Screams filled the pitch-black night as invaders from the Mage’s Association were being mercilessly slaughtered in the border forests of the Yggdmillennia territory.
A fifty-strong cleaning squad found themselves surrounded by a lone man, each member having their lives taken by wooden stakes one after another. This horrific scene of hell in motion should never have been witnessed, yet two pairs of eyes were observing the unfolding events.
One belonged to Sakatsuki, whose presence was concealed by his A-rank ’Presence Concealment’ and Noble Phantasm. At this moment, he ignored his fellow magi being impaled around him, instead turning to the tiny puppet perched on his shoulder.
"Well? After witnessing this, do you still doubt Yggdmillennia’s early summoning of Servants?"
"This old man understands completely now. To think they’d summon such dangerous servants... It seems conflict between Yggdmillennia and ourselves is inevitable."
The aged voice of Belfeban came through the wooden puppet. Though the faceless doll showed no expression, the anxiety in his tone was unmistakable.
"So, Lord Sakatsuki, are you ready to act?"
Even for the resource-rich Mage’s Association, the cleaning squads represented significant investment—each loss would be painful, let alone losing half their forces already.
"Patience. If the Holy Grail system fails to activate, your Association will lose far more than just one squad."
Had his original self come, Sakatsuki might have secretly protected these temporary allies. But what Belfeban had requested was the Beast-blessed Assassin.
"These sacrifices are necessary for victory, Department Head of Summoning."
Finally completing his preparations, the young man severed his connection with the Greater Grail before Yggdmillennia could detect it, slowly rising to his feet.
"Pray that some of those expensive pawns you cultivated survive until I make my move."
His words sounded concerned, yet Sakatsuki’s eyes remained utterly cold.
"After all, without useful allies, even I cannot kill a top-tier Servant."
With the Holy Grail ritual succeeding, he dared set his sights on such powerful entities?!
In the Mage’s Association’s chamber, the three leaders exchanged shocked glances, rendered speechless. Meanwhile, Sakatsuki had already discarded the communication puppet, crouching low as he advanced toward Vlad III with his pistol drawn.
He, Sakatsuki, was a Servant summoned under the Assassin class.
The ultimate killer specializing in single lethal strikes—capable of beheading enemy commanders amidst entire armies!
His irises shimmered with rainbow-hued ice blue as the world fragmented around him. A lone wolf stalked through darkness.
Target: Lancer of Black, Vlad III.
Trifas, a small city in northern Transylvania, Romania. Its medieval walls, originally built to repel Turkish invaders, still stand intact around portions of the fortress and urban area. Most buildings retain their medieval foundations through repeated repairs and reconstructions, possessing immense historical value.
For the town of Trifas, the symbol that could be called its urban emblem was the massive castle standing atop a gently sloping hill—Castle Millennia.
This fortress had never changed hands since the Middle Ages. Despite enduring invasions by the Ottoman Turks, the ravages of the Black Death, and bombings in modern warfare, both the citadel and its owning family remained intact to this day.
That family bore the name Yggdmillennia—a lineage of magi who had migrated from Northern Europe to Romania centuries ago. Currently, the castle bustled with unprecedented activity.
Not just the Yggdmillennia clan, but also impeccably groomed servants of unknown origin moved about performing meticulous tasks, while others patrolled the grounds wielding battle-axes that seemed centuries out of place. There were walking stone beds and statues with glowing eyes...
To any observer, it would appear something extraordinary was happening. Yet among Trifas’ simple townsfolk, not a single foolhardy soul could be found who would dare set foot in this eerie castle. As long as its lights burned, even nighttime excursions were viewed with suspicion.
Thus when the castle’s long-extinguished lights began glowing again months ago, the townspeople exchanged uneasy glances, their faces darkening—the bloodstained tyrants had returned!
"Indeed, everything has led to this day!"
Though bright sunshine reigned outside, the throne room within remained dim, illuminated only by the flames of a seven-branched menorah that cast flickering reflections of carnage unfolding in the forest.
The king who should occupy the throne was absent, yet the menorah’s light projected his majestic figure as he slaughtered intruders. Beside the empty throne, a handsome man spread his arms and declared with regal confidence:
"Behold, chosen Masters of the Yggdmillennia clan who bear Command Spells! From this moment, you shall stake your lives in the coming battles as Masters. But first, let me show you a glimpse of the Servants you will summon—a fragment of their power!"
The man was Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia—both the family’s patriarch and a veteran of the Third Holy Grail War. Though that conflict had ended over sixty years ago, not a single wrinkle marked his face, his appearance frozen somewhere between twenty-six and thirty—as if time had stopped for him since that last Grail War.
The magi selected as Yggdmillennia’s Masters knelt on one knee, gazing upward at the Black Faction’s king in battle—or rather, witnessing his massacre.
Bloodstained stakes erupted from the earth wherever his magical energy reached, spreading like locusts in an apocalyptic wave that slaughtered their fellow magi—practitioners they themselves couldn’t guarantee defeating—as easily as butchering livestock.
Even as allies, the Yggdmillennia Masters couldn’t suppress the primal chill that ran through them watching Vlad III’s carnage. What being could possibly oppose such overwhelming might—?
Just as awe and unease gripped the spectators, the one-sided victory Darnic had proudly displayed suddenly twisted beyond control.
The forest’s atmosphere underwent an abrupt transformation.
"Hmm." A sudden unease made Vlad III furrow his brow. He reined in his scattered hunting focus and tightened his grip on the spear.
Even without a warrior’s intuition, the countless assassination attempts endured by this Wallachian Voivode had honed his vigilance to a razor’s edge.
Yet as he scanned his surroundings, only a few fleeing magi, trembling trees, and the forest’s whispering winds lingered in the Servant’s vision.
In that moment of uncertainty, a black-clad figure materialized like a specter. The lurking assassin had somehow closed the distance behind this Lancer unnoticed!
As the pistol rose, Sakatsuki’s gunshot roared alongside his declaration:
"I’ve seen... your death!"
"What—?!" Vlad III whirled in shock, yet still managed to invoke his Noble Phantasm in that split second:
Black stakes bloomed like spider lilies, their interlocking formation swallowing the meticulously crafted cursed bullet that pierced through layer after layer before finally being halted by the infinite magical stakes.
Simultaneously, the stakes surged forward like loyal soldiers, mercilessly constricting the assassin’s movement space, seeking to impale and execute the interloper to appease the monarch’s wrath!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Muzzle flashes erupted. Before the Wallachian ruler could react, the black-cloaked youth shattered through the stakes, stepping forward as his ice-blue eyes reflected lethal radiance:
"The transient world ends here. Farewell!"
Beneath the black pistol’s barrel, a dark blade flashed.
The scream accompanied a severed right arm still clutching its spear, sent spiraling through the air against its will.
Blue Assassin - Sakatsuki. Assassination successful.
Black Lancer - Romania’s top Servant, Vlad III. Arm severed!
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