Welcome to chapter 16.5! These extra chapters are scenes/ideas that are either too short or too long to fit into the main story (or were downright rejected), but I didn't want to just ignore them so I'll be posting them here. They may eventually include omakes just for fun too. Do note that these chapters won't affect the main story, so feel free to ignore them if you want to. Also, if you have anything you'd like to see here, feel free to let me know and I'll see if I can whip something up for it!

With that out of the way, here's the first extra chapter!

She looked down the hallway, where dark shadows crept onto the wooden floor. Faint beams of moonlight struck at the darkness ever so briefly, before dying out as the clouds overhead swallowed the source. In the absence of light, the shadows flooded the hallway, tainting the wooden tiles with their murky touch.

She swallowed, trying desperately to keep the confusion from hijacking her thoughts. Somewhere in this place lay her friends, peacefully asleep and unaware of the predicament she was in. They would not be there to help her, and Illyasviel von Einzbern was alone.

Even Ruby was not with her, so she could not transform into a Magical Girl and fly. Of all the times she needed her, the loudmouthed Mystic Code was not around. Granted, she could try to find her way without using magic, but the hallways were long and dark and-

"What're you spacing out for?"

"Kyaaaah!"

"You know, it's the middle of the night," Lancer said, as he raised an eyebrow at the little girl cowering in a corner and hunched over like a ball. "Do you wanna wake everyone up or something?"

"D-don't startle me like that!" Illya cried, though she did lower her voice. "Since when have you been here?!"

"I was here all along," Lancer replied. "Servants can dematerialize into spiritual form, you know. And it's not like we need to sleep so we tend to just hang around on the alert for enemies."

"B-but Saber-san is sleeping, isn't she?" Illya asked, slowly getting to her feet. The heated debate about whether it was alright for Saber to sleep in the same room as Shrou was still vivid in her memory.

"Ah, she's a special case, she is," Lancer replied. "She can't go into spiritual form for some reason, so sleeping's the best way she can reduce her mana consumption rate. Your big brother ain't exactly the best magus around either, so she really needs to watch it."

"That explains her enormous appetite…" Illya muttered.

"Anyway," Lancer said. "What were you doing sneaking around like a thief?"

"I-I wasn't sneaking around!" Illya denied, her cheeks flushing red. "I was… well… I was just kinda lost…"

"What's that?" Lancer asked, unable to catch the inaudible mumbles of his Master.

"I-I got lost,"Illya repeated.

Lancer did not quite know how to respond to that, so he simply kept quiet and let that sentence hang in the air while Illya fidgeted uncomfortably with her clothes. He was pretty sure his lower jaw was hanging open a little, but could not actually do anything about it.

"… Hey," he said at last.

"Y-yes?" Illya asked timidly.

"You're really something else, you are."

Had there been a hole in the ground between them, Illya would have dived right in.

After a short walk back to the room she was supposed to be sleeping in, Illya heaved a sigh of relief.

"T-thank you," she said meekly.

"Don't mention it," Lancer replied. "Though I don't think you'd want to mention this to anyone anyway."

"… Yeah, you're right," Illya mumbled.

Silence followed the brief exchange, with neither side saying or doing anything. Illya, who was supposed to return to her room, stayed where she was while Lancer, likely sensing something was amiss, did not dematerialize.

"What's wrong; ya don't feel sleepy anymore?" he teased. When Illya did not reply, the smirk slid off his face almost instantly. "… Are you serious?"

Unwilling (or simply too embarrassed) to reply, Illya nodded. Lancer opened his mouth to speak – probably to express his disbelief – before finally stopping himself as he considered the girl in front of him.

Master status or no, Illya was a child. A little kid who, despite the situation she was in, was too young to be risking her life. If he looked at her from a Servant's perspective, she was nowhere near competent enough to be a Master. However, if he looked at her as an individual, he could not blame her for acting the way she did.

