I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

The night was cool and tranquil, the moon hanging high in the heavens, casting its silvery light across the earth.

No matter the age or era, that luminous orb always remained beautiful.

Yet one had to wonder, from such an exalted height, could it see the ugliness of the world?

The restless dead rampaging across the land.

The blood soaking into the soil.

The flames of human sin consuming all.

Human existence only nurtures evil; thus, it must be saved.

Human birth only leads to ruin; thus, it must be redeemed.

O almighty and omnipresent God, bestow upon me a miracle once more.

Show me the way to save this accursed world.

Grant me the means to deliver universal salvation.

If this great endeavor is an unforgivable sin,

If this ideal defies divine will,

Then let me be consumed in the purging flames at my journey's end.

But until that day, I will drive suffering from this world of wails and sorrow.

---

"Master… Master…"

The voice was like a sweet yet poisonous wine, its allure enough to dissolve bones if one indulged too deeply.

Hearing this bewitching, deadly tone, the silver-haired man felt… somewhat reassured.

"Is something the matter, Master?"

"…Nothing, Assassin."

Ah, he must have been lost in thought again, gazing at the moon.

Was it because his long-held wish was on the verge of fulfillment? Perhaps he was nervous; lately, he found himself zoning out more often.

This wouldn't do. Not now.

The man's silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, a stark contrast to his darkened complexion. His attire and the cross pendant at his chest marked him unmistakably as a priest.

As a sliver of cloud drifted across the moon, partially obscuring its light, the man lowered his gaze and turned toward the speaker. His face softened into an expression of warmth and kindness, one that seemed entirely genuine.

"Is there a reason you came to find me, Assassin?"

"The last member of the Red Faction has just arrived in Romania," the seductive woman replied, her crimson lips curling into a smile.

She was a vision of ethereal beauty, each of her gestures brimming with an enchanting, otherworldly allure. To gaze upon her was to feel both awe and trepidation.

Yet, despite her magnetic charm, the silver-haired man stood as an exception.

"I see," he said, his smile never wavering. His eyes reflected her form, though it was clear he wasn't truly looking at her but at something far beyond.

"Aren't you pleased? Your plan is finally beginning to take shape," she asked, tilting her head coquettishly.

"Of course. I've waited far too long for this moment," he answered, walking past her into the shadowy interior of a chapel. "Now, I must meet with them all."

"They're rather pitiable, aren't they?"

"Don't make me out to be some villain," the priest said, his voice gentle, as though absolving her of any accusation. "What I do is for their sake."

His figure vanished into the dim interior, his voice lingering in the air like a haunting echo.

"If my plan succeeds, the world will find eternal salvation.

"And they, too, will bask in its light."

---

"Ah, why did I take on such a troublesome job? This isn't like me at all," grumbled a man with unruly brown hair reminiscent of a lion's mane.

Scars clawed across the right side of his face, adding to his already imposing appearance. With his black sunglasses and rough demeanor, it was easy to mistake him for a gang leader or a terrorist.

His name was Kairi Sisigou, a freelance mercenary.

He wasn't a terrorist or a mobster, but he wasn't exactly far removed from those labels either. His expertise lay in necromancy—a fact that made his life as a magus all the more peculiar.

The Mage's Association had commissioned him to participate in this Great Holy Grail War as a Master of the Red Faction, with the explicit goal of claiming victory.

As a necromancer, Sisigou had chosen a cemetery as the site for his summoning ritual. Among the gravestones and mausoleums, he felt strangely at home—perhaps because he had spent his childhood surrounded by the dead.

The summoning circle was already prepared, the relic provided by the Association resting at its center.

Normally, summoning without a relic would draw a Servant most compatible with the summoner, but the results were too unpredictable. A weak Servant could spell disaster in a war of this scale.

And this wasn't an ordinary Grail War. The stakes and the enemies were higher than ever.

Sisigou stared at the relic—a fragment of the Round Table.

The Mage's Association had promised him a connection to one of Arthurian legend's knights. Even summoning one of the lesser-known knights, like Tristan or Bedivere, would be a boon. Summoning King Arthur himself? That would be a game-changer.

"Can I handle this?" Sisigou muttered, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter.

The flame briefly illuminated the Command Seals etched into his hand, glowing like blood under his skin.

Taking a deep drag, he exhaled the smoke slowly. "Guess there's only one way to find out."

Flicking the cigarette to the ground, Sisigou stepped forward and began the chant:

"Let silver and steel be the essence.

Let stone and the Archduke of Contracts be the foundation.

Let my great master Schweinorg be the ancestor."

Magic surged through the earth, drawn into the summoning circle.

"Let the color I pay tribute be crimson.

Let the walls that restrain the wind be raised.

Let the four cardinal gates close.

Let the three-forked road to the kingdom cycle."

The Command Seals on his hand burned fiercely, as though searing his soul.

"Let it be declared now.

Your flesh shall serve under my command, and my fate shall be with your blade.

Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.

If you will heed this will, this reason, then answer!"

The air grew heavy, the surrounding grave markers trembling as the circle glowed brighter.

"An oath shall be sworn here.

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven.

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell."

Magic reached its crescendo, the light from the summoning circle blazing like a sun.

"You, clad in the great trinity of words of power,

Come forth from the circle of restraint—

Guardian of the Scales!"

A blinding light erupted, painting the cemetery in pure white.

---

T/N: WHAAAAAAAAAAT IT SKIPPED IT ENTIRELY FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK SARAAAAA

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