MMMS 54

"!"

Kiritsugu's breath caught in his throat. He'd known this could happen, but seeing it was different.

The dead man was standing right in front of him. Caster's Master—the same one he had put a bullet through just thirty seconds ago—had somehow closed the gap despite Kiritsugu's superhuman speed.

"Hey, old man." The boy's smile didn't reach his eyes. "That shot really hurt."

Under the moonlight, the boy looked almost normal—slim build, good-looking face. But through Kiritsugu's time-distorted vision, the black-haired, black-eyed boy looked like something pulled from a nightmare.

Kiritsugu's jaw tightened. No time to think.

"Time alter—Square accel!"

Pain ripped through him as the spell took hold. This was his limit—pushing his body to move four times faster than humanly possible. He launched backward, barely escaping the boy's reaching fingers, and yanked out the Thompson Contender.

The hunting gun thundered. Fire erupted from the barrel, swallowing the boy whole at point-blank range.

He didn't wait to see the results. Still running hot with quadruple acceleration, he flung himself backward, putting ten meters between them in an eyeblink.

Three questions hammered through his mind: How was the boy still alive? What was that black shadow that appeared with him, and how had the boy teleported to his position? And why couldn't he outrun the boy even with time manipulation?

With too many questions and no answers, Kiritsugu reached one chilling conclusion:

He'd been baited into a trap.

"...Did he deliberately lead me into making that shot?" The thought hit Kiritsugu hard. Despite countless brushes with death, he'd never felt this cornered, this outplayed.

Still moving away, he worked to reload the Thompson. Flip the switch, crack open the chamber, reach for another magical bullet—

A hand shot out from the darkness, clamping down on Kiritsugu's left wrist mid-reload.

Ryuuto had crossed ten meters in less than a heartbeat. Not superhuman speed—something else entirely. Something that looked like teleportation.

Instead of attacking, the boy just smirked. He held up his right fist inches from Kiritsugu's face, then uncurled his fingers slowly, deliberately.

"!!!"

Through his wavering vision, Kiritsugu watched a flattened bullet drop from the boy’s palm. The brass shell gleamed in the moonlight—physical proof of something that shouldn't be possible.

"...Impossible," Kiritsugu breathed, the word scraping from his throat.

And it was. Moving like he could bend space. Catching bullets with bare hands. These weren't just superhuman feats—they were beyond even what Heroic Spirits could do. Far beyond what Ryuuto's human body should manage. Yet here they were.

The cruel irony? Kiritsugu had helped make it possible. When he activated his [Innate Time Control - Quadruple Speed], he'd also slowed Ryuuto’s flow of time to one-fourth!

Kiritsugu couldn't understand it. Couldn't counter it. For the first time in years, the veteran assassin felt something he'd forgotten: pure, helpless defeat!

Kiritsugu's fighting spirit was crumbling before his eyes. The Beast saw his opening and took it.

"Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Now you get to know what it feels like to take an anti-materiel round to the chest."

Ryuuto's fist slammed into Kiritsugu's chest.

BOOM!

The sound wasn't a punch—it was an explosion. Kiritsugu's agonized grunt was cut short as the impact launched him backward, his body ragdolling through the air for ten meters before crashing down.

No fancy martial arts. No fighting stance. Just raw force—every bit of kinetic energy from that bullet earlier, focused into his knuckles and driven home.

The forest fell quiet. Shattered tree trunks and kicked-up dust settled around them. Kiritsugu lay in a crater two meters wide, unmoving.

"Cough... cough..."

Blood spilled from his mouth with each wet hack.

Ryuuto strolled over, hands stuffed in his pockets, humming some anime theme song.

An anti-materiel bullet would've blown the top half off any normal human. But focusing all that energy into a fist? It did the job just fine. Ribs snapped like twigs. Internal organs crushed in that split second. It should've killed him instantly.

But magi were stubborn bastards.

Someone once said women and kids get second chances, but men don't. Kiritsugu finally understood what that meant.

The magus killer's first mistake was his last. Every move, every calculation—it had all been part of Ryuuto's game. Just like that, Kiritsugu's war for the Holy Grail was over.

Ryuuto walked over and crouched beside him, pulling up Kiritsugu's coat and patting down his pockets.

"Let me just... ah, there we go." The boy grinned as he fished out a small box—a pack of cigarettes that Kiritsugu always carried.

"Want one too?" he held up a cigarette.

Kiritsugu's face stayed tight. He said nothing.

"Oh wait, my bad—you've got three ribs stuck in your lungs right now. Hmm... you know, this is actually my first time. Used to hang out at clubs where people'd offer them all the time, but I always said no." He smiled and sparked the lighter he'd stolen as well.

The second he inhaled deeply, his face twisted in disgust.

"Cough, cough, cough... What the hell is this stuff?"

His mouth filled with an awful sour taste. It took him a while to get past it.

"Not bad." He blew out a cloud of smoke, then looked down at Kiritsugu with those cold black eyes.

Even beaten this badly, Kiritsugu's eyes still had fight in them. His lips trembled—not from fear, but from barely contained tension.

Because he still had hope.

As long as Ryuuto didn't know "that secret," Irisviel could still pull this off. Could still win.

Then Ryuuto crushed that hope with a single sentence.

"Nice to meet you, Einzbern pawn. Though title might not fit anymore. Right, Emiya Kiritsugu? Since you're Lancer's true Master and all."

"...!!!"

The words hit like bullets, drilling into his chest and ripping away his last shred of hope.

Kiritsugu's eyes became hollow. "...Kill me," he rasped.

Ryuuto smiled—the smile of a predator over its prey. "No can do."

'Can't have Irisviel hating me forever. Besides... you're still useful.'

He ground out the cigarette under his heel and crouched down, rifling through Kiritsugu's coat again. "You've got it on you... I know you do."

His fingers found something and yanked it free—a parchment scroll that hit the ground with a dull thud. The Geiss scroll Kiritsugu always carried. The one made to force someone to give up their Master status.

"...!!!"

Kiritsugu's eyes darted between Ryuuto's face and the scroll like a trapped animal. His eyes widened so much they might've burst.

...Impossible. How the hell did he know about this?

Staring at that parchment—the same one he'd used to trick countless victims—his chest caved in under crushing waves of despair.

"Sign it and get out of Fuyuki. You don't have a choice."

Ryuuto gave his shoulder a light pat, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'll take care of Irisviel and Artoria."