Chapter Fifty-Six: The Scheming of This World’s Evil

In the pitch-black subterranean cavern, the Greater Grail silently operated its functions. It supplied magical energy to manifest the Servants, maintained the Masters’ contracts, and reclaimed Command Spells from those who fell—its role as the greatest contributor to this Holy Grail War was undisputed. With the foundation of the Third Magic, Heaven’s Cup, its capabilities extended far beyond those of a mere Holy Grail system, which was why outside magi often misjudged its true purpose.

To this day, few knew its true location; or perhaps, even if someone did, they no longer possessed the means to influence it.

For the Grail had already been tainted.

Within the Greater Grail, amidst a torrent of pure magical energy turned jet black, a shadow stood at the center—cursed, wreathed in darkness. Here, an entire world seemed to exist apart: at the heart of the waves rose a mountain of dried corpses, and above, a sky as red as fresh blood cast a sinister glow. Wails of pain and resentment echoed in the air, as a false evil god stood tall among them.

“Is this only the first battle? No Servants have fallen yet? Well…”

Angra Mainyu, the embodiment of wishful curses named Evil of This World, had twisted the Grail’s nature upon entering it, yearning for his own birth—and for the destruction of humankind.

“A little more time changes nothing… It wasn’t in vain that I forcibly granted the final contestant a place, assembling all the necessary participants. Now that they have been drawn into this malignant vortex, and sensing that one’s malice, I know their slaughter will not cease.”

Recalling that casual act from days past, Angra Mainyu’s lips curled into a wicked smile. What had begun as a whim—selecting the seventh Master by force—had yielded unexpected results: that Master proved surprisingly capable, summoning a Heroic Spirit quickly despite unfavorable conditions, and even dispatching another Master ahead of time.

Although lately the contract between that Master and the Grail seemed tenuous and their soul’s connection faint, it mattered little. Angra Mainyu, as the possessor of the Greater Grail, wielded supreme authority over the system; neither Servants nor Masters could threaten him.

Now, his attention was demanded elsewhere.

He stood, gazing at the stone altar before him. Upon it lay ten dull, eight-sided rune stones arranged in a circle.

Born nameless, branded Evil of This World, Angra Mainyu’s strength paled in comparison to other Servants. Thus, despite his efforts, he had been quickly eliminated in the last Holy Grail War. His soul was then drawn into the Grail, polluting its mana as a wish, and through the Third Magic, he gained flesh—only to be absorbed by the Grail.

Originally, he was to lie dormant, luring the victor to make a wish so that, through the already warped Grail, he could be reborn and fulfill his role as Evil of This World: the destruction of all humankind deserving of a curse.

Yet, as he began to corrupt the Grail, he discovered a fact:

—A powerful presence had long since entrenched itself here. Fortunately, this entity seemed to lack will. When the Greater Grail rampaged, it used contracts between Masters to manipulate two fortunate souls, twisting the world with its unfathomable power and summoning twelve special talismans.

Each bore remarkable properties and unique secrets, their techniques dazzling all. Gathered together, the twelve talismans’ combined power brought Angra Mainyu unexpected delight.

Most perplexing was that, once the twelve talismans were summoned, that powerful being abruptly vanished, drawn away by some unknown force.

But this was Angra Mainyu’s opportunity. No need to wait for another chance—using the power of these talismans and the wish to be granted, he could be born as a true god of evil.

“Two of them are missing, taken by others. Hmph, but they’ll come to me soon enough.”

This was a power even he coveted—how could cursed humanity hope to escape it? Perhaps because of the great distance they had traversed, the talismans’ divine power had not disappeared, but was greatly diminished. Even expending all his strength, Angra Mainyu could not activate them, let alone nourish or recharge them.

No matter. The magical energy accumulated in Fuyuki City over sixty years had nearly reached the threshold for granting a wish. With this power, and the Third Magic, he would surely awaken the talismans. Those lucky souls would not let this chance slip by.

All that remained was to wait with hope. After being touched by Evil of This World for so long, Angra Mainyu was confident that the other two could not rival his mastery. When he returned to life, he would seize the talismans from them; unless their true master appeared, he would fear no contender.

Though nearly all emotion but hatred was dulled within him, the prospect of seeing all twelve talismans united brought a rare excitement to his existence.

“My mind trembles in anticipation…”

Once more, chilling laughter echoed through the depths of the blackened Greater Grail.

—

“Hm?”

Seated at the dining table, Roland held a small knife, meticulously carving a precious piece of stone.

“That’s right, Master—you’re doing perfectly well. It’s as though I have nothing to do at all…” Medea praised Roland, though a touch of complaint tinged her words. “Even crafting tools, you’re so adept. And you grasp magecraft instantly. Sometimes I wonder if you’re really the Caster, not me.”

“Well, strictly speaking, this is my first time creating a Mystic Code. To be safe, I wanted you to double-check my work.”

Roland replied offhandedly as he focused on adding the finishing touches to the nearly completed statue.

“By the way, where’s Sakura?”

“That child went grocery shopping early this morning… Ugh, why is a little girl’s domestic talent greater than mine?” Medea whimpered, clearly discontent.

“And to think, Master, you actually let such a young girl go out alone.”

“Child?” Roland chuckled. “With the talisman you gave her, even an ordinary magus would have trouble breaking her defenses. Besides, I assigned a familiar to guard her. What could possibly—”

Roland’s words halted abruptly. A crimson light flared in his pupils, brilliant and intense.

“Someone from the Matou family is here.”

“Zouken Matou?” Medea asked, puzzled.

“No, Berserker’s Master.” Roland stood, tossing the completed tool into the shadows.

“Well, this is convenient. I’ll ask him about the Matou manor’s destruction—and let him learn the price of coveting what is mine.”

“While I’m at it—I’ll eliminate Berserker as well.”