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🕑 Added 2025-07-20 15:49:35 +0000 UTCChapter 226: Gathering of Heroic Spirits
The flames died down, and the terrifying sea beast was almost entirely obliterated in the nuclear explosion. The waters of the Mion River evaporated, nearly exposing a dry riverbed. But Fuyuki City, being a coastal town, had the Mion River connected to the sea, so it wasn’t completely drained. Besides, Riku had deliberately chosen a low-yield bomb, so the damage wasn’t too severe—though the riverbank took some impact, which was unavoidable.
“Who made that move?”
High in the sky, aboard the dazzling Vimana, a sharply dressed Tohsaka Tokiomi was stunned. He’d only just arrived when he witnessed the nuclear blast and saw the sea beast vanish in a blaze of light. He hadn’t expected someone to act faster than him! The Vimana, a radiant ship of gold and emeralds capable of soaring through the skies, wasn’t just for show. Described in the ancient Indian epics Ramayana and Mahabharata, this flying vessel was powered by solar energy generated from a sun crystal fueled by mercury, allowing it to defy the laws of physics with its high-speed flight.
After confirming that defeating Caster would earn a Command Spell reward, Tohsaka Tokiomi had rushed over with Archer immediately. Logically, no one should’ve been faster than them.
“Quite the entertaining sideshow.”
On the golden throne of the Vimana, a young man with golden hair and crimson eyes, clad in shimmering golden armor, lounged with his legs crossed. He looked thoroughly pleased with the spectacle, utterly unbothered that his Master’s plans had been disrupted.
The Hero King, Gilgamesh, Archer-class. This was Tohsaka Tokiomi’s trump card for the Holy Grail War. The sacred relic he’d painstakingly acquired hadn’t let him down, summoning a powerful Servant. This time, he was determined to end the Holy Grail War and fulfill the Tohsaka family’s long-cherished dream of reaching the “Root.”
“My king, let’s retreat for now. This isn’t the time for your noble self to act. Let them put on their little performances for your amusement.”
Since the plan had failed and the problem was already resolved, Tohsaka Tokiomi decided to pull back. He wasn’t keen on having Archer jump into battle right away, preferring to observe the situation first. He wasn’t one for impulsive decisions.
“Tokiomi, this is the best seat to enjoy the show.”
Gilgamesh propped an arm on the armrest of his golden throne, resting his cheek in his hand, his expression blank as if addressing a mere subject.
This Master-Servant duo was quite the pair, almost comically reversed—it was as if Gilgamesh were the one who’d summoned Tokiomi.
“My king—”
Tohsaka Tokiomi opened his mouth to say more, but Gilgamesh waved a hand impatiently, cutting him off.
“Save your counsel for later.”
Gilgamesh’s face darkened as he noticed the Heroic Spirits gathering below, some already spouting bold declarations.
On the banks of the Mion River, Heroic Spirits converged. After receiving the message from the Church’s overseer, nearly all the Masters had chosen to join the commotion. After all, the reward was a Command Spell—a critical resource in the Holy Grail War, highly tempting to any Master.
Command Spells were the key to a Master’s control over their Servant, an essential part of the Holy Grail War system. They ensured the bond between Master and Servant, allowing the Master to restrain their Servant and protect themselves. Without them, a Servant could easily overpower their Master, flipping the dynamic entirely—a scenario the three founding families of the Holy Grail War had no interest in seeing. Their goal was to use the Grail to reach the Root, not to help Heroic Spirits fulfill their dreams.
“Ora ora ora ora!”
Amid flashes of lightning, a divine bull-drawn chariot landed on the ground. The fiery Rider, with his wailing Master in tow, made a grand entrance. Around him stood two other Heroic Spirits.
One was a handsome man wielding twin spears, clearly a Lancer, with a distinctive tear-shaped mole on his face.
The other was a blonde girl with a noticeable ahoge, clad in blue-and-white armor. She held a weapon wrapped in a wind barrier, concealing its form.
The two Heroic Spirits eyed each other warily but refrained from fighting. Their original target had been Caster, though that goal had clearly shifted now.
Crack!
A bolt of divine lightning struck the ground as Rider’s chariot parked between the two Heroic Spirits. Under their cautious and curious gazes, the fiery Rider threw his arms wide.
“My name is Iskandar, the King of Conquerors! I’ve descended into this Holy Grail War as a Rider-class Servant!”
His booming voice ensured everyone heard him, boldly revealing his True Name.
“…”
The twin-spear-wielding Lancer and the blue-and-white-armored blonde girl stared, dumbfounded by Iskandar’s audacious move.
But the most shocked was undoubtedly Rider’s Master, Waver Velvet, on the chariot. He was beyond stunned—more so than when he’d witnessed the nuclear explosion. That was someone else’s business, but revealing his Servant’s True Name? That was their business! He couldn’t fathom what this muscle-bound oaf was thinking. Why reveal such critical information?!
“Hahaha! What a scene! Never gets old! To think this world was almost conquered by an idiot like you?”
Before Waver could speak, laughter rang out. All eyes turned to a young man in a white trench coat, strikingly handsome, exuding a calming aura with every move. In his hand was a book, radiating an ominous black-and-purple glow, its presence unnerving, reminiscent of the sea beast’s aura.
“Say what you will, but it’s true.”
Despite being called an idiot, Iskandar wasn’t fazed. He scratched the back of his head, replying earnestly.
“You hear that, Rider?! They’re calling you an idiot! Who just blurts out their True Name like that?!”
Waver Velvet, looking at the white-clad Riku, couldn’t help but feel a kinship. Riku had voiced exactly what he was thinking! What kind of fool was Rider?!
“Is that guy Caster?”
From a distant tower, a cold-faced, dark-haired man with lifeless eyes twitched his lips. Holding a sniper rifle, he peered through the scope at Rider Iskandar, then at Riku. He’d wanted to mock Iskandar himself, but the strange youth in white had beaten him to it.
“Looks like everyone’s here, but only a few Masters have shown themselves.”
A female voice came through the man’s earpiece—his assistant, Hisau Maiya. Hidden in the shadows, they were poised to snipe a Master, a simple yet brutal strategy. It wasn’t very mage-like, but it was effective, and the “Mage Killer,” Emiya Kiritsugu, excelled at it.
“No rush. Let’s keep watching.”
Emiya Kiritsugu spoke calmly. Only Rider’s Master had shown himself, staying close to Rider. Even with a firearm’s speed, at this distance, Rider could easily protect his Master.
Pop!
