Fate: But This Is Not Solomon I Know!

Outskirts of Fuyuki – Einzbern Castle

Deep within the dense forest at the edge of Fuyuki, a towering castle loomed under the still light of the moon. The air here carried a distinct gloom; soft winds rustled the treetops, whispering like the voices of long-forgotten spirits.

Along a moss-covered path leading to the main gate, two figures advanced slowly toward the castle.

One was clad in obsidian armor, shrouded in malevolent black mist. The other wore white-and-gold armor, a golden broadsword swaying lightly in hand—appearing harmless… though in truth, nothing could be further from it.

"Aiya~, looks like we've come to the right place~."

Zoth planted Caladbolg into the ground, resting one hand lazily on its hilt. His drawling voice echoed from behind his helmet, as if he were just out for a casual stroll.

He stepped closer, reaching a hand toward the space ahead—

A transparent barrier shimmered into view like a rippling mirror.

Zoth gave a nod and turned to glance at Lancelot.

"Berserk, once I smash this barrier down… you rush in and kill that so-called 'Holy Grail vessel'. Got it?"

"Augghh–!"

Lancelot growled in reply, voice raspy and burning like fire caught in his throat.

"Good~! Now then—let's take out that Homunculus."

Zoth clenched his fist. Black-gold energy spiraled around his arm, generating pressure waves that distorted the air itself.

Without another word, he hurled a punch straight at the barrier.

Crack—!

A sharp fracture rang out across the forest.

White cracks rapidly spread through the air and then—BOOM!

The entire barrier shattered with an ear-piercing screech, disintegrating into nothing.

"All right! Let's go, Berserk! I'm in the mood to raise some hell tonight!"

Zoth lifted Caladbolg, slammed a foot into the ground, and launched forward—a golden streak tearing through the night air.

"Aauurrgghh–!"

Lancelot roared and charged after him.

Mid-run, he snatched a dry tree branch off the ground—Knight of Owner activated instantly, transforming it into a massive metal greatsword.

As they neared the main gate—

Zoth suddenly chuckled.

Caladbolg was raised high.

CLANG!

The sharp clash of metal rang through the forest.

Zoth tilted his head, then gave a light shake and let out a weary sigh.

"Saber… you're really such a damn nuisance."

With a swift twist, he knocked away the invisible blade that clashed with his own—then spun his leg and kicked—

THUD!

Artoria was sent flying backward, crashing into a large tree. Leaves rained down like shattered pride.

Zoth stood firm under the moonlight, his crimson cape fluttering in the forest wind.

He gently ran his left hand along Caladbolg's edge—the cold metallic grooves reflected moonlight like a blade soaked in blood.

He looked toward Artoria, who was staggering to her feet not far away. His voice came soft—but slow, detached, and laced with mockery.

"Strange, isn't it~?

Why are you stopping me? I'm trying to save thousands of innocent lives in the city.

That Holy Grail—it's rotten to the core. A gateway to hell, not the 'blessing' you all like to pretend it is."

A faint smirk formed under his helmet, his tone dropping, every word sharp as a dagger:

"…Ah. I almost forgot.

You—Artoria Pendragon, the so-called Good King, clinging to that childish dream…

That one day, you'd obtain the Grail… and use it to save a Britain that's long since died."

Freeze.

Artoria, who had just risen with her sword, went rigid.

Her eyes widened. Panic surged across her face—undeniable, unhidden.

"…You…

How do you know that?"

Zoth let out a quiet chuckle—not one of mockery, but more like a sigh tinged with pity.

"Because I know all too well, Saber…

Not just your wish, but the wish of every Servant who entered this Holy Grail War."

He pointed his sword toward the castle.

"Inside that place is a pitiful Homunculus, turned into a tool for a twisted ritual.

Is that what you want to protect?

You really believe that's the right path, Saber?"

Artoria tightened her grip on her sword. Her face gradually twisted into a conflicted, uncertain frown.

"I… I don't believe you! The Holy Grail is a miracle—it can grant any wish. It's the final path I chose to—"

"—To atone?" Zoth cut her off.

His voice struck like an iron hammer.

"Or to run away from reality?

Don't use 'ideals' as a veil to hide selfishness, Saber.

You're no different from the Masters out there—willing to sacrifice everything just to chase a damned illusion."

Silence.

The wind stopped. The moon hung high.

Two figures faced each other, embodying two extremes: one of unyielding ideals, the other of cold, brutal truth.

"…If you still insist on stopping me," Zoth raised Caladbolg, its blade slicing the air with a shriek, "then get ready. I won't hold back anymore."

Artoria gripped Excalibur tighter, staring at him without a word.

But her gaze… no longer held the same certainty as before.

Zoth said nothing more.

His eyes behind the helmet dimmed, glowing fiercely—twin lights of fury.

He tightened his hold on Caladbolg.

The blade surged with black and gold energy—swirling, boiling, like venomous fire awakened from the pits of hell.

Fwoosh!

A devastating slash was unleashed—

A red arc of sword aura streaked through the air like a falling star, whistling straight toward Artoria.

"Haa–!"

