It's been almost a day since we encountered the other Servants in the park. The good thing is that we got Rider's identity and prevented Assassin from committing more murders for now.

I just checked in with the drones I stationed all over the city. No activity at the church, the Tohsaka mansion, and the Matou residence. The drone I stationed near the Einzbern Castle was destroyed though. I sent a second drone, believing that I may have not hidden the first well enough, but I lost contact with the second minutes after it arrived.

This leads me to believe that either the Einzbern Master or her Servant is able to detect the drones. So, there is no point in wasting more on trying to spy on the castle.

I walk downstairs into the living room. I take a seat at the table which is located in the center of the room. Once I sit down, I boot up my laptop. Ozymandias and Archer seem to be the biggest threats so far. Therefore, getting as much information about them is vital in defeating them.

I survey the room and see Jeanne sitting on the couch in the corner. She is reading a book as she idly plays with her long, golden hair that shines in the light of the room. Guess the Grail also gave her the ability to read, since she supposedly didn't have that when she was alive.

Anyway...

"Jeanne, can I take a look at your sword, please?" I ask.

She looks up from her book and her amethyst eyes meet mine. For a moment, it feels like time stands still as I catch myself staring for some reason. I quickly avert my gaze to the table.

"Uhm, sure, but why?" she answers.

"I want to use it as reference for Archer's identity," I reply.

She puts away her book and gets up. Her sword appears and she hands it to me. I carefully run my hand over the hilt and the flat side of the blade. I am aware that it might not be the same weapon from last night, but my instincts tell me to pursue this lead.

I gently put the sword on the table.

"Alright, let's recapitulate what we know about the golden Archer," I say. "First, he is a king. One of great renown if someone as important as Ozymandias recognized and praised him."

Jeanne grabs a nearby chair and sits down next to me.

"Second, he is in possession of a seemingly infinite supply of Noble Phantasms which he referred to as his treasures," Jeanne adds.

That's what worries me the most. As a rule, Heroic Spirits have usually only one Noble Phantasm. Very renowned or powerful ones have three at best, but Archer has hundreds or thousands of them.

"Indeed," I say, compiling the information. "And then there is your - eh, Saint Catherine's sword. We should be able to deduce his true name because he is in possession of it."

"Are you certain that it was this very sword you saw yesterday?" she asks.

"I'm positive that one of the weapons he shot out was this sword," I answer. "Just without the coloring and ornamentation."

"That means that he was in possession of it before even Saint Catherine herself," Jeanne says, looking at the blade. "I was guided to this sword by the Lord and found it in a church dedicated to her behind an altar. It already looked like this when I took it in my hands."

I do a quick search on my laptop. My fingers fly across the keyboard as the first results come in. Jeanne glances over to look at the screen.

"It also says that the sword was lost after your death, so the only logical conclusion is that Archer is a king of the BC era," I say.

Jeanne cups her chin and looks at her sword for a moment.

"But that does not add up," she says. "This sword only became a Noble Phantasm through Saint Catherine. It was only a regular sword before she emerged in human history. Unless…"

"Unless that version Archer has was its prototype?" I say. "Then there is a high chance that his other weapons are also prototypes. I couldn't identify any of them though."

Unfortunately, there is no way to find out who possessed it before Saint Catherine, but we can narrow it down even further.

"Well, the next step is to figure out Archer's country of origin," I continue. "Which leaves only Greece, Egypt, and the regions in the middle east. We can already rule out Egypt because he is not using the title of pharaoh."

"The letters on the plate below his torso were not greek," Jeanne adds. "And he claimed that the Holy Grail was also his treasure when talking to Rider."

"Yes, he used the word treasure a few times," I mutter. "Could that be the thing he is known for? Amassing a great treasury surpassing every other in history?"

"An ancient king with a treasury that houses the prototype of Noble Phantasms…" she says. "There is only one I can think of that matches that description."

"Mankind's oldest hero," I sigh. "Gilgamesh."

I read his epic on my flight to Japan. The tyrannical king of Uruk who claimed everything of value and, after losing his only friend, went on an unsuccessful quest for immortality.

Just my luck. He is supposedly the strongest Heroic Spirit. I hope that the myth about him possessing a Noble Phantasm that is capable of tearing the world asunder is just that, a myth. He is already strong enough as it is. The only way I can see us winning against him is by exploiting his ego or killing his Master who we don't even know yet.

"This is almost depressing. Between Archer, Rider, and that shapeshifter who actually managed to keep up with both of them, our chances of winning aren't looking too good," I sigh, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "And we haven't even met the last Servant."

I just want to go to bed and call it a day.

"Please do not worry," Jeanne says, putting her hand on mine. "I am sure the Lord has a plan and will guide us through this."

Strange. For someone as battle hardened as her, her hands are surprisingly soft.

"Please, spare me all that nonsense about god," I say, retracting my hand.

Jeanne blinks once, twice, and looks at me as if she'd just been slapped.

"What makes you say such a thing?" she asks.

Here we go. I suppose a discussion like this was inevitable, considering how pious she is.

"I don't believe in any god. Plain and simple," I state, crossing my arms. "But for the sake of argument, I'll play along and pretend that an entity called 'god' is real."