"Well, no sense just standing there," he said, sitting down on the edge of the corridor overlooking the yard. He was the adult here after all, so he might as well save her the embarrassment of having to ask it herself. "Sit down. I'll keep ya company till you feel sleepy enough."

"O-okay!" Illya replied, beaming as she walked over to the spearman. She was an open book, which was a refreshing change from Lancer's previous Master.

"You're a real piece of work, y'know," he said before he could stop himself. "I don't think there'll ever be a kid like you in the Holy Grail War after this one."

"Why's that?" Illya asked.

"Well, for one, I've never heard of a Master who got scared by their own Servant before."

"B-but you really startled me!" Illya retorted. "Anyone would be scared if their friend just suddenly appeared out of nowhere!"

"… Ah, that's right," Lancer said. "You did say something like that."

To the girl sitting next to him, Lancer was not an ally. He was not a tool, a familiar, or even a bodyguard – all natural things for a Master to see Servants as. Instead, she saw him as a person – someone she trusted enough to call a 'friend'. It was something that still puzzled Lancer even now.

He had initially thought of it as some sort of trick. If it was indeed genuine, then the reason for her actions was likely either insanity or childish naïveté; after all, no decent magus would ever entertain such irrational thoughts – a fact that he and his first Master had learned the hard way.

She had trusted him. His Master – Bazett Fraga McRemitz – had trusted the man known as Kotomine Kirei. She had, just like this girl next to him now, decided to put her trust in someone else. In the world of magi, that sort of weakness was a fatal mistake, one that had robbed Bazett of her life. And this child, clueless to the harshness of reality, was committing the same mistake.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Illya asked, tilting her head to one side.

"It's nothing," Lancer replied, waving away her question. "Say, kid-"

"It's 'Illya'," she corrected him.

"… What's your wish for the Holy Grail?" Lancer asked, ignoring her correction.

"Wish?" Illya echoed. "I… I don't know…"

"Then you ought to think of one," Lancer suggested. "Every Master has a reason to seek that thing after all."

But he knew she would not have one. It was to be expected. She had not been a participant to begin with, and had ended up as a Master via the strangest of ways. It was only natural for her to not have a reason to fight. And, above all, it was only natural that she did not have the resolve necessary to survive the War.

A wish was, in essence, a goal. It was nothing more than an objective to be achieved. The nature of the wish did not matter; it was the resolve born from said desire that mattered. That resolve was what kept the person fighting, rising against adversity, and would eventually lead them to victory. Battles fought were, beyond an exchange of skill, a clash of resolve. But for a young girl whose innocence was still intact and had insufficient combat ability to defend herself, the lack of such determination would spell her doom far too quickly.

"If… if I had to wish for something," Illya said at last. "I think that… I'll wish for the people who died in this battle to be brought back. O-of course, I'm not hoping people will die, but…"

"… What did you say?" Lancer asked.

"Because it's just not right, isn't it?" Illya replied. "Even if we are competing for something, if people have to die in the process, then winning the prize loses its meaning right? Wouldn't it be better if everyone-"

"You're mistaken about something, kid," Lancer cut across her sharply. "The important part of this War isn't the result, but rather the battle fought for that result. And most important of all, the participants of this Holy Grail War aren't people who want or require your pity."

"Eh?" Illya involuntarily edged away from him at his sudden change in tone.

"I will say this about the Servants," Lancer said. "We are, for better or for worse, Heroic Spirits with our own pride to defend. We seek the Holy Grail, but if we are slain in the process by a worthy opponent, we'll accept that fate. That's what it means to be a Heroic Spirit."

"B-but-"

"I don't expect you to understand," Lancer went on. There was no sarcasm in his voice; he really did not expect to be understood by a mere child. "It's an unspoken oath warriors carry with them onto the battlefield. It's the duty of the victor to shoulder the lives of those he has slain upon his shoulders. If you undo that defeat, then they've lost the meaning behind the fight in which they bet their life.

