky, a sickly orange, like dusk tainted with blood.
Zoth stepped onto the hill, his heart pounding wildly.
A voice rang out—hoarse and lazy, but unmistakable.
His own voice.
"Welcome, Zoth Vari-El… My future self."
Zoth looked up.
Atop the hill stood a man.
He wore a deep crimson aristocratic suit. His jet-black hair was slicked back. Eyes, dark and endless, shimmered with savagery, madness—and knowledge. In his hand was Caladbolg—its true form, burning and curved like a god's scythe.
Zoth trembled, stepping back.
"You… who are you…?"
The man smiled, walking forward like an executioner approaching the scaffold:
"Well well~ Surprised, are we? That's fine. Allow me to reintroduce myself."
He folded his arms, gave a courtly bow—elegant and mocking.
"I am also Zoth Vari-El.
The true owner of the soul you now carry.
The one who carved my name into history…
And the one—"
He paused, lifting his head with a savage grin.
"…who became you."
Zoth froze in place.
It felt like his heart had been torn out of his chest.
His hands trembled, sweat soaking his back.
"You're no one else…"
"You are Me."