Iskandar flicked Waver’s forehead, knocking him down. He wasn’t an idiot; he’d revealed his True Name out of confidence. Plus, he had plans to recruit allies—how could he do that while hiding who he was?
“Everyone! Fate has brought us here to vie for the Holy Grail, but before that, I have a question to ask.”
Iskandar began his recruitment pitch with gusto. Honestly, it was a bit over-the-top.
Riku’s expression was pure subway-grandpa-looking-at-phone. These were all legendary figures—would anyone really abandon the Grail to join Iskandar’s world-conquering crew? It sounded absurd.
After all, the Heroic Spirits summoned by the Grail had regrets to resolve or wishes to fulfill. Why would they ditch their own dreams to follow him?
Without hesitation, Lancer and the blue-and-white-armored girl, Saber, rejected him. Saber even revealed her identity—she was none other than the legendary Knight King from Britain, Artoria Pendragon.
“The renowned Knight King is a young girl? That’s surprising.”
Iskandar didn’t hold back his shock. Clearly, in his era, there was no concept of “moe” gender swaps.
Aside from Riku, everyone else was equally surprised. They hadn’t expected the legendary King Arthur to be a girl. It wasn’t that a girl couldn’t be king—it just clashed with the legend. After all, the tales of Queen Guinevere and Lancelot were a big part of Arthur’s story. If Arthur was a girl…
In that moment, some began to understand Guinevere a bit better.
Riku glanced at Lancer, whose True Name was Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the “Shining Visage.” His legend with Princess Gráinne was the prototype for Guinevere and Lancelot’s story. The collapse of the Fianna mirrored the fall of the Round Table, giving Diarmuid a natural edge over Lancelot—a case of “original beats copy.”
Iskandar’s larger-than-life personality was practically a social wrecking ball. With him around, no one could control the scene. Lancer kept eyeing Riku, suspecting he was the target. Loyal to his lord, Lancer had no patience for Iskandar’s grandstanding.
Then, Lancer’s Master couldn’t hold back anymore—he’d spotted the thief who stole his sacred relic!
“Waver Velvet, my dear student. To think you stole my relic and joined the Holy Grail War.”
From the shadows, Lancer’s Master, Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald, activated a speaker, his voice echoing without betraying his position. Of course, this was magecraft at work. Kenneth was a genius mage, undeniably the top magician in this war, even surpassing the talented Tohsaka Tokiomi.
Lancer’s face darkened. Standing there with his twin spears, he listened to his Master lecture his student. He wasn’t Kenneth’s first choice—originally, it was the very Iskandar standing before him. Having his “backup” status exposed like this… ouch. Only those in Diarmuid’s shoes could truly understand his feelings.
Riku looked at Diarmuid, feeling a pang of sympathy for the poor guy. Such was the fate of a Luck E Lancer, stuck with a Master who didn’t suit him.
Diarmuid’s wish was simple and fitting for the Holy Grail War: he didn’t seek the Grail for himself but wanted to help his lord win, atoning for his past failure to serve faithfully. Yet, he’d ended up with Kenneth, who’d brought his fiancée along. And, as luck would have it, Diarmuid’s C-rank “Love Spot” Noble Phantasm was a curse that made women fall for him unless they had strong magic resistance—his tragic flaw, inescapable even in this summoning.
Riku noted that this war had few Master-Servant pairs with good compatibility. Artoria and Emiya Kiritsugu, Diarmuid and Kenneth, Gilgamesh and Tohsaka Tokiomi—all three Knight-class pairs had terrible synergy. Ironically, the best compatibility was between Gilles de Rais and Ryuunosuke Uryuu.
Both with Luck E, Gilles de Rais was fortunate to meet Ryuunosuke, who’d used no relic, resulting in a near-perfect match.
Facing Kenneth’s threats, Waver cowered in the chariot, genuinely terrified. Looking at the competitors and recalling the nuclear blast, he regretted ever coming here!
“You want to be my Master? At least be a warrior who can charge into battle with me! A coward who won’t even show himself doesn’t qualify! Hahaha!”
Rider spoke up for Waver, even throwing a jab at Kenneth. Waver looked at Rider in disbelief, tears welling up.
“Well said, Rider. Hiding like that—what kind of man does that make you?”
Riku clapped, endorsing Rider’s words. Iskandar gave him an appreciative nod.
“You’re a different kind of Caster. I thought Casters just holed up in their workshops.”
Iskandar genuinely admired Riku. Caster was widely seen as the weakest class, limited by its stats and reliant on magecraft. But most Servants had high magic resistance, rendering normal magecraft ineffective—a key reason Servants dominated mages. For a Caster to roam freely and stand among them instead of hiding in a workshop? That took guts. Even Assassin hadn’t shown up, as they were known for avoiding direct combat.
“Sorry, I’m not Caster. I already took care of Caster.”
Riku shook his head helplessly. The glow of his Luo Yan City Textbook dimmed as he successfully converted it. He knew this A+-rank Noble Phantasm’s aura had caused the misunderstanding, drawing the Servants’ attention.
“So, you’re Archer then?”
Iskandar paused, then nodded. It made sense—the earlier attack seemed like something an Archer would pull off. Archers didn’t need high stats but required powerful ranged weapons or abilities, often boasting formidable Noble Phantasms.
Riku grinned. If he had to pick, he could qualify as an Archer. But Rider’s words were about to ruffle someone’s feathers.
Chapter 227: The Golden King Numbed by Betrayal
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
As expected, the moment Iskandar finished speaking, several gleaming golden weapons rained down from the sky, aimed straight at Riku in a barrage.
“Buzz!”
In a flash of light and shadow, Riku’s perception of time shifted. With a few swift backflips, he dodged the attack. The weapons embedded themselves into the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
“In just one night, not only do two rats who dare ignore my claim as king show up, but someone even has the audacity to impersonate my class? You filthy mongrels, you’ve got some real guts!”
A voice dripping with rage echoed through the air. The attack had clearly come from him. The Vimana, a radiant skyship, descended slowly, hovering above everyone. The golden figure atop it came into view—Gilgamesh, the shining Archer.
The Vimana, adorned with gold and emerald gemstones, was as flamboyant as it gets. The moment this Archer appeared, all eyes were on him.
“You’re Archer, huh? Someone might mistake you for an Assassin with that sneak attack. Doesn’t the Knight of the Bow have any chivalric spirit? Look at those two over there, then look at you—tch, you’re nowhere near the Knight of the Sword or the Knight of the Lance.”
Riku smirked at Gilgamesh, who was perched on his golden throne aboard the Vimana, and let loose a verbal barrage. His words, unsurprisingly, sent Gilgamesh into a fury.