Artoria shouted, raising Excalibur to block.

Shockwaves erupted violently, and crimson sword trails scorched the ground, carving deep gashes into the earth.

As she braced herself, holding her ground—

Bang—Bang—Bang!

Zoth summoned Suzune, flipped it into Gun Play Mode, and pulled the trigger.

A volley of sonic bullets burst out like thunder, blasting Artoria backward.

"Khugh…!"

She grunted, her body skidding across the dirt, armor cracked, pain searing through her limbs.

She struggled to push herself up—only for—

Thud—!

A heavy footstep sounded directly in front of her.

Zoth stood tall beneath the moonlight.

Caladbolg raised high, his shadow stretching like a death sentence.

His voice came soft, like a quiet farewell to a soul descending into hell:

"Goodbye, Saber.

Perhaps in the next Holy Grail War… we'll meet again~."

Golden light flared from his blade—

The power cracked the ground beneath his feet—

But just as the blade came crashing down—

Zoth suddenly stopped.

His eyes narrowed beneath the helmet—

And in the same instant, he spun around.

"Hmph… don't think I didn't notice…"

BOOM—!!

His right leg, wrapped in golden-black energy, whipped out with full force—

A devastating Rider Kick slammed into a shadow charging from the left!

"Guh–!?"

The figure was sent flying like a ragdoll—slamming into the stone wall nearby with a deafening impact, shaking the entire forest.

Lancer – Diarmuid Ua Duibhne!

He slumped against the wall, blood trailing from the corner of his lips.

His eyes wide in shock—he hadn't even realized he'd been detected.

Zoth shook his head.

He pointed Caladbolg straight at him—wearing a smug, amused grin.

"Heh~.

A so-called 'honorable knight'… resorting to a sneak attack?

Now that's rich."

Diarmuid leaned against the cracked stone wall, one hand pressed to the surface as he gasped for air. He wiped the blood trailing from his lips with the back of his wrist, eyes sharp as blades locked on Zoth. His spear, Gáe Buidhe, glowed crimson—pointed directly forward.

"Ruler! I'm here today… to bring judgment upon you!"

Zoth stood still for a few seconds.

Behind the helm, his face hardened like stone.

He took a deep breath, spread both arms in exasperation, and spoke with a tone dripping with fatigue:

"…What now?

What the hell did I do this time?!"

Behind him, Artoria suddenly pushed herself to her feet, seizing the opportunity.

She backed up a few paces, restoring distance between them, sword lowered toward the ground.

Her voice rang out solemn and clear:

"This morning, the Church issued an official proclamation… suspending the Holy Grail War."

Zoth's eyes narrowed.

"…What?"

"The reason: to punish the Ruler for violating the rules of the War, sabotaging the ritual, and… murdering civilians."

Those words hit Zoth like a second shockwave.

He stood frozen, then suddenly threw his head back and screamed toward the sky in sheer rage:

"Motherfu—!

What the hell did I do?!

I've been trying to follow the damn rules for once!

Since when did I start killing civilians!?

Don't you pin all this shit on me—!!"

"Silence!"

Diarmuid slammed his spear into the ground, his eyes blazing with fury.

"If you're innocent, then explain this—

Why have there been reports of missing children popping up everywhere lately!?

What are you hiding in that silence of yours!?"

Zoth froze.

His entire body went rigid.

The pupils behind the helm shrank, his heart pounding like war drums.

He knew… he knew what this meant.

…Impossible.

Ryuunosuke was dead—Zoth had made sure of that.

The ritual couldn't have started.

So who!?

How could it still be happening—!?

He snapped toward Artoria, voice urgent:

"Saber!

On your way back to the castle—did you encounter a Caster!? Any strange spiritual signatures!?"

Artoria remained wary, but shook her head.

"No. On the way back, no one appeared."

Zoth exhaled, visibly relieved.

"…Good… thank gods…"

But the moment he let his guard down—

"—However,"

Artoria continued, her gaze sharpening.

"When I returned to the castle… the barrier had already been broken.

And standing before the gate… was a man in black robes.

He called me a 'Saint' or something like that."

Crack—

Zoth clenched his fists.

His knuckles popped like breaking bones.

He trembled slightly, muttering as if trying to calm himself—but rage still bled through his voice.

"Gilles…

So you did get summoned after all…"

Artoria narrowed her eyes and lowered her sword slightly, tone curious:

"You know that Caster?"

Zoth turned away, took a long, deep breath, then forced a crooked smile—

One filled with pain and helplessness.

"…Yeah."

He exhaled slowly, then began speaking again—

Each word heavy like it tore open old wounds:

"One of the men who once fought alongside me and Jeannette.

Baron Gilles de Rais… a knight of France.

But he's no longer human…"

Diarmuid furrowed his brow, suspicion still in his gaze—but the hostility had faded.

He flipped his spear, planting its tip into the ground as a show of de-escalation.

His voice lowered:

"…So it truly wasn't you?"

Zoth scoffed softly and drove Caladbolg into the dirt.

He folded his arms across his chest, his stance unmoving—like a steel monument in the heart of the forest.