"The Holy Church claims that he is benevolent and all-powerful," I continue. "And yet, I don't see any of that around the world. Take me for example. I am a freelancer that works for the Clock Tower most of the time. I steal and kill for a living. I'm sure you have deduced that much about me by now. What kind of messed up world do we live in where this is seen as the most normal thing in the world?"

"It is not in my place to judge you," she replies. "Everyone has done things they are not proud of at one point, but even so, the world is constantly shaped by humanity. The Lord cannot force change unto them."

"But he should!" I respond. "There are so many things wrong with the world. Cruelties, big and small, are committed every day. If he isn't able to bring change, then that means he is not all-powerful since he's powerless to change it. However, if he actually has the power, it means he is not benevolent because he chooses to see people suffer instead of seeing them happy."

"It is not up to the Lord to lead humanity. All he can do is show them the way," Jeanne says. "Whether or not they take that path is up to everyone individually."

Then what is the point in worshipping a being that doesn't take action?

"And look what that did to you," I reply, lowering my voice. "You saved your country from the brink of destruction, and how did they repay you? They sold you out to the British who tried to humiliate you in court and burned you at the stake."

"I knew of the fate that awaited me the moment I heard the Lord's voice and went to war. I do not believe that this path that I chose was a mistake either, for I have saved many lives along the way," she replies.

She knew from the start how it would all end and did it anyway. Giving up your own happiness for the sake of others. That is... noble, albeit foolish.

"Yes, salvation," I say. "A word that has been used in the past to commit many atrocities in the name of religion. There is no such thing, at least for us humans. The majority of us are selfish beings that inevitably self-destruct."

I close my laptop and get up. Just as I'm about to walk away, Jeanne grabs my arm. I turn around to face her again.

"I do not know what caused you to have such a pessimistic outlook," Jeanne says. "But I beg of you, no matter what, please do not give up on humanity. Losing faith in humanity is easy. Simply hating them is even easier, but continuing to love them can be extremely difficult."

I look her in the eyes with a blank expression. A moment of silence passes as she seemingly waits for me to say something. I rip my arm free of her grasp and turn around again. I have no interest to continue this discussion. This was a waste of time.

"Whatever," I say. "Our views on that matter have no relevance to the Holy Grail War. I'll see if I can find a pattern to the Ripper's attacks here in Fuyuki tomorrow morning. If I find something, we'll hunt him down and defeat him before he becomes a threat. Do what you want in the meantime."


"Shaped by humanity," Nicolas says. "A reflection."

He gazes through Caster's crystal ball, revisiting the events that have transpired last night. The room is dreary, only illuminated by the teal glow of the ball and a few dimmed lights.

"Oh? Did Assassin catch your interest?" Caster asks.

He mumbles something as he moves his hands over the ball. He then reaches into the solid object as if to grab something. Then, he pulls out a ball of smoke which he throws to the side. The smoke begins to spread out and take shape. Perfect copies of every person present in that fight stands in a circle around them, motionless like a mannequin.

"Fortunately, my ability in magecraft exceeds his skill of erasing evidence." Caster smirks. "But back to the question at hand."

"Not the Ripper himself," Nicolas says, stepping toward the doppelgänger of Assassin. "But his existence in and of itself as a 'Heroic Spirit' is an interesting one. Strictly speaking, he is nothing special. There were many murderers and serial killers over the past centuries, but only he amassed enough recognition to be recorded into the Throne of Heroes. Do you know why that is?"

"It would be embarrassing if I do not," Caster replies. "After all, we are both products of humanity, created to fill the roles of a boogeyman or an evil demon."

"Precisely," he replies, looking at Assassin. "The newspapers in London were desperate for a good story to sell. So, they brought this one killer onto the world stage which made him infamous to this day. Even the name 'Jack the Ripper' was made up from one of these newspapers."

"Fascinating, is it not?" Caster says gleefully. "Humanity's potential to create both good and evil is truly unparalleled. Humans, by nature, constantly strive for things beyond their grasp. It is that very desire that fuels and nourishes me."

Caster speaks as if nostalgic. There is nothing good about such a thing, Nicolas thought. It is despicable. A prime example of what is wrong with humanity. One day, their endless desire will lead to their undoing.

"I am sure you had your hand in many evil actions," Nicolas says.

"Master, you wound me," Caster says, feigning to be physically hurt by his words. "Had I not appeared when I did, Faust would have committed suicide. Would you not agree that this was a good deed?"

"Yes, one good deed to commit countless evil ones," Nicolas says.

"As much as I like to take credit for my work," Caster says. "I could not have done any of it without the involvement of humans, for I merely provide them the tools. What they do with them is entirely in their hands."

"Do not play dumb with me," Nicolas says. "If you give a person with violent tendencies a weapon, chances are that he will hurt others. If you tell a power hungry maniac a way to achieve his ambitions, the probability that he will follow that path like a religion is all but assured."

Caster raises an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, but there is only one way to find out, am I right?" He grins.