“Mongrel! Die!”
With a roar, a dozen golden-glowing portals materialized behind Gilgamesh—his Noble Phantasm, Gate of Babylon. It held the prototypes of every Noble Phantasm, and his attack style was to fire them like bullets.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
A salvo of Noble Phantasms shot toward Riku. Instead of dodging, Riku took a deep breath and transformed into his demonic form.
Rc cells surged, enveloping his body. His towering figure instantly drew everyone’s attention. Enhanced by his Kakusha state, Riku looked like a demon crawled straight from the abyss—wings spread, muscles rippling, blood-red goat horns glinting, and dark shadows cloaking his body, exuding black mist.
With Sandevistan activated, Riku moved like lightning. He grabbed two of the incoming swords, one in each hand, and with swift swings of his arms, effortlessly deflected the rest of the Noble Phantasms.
“Mongrel! You dare touch my treasures with your filthy hands?!”
Gilgamesh’s face darkened at the sight. His Gate of Babylon had a function to automatically retrieve thrown weapons—or rather, it contained a Noble Phantasm that could do so. But the two swords in Riku’s hands? They were completely cut off from him. He couldn’t recall them!
“Touch your treasures? Not only am I touching them, I’m taking them!”
Riku grinned wickedly, shadows spreading from his feet to envelop the Noble Phantasms Gilgamesh had fired into the ground. In an instant, he pulled them all into his Shadow Realm.
This audacious move left Gilgamesh dumbfounded. What?! This guy had no shame at all?! Stealing his Noble Phantasms right in front of him and pocketing them?!
For the first time, Gilgamesh experienced having his treasures taken. His rage erupted like a volcano.
“This golden guy…”
Gilgamesh’s sudden appearance and clash with Riku surprised the other Servants. This shiny, golden guy didn’t seem like the type you could reason with.
Iskandar rubbed his nose, wondering if this golden guy had attacked the wrong person. He’d only guessed Riku was Archer, and Riku hadn’t confirmed it. So how did that make him an imposter of Gilgamesh’s class? And calling him a “rat who claims to be a king”? That was just absurd. With his reputation as the Conqueror King, Iskandar didn’t deserve such an insult, right?
“Archer, hold off for now!”
Iskandar, quick to act, tried to stop the fight between Riku and Gilgamesh.
“Mongrel! You dare command me?!”
But Iskandar’s move was a masterstroke. With one sentence, he instantly drew Gilgamesh’s aggro onto himself.
Webber Velvet’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at his Servant, Rider. Seriously?! Why did you have to open your mouth?! Wasn’t it fine just watching these two fight? Saber and Lancer stayed quiet, but you, the Conqueror King, just had to talk?! What, are you trying to recruit these two now? Does this golden guy even look recruitable?! He’s spewing insults left and right with zero class!
Webber’s inner rant was sharp, but it didn’t change Iskandar’s do-what-he-wants style. This Master had no control over his Servant, constantly dragged along by Iskandar’s whims.
Gate of Babylon opened again, this time with even more weapons than before. Clearly, an enraged Gilgamesh was done playing around—he was ready to teach these mongrels a lesson!
“Buzz!”
A surge of magical energy announced another Servant’s arrival. Clad in pitch-black armor, face hidden by a helmet, and shrouded in frenzied magical energy, it was clear this was Berserker. This one looked far more like a Berserker than Riku ever did.
The Berserker class traded sanity for a boost beyond a Heroic Spirit’s normal capabilities. It was meant to strengthen weaker spirits, but some, like this Berserker, were clearly powerful from the start, their Spirit Origin radiating strength.
“Wait, if this guy’s Berserker, then what class is that demon? It can’t be Assassin, right?”
Webber glanced at the newly arrived Black Knight, then at the demonic Riku, utterly confused. He couldn’t read either of their stats—likely due to some ability or Noble Phantasm that obscured information.
“If he’s not Caster, then… he can’t be a non-Servant, can he?”
From a distant tower, Emiya Kiritsugu was also questioning Riku’s identity. Saber, Lancer, Rider, Archer, and Berserker had all appeared, and he and Hisau Maiya had spotted traces of Assassin lurking in the shadows. That left only Caster.
But Riku had just said he wasn’t Caster, and he didn’t exactly look the part. What kind of Caster had combat skills that strong?!
“But if he’s not a Heroic Spirit, how could he have such immense power?”
Maiya’s voice came through the earpiece, clearly hitting a blind spot in their knowledge. They’d never encountered a monster like this.
On the battlefield, Berserker’s appearance drew his gaze straight to Gilgamesh. Under the effects of Mad Enhancement, this speechless Heroic Spirit had no capacity for dialogue, but his target was clear: the golden king.
Gilgamesh noticed, and it only fueled his anger. He was practically exploding.
One dared to provoke him and steal his treasures. Another had the gall to command him. And now a mad dog wanted to bite him. None of these mongrels summoned by the Holy Grail showed him any respect!
“Buzz!”
Without hesitation, Gate of Babylon unleashed a barrage of weapons, targeting Riku, Iskandar, and Berserker. But Gilgamesh’s expression soured further when he realized the black-armored mad dog was also trying to seize control of his treasures!
“Golden boy! Stop! Are you trying to take us all on?!”
Iskandar, riding his chariot with sparks and lightning, blocked the attacks and ascended to the same height as the Vimana, confronting Gilgamesh. This Archer’s arrogance was on another level, thinking he could fight all three of them alone.
“Mongrel, instead of groveling on the ground and looking up at me, you dare stand at my level? Die!”
But Gilgamesh didn’t even listen, provoked further by Iskandar’s ascent.
“Is it just me, or is this Archer harder to talk to than that Berserker?”
Iskandar scratched his head helplessly. Honestly, this golden guy was giving him a headache.
Even Webber found some comfort in this. Compared to this Archer, his Rider was downright normal. He couldn’t imagine what Gilgamesh’s Master was going through with that awful personality.
And the scariest part? Gilgamesh was an Archer, with the class’s Independent Action skill. Even without a Master’s mana supply, he could persist. This was a useful trait—Masters could redirect mana meant for sustaining the Servant to magecraft, or the Archer could act to protect a Master in a pinch.
But that assumed the Servant was loyal and had a good relationship with their Master. Otherwise, it wasn’t so great. Lower dependency on a Master meant a Servant could survive without one—or even switch Masters.
In the Holy Grail War, Servants could change Masters. A Master whose Servant died could use remaining Command Spells to contract with another Servant. This favored Archers, with their Independent Action, and powerful Casters, who often had ways to siphon mana. It gave them time to find a new Master after theirs died—or even the option to kill their Master and choose another.
