MMMS 57

Miles away, as Ryuuto settled into Einzbern Castle, two figures faced each other on a rooftop in Fuyuki. They stood ten meters apart, shadows stretching across the concrete in the night mist.

"Look... couldn't we pretend we never ran into each other?" The massive dock worker wrapped in gray mist scratched his head nervously. "My Master just sent me out to scout. I'd rather not fight if I don't have to."

"Negative," Fanatic said coldly as she stared at him through her veil. "I'll end your miserable existence right here, and give that person a peaceful night."

Ryuuto had tasked her with investigating Berserker, and the man before her was undoubtedly the mad warrior from this twisted ritual. Since her Master had specifically named him, this Berserker must be truly evil.

After a moment's thought, she decided to completely destroy him. Master hadn't said she couldn't kill her reconnaissance target, after all.

"So you won't let me walk away... that's unfortunate." The voice came from Berserker—but not from the one standing before her.

Across the rooftop, a second Berserker materialized next to the dock worker—this one wearing a crisp police uniform.

Two became four in an instant. The newcomers—a priest with a serene smile and a barely-dressed woman—made Fanatic's blood boil.

Four doubled to eight, then kept multiplying. Each figure differed in age, gender, and clothing, but they shared one obvious trait—every single one clutched a weapon.

"Master told me not to fight..." Berserker sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Looks like I'll have to apologize when I get back."

"..."

Facing the army of killers, Fanatic kept her face blank, but her mind raced.

Not an illusion. These were actual doppelgangers formed from magical energy. Each one varied in strength, yet somehow each was also the original. Was this ability similar to Hundred Faces? Is this how Berserker had survived after Archer supposedly killed him?

The crowd slowly closed in, forming a perfect circle around her.

"Nameless girl," one of them called out, "meeting me at night is your misfortune."

Then, from the shadows, stepped the newest copy—a perfect mirror of Fanatic herself.

"What..." Golden eyes widened behind her veil.

This wasn't just some crude imitation. Every detail was perfect—her height, her stance, even the way she held her weapons. Not even a simple copy but a perfect mimic of her appearance? Even their leader couldn't do such a thing.

This ability surpassed Zabaniya itself? Unacceptable. Fanatic's hands balled into fists, knuckles white with anger.

"Heretic," she said, her voice ice-cold despite the fury blazing in her eyes. "I'll show everyone your ability is garbage compared to our leader's." She yanked her blade free. "Repent in hell, sinner."

"Sinner?" The Jack the Rippers erupted in laughter. "Funny—I was someone who crawled out of hell's gutter, a killer beyond saving. Now come on! Let's play!"

With wild howls, all sixteen Jack the Rippers sprang into the air at once, diving toward Assassin.

Her face hardened as she dodged the flashing knives and broke into a sprint. Just as the sixteen Jacks were about to close their trap around her, a thick cloud of ghostly mist erupted from beneath her feet.

"...Zabaniya: Unfeeling Patrolling Spirits..."

The mist churned, solidifying into nightmarish shapes. Bears with razor teeth, snakes thicker than tree trunks, wolves with glowing eyes, giants that scraped the building—the fog twisted into monsters that tore into the attacking Jacks with savage fury.

"Holy shit! What is this?" The Jacks shrieked as they scrambled to counter the surprise attack.

"Fog monsters? Are these London's earth-bound spirits? Ha! Brilliant!"

Fanatic's eyebrow twitched with irritation. "Not familiars, but Jinn."

The "Jinn" weren't simple spirits—they were ancient beings from Arab lands, rational creatures with bodies forged from fire. That famous magic lamp granting three wishes was likely just a legendary high-ranking Jinn. Commanding these beings was just one of the eighteen Noble Phantasms Fanatic had mastered.

Across the rooftop, the battle had exploded into pure chaos. Fanatic's Jinn moved like living nightmares, tearing through Jack's duplicates easily, ripping them apart one by one with their claws. The tide was clearly turning.

"This isn't working," muttered a solitary Jack perched on the water tower, watching the chaos below. He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "If I lose, Master's never going to let me hear the end of it."

Looking closer, though, it wasn't so much that Jack was losing—he simply wasn't trying. This Jack held far more magical energy than all fifteen other duplicates combined. Each time Fanatic destroyed one copy, he simply fed it more energy, keeping his army's numbers constant.

"Let's get serious then." All sixteen Jacks flashed identical bone-chilling smiles before vanishing into thin air.

"...?"

Where an army of killers had stood seconds before, now there was only a single young girl facing Fanatic. Her face was childlike, framed by short silver hair.

She looked fragile—thin wrists and a small frame that would trigger anyone's protective instincts.

The outfit she wore resembled the school swimsuit Assassin herself had once worn at her master's request, cut provocatively on her small body.

Fanatic stared at the child, disbelief evident even behind her veil. "What kind of sick joke is this, Berserker?"

"Sorry..." The girl shrugged. "I've tried different clothes, but whenever I take this form, I always end up dressed like this."

Jack the Ripper—now a silver-haired child—pulled two short knives from her waist, gripping them backward in her tiny fists. "But don't let my size fool you."

Thick fog rolled across the Shinto district, swallowing the night and blinding Fanatic as it wrapped around the rooftop.

"Time to start cutting,"

…

The dining room's frosty silence broke with a sharp clap.

"Let's eat!" Ryuuto announced from the head of the massive table, chopsticks poised between his palms.

Three strikingly beautiful women sat around the ornate European table, each with a steaming bowl of ramen before them. The rich aroma of broth filled the space, oddly out of place among the antique furnishings and crystal chandeliers.

He had just solved a mystery that had been nagging at him: During the Holy Grail War, Irisviel hadn't brought any maids to Japan. So how had she and Artoria—two women who couldn't cook to save their lives—survived in this enormous castle?

The answer was simpler than he'd expected: takeout. Even though it was only 1994 and food delivery apps were still science fiction, Japan was the kingdom of convenience stores. Since the late '80s, these 24-hour shops had multiplied across the country like mushrooms after rain, and Fuyuki City was no exception.

So the castle princesses had been surviving on takeout. They'd call restaurants or convenience stores for delivery to the forest entrance, then send familiars to pay and fetch the food—that's how they'd been living.

Magecraft really did make life easier. Next time, he thought, he should send his familiar pigeon to buy lottery tickets too.

For today's breakfast, he'd pulled the boss card as head of the household and declared they'd all have tonkotsu ramen.

Artoria stared at the steaming bowl in front of her, rich broth gleaming with circles of fat, and couldn't hide her disapproval. Though she had a fuller, more athletic build than her Saber version, her food preferences remained unchanged. She preferred lighter fare and couldn't fathom who would willingly eat something this heavy before noon.

What kind of upbringing leads to ramen for breakfast? she wondered. I'd love to meet this boy's parents...

The savory aroma wafted up, breaking through her resistance. "Mmm... smells good though," she admitted, reaching for her chopsticks. "I suppose I'll give it a try."