Dumping the latest chapter of fate/strange fake with LN translations since F/SF manga don't have english translations...

dumping the latest chapter of fate/strange fake with LN translations since F/SF manga don't have english translations yet.

Note: There's a slight difference between the manga and LN specially of its sequence.

"You must have taken me lightly indeed to imagine that you could hide from me like that."

. "Those marks look like command seals... So you're the one Faldeus mentioned. What are you after?"
"...No idea. A weird white woman told me to come, so I came."
Ayaka's tone was brusque. Her eyes were brimming with resignation at the world and anger at her unreasonable situation.

The mage saw that, shrugged inwardly, and continued without apparent interest.
"I see. I suppose that makes you a poor stray mage made into a sacrificial pawn for the Einzbern 'flesh puppet'... Well, I can't have you getting in the way of the ritual. Sorry, but I'm going to deal with you first."
The mage sent mana surging through the magic circuits that crisscrossed his body, and was about to end Ayaka's life without emotion, like it was just work, when—
"...Humph."
He suddenly halted, and touched a finder to an earring which seemed to be a magical implement of some kind.
"Yes... ... This woman? Why?"

. ...I see. Understood. I'll play along with your game."
Once he had ended the call, the mage let out a big sigh, and turned back to face the still-bound Ayaka.
"It may be a mere whim, but I can't say I'm not interested."
"...?"

. "Oh, I'm just going to see how much loyalty the Heroic Spirit I'm about to summon will swear to me." The mage's twisted slightly, and he stifled a chuckle as he continued. "I want to know whether or not the noble hero once hailed as the king of the Knights of the Round Table will obey an order to kill a defenseless woman."
All Ayaka managed to understand was that she was probably going to be killed by the "noble hero" who was about to be summoned.
"And if this whatever of the Round Table refuses to kill me, I... still won't be spared, will I?" Ayaka spoke cynically and without enthusiasm.

"I could always use a Command Seal, but unfortunately I'm not enough of a hedonist to waste one on a game. I'll just snap your neck with that cord."
"Are you sure that's wise? If you don't kill me first, I might ruin your ritual."
"Your voice is shaking. Don't bluff."

The mage maintained his air of indifference in this face of Ayaka's half-desperate sarcasm.
"Do you know why I just as good as told you the true name of the Heroic Spirit I'm going to summon?"
"...?"
"I did it because this summoning is another 'declaration of war.' It doesn't matter if it gets out; on the contrary, I hear it will make for a grand irony when it gets back to the Einzberns and the Association through your employer. Totally useless, if you ask me, but I get paid all the same."
Among mages, it was basic common sense to conceal information, but this mage only shrugged as he continued relating his commission to spread it.
"In short, we've already made allowances for the infiltration you gambled your life on."
"..."

"Speaking of which, I would have liked to make sure whether or not those faux-Command Seals have the power to obstruct my summoning, but... Really, I'm sure Francesca sees us as just another one of her toys. Well, even if you do put up a fight and spoil the ritual, I still get paid. I'll just accept that I drew the short straw and give up on the war."
Ayaka silently lowered her eyes, feeling the portion of the magical cord the was constricting her neck twitch.
The mage, indifferent to her condition, began to recite an incantation before the altar set on the stage.

"For elements, silver and iron. For foundation, stone and the Archduke of Contracts."

The succession of words meant nothing to Ayaka. At the same time, it was a countdown to her death.

"For ancestor, my great master _______."

Oh, it's too soon.
Ayaka groaned softly, listening to the mage's chant as though it was none of her concern.
So, my dramatic escape ends in a place like this.

"For the alighting wind, a wall. The gates of the four directions close."

Is this a simple trick of fate, or is it "her" curse?
She thought she would prefer the latter, if possible.
Well... if it is, I wonder if this will be enough to satisfy... "her."
She thought there being a reason for it would make it all just a little more bearable.
As if running from the reality that she was about to die.

"...?"
Suddenly, she noticed. Noticed the currents of strange power that flowed through her body as the mage's chant filled the hall. It felt like all the blood in her body had become iron, and was feeling the pull of an external magnet.
Soon, Ayaka realized that the pulsation was not in her veins, but came from five tattoos inscribed on various parts of her body.
Deep resentment, or great joy.
She hallucinated that her entire body, with the tattoos as its focal points, was emitting a cry. Little by little, the cry was growing louder, and drowning out the mage's chant.
The mage, however, did not seem to notice the change. He was alert, keeping up a continuous flow of mana to her magical restraints, but it appeared he had no intention of interrupting his summoning ritual..