Gilgamesh’s Independent Action was Rank A, meaning he could exist in the world for about two days without a Master. The pressure this put on his Master was immense.
“By the power of my Command Spell, Hero King, cease your anger and retreat.”
Yet, even so, Gilgamesh’s Master didn’t let him run rampant. Tokiomi Tohsaka, who valued strategy and planning, couldn’t tolerate Gilgamesh’s reckless behavior, which went against his carefully laid plans.
“Grr!”
Gilgamesh’s furious expression deepened, his teeth grinding.
“You think your petty words can make me retreat, Tokiomi? You’ve got some nerve!”
Despite his protests, Rank A Independent Action wasn’t enough to resist a Command Spell, designed specifically to bind Servants. Even an A+ rank, which could linger after the Grail War, wouldn’t cut it—only an EX-rank could defy it.
And while Gilgamesh’s Archer class granted him Magic Resistance, his personal resistance wasn’t high. He relied on external tools, like his golden armor, to nullify most magecraft. But a Command Spell acted directly on him, bypassing his defenses.
Swallowing his rage, Gilgamesh recalled his Noble Phantasms. He glared at Riku and Berserker, both holding his treasures—treasures that didn’t respond to his recall. Worse, Riku had pocketed every Noble Phantasm he’d fired!
“You mongrels got lucky this time. Keep up your pathetic squabbles until we meet again. Only true heroes are worthy of facing me.”
Under everyone’s gaze, Gilgamesh unleashed a verbal barrage, looking down on them all with equal disdain.
His pompous attitude made Riku want to lob a nuclear bomb at his face and show him what a Nuclear Sword Saint could do. But, considering Gilgamesh’s “generosity,” Riku held back—he still wanted to fleece more treasures.
“Looks like your Master isn’t as rabid as you are. Hope he keeps that leash tight so you don’t go biting everyone.”
Before Gilgamesh vanished, Riku shot back with a grin, reigniting the fire in Gilgamesh’s eyes. But bound by the Command Spell, he left the battlefield.
In Gilgamesh’s mind, verbal jabs were nothing compared to the real offense: Tokiomi Tohsaka, a mere vassal, daring to force him, the king, to retreat!
“Sorry, Tokiomi Tohsaka, this guy’s just too annoying.”
As the golden figure disappeared, Riku smirked with a touch of schadenfreude. He could imagine the wrath Tokiomi would face—Gilgamesh probably wanted to rip him apart.
“That annoying guy’s gone.”
Gilgamesh’s departure brought relief to many. Honestly, no one on the battlefield found him not annoying. The adult Gilgamesh, as an Archer, was the epitome of self-centered arrogance, acting as if his word was law.
If anything, maybe the child version of Gilgamesh was likable? The two were polar opposites—Young Gil couldn’t even believe he’d grow up to be this.
Chapter 228: Kariya Matou, Barely Clinging to Life
“Roar!”
The moment Gilgamesh vanished, a furious bellow echoed through the air. Berserker, who had just been fighting alongside Riku and Iskandar against a common foe, suddenly went berserk and charged at Saber, who was standing off to the side.
The abrupt move caught everyone off guard, but Saber—Artoria Pendragon—reacted swiftly, parrying Berserker’s attack. Yet, after just one clash, her expression shifted. This opponent was terrifyingly strong.
As a specialized class, Berserker traded sanity for a comprehensive boost in abilities. His base stats completely overwhelmed Saber’s. What was truly absurd, though, was that despite losing his rationality, this Berserker hadn’t lost his martial prowess. He wasn’t just a mindless lunatic.
By normal logic, the Berserker class’s insane stats came at the cost of things like intelligence and technique. A Berserker who retained his formidable combat skills from life? That was a nightmare to imagine.
“This Berserker… he’s something else.”
Lancer Diarmuid and Rider Iskandar, watching from the sidelines, were visibly shocked. They couldn’t wrap their heads around a Berserker who could overpower Saber so thoroughly—it was almost too much!
“After all, King Arthur wasn’t the strongest knight of her era,” Riku said with a smirk.
The strongest knight of the Round Table was Lancelot, and he was standing right before them—Berserker himself. In terms of close combat, one-on-one duels, and personal skill, Lancelot outclassed King Arthur by a mile. With Mad Enhancement boosting his stats even further, it was no surprise he had Saber on the ropes. Without using her Noble Phantasm, Saber had no chance of winning.
“Buzz!”
A gust of wind swept through as Saber, looking grim under the pressure, unleashed her Noble Phantasm.
“Wind King Hammer!”
The wind cloaking her sword was released, sending a devastating shockwave forward. Berserker Lancelot narrowly dodged it.
“Is that King Arthur’s holy sword?”
The Wind King Barrier surrounding the sword dissipated, revealing the radiant Excalibur, the legendary Sword of the King bestowed by the Lady of the Lake. A treasure forged by the planet itself, it shone with a unique brilliance that drew every eye.
“Roar!!!”
Unlike the others’ awe, Berserker grew even more frenzied at the sight of Excalibur. His reaction was starkly different, and though he couldn’t speak, his behavior screamed one thing: this Berserker had a deep, almost tangible obsession with Saber.
“An old acquaintance, maybe? But this Berserker’s too good at hiding—can’t even see his face,” Webber Velvet mused, gossiping but helpless. He couldn’t glean any information about this Berserker.
Still, Riku’s earlier comment gave him a hunch. A Heroic Spirit from the same era, stronger than King Arthur, and obsessed with her? That could only be Lancelot.
“Phew!”
Saber, gripping her holy sword with regal poise, locked eyes with Berserker. She felt an odd sense of familiarity, but the critical piece of the puzzle eluded her.
This was due to Berserker Lancelot’s ability, For Someone Else’s Glory. It allowed him to transform into any warrior capable of great deeds. However, Mad Enhancement had degraded this ability into mere disguise, with the black mist cloaking Lancelot as its manifestation. No one could discern his true identity.
“Pity. This Berserker’s Master is a half-baked amateur who can’t keep up with his mana demands,” Riku said, shaking his head.
Berserker’s abilities were incredible, his combat prowess off the charts, but he lacked a Master capable of supporting him. The Berserker class, with its Mad Enhancement, drastically increased mana consumption. For a half-trained mage to control a Berserker? That was a pipe dream.
Sure enough, after only a brief fight, Berserker’s form began to flicker—his Master’s mana supply was faltering. Saber, who had been about to unleash her Noble Phantasm to end the fight, held back. She wouldn’t take advantage of someone’s weakness.