"While I may enjoy watching the world descend into chaos…

slaughtering children?

Spreading meaningless destruction?"

He looked them dead in the eye.

"Sorry, but that's something I'd never do."

At those words, Diarmuid visibly flinched.

After a brief silence, he withdrew his spear and gave a deep nod.

"…I see.

We've misjudged you.

Ruler—accept my apology."

Zoth froze.

He slowly reached up, tugged at his helmet, jaw twitching.

For a moment, he looked like he couldn't believe what he just heard.

Then he sighed heavily, slapped his forehead, and muttered into the helm:

"Great…

Faster at flipping sides than flipping rice paper, huh."

He turned to glare at Diarmuid and Artoria, his tone dripping with sarcasm:

"Just a second ago you wanted my head.

And now a simple 'sorry' makes it all better? Seriously?"

Artoria said nothing.

She sheathed Excalibur silently, her gaze apologetic but offering no excuse.

Diarmuid also gave no justification—just nodded quietly in acknowledgment.

Zoth let out another long sigh, pulled Caladbolg from the ground, and swung it over his shoulder.

He tilted his head upward, staring at the moon through the forest canopy—

Then turned back to them, voice deep:

"Fine then… get ready.

Because there's a lunatic out there doing things…

that even you two wouldn't dare imagine."

BOOM—!!

A massive explosion erupted from deep within the Einzbern castle.

Zoth's head immediately snapped upward.

From the top floors, a figure in a black suit plummeted—

Slamming into the ground with a dusty crash.

Right behind him came a dark armored form—rushing down like a death arrow.

Zoth barely glanced and sighed again.

"Aiz…

Right, forgot that Maiya already snuck the Homunculus out by now."

He waved his hand dismissively, then tilted his head toward the pursuer:

"Berserk, stand down.

We've got bigger problems to deal with…"

Lancelot growled lowly, but gave a subtle nod.

He released Kiritsugu, then vanished into spirit form—fading into the cold forest mist.

Zoth slowly lowered Caladbolg, his voice rising in one last warning before he turned away:

"For now…

I'll spare that Homunculus.

Until I crush that bulging-eyed bastard with my own hands—

remember that."

With that, he stepped into the creeping fog, his figure melting into the darkness as if he had never been there.

"Master! Were you fighting Berserker just now!?"

Artoria ran over to support Kiritsugu, her face full of concern.

Kiritsugu was gasping for breath, blood dripping from his lips, but still composed.

"…Yeah.

I just needed to stall him long enough for Maiya to get Iris out."

Artoria nodded, then sheathed Excalibur, speaking with grave tone:

"I also have news:

The missing children… it wasn't Ruler.

It's all the work of Caster—his true name is Gilles de Rais."

Kiritsugu's expression darkened.

He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled a thin, weary line of smoke.

"…Then the plan changes."

A short distance away, Diarmuid had returned to physical form.

He lowered Gáe Buidhe, resting it gently over his shoulder.

His eyes no longer held hostility—but a calm, firm determination.

"I'll withdraw as well…

I must report this to my Master."

He paused briefly, looking directly at Artoria:

"Saber…

If fate forces us to cross blades again—

then I hope next time, we fight with honor."

Artoria gave a silent nod.

No words.

But the fire in her eyes was all the answer he needed.

Diarmuid offered a faint smile—

Then turned to spirit form and vanished into the quiet night.

---

Fuyuki – The great bridge arching over the silent river.

At the center of the bridge beneath the freezing black sky, Zoth stood like a living iron statue. His crimson cloak billowed violently in the night wind, and every slight movement of his echoed with the clanking of armor.

Beneath his silver-gray helmet, his dark brown eyes slowly shifted—fiery orange light igniting within them like a blaze. He was activating [Omni Visions], the all-seeing eye that could peer into the fabric of events and space across all of Fuyuki.

Fragments of timelines unfolded before him, interwoven and chaotic.

—Ryuunosuke… the lunatic who should've died by his hand, still lived.

That madman somehow managed to complete half of the summoning ritual, weak as his mana was, and still dragged Gilles de Rais into this world. And when he saw his Master dying… Gilles did not hesitate. He saved him—preserving both their lives.

After Zoth left the scene, police sirens blared in the distance. That should have been the end.

But it wasn't.

In a frenzy of mana starvation and holy maiden obsession, Gilles slaughtered every single cop. Then, he consumed the very child he had just rescued—one step closer to finishing the ritual, using blood and flesh as sacrifice.

Every missing child reported afterward… was his doing.

Zoth froze.

A raspy chuckle bubbled up from his throat, low and metallic—like steel grating against stone. He tilted his head back, clenched his helmet tight, and his twin pupils blazed crimson like demonic fire.

His voice dropped—deep, cold, bone-chilling:

"Gilles…"

"Even though I struck first to stop your summoning… fate still insisted on dragging you down here, huh?"

"Fine."

"Then let me send you— —and that bastard Ryuunosuke— …straight to hell. Once and for all!"

He turned away. His crimson cloak coiled like flames behind him, and he stepped straight into the waiting darkness, ready to be dyed in blood.