Chapter 14: The Most Ancient King

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My name is Lin Hao.

This is a summoning occasion.

273:48:36

Kenneth hated Japan with a passion.

Just like the trash and dead weight he so often saw at the Clock Tower—students whose families had been passed down for two or three generations, desperately fawning over those whose lineages stretched back seven or eight generations, then acting as though they themselves belonged to such ancient houses while glaring at and sneering at everyone else.

This was a barbaric country that had not even possessed a constitution a century ago. It wanted to compete with the Western nations through nothing but science, technology, and economic development, shamelessly forcing its way into the ranks of civilized countries. Reasoning with people like that was simply impossible.

Take Fuyuki City, for example. If it had preserved the simple charm of the secluded fishing village it once was, it would have been far more interesting than this so-called “New City”...

Much like Waver Velvet.

As a leading lecturer at the Clock Tower, Kenneth had understood at a glance what Waver had meant to express in his paper, “An Inquiry into the Path of Magecraft in the New Century.” Kenneth had already summarized those ideas in their entirety. If the foolish student had slipped the paper to him privately instead of submitting it as coursework, Kenneth might even have been willing to discuss it with him frankly—perhaps explaining that opinions like these should not be displayed so casually when one lacked sufficient influence to support them.

Did that idiot not know that a coursework paper had to be reviewed by at least two lecturers?

If he agreed with the paper, “Genius Kenneth” would immediately become “Kenneth, the Genius Madman”! The other lecturer assigned to review it with him was already preparing to circulate it among lecturers from other departments as a joke!

Other than publicly dressing him down and tearing the paper to pieces, what else was he supposed to do?

And then the fool, sulking off to investigate the Holy Grail War like some misunderstood genius, had turned around and stolen the relic that was delivered to him?

Kenneth was utterly speechless.

No—that was not true. There was still plenty to say.

Had Waver never wondered why such an important item had been entrusted to him for delivery? It was because Kenneth habitually had him receive and sign for his lecturer’s belongings, to the point that even the mailman had grown accustomed to it.

Had he never noticed all the overt and covert care his teacher had shown him?

Who was this childish brat who had smashed the windows of his own home and run away simply because his father had scolded him a few times?

Besides, even if he won this Holy Grail War, what would it matter? Would the Clock Tower pay any attention to the champion of some backwater magical contest?

When he returned in high spirits only to discover that he could not even raise a ripple, people would remember it only by saying, “Oh, you mean that competition he won with the relic belonging to his own teacher?”

Kenneth wondered what kind of expression Waver would make then.

Still, if he was going to drag that hopeless disciple home, he might as well take part in this provincial magical contest, win the championship, and return with it.

When he met Waver, what should he say?

“What a pity. I had hoped to make this adorable student happy, but what’s done is done, Mr. Waver. I suppose I’ll have to give you some extracurricular instruction right here—on the true meaning of magi fighting one another.”

“That will not do,” said the Snow Queen with flame-red hair as she walked to Kenneth’s side and gazed out the window with him. “You should say it like this.”

“Waver, a mere ordinary person like you ought to live the life of an ordinary person. But since you have appeared here, I shall teach you the terror and suffering of magecraft without reservation. You must feel greatly honored!”

Kenneth was unquestionably overwhelmed by his fiancée’s forceful presence.

“Er, Sola, about the summoning circle I asked you to prepare...”

“Of course it is finished! Hurry up and summon Saber!”

“No, that broken sword hilt does not seem to belong to Excalibur...”

“What?!”

“I am going at once...”

“Declare—”

Looking at the Volumen Hydrargyrum that had been forced into the shape of a summoning circle, Kenneth patted it with deep feeling and began to chant the summoning spell.

270:08:57

Waver Velvet hated many things.

For example, being ordered around by other people.

A magus family that had come into existence by accident and had only been passed down through two generations naturally had neither servants nor assistants to command. When his parents were too absorbed in their research to spare any time, young Waver could only be sent here and there to run errands. Since they were his parents, he naturally had nothing to complain about.

Although Waver’s parents possessed enough talent to conduct research into magecraft, they were not particularly good at raising children. They therefore spent a great deal of money hiring a magus tutor they knew to teach him.

That tutor, however, treated Waver entirely as an assistant and servant, teaching him almost no magecraft at all. Whenever Waver voiced an objection, the man would immediately put on the face of an old hand and remind him of his place.