“Berserker, retreat. Come back when you’re at your peak,” Artoria said firmly.
Her action earned an admiring look from Lancer, clearly resonating with him.
“Worthy of the Knight King,” Lancer praised without hesitation.
This drew a frown from his Master, Kenneth, who was hiding nearby. They were here to fight and win the Holy Grail, not make friends!
“This Lancer’s completely clueless!” Kenneth muttered, grinding his teeth. He was fed up with Diarmuid, who claimed he didn’t care for the Grail and only wanted to atone for past regrets by serving his lord loyally.
Who’d believe that? Certainly not Kenneth. He wasn’t Diarmuid’s lord from life—what reason did Diarmuid have to be loyal to him? Was he just a substitute?
“Lancer, retreat,” Kenneth ordered, growing more irritated. With the night’s chaos, further fighting was pointless.
Lancer paused but obeyed, preparing to withdraw.
“It was an honor to meet you all. The next time we cross paths, it’ll be as foes. Facing such heroes is my privilege.”
With that, Lancer vanished, dematerializing into spirit form. Kenneth quickly left his hiding spot, unaware that he’d already been spotted. The riverbank of Mionigawa offered few places to hide, making him an easy target. Emiya Kiritsugu’s crosshairs had lingered on him several times.
“Buzz!”
Berserker vanished next, his Master’s mana issues forcing him to calm down and return to his side.
“Everyone’s gone, huh? Saber, what about you? And that Assassin?” Iskandar asked, landing on the ground and addressing Riku and Saber.
“If you want to fight, I’ll oblige,” Saber said, gripping her holy sword and eyeing Rider and Riku.
“Sorry, I’ll pass. Got other things to handle,” Riku replied, shaking his head. His form flickered and vanished—he had no time to chat with these two.
“That guy’s a real mystery,” Iskandar muttered. Even now, they hadn’t figured out Riku’s identity or class.
“Not a hint of mana or presence. Is Assassin’s concealment really that terrifying?” Webber Velvet sighed, convinced Riku was Assassin since all other classes had appeared.
As they spoke, a white-haired woman in a dress approached, standing beside Saber. This was Saber’s apparent Master, Irisviel von Einzbern.
With her doll-like beauty, ruby-red eyes, and shimmering silver hair, she was undeniably striking.
“Saber, let’s retreat,” Irisviel said, relaying her husband Emiya Kiritsugu’s orders.
Though Kiritsugu and Saber had clashed due to their incompatible natures—Kiritsugu even planned to end the Grail War his own way—he now recognized Saber’s necessity after witnessing the Servants’ power.
“Understood, Irisviel,” Saber replied. Though their time together was short, Saber had a high opinion of Irisviel. She sometimes wished Irisviel were her only Master—far better than Kiritsugu.
“See you next time, Rider,” Saber said. Though she found Rider’s earlier recruitment attempt rude, she didn’t dislike the straightforward Conqueror King. He was leagues better than that golden jerk.
“Catch you later, Saber,” Rider replied, scratching his head.
With that, the battlefield was left to just Rider and his Master, Webber Velvet. Neither had any interest in targeting another’s Master, so they left the scene. Their compatibility wasn’t perfect, but compared to most Master-Servant pairs, they were doing alright.
Elsewhere, Riku had tracked down Berserker’s Master—a pitiful figure who looked downright horrific. Crouched in an alley, gasping for air, it was clear Berserker’s rampage had taken a toll on him.
“Kariya Matou… you’re in rough shape,” Riku said, emerging from the shadows to stand beside him.
“Berserker!” Kariya called out immediately. The black knight materialized, shielding his Master.
“Roar!”
Surrounded by dark mist, Berserker growled at Riku, ready to charge at any moment.
“Relax, Kariya Matou, I mean no harm. You can’t sustain Berserker’s fighting for long, can you? No need to push yourself—those Crest Worms eating at you don’t feel good, do they?” Riku said, waving a hand to signal he wasn’t here to fight.
Kariya was confused. He didn’t know this figure, yet they seemed to know him well.
At this point, Kariya barely looked human. The left side of his body was nearly paralyzed—his left arm and leg immobile, his left eye blind, the surrounding muscles numb. His hair had turned completely white, his skin a ghostly gray, drained of all vitality.
This was the work of the Crest Worms, a secret technique of the Matou family. They could expand magic circuits, alter magical attributes, and siphon life force to generate mana, acting as a substitute for natural circuits.
The Matou family was one of the three founding families of the Fuyuki Holy Grail War, alongside the Tohsaka and Einzbern families. As founders, they always had a seat in the war, having built the system itself, with the Command Spell system originating from the Matous.
“Who’s your Master? What do you want?” Kariya asked with effort, veins—or rather, worms—pulsing beneath his skin.
As a half-baked mage with only a year of magical training, Kariya knew his limits. No Heroic Spirit would know his name unless their Master did.
“You’ve all got it wrong. I’m not a Heroic Spirit or part of the Grail War. Just a passerby who couldn’t stand by while Caster and their Master did their thing,” Riku explained.
Kariya’s expression screamed disbelief. He might despise magecraft and have cut ties with his family long ago, rejecting the Matou magical legacy, but he wasn’t naive. An ordinary person fighting Servants head-on? Absurd.
“You’ll believe me soon enough. Assassin’s Master is Kirei Kotomine, Tohsaka Tokiomi’s disciple and son of the overseer, Risei Kotomine. They’re working together to help Tokiomi win the Grail and end the war.”
Riku’s mention of Tokiomi’s name made Kariya’s eyes widen in shock. The information was explosive.
“Tohsaka… Tokiomi!” Kariya growled, his hatred for the man palpable. His return to the Matou family and participation in the Grail War were all because of Tokiomi’s heartlessness.
Kariya and Tokiomi’s relationship was complicated yet simple: the loser versus the winner. Tokiomi’s wife, Aoi Tohsaka, was Kariya’s childhood friend, and he had always loved her. But Aoi never loved him back.
Aoi, born into the Zenkou family, had mage ancestry, and though her family were now commoners, her blood carried magical potential. Tokiomi, recognizing this, proposed to her. Faced with the impeccable Tokiomi, Aoi agreed without hesitation and dutifully bore him two children with exceptional magical talent.
And those two children were the root of this tragedy.
“Why are you here?” Kariya asked, forcing himself to calm down and eyeing the mysterious figure. He knew they had an agenda, likely not targeting him personally but the Matou family.