But then, even if some grand magecraft was invoked, Ayaka did not think it would bring any optimistic developments, like incapacitating the mage or automatically warping her to a safe place.
It couldn't be a self-destruct, could it?
Either way, her own death was almost certain. The fact sent a wave of fear coursing through Ayaka, and along with it a craving: "I don't want to die."
But even those feelings seemed somehow like they were happening to someone else.
I don't want to die? Why? What reason have I got to live?
Ayaka could not tell whether it was her own brain raising these doubts, or whether it was the tattoos inscribed on her arms and the curse the "white woman" had built into them making it do so. The noise of the tattoos had grown so loud it had paralyzed her basic powers of judgment. They seemed to be cheering, or screaming, as if to welcome something that was about to appear. Then, the next instant—
Corporeal "death" swept down on the opera house stage.
But not on Ayaka; behind the mage who was to have been her executioner.

"Emerge from the ring of restraint, O Guardian of the... scales...?"

How long had "it" been there? To Ayaka's eyes, at least, it looked as if it had materialized out of thin air.
A petite human figure swathed in shadow-black robes. Ayaka could see that its whole body was covered in black cloth, but she could not make out the face.

All she remembered clearly was the moment a weirdly long arm stretched through a gap in the robes, and...

came to rest on the chest of its victim...

As soon as she saw that, Ayaka knew. Knew that the situation she now found herself in no longer belonged to the world she knew — it was on the other side of the world's shadows, invisible to the eyes of those who lead ordinary human lives. The moment she realized that, a diminutive human figure appeared in her field of view.

A young girl wearing a red hood.

Whether she was actually a phantom or a real image, Ayaka in her confusion could not tell.
Why here? This building doesn't even have an... elevator.
The "thing" that had appeared on the opera house stage looked as if it was standing on the corpse. "It" faced Ayaka with an innocent smile.
Even before she realized what that smile meant, dread ran through Ayaka from head to toe.
It was hard to say which came first, the almost audible shiver than ran down Ayaka's spine, or the black-robed intruder crushing the heart-like thing that appeared in its long hand.
"Gah... bah...?"
The mage vomited blood, still not comprehending what had happened to his body. It was doubtful if he even realized who had killed him.

Ayaka was terrified of both the black-robed figure and the girl in red, but at the same time she was thinking detached, somehow impersonal thoughts, like "Oh, I'd hate it if they got the wrong idea and thought I killed him." She probably knew instinctively that she would be crushed by the fear if she did not.
The moment the mage ceased to move, the magical cord that had been binding Ayaka from head to toe crumbled away. The realization that she was free distracted her for a moment, and in that moment—
The girl in red disappeared from her view—

And the black-robed figure stood in her place.
"...!"
Her breathing stopped.

"...Are you a mage who seeks the Holy Grail?"
A mechanical enquiry.
When she heard the figure's voice, a chill so intense that what she had felt earlier could not compare shot through Ayaka like countless needles.
From the voice, Ayaka could tell that the figure was a young woman. Maybe even younger than herself. But the sense of presence the woman's body gave off was incomparably colder, sharper and more oppressive than the mage who had threatened to kill her. Even though she had never encountered this being before, there were things she felt sure of.
If I answer wrong, I'll be killed.
If I lie, I'll probably be killed too.
The woman had no intent to kill her yet. But if Ayaka made one wrong choice, she would not have time to sense that change before she ended up just like the mage whose corpse lay on the floor in front of her. Having arrived at that conclusion, Ayaka decided to give the black-robed woman an honest answer.
"I—"

Just then—
A surge of light enveloped the stage.
"!"
"!?"
The black-robed woman was on her guard and jumped back out of the light, but Ayaka, who had only just been released from her restraints, could not even stand. The best she could do was to squint in the direction the light seemed to come from.
There was a figure in the light.
Multiple human figures.
Ayaka could not believe her eyes.
The scene only lasted a few seconds, but time in that space seemed to have stopped. Several of the figures kneeled on the spot... and welcomed the last, and darkest, figure to appear.

"Oh? What's this? Now who could that be? Assassin, perhaps?"
The words were barely out of her mouth when another change came over the image. Francesca stared excitedly at the "corpse" in the crystal ball and let out a cackling laugh.
"Ah ha ha! Amazing! Stupendous! A sudden accident! I wonder what will happen next!"
Francesca flashed an ecstatic grin, her cheeks flushing obscenely while her eyes sparkled like a child's.