“With your talent, you will never accomplish anything of significance. You would be better off placing your hopes in your descendants.”

Thus, even as Waver resolved to make something of himself, he also began to despise those who considered themselves superior simply because their family lines had endured for generations.

Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald was practically the perfect embodiment of everything Waver hated. Not long after Waver had finally escaped that parasitic tutor through his own efforts and spent his entire family fortune to enter the Clock Tower, he found himself targeted by this genius lecturer whose lineage had continued for nine generations.

“Mr. Waver Velvet, tell everyone the difference between mithril and silver-iron. Oh, you do not know? Then tell us where orichalcum can be found.”

Just listen to those questions. How could a student who had only just entered the Clock Tower, without any systematic study of alchemy, possibly know the answers?

Waver could now answer at once that mithril and silver-iron were the same thing, but he still had no idea where to find orichalcum. Surely the answer was some family secret passed down by an ancient magus household!

Collecting in-class exercises. Handing out examination papers. Writing speeches for him. Assisting with dangerous experiments. Copying out letters discussing academic matters with other lecturers of magecraft. Attending obscure and incomprehensible lectures on advanced magecraft in his place and taking notes.

Even the alchemical and spiritual materials shipped in from all over the world were sent to him for receipt, then dumped in his dormitory to take up space.

The worst of it was that Kenneth had thrown piles of magical references at him and ordered him to write a book entitled The Complete Mysteries of Lord Kenneth, singing the praises of Kenneth’s achievements.

It was utterly outrageous!

“An Inquiry into the Path of Magecraft in the New Century” had been written specifically to target those heirs of ancient lineages who considered themselves inherently superior. Naturally, Waver had to submit it to the most outstanding among them: Kenneth.

And since it was a coursework paper, if Kenneth refuted it, Waver could debate him. No matter what happened, the students present would spread the contents of the paper, and Waver’s objective would be achieved.

Yet Kenneth had dismissed it in two light sentences and torn it to pieces!

As it happened, Waver also received an invitation and a relic for entry into a magical contest known as the Holy Grail War. After consulting the relevant materials, he gained a preliminary understanding of what the Holy Grail War was: a grand magical ritual from the distant past that had evolved into a magical competition when its collaborators lost faith in one another and turned against each other.

Using relics, participants could summon ancient heroes as Servants to fight on their behalf. The winner would obtain the original result of the ritual: the fulfillment of a wish.

Well, never mind the wish for now.

He would simply ruin the whole affair and vent his anger at Kenneth.

With that thought in mind, Waver brought the relic of Iskandar the Great to Fuyuki.

He subtly manipulated two empty-nesters into believing that he was their grandson. Once a Command Spell appeared on the back of his hand exactly as he had hoped, he began planning the summoning of a Heroic Spirit.

The Conqueror King Iskandar.

It sounded impressive, but the man himself had apparently been quite short. According to the historical records, after conquering the Persian Empire, he sat upon the throne of the Persian king Darius. His feet could not reach the footrest, so in the end he had no choice but to replace it with a higher one.

In that case, he probably would not be much taller than Waver...

Yes, hulking men also fell within the range of things Waver hated.

At 157 centimeters tall and weighing 48 kilograms, his measurements might have pleased quite a few girls. But he was a man. When speaking with his classmates, he was almost always forced to look upward. Whenever he argued with someone, he began at an inherent disadvantage. In class, he would already be standing, yet a lecturer would still tell him to “stand up.” In the corridors, whenever he accidentally bumped into someone, he lost nine times out of ten.

No one else could understand that frustration.

Ah, but the similarly short Conqueror King would surely understand him.

With this innocent hope in his heart, Waver extended his thoroughly pecked and battered right hand toward the summoning circle drawn in chicken’s blood.

“Declare—”

269:55:12

Compared with the patch of empty ground Waver had casually found in the woods, the underground workshop beneath the Tohsaka residence looked far more proper.

Melted jewels had been used to draw glittering lines, which joined together into an even more dazzling summoning circle. In this Holy Grail War, no summoning circle could possibly be more magnificent than this one. Therefore, no matter what sort of temperament “he” possessed, he could not possibly be displeased with it.

The Kotomoto father and son, along with Ryunosuke, stood nearby to witness the ritual beside Tokiomi Tohsaka, the current head of the Tohsaka family.

“Let silver and iron be the substance. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let my great master Schweinorg be the ancestor.”

Tokiomi Tohsaka recited the incantation unique to the Tohsaka family.

