Chapter 4
Old man Acht stared at Berserker from the opposite side of the room, as she silently stood in the corner. She had finally finished eating black bean buns, and was now staring into the air, projecting the aura of a natural airhead. With difficulty, he tore his gaze away from the abnormality, and chose to focus on Illya.
"Is she the Servant you summoned?"
"Yes."
"Are her parameters and abilities satisfactory?"
Illya hesitated for a moment.
"Yes."
Acht noticing the delay, questioned further.
"Do you know her True Name? I am quite certain this is not Heracles the Servant we hoped to summon, unless the legends were gravely mistaken."
Illya looked down, biting her lip, before answering.
"Her True Name is unknown. No matter what I tried, it remained hidden."
Jubstacheit's face remained stern and unchanged, but Illya had lived with him long enough to know that he was probably disappointed and angered in equal measure. If she concentrated, she could almost see the metaphorical veins popping out on his forehead. Acht himself took a sip of the autumn flush Darjeeling tea he had prepared earlier to celebrate a successful summoning of the strongest Greek hero, but now it served as a way to keep his poker face on.
"Very well, return to your room with your Servant. I will meet with you later to discuss the preparation of further measures to give our side the advantage."
With that, Illya, Berserker and her two maids left the room, and Acht returned to his own private quarters.
Once Acht got back to his quarters, he rechecked the Bounded Fields and enchantments surrounding the room that provided protection. Once he was sure they were functioning properly, he sank to his knees and wailed in anguish.
"WHHHYYYYYY?"
He continued to sob while lamenting his continuous failures.
"In the first Holy Grail War that I participated in, we tried to summon a Divine Spirit, but it turned out all wrong and we got the weakest servant in the whole War. He even had the nerve to insult my beard! The beard I spent centuries grooming! I was willing to let that pass, but then that damn familiar insulted my tea as well! My Darjeeling tea! That erbärmliches schwanzlutschen arschloch! We lost so quickly in that war that even a servant with EX rank agility couldn't catch up to us, but we still had another chance. The Fourth Holy Grail War was in the bag for us, what with us being able to summon the strongest servant, and having access to the legendary sheathe of King Arthur that rendered her invincible. But instead, that ficken substitute Master that we hired betrayed us and doomed all our efforts to naught, ordering his Servant to unleash her Noble Phantasm on the Lesser Grail instead of using them to kill her! May his descendants and their loved ones stew in the worm pits of Makiri Zolgen until the thirtieth generation. Even then, I still had one more shot for this war before I was replaced, and as they say third times the charm, but what do I get? Of all things, an airhead Berserker that loves eating black bean buns! I watched that totgesichtig schoolgirl munch those faulig all the way through each and every hallway, without even stopping once! I stopped watching through my familiars halfway through, since there was no ficken point at all. What was the point of it all? Struggling to win through each and every Grail War, putting out every ounce of ability and resources we had, yet in the end I achieved nothing. Nothing. I was created to reproduce the miracle that achieved the Third Magic, Juzteaze Lizrich von Einzbern, but in the end like my creators I have failed miserably. Wie der Vater, so der Sohn."
After his rant, he let out a bitter laugh. Sighing deeply, he ordered Margareta, the homunculus maid whose creation he had personally overseen, to come to his room. Lighting the tea incense in the room, he decided to look forward to her superb massages that somehow managed to make even his golem body feel pleasure, and relax for a bit to relieve his emotions.