"It's likely the same for the Masters," he said, looking at Illya. "Your opponents are all magi who have a wish they want granted by the Holy Grail. They put their lives in danger, and if you win only to bring them back, then that means you crushed their hopes and dreams merely to reset everything, leaving everyone with nothing. Is that what you want?"

"N-no," Illya replied hastily. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you…"

"I know," Lancer sighed. "Can't blame you for thinking the way you did. But now that you know, are you still gonna wish for the same thing?"

Illya fell silent at that, clearly disturbed by the question she had to answer. On some level, Lancer did feel somewhat guilty about forcing a girl that young into such an uncomfortable situation, but the child was a Master; like it or not, she had to participate in the Holy Grail War. If she could not find it in her the resolve to fight against others, there was no hope for her survival. If that was the case, it would probably be better if Lancer fought alone, rather than drag along a defenseless girl.

"I…" Illya said at last, slowly meeting Lancer's eyes. "My answer… is the same."

Scarlet met scarlet, and even without a verbal exchange, Lancer understood that she had not said those words without really thinking it through first. He returned her gaze, wordlessly telling her to continue.

"I can't say I understand what it means to be a warrior," Illya said. "And I don't want to trample on anyone's pride… But I also have things I want to protect. I have people I love, people I don't want to see get hurt. Kuro, Miyu, Ruby, Sapphire, Shirou-san, Saber-san, Fujimura-sensei, all my friends from the world I come from, my family, my 'elder sisters' Sella and Liz… and of course you, Setanta-san… I-I mean Lancer-san. If any of you died or got hurt, I'd be sad. It might be selfish of me to want something like that, but I want to be with everyone. I want to laugh and be happy with everyone. I'm sure the other Masters and Servants have people they care about as well, and… it might be childish of me, but I don't want anyone to be sad. If the Holy Grail truly can grant any wish, then… I just want everyone to be happy. Without any sacrifices, or any bloodshed."

She did not look away. Despite her meek and downright timid actions before, the little girl was now looking at Lancer straight in the eyes. There was still in her eyes – and he did not blame her for that – but there was also determination shining in those pupils.

"… I get it," Lancer said, his lips parting into a thin smile. "I hear you loud and clear, kid. Those guts ain't bad; as expected of someone who openly declared her love 'burned too brilliantly to be extinguished'…"

"E-eh?! Th-that was…!"

Right on cue, Illya entered 'flustered mode', stammering and trying desperately to hide her newfound wave of embarrassment. Instead of offering his usual sigh of exasperation, Lancer let out a bark-like chuckle.

In her eyes, the world was simple. She knew not of wars, of bloodshed, of magecraft, of reality. Perhaps that was why she could earnestly believe in those childish fantasies. She could not let go of anything, and yet she wanted to acquire everything. It was unbelievably selfish, but at the same time, it was completely understandable.

It was a very ordinary child's very ordinary greed.

"Well, it's not exactly what I expected, but it'll do," he said. "I'll acknowledge that wish of yours, brat."

"… Eh?" Illya looked at him, confusion etched across her face. She had already lost count of the number of times she had said 'eh' that night.

"It's fine even if you don't get it," he said. "Just know that I'm willing to fight with you, kid."

It took him a moment to realize that he had said 'with' and not 'for', but it did not bother him as much as he thought it would have. Maybe messing around with these strange Masters was making him weird too.

"That's great," Illya heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm… so glad… to…"

With a soft sound, something small and light landed on Lancer's leg. Looking down only to find Illya fast asleep there, using his leg as a makeshift pillow, Lancer sighed. He always seemed to find himself being reminded that she was only a child, despite it being a fact anyone could see. She was indeed a special Master, in more ways than one.

With all the adrenaline out of her system and her mind at ease hearing Lancer's reply, Illya's body had simply thrown in the towel. The fatigue (coupled with the mana Lancer was consuming by being in corporeal form) finally took its toll after a long, long day, and it was unlikely she would wake up even if he moved her. Even so, Lancer did not move.

He would return her to her room later, but for now, he decided to let her sleep.