“Let the wind be a wall. Let the gates of the four directions be closed. Let the three-forked road leading to the kingdom come forth from the crown.”

The incantation itself possessed no particular effect. If one had to explain its purpose, it was simply to inform Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg—the Tohsaka family’s revered founder, the Second Magician, and a witness to the Holy Grail War—that one of his descendants was summoning a Servant for the sake of the war.

Although his status as a “disciple” was not especially secure, strictly speaking, their relationship was probably closer to that between a professor delivering a lecture in a grand auditorium and an ordinary student listening from the back row.

A piece of something resembling dried tree bark had been placed upon the summoning altar.

It was the fossilized shed skin of the first snake in the world to molt, in an age of primordial antiquity. According to myth, the snake had been able to shed its skin only because it had stolen and eaten the herb of immortality.

Kirei Kotomine felt fear toward the Heroic Spirit that the relic might summon.

Not because of “his” strength, but because of the attitude he might possess.

The “senior disciple” beside Kirei had once said, “Although our teacher is confident that he can communicate with ‘him,’ we must still prepare our defenses. Think about it: if someone were murdered and became a Heroic Spirit, only to discover upon being summoned that the medium used to summon him was the very cause of his death, how could he possibly be pleased?”

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“Let the three great words of power entwine around you. From the Wheel of Restraint, O Guardian of the Balance—!”

With these words from Tokiomi as the conclusion of the prayer, lightning flashed and thunder roared as the winds and clouds churned.

Amid a pressure so fierce that no one could keep their eyes open, the summoning pattern blazed with radiant light. When the white glare faded, a golden figure stood within it—more powerful, more magnificent, and more dazzling than anything that had come before.

It was a violent gold, shining from the magnificent heavy armor that covered every inch of his body.

It was a dazzling gold, glittering through his short, upright hair that fully proclaimed the force of a king.

It was a sharp red, flowing through proud eyes that seemed capable of piercing the soul the instant one met their gaze.

His face was so handsome that one could only describe it as magnificent. His bearing was so noble that even the word “noble” seemed vulgar beside it.

Wherever he set foot became the palace of a king.

Whatever words he spoke became the law of a king.

His will became the direction of every subject beneath him.

He was Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes.

Before the figure had even fully appeared, Ryunosuke had pressed Kirei’s head down with such force that it bordered on brutality. The young priest, who had already sensed what was coming, offered no resistance.

In the next instant, they heard a cold voice laced with killing intent and contempt, a voice that made anyone who heard it instinctively yearn to submit.

“ mongrel, who permitted you to gaze directly upon this king?”

“My deepest apologies, my king. I was overcome by joy at your descent and lost control of myself. Please grant me punishment.”

Hearing Tokiomi answer without the slightest hesitation, Kirei could not help thinking, As expected of my teacher.

“Hmph. This king forgives your insolence on this occasion,” Gilgamesh said in a voice devoid of emotion. “You have gathered retainers for this king, after all.”

Kirei and Ryunosuke felt the oldest king’s tangible gaze sweep over them. Although it held no hostility, it still made breathing difficult.

“It is only my duty, my king.” Tokiomi paused. “I am Tokiomi Tohsaka, the fifth head of the Tohsaka family. My lifelong wish is to reach the Root. After all those who dare covet your treasures have been slain, I humbly request that my king use the power of the Holy Grail to fulfill that wish.”

“A vessel capable of attracting so many insects must surely be a worthy treasure,” Gilgamesh said coldly. “If you distinguish yourself in this campaign of extermination, this king will not begrudge you the reward of possessing it.”

Could that truly complete the contract?

Kirei’s admiration for his teacher increased a little further.

“Thank you for your generosity, my king.” Tokiomi seemed to relax. “I have already prepared quarters for you. Please—”

“This king’s palace shall naturally be chosen by this king himself.”

With those words, the golden figure vanished. Only a few lingering sparks of light remained within the summoning circle, and they too soon disappeared.

“We have won, Kirei. Ryunosuke. This war is ours.”

The two disciples finally raised their heads and saw their teacher gripping his staff, wearing an expression of complete satisfaction.

But to those who truly understood the truth behind this Holy Grail War, such a conclusion was premature.

Especially when they saw what had been utterly destroyed: the relic.

It was the shed skin of the serpent said to have stolen and eaten the elixir of immortality that Gilgamesh had obtained for his dearest friend.