Kariya understood he was worthless. The Matou family, with its two-hundred-year legacy—or longer, considering who knew how old that old monster was—held real value. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, Zouken Matou, was the same person. That ancient creature controlled everything in the twisted Matou family.
It was exactly this realization that drove Kariya to leave, severing ties with the family and choosing to live as an ordinary person.
Chapter 229: Another Special Ghost Servant
“Kariya Matou, if I’m seeing this right, you don’t have much time left to live, do you?”
Riku sized up Kariya Matou. The Crest Worms were relentlessly converting his life force into magical energy. The more magic he used, the faster he’d die. At this rate, he probably had about two weeks left.
“I’ll die if I have to, as long as I can save Sakura.”
Kariya spoke calmly, as if he’d already made peace with death. Before embarking on this path, he’d cast aside all fear of dying. His sole purpose now was to rescue Sakura from the Matou family’s hellhole.
The “Sakura” Kariya mentioned was the daughter of Tohsaka Tokiomi and Tohsaka Aoi—his childhood friend and the child of his romantic rival.
Both of Tohsaka Tokiomi’s daughters, Tohsaka Rin and Tohsaka Sakura, were exceptionally gifted. But the Tohsaka family’s legacy could only have one heir, so Tokiomi sent his younger daughter, Sakura, to the Matou family.
The Matou family, currently without a successor, desperately needed an heir. The arrangement was a perfect fit, and the highly talented Tohsaka Sakura became Matou Sakura.
Why was the Matou family without a successor? Because Kariya, the only one with magic circuits and the potential to inherit the Matou magecraft, had seen through the family’s true nature and rebelliously left.
Upon learning that Sakura had been sent to the Matou family, Kariya returned without hesitation. He struck a deal with Matou Zouken: help him seize the Holy Grail in exchange for Sakura’s freedom. He refused to let that child be trapped in the Matou family’s nightmare.
Riku actually admired Kariya. Among generations of Matous, Kariya was the most rebellious. Many had seen the truth about the Matou family, but only Kariya dared to defy them.
Beyond his rebellious spirit, Kariya was also a kind man, unwilling to drag others into his personal struggles. This was partly why his childhood friend, Aoi Zenjou, ended up with Tohsaka Tokiomi. Seeing the Matou family’s darkness, Kariya distanced himself from Aoi to protect her, inadvertently giving Tokiomi his chance.
Of course, even in direct competition, Kariya might not have beaten Tokiomi. Childhood friends rarely stand a chance against a “fateful encounter,” and Tokiomi was undeniably more accomplished than Kariya.
“I respect your resolve, but I don’t get your approach. If you want to save someone, why rely on winning the Holy Grail War? With Berserker’s power, can’t you just take on anyone who stands in your way?”
Riku looked at Kariya. With a powerhouse like Berserker, why not turn on Matou Zouken directly?
Kariya gave a bitter smile. “These Crest Worms are inside me, but they’re controlled by the caster. Think of them as familiars. Once they’re implanted, I’m basically the caster’s puppet. I can’t defy that old monster.”
“Did I ever think otherwise? But that old bug doesn’t leave such obvious weaknesses.”
“Man, that’s rough. Controlled by someone else, no say over your life, and only days left to live.”
Riku couldn’t help but sigh. Matou Zouken was far more ruthless than he was—this was outright designed to destroy someone.
“Kariya Matou, have you ever considered what happens if you don’t win? Or rather, what makes you think a half-baked mage like you can win the Holy Grail War?”
After his sigh, Riku pointed out the most glaring flaw in Kariya’s plan.
What gave Kariya the confidence he could win? With his makeshift mage skills? Did he really think so little of the other competitors?
“…”
Kariya fell silent, stung by Riku’s blunt words. Did he not know this himself? But what choice did he have? He couldn’t defeat that centuries-old monster, Zouken, on his own! And the only external help, Tohsaka Tokiomi, was the one who’d pushed Sakura into this abyss! Kariya had no choice but to gamble everything.
“It’s my only option.”
Kariya gritted his teeth, his voice thick with pain as he imagined failing and what would happen to Sakura.
“Not anymore.”
Riku smiled and extended a friendly hand.
“…”
Kariya froze, then stiffly shook Riku’s hand. Riku pulled him up from the ground.
“Kariya Matou, to save that girl, how far are you willing to go?”
Before Kariya could respond, Riku pressed on. Kariya didn’t hesitate, answering directly, “I’ll do anything.”
“Even if it means ceasing to be human? Having your life and death controlled by another?”
Riku continued, though his question seemed redundant. Kariya gave a wry smile, gesturing at himself.
“Look at me now. Do I even seem human? It’s been a while since I looked in a mirror.”
Kariya’s self-deprecating tone showed he no longer saw himself as human—just a ghost of one.
“Good enough.”
Riku grinned. He conjured a drop of Ghost King’s Blood and, without hesitation, infused it into Kariya’s body. Under Kariya’s shocked gaze, the blood merged with him.
“What did you do to me?!”
Kariya hadn’t even processed it. He’d told Berserker to stand aside, leaving him defenseless.
“Relax, I’m saving you.”
Riku vanished, dodging an attack from the charging Berserker, and reappeared a short distance away.
The Ghost King’s Blood was already taking effect, its domineering power reshaping Kariya’s body, turning him into Riku’s ghost servant.
“Control it a bit. Don’t kill all the Crest Worms, or it’ll be hard to track down your cheap old man later.”
Riku warned. The worms wouldn’t survive the blood’s corrosion, but if they all died, Zouken would notice.
“I’ll try.”
Kariya was starting to grasp the situation. The Ghost King’s Blood came with a basic “manual” outlining the rights and obligations between ghost and Ghost King—Riku’s addition to save time explaining. It was like sending a pre-packaged “contract.”
Of course, this “contract” was a tyrant’s terms, effective without the recipient’s consent. The only way to break it was suicide.
[Ding! Acquired special ghost servant “Kariya Matou.”]
[Ding! Acquired special trait “Rebellious Spirit.”
“Rebellious Spirit”: When fighting someone with opposing views, overall abilities increase by 5%.]
The transformation was complete, and Kariya provided a rare percentage-based trait, much to Riku’s delight. Finding this poor guy was the right call, though the trait’s trigger was a bit tricky—less straightforward than his [White Reaper] trait.
“Contrarian, huh? Well, it’s handy for dealing with contrarians.”
Riku chuckled. Either he or his enemy needed to be a contrarian to activate the boost, which could take some effort.
“What is this power?!”
