IBHJ 1206

Of course, this is just one version of Satan's legend. According to the Mordred Grail's account, his experience was somewhat similar, with one key difference: Satan, the original archangel who resented that the Holy Spirit loved humans more than angels, was punished by St. Michael, who was sent from heaven after Satan had tempted Adam and Eve to fall.

His body was sealed in the depths of the universe, in Hell—a transcendent realm that mirrors Heaven—while his consciousness was split in half by St. Michael and sealed inside two Holy Grails containing sacred blood.

According to the Grail, the Holy Spirit couldn't bear to see his most magnificent creation completely destroyed, but Satan's intense hatred for the Holy Spirit's favoritism eventually contaminated the Holy Grail, transforming it into a corrupted vessel.

Eventually, both Grails fell into the possession of the Beast of Revelation. Though the Beast was powerful enough on its own and shouldn't have needed to rely on the Grail, it was forced to use it after being defeated by the Enlightened One. This happened when its true form was summoned to Shinjuku by the real Manaka Sajyou during the initial Holy Grail War. Ultimately, according to Imperial Bedivere, the Beast of Revelation—which had incarnated as Sixth Seat—was killed and devoured by the Emperor.

"Even if the Beast was defeated, my other half won't disappear so easily. I can still smell his scent. Mordred, you need to help me get my other half back," the Grail said, its three eyes staring intently at her.

Hearing this, she snorted coldly and folded her arms. "Why should I help you?"

"It's not a question of whether you want to or not. The Grails are naturally drawn to each other. From the moment you manifested, my other half was destined to appear before you, replaying the history that led to your destruction."

Mordred became furious and kicked the Grail with all her might. With a dull "thud," the cup remained steady as a mountain, while Mordred hurriedly sat down in pain, yanking off her boot and rubbing her foot.

"Both Grails are destined to become one again. Satan and Lucifer are also destined to reunite as the ruler of Hell once more, to continue rebelling against Father. He, like me, hates Father's injustice and favoritism. So, I can sense that my other half—Lucifer—is plotting something in secret. Your teacher is his creation, but certainly not a masterpiece he's proud of."

Morgan frowned. "If Satan and Lucifer are destined to reunite and lead Hell in rebellion against Heaven, then why are you so resistant to your other half?"

"Long ago, the Satan who tempted Eve was split in two by Michael," the Grail explained. "Lucifer's consciousness holds the greater share of hatred, while mine contains more pride." Though the Grail hadn't directly answered her question, Morgan understood. Satan, whose hatred stemmed from pride, ruled as the Lord of Hell. When St. Michael split Satan apart, the hateful aspect became Lucifer the Devil, while the proud aspect transformed into Satan the Fallen Angel.

Mordred suddenly realized why the Grail hadn't simply forced its third eye open to take everything from her. It was because of pure disdain. Her Grail wasn't the Holy Grail—not an object of justice and purity—but rather an evil entity from Hell that brought only destruction. Yet the Grail's consciousness wasn't that of the cunning Devil, but instead belonged to the proud Fallen Angel.

"Mordred, you've already crossed that line. Your fate is completely intertwined with the Grail's now," it said solemnly. "My other half won't let you go no matter what." The Grail paused before adding with a hint of warning, "Don't say I didn't warn you—you should prepare yourself mentally as soon as possible. And remember, making a deal with the Lord of Hell to release the Grail's true power comes with a steep price."

With those ominous words, the Grail's three eyes slowly closed.

Mordred frowned. She knew it wasn't lying—the other Grail would definitely come for her. When Lucifer’s Grail had been in Sixth Seat's possession, he had tried everything to take back her Grail. But according to Bedivere, Sixth Seat had been devoured by the Emperor, which meant that Grail should now be in the Emperor's hands.

The Emperor was the Holy Spirit, and since the Grail was in the Emperor's hands, Lucifer should have been contained and unable to cause trouble. Yet according to Satan, Lucifer was still plotting something in secret.

Her brother Galahad's mysterious death and her teacher Vivian's transformation were all Lucifer's doing. Mordred frowned deeply, feeling a heavy weight of concern settle over her.

Satan was right though—she was completely bound to his fate now. If Lucifer wanted to reunite the separated consciousnesses of the Lord of Hell, he would first need to destroy her soul and erase all records of her existence.

From the moment she had destroyed her kingdom and taken Satan's Grail, there was no turning back. She couldn't remain uninvolved even if she wanted to.

So what exactly was Lucifer still plotting behind the scenes?

"My King..." Guinevere mumbled in her sleep, stirring restlessly.

"Bzzzz—" A strange electromagnetic sound suddenly emanated from Galahad's shield.

…

"Krista, what is this place?" Ritsuka asked, pointing at a village in the distance before turning to look at the professional caretaker walking behind her.

"According to the map, we should be in Ireland," he replied. "But now that pan-human history has been synchronized with the Eternal Empire, it's difficult to say exactly where we are." He paused before adding, "And Leader, please call me Kirschtaria Wodime."

"Okay, Krista," she responded cheerfully.

Kirschtaria Wodime let out a deep sigh. Despite his composed temperament, even he couldn't help feeling deeply frustrated and helpless when dealing with her.

Ritsuka turned her attention to the quiet Manaka walking beside her. "Manaka, is my sister somewhere in this direction?" she asked.

Manaka remained silent.

"Is she this way?" she persisted, deliberately skipping ahead to position herself in front of her. She blinked up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

Looking at Ritsuka's innocent gaze, Manaka's irritation flared. "Stay away from me, I don't want to talk to you!"

Then Manaka stormed off with her head down, clearly fuming.

Watching her leave, Ritsuka turned to Kirschtaria with a hurt expression. "Krista, why is she angry? I didn't say anything wrong this time, did I?"

Kirschtaria took a deep breath. "Your speaking is the biggest mistake. Please try being a quiet, beautiful girl for once."

Such a beautiful girl, he thought to himself, yet she just had to open her mouth and ruin the image.

"Also," he added wearily, "please call me Kirschtaria Wodime."

Ritsuka felt a pang of injustice. She knew she wasn't good with words—her brother had apparently inherited all their parents' speaking genes, leaving none for her. But her intentions were good, and she was only being honest. Most importantly, she'd only asked Manaka one simple question.

Why was she so angry?

"She's just as petty as my brother," Ritsuka muttered under her breath.

Manaka's ears perked up, and she whirled around, glaring at her like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Who are you saying is as petty as him?!"

"Huh???" Ritsuka was completely stunned.

Manaka turned away again, her eyes flashing with resentment as she gritted her teeth.

This Fujimaru family—every single one of them was insufferable! One was petty and had ruined all her plans; another was full of schemes, causing her to be backstabbed more times than she could count. And this last one was the most infuriating of all! Always finding new ways to humiliate her!

Manaka stormed ahead, practically steaming like a teapot with every step.