"Regardless," Nicolas continues. "This incarnation of the Ripper is based on how he was portrayed in most caricatures. I imagine that there is no face beneath that mask since there are no records of what the Ripper truly looked like."

"The same goes for his or her real name," Caster says. "He probably does not even know his real name himself. Thus, he could theoretically be summoned in a variety of forms, perhaps even as a little girl."

"Assassin aside," Nicolas says. "We have a visual of Saber, Archer, Rider, and Berserker now, including three Masters. What is your take on them?"

"It was foolish of Rider to reveal his true name," Caster replies. "While he does have the firepower to back up his ego, he is still human, despite his claims of being a god. It shall be entertaining to reunite him with Nefertari and Moses if the chance arises."

Nicolas turns away from Assassin to face the other illusions. He looks at the girl next to Rider for a moment.

"Oh, the irony," he mutters.

"That golden Archer will be a tough one to beat," Caster says, cupping his chin. "But the greater the challenge, the greater the payoff."

"Yes, I imagine Archer's Master is hiding somewhere since his Servant doesn't need any support due to his class skill," Nicolas adds. "And Rider keeps his Master close by, a smart move to guard against assassinations."

Caster runs his hand over the orb and the scenery inside it changes. A prestigious manor becomes visible.

"No activity at the Tohsaka mansion," Caster says, swiping to the left. "And none at the Matou residence either."

He swipes again to the left, but looks visibly displeased now. The crystal ball only shows the distorted image of a castle.

"Tch, my scrying magic was detected even at this distance?" He scoffs. "What a pain this Einzbern Servant is."

"There is more to Berserker than meets the eye," Nicolas adds. "None of the ravens I have dispatched to spy on the Einzbern Castle have returned. Even an Einzbern homunculus couldn't have gotten all of them. Therefore, Berserker might not be as mindless as he pretends to be."

"Which leaves my favorite of this bunch," Caster says with a hint of hostility. "Saber."

"Do not let your personal ambitions hinder us," Nicolas reprimands him.

"Of course not," Caster says. "I merely want to be the one to defeat her. I want to see her fall from grace. I want to see the despair in her eyes as she is defeated! Breaking religious men and women is something I will never tire of."

"I am sure that there will be an opportunity sooner or later," Nicolas responds. "But for now, we must wait and watch."

"Either way, it cannot hurt to be prepared," Caster says.

He snaps his fingers and his attire changes in an instant. His black and red robes transform into a fancy suit. A walking cane materializes in his right hand moments later.

"I will take a walk and procure the necessary tools," Caster adds. "I will be back in an hour or two. Don't have too much fun without me!"

Caster vanishes in a puff of smoke, leaving his Master alone in his workshop.

"I've said too much." Nicolas sighs.

He walks by the many doppelgängers that are all lined up. He stops at the image of Saber's Master.

"A freelancer, how quaint," he says to himself. "But... curious. Why is someone like him a Master? He couldn't be after the root like the other mages. No, mages are a different breed of their own. I will have to watch this one carefully."


On the edge of the tallest building in Fuyuki, a single man stands, watching over the city. The night sky is clear. A cool breeze blows by. Everything is just as he remembers it.

How long has it been since he was here? Days, months, years, decades, or centuries? He has lost track of time amidst his bloodstained work.

Why exactly did he come up here? Was it because this position was a good vantage point to scout out potential targets or because he just wanted to gaze upon a familiar scenery?

"You seem to be in thought, is something bothering you?" a woman asks, walking up to him from behind with quiet steps.

"I thought you'd be gathering intel with Assassin," the man replies.

"He insisted to handle that task on his own," she responds.

The woman in the dark coat stands next to him and lets her gaze wander over the city as well. Her homeland, or at least the homeland of the person she is modeled after, has changed so much in the past 200 years.

"Does this city mean anything to you?" she adds.

"Maybe in the past, though that doesn't matter right now," he says. "But enough about that. Tell me, does this situation not strike you as odd?"

"That we are in a Holy Grail War?" she asks.

"That there are three of us," he says. "Not once have I encountered another one of ours in all of my summonings."

"That may be true, but what is the point in wondering about that?" she asks. "Our kind simply go where we are told to fulfill our duty. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Yes, we are nothing more than beings forced to clean up one mess after another." He scoffs, crossing his arms.

"Have you come to regret your contract?" she asks.

"I have a couple of regrets," he says. "Let's just leave it at that."

"Very well," she says, turning around. "Assassin should be back soon. I will wait at the appointed meeting point. What will you do in the meantime?"

"Nothing in particular," he replies.

"Understood," she concludes, disappearing moments later.

The man looks down towards a certain part of the city. An area near the city's theatre. It looks so peaceful in this timeline.

He looks up to the sky, wondering what will happen this time. Will there be another tragedy? Will there be another fire that consumes every life it reaches? Will there be a sole survivor amidst that hell again? There is only one way to find out.

The man jumps off the roof and vanishes into the night.


Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay on this chapter.

Someone wondered how Jack was able to keep up with Enkidu. Imagine it more like the fight between Cu and Cursed Arm in Heaven's Feel. He was basically dodging most of the time, thanks to his high agility stat.

Next chapter: "Hunter of the Red Plains"