Kariya was in disbelief. After becoming a ghost, his injuries were fully healed, and most of the Crest Worms were destroyed, with only a few preserved intentionally.
Kariya had magic circuits, though not exceptional ones. But now, they were stronger!
In terms of magic circuits alone, Kariya wasn’t far behind Tohsaka Tokiomi. Tokiomi was a hard worker, but his natural talent was mediocre by Tohsaka standards—barely above average, like Kariya.
But now, everything was different. As a ghost, Kariya’s magic circuits had multiplied and improved in quality. A half-baked mage like him could now sustain Berserker’s mana consumption without the Crest Worms—a miracle.
Though he’d long severed ties with magecraft, Kariya knew magic circuits were innate. Increasing them artificially was nearly impossible.
Magic circuits were the foundation of magecraft. Without them, one couldn’t generate magical energy or connect to the magical foundation. That’s why mages obsessed over bloodlines—to maximize the odds of producing gifted heirs.
Tokiomi was incredibly lucky, producing two exceptional heirs. Zouken, on the other hand, only had Kariya, a mediocre descendant.
Kariya realized that if the secret of Riku’s ability to enhance magic circuits got out, it would attract countless covetous eyes—even the Mage’s Association and the Church would be tempted.
“It has that effect too?”
Riku was surprised by Kariya’s feedback. He hadn’t expected this, as his previous conversions didn’t involve people with magic circuits. He’d thought it would only speed up mana conversion, given a ghost’s immense vitality.
“It’s definitely faster. Otherwise, a half-baked mage like me couldn’t support Berserker.”
Kariya nodded. The mana conversion rate had indeed increased, feeling almost inexhaustible, though he’d need to eat more to keep up.
His expression turned odd, clearly adjusting to his new “diet.” Was this the price of power? It seemed… acceptable.
“Let’s go find your cheap old man and save that kid.”
Riku didn’t dwell on it, motioning for Kariya to follow as they set off to confront Matou Zouken. Kariya had no reason to refuse. He was done with the Holy Grail War—first, he’d take down that old bug!
Along the way, Riku reflected on his gains in this world. First was the Luo Yan City Textbook. After the nuclear blast, he’d found a barely alive Gilles de Rais in the river and taken the book from him.
This A+-rank Noble Phantasm was incredibly powerful, but Gilles was too weak to wield it effectively. Riku was confident he could make better use of it, even without magecraft or magic circuits—just pure confidence.
His other gain was a level-up. Killing Caster and the sea beast earned him 2,500 experience points, plus some from minor enemies, pushing him to the next level.
[Level: Lv17]
[Experience: 85/2900]
The attribute point from leveling up went into Strength, raising it to 19—just one shy of unlocking an optional special trait.
Agility wasn’t a priority, thanks to his [Shadow Leap], [Sandevistan], and [Yuhe] for burst speed. His stats might be low, but his abilities made up for it.
As for Intelligence, he’d hit 20 last level-up, unlocking three optional special traits. Choosing was tough—they were all useful:
[Optional Special Traits
Quest Master Lv1: Experience gain increased by 10%.
Prodigy: Learning ability increased by 10%.
Memory Sketch: Never forget anything seen and can replicate it.]
All three were valuable, but Riku picked [Quest Master]. Intelligence already boosted learning and memory, covering the other two indirectly. But faster experience gain? That was rare and critical.
More experience meant faster leveling, which meant more attribute points, skill points, and skill optimization points—the real game-changers.
The skill point from the last level-up went straight to [Ultimate Being].
[Ultimate Being Lv13: A special constitution from fusing Ghost King’s Blood and Rc cells. Strength, Agility, Constitution +17, Charisma -1. Grants Blood Demon Art and Constitution Alteration State.]
With just one point left in negative Charisma, Riku was thrilled. Keep leveling, and he’d start boosting Charisma next, right? As an [Ultimate Being], infinite charm made sense. Strength and aesthetics—both were essential!
The skill optimization point from the last level-up was minor, only removing the attribute penalty from his “Human Mimicry” state. His strongest form was transformed anyway, so the penalty was negligible. The optimization was nice but not game-changing.
Chapter 230: Killing You Is Just a Matter of Personal Preference
In no time, Riku and Matou Kariya arrived at the Matou family's ancestral mansion. Riku didn’t barge in right away; instead, he let Matou Kariya go in first.
No choice, really—Riku’s identity was already out in the open. While Matou Zouken didn’t pin much hope on Kariya winning the Holy Grail War, he was still invested in the outcome. After all, if he couldn’t win, he’d make darn sure no one else did either.
Matou Kariya stepped into the Matou estate. From the outside, you could tell the Matou family was loaded. As a creepy old monster who’d been alive for over 500 years, Matou Zouken knew a thing or two about managing spiritual lands. The Matou family had spiritual territories scattered across Japan, raking in cash left and right.
“Kariya, you…”
A raspy, ancient voice echoed in the dim room, tinged with surprise. Matou Kariya had changed—a lot.
An old man emerged from the shadows. Bald, with limbs as shriveled as a mummy’s, his sunken eyes glinted sharply. He was hunched over, short, and downright spooky—like the kind of figure you’d mistake for a ghost if you ran into him at night. This was Matou Zouken. He looked a bit like one of his own kokuincyo (engraved worms), reeking of decay. Dressed in a blue-and-dark-gray kimono and clutching a wooden cane, he eyed Matou Kariya with a probing stare.
“Old man, I’m healthy now. Healthier than ever,” Kariya said, locking eyes with the geezer. He knew exactly what Zouken was wondering about. Greed and curiosity flickered in the old man’s eyes, clearly intrigued by Kariya’s transformation.
“How’d you do it?” Zouken asked, genuinely curious. How could a body ravaged by kokuincyo suddenly recover? The worms were still there, weren’t they?
“Berserker!”
Instead of an answer, Kariya let out a furious roar. Berserker’s form materialized right in front of Zouken.
Boom!
A clean, brutal punch exploded Zouken’s head. Unlike a normal person’s blood splatter, his head burst into a swarm of worms. His body was just a mass of kokuincyo—his real flesh had long since rotted away. This was Zouken’s “immortality technique,” or more accurately, his “life-extension trick.” His body was a collective of worms, with human functions run by them. When his current body decayed or broke down, he could consume someone else’s flesh to “revive” in a new shell. As long as his core wasn’t destroyed, he could keep going.
But this method came with a steep price. Over centuries, time had eroded Zouken’s soul. Even a fresh body would rot quickly, forcing him to swap hosts regularly. Back in the day, one swap could keep him going for over 50 years. Now? He needed a new body every few months. The constant decay and replacement drove him mad, leaving only a desperate obsession with not dying.
“Kariya, you’re begging for death!”
The scattered worms hissed as Zouken commanded his kokuincyo to devour Kariya. His current body was trashed, so why not take Kariya’s?
Too bad for him, Kariya wasn’t fazed. “Go ahead and try to kill me!” he shot back, his Ghost King cells already devouring the kokuincyo inside him, leaving Zouken’s attack useless.
“What the—?!” Zouken was losing it. His kokuincyo had lost their connection, and he couldn’t control Kariya anymore!
Without hesitation, Zouken tried to bolt. Leave the green hills, and you’ll never lack firewood. All he did now was to survive—his old ideals long forgotten, reduced to a worm driven by instinct.
But his escape plan hit a wall—literally. He slammed into a shadow barrier Riku had set up, and the kokuincyo that tried to leap out splattered onto the ground with a splat.
“Who’s there?!” Zouken sensed trouble. His true form was the kokuincyo themselves—he could shift between them at will, any one of them potentially his core.
“Sorry, old bug, but your life ends today,” Riku said, stepping out of the shadows. Zouken’s heart sank as he recognized him.
“What deal did you make with Kariya?! Whatever he offered, I can give you! I’m the true master of the Matou family!” Zouken pleaded, desperate for a way out. If he could strike a deal with this Heroic Spirit, he might turn the tables on Kariya.
“Deal? Nah, he’s already my subordinate,” Riku said with a smirk. Truth be told, killing Zouken wasn’t easy. The Matou estate was a bug nest, and after 200 years in Fuyuki City, Zouken had serious resources. To take him out, you had to be quick and thorough—leave no room for escape.
At that moment, Kariya returned with a little girl in tow. Purple hair, purple eyes, her face blank, her gaze as empty as a doll’s. No joy, no anger, just numbness. She wore simple clothes, a red hair tie—her sister’s gift—adorning her head. This was Matou Sakura.
Kariya held Sakura’s hand, his eyes full of pain. This child had changed so much. The innocent Sakura who used to play with Tohsaka Rin was gone. At just six years old, she’d endured unimaginable suffering in the year since being adopted into the Matou family.
Sakura’s magical aptitude was exceptional, but her attribute was “Void,” which didn’t mesh with the Matou family’s magecraft. So, Zouken used kokuincyo to forcibly alter her magical circuits, throwing her into a pit of worms to be gnawed on daily. Though she was called the Matou heir, Zouken saw her as nothing more than a “womb” to produce superior offspring.
As the only shred of conscience in the Matou family, Kariya saw through the family’s monstrous nature. He couldn’t stand by and watch Sakura suffer in this hellhole. Even knowing he might die, he came back for her.
Sakura clung to Kariya’s side. In the past year, he was the only one who’d shown her any warmth. She knew he was different—he wanted to save her, even if it meant being tortured into something barely human.
“Just one?” Riku asked, surprised, noticing only Sakura. He’d sensed another human presence inside.
Kariya’s face stiffened. He’d forgotten his nephew, Matou Shinji. The kid barely had any presence, much like his magicless father.
In the Matou family, those without magical talent were invisible, barely acknowledged. If Kariya hadn’t run away from home, his brother Matou Tsuruya wouldn’t have become the family head. Zouken never cared for those without magical gifts.
The Matou family had struggled since settling in Fuyuki. Their magical aptitude had been declining for generations, and by now, it was nearly gone. Kariya, ironically, was the most talented in generations.
Kariya made a quick trip back and returned with a small boy—purple hair, purple eyes, rubbing sleepy eyes. Matou Shinji, just a year older than Sakura, looked confused.
“Uncle Kariya, how’d you… change back?” Shinji asked, stunned by Kariya’s restored appearance after a year of drastic changes.
Before Kariya could answer, Shinji’s gaze fell on the pile of kokuincyo. “Aaaah! What are those?!” he screamed in terror.
Since he and his father lacked magical talent, they were never taught magecraft. Young Shinji didn’t even know the family’s true nature—he’d never set foot in the worm chamber.
“That’s… your grandfather,” Riku said bluntly, shocking Shinji and even drawing Sakura’s numb gaze.
Zouken kept trying to break through the shadow wall surrounding the estate, but Riku ignored him, letting him waste his energy. All of Zouken’s power went into staying alive. Once a formidable mage who could’ve rivaled Heroic Spirits, he now lacked any real combat ability. His attacks didn’t faze Riku one bit.
Back in his prime, Makiri Zolgen (Zouken’s original name) was a powerhouse, possibly even capable of becoming a Heroic Spirit or Guardian if he’d died naturally. But that man was gone. All that remained was a pathetic old bug called Matou Zouken.
“Shinji, come here,” Zouken called, hoping to consume Shinji’s body to regain a human form.
But Shinji, terrified, hid behind Kariya, wanting nothing to do with the grandfather who’d never spared him a glance.
“Alright, you three, head out. I’ll handle the rest,” Riku said with a smile, using shadow tendrils to pull Kariya, Shinji, and Sakura out of the shadow prison.
Zouken tried to follow, his kokuincyo swarming, but Riku torched them all with a Kenritsu flame thrower. The raging flames consumed everything. The Matou estate’s lush greenery only fueled the fire. Zouken’s worms burned to ash, but Riku knew the underground worm chamber was still crawling with them.
The flames roared, engulfing the estate. Black smoke filled the shadow prison as Riku walked through the fire, unharmed. Temperature regulators, fireproof coatings, and Rc cell armor made the flames a breeze to handle.
Finding the worm chamber, Riku unleashed the flame thrower. The worms scrambled to escape but couldn’t break through the fire. Sizzle! They burned to ash, reeking of decay. Riku kept his eyes on his experience points—a surefire way to confirm Zouken’s death. A 500-year-old monster like him had to give some experience, even if his magic was all spent on staying alive. If he went berserk, he could still be a threat.
“I’ve never wronged you! Why push me this far?!” Zouken’s voice rang out as he gathered his kokuincyo into a ball, charging outward. Layers of worms burned, but he got closer.
Crack!
A bolt of lightning struck the worm ball, frying countless kokuincyo. Zouken’s voice cut off.
“Why?!” he cried again, now laced with fear and desperation. He’d do anything to survive.
“Sorry, I just don’t like you. Or bugs. That’s it. If you were anything else, I might’ve let you live. But bugs? Nah, you’re done,” Riku said calmly. It was true—killing Zouken was personal. He just hated bugs, especially these ugly kokuincyo.
(Chapter End)