"Oh! Oh, Art(Arthur), whatever will you do now? Your Master dead the moment you're summoned! Isn't it dramatic?"
She shouted wildly, and all the while she laughed, laughed, laughed—
Catching sight of the next thing reflected in the crystal ball, she cocked her head limply to one side, still smiling.
"...What's this?"

Then, her head full of question marks, she muttered:
"Who is... that Saber?"

. A blond man, still young and magnificently dressed. Here and there his golden hair was broken by streaks of red, and a pair of blazing, bestial eyes were set in his beautiful face.
Just as Ayaka had been able to sense an almost palpable "death" from the black-robed woman, who now glared at the man from a short distance away, she could sense an extraordinary "heat" from the man who had appeared in the light.
The man surveyed his surveyed his surroundings wide eyed, and said:

"Well now, this looks just a bit out of the common."

After he had glanced at the mage's corpse lying at his feet and the black-robed woman who regarded him warily... the man continued with a broad grin.
"The way you're dressed, and the flow of 'power' I sensed just now... Are you a follower of the 'Old Man of the Mountain,' by any chance?"
"...!?"
The atmosphere instantly changed. The man's words sounded like nonsense to Ayaka, but they seemed to strike a chord with the black-robed woman.

"Either way, as long as we both seek the Holy Grail, we must be enemies. What will you do?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the black-robed woman sprung into action with a surge of murderous intent. It was like a shadow on the ground had leapt into the air.

She bounded into the wings in a single breath, and left afterimages in her wake as she darted between the pillars that encircled the stage. When she flew past gaps in the curtains, it created the illusion that she had split into dozens of people.
"Ha ha! Magnificent! I've never seen anyone lighter-footed than Loxley before!"
The man, eyes sparkling like a child's, shouted a name Ayaka did not recognize and praised the black-robed woman as she flitted about glaring death at him.
"..."

As if she had taken his praise as a challenge, the woman leapt still faster, and then...

. suddenly vanished into thin air.
"She... disappeared...?" Ayaka murmured, dumbfounded, and looked up.

Just then... the black-robed woman appeared from the blind spot of everyone there. She jumped out behind the man, not from above the stage, but out of the shadow he cast on the floor.
A weirdly long arm stretched from her back, and made for the center of the man's back, just above his heart. An arm of clear death, identical to the one that had slaughtered the mage just a minute before.

But that arm never reached the man's body. An arrow fired from nowhere sent it flying off course.
"...!?"
The black-robed woman's eyes widened slightly in surprise. As far as she was concerned, the blow had come from a complete blind spot. For you see, that arrow had appeared suddenly at the man's feet — indeed, from within the shadow he cast on the stage floor.

"Ha ha, being compared not to your liking? But splendid work, as always," the aristocratic young man muttered to no one in particular, then drew his sword with a smile.
It was exquisitely wrought. Even Ayaka could tell that it was the kind of sword that royalty used.

"EXXX..."

Then, still smiling, he let out a cry... and swung.

"CALIBUUUUUUUUR"

...

...

The man addressed the dumbstruck girl.

"I ask you, are you my Master?"

...

When she heard those words, Ayaka's brain, which had not managed to keep up with the shifting situation, finally began to regain its equilibrium.
She reconsidered her situation. It looked like the mage's "ritual" had been safely accomplished, but the results were nothing like what she had been told.

According to the "white woman" who had brought her here against her will, the ritual was supposed to conjure up the ghost of an ancient hero. Something like that, anyway. The white woman had called it a "Heroic Spirit," but she had also said that there would only be one of them. So why had she been able to see multiple figures in the light earlier? Had it been the man himself who fired that arrow when he was in danger?
Ayaka's doubts came in rapid succession, but she soon ceased to care. As her head cooled, she realized the position she had been placed in, and felt nauseous.
The mage's corpse lay before her eyes. He had died. Right in front of her. Just like that.

The man looked at the corpse too, but he just tilted his head a little to one side, and addressed her again. There was no sign that it came as any particular shock.
"Be at ease, it doesn't seem any of the common people were caught up in it. On the other hand, it appears that the rebel escaped as well... Humph, she did well to get clean away from me. Still, there's no going back now."
Was a person's death normal to him? Ayaka found that hard to accept.
Oh, I see now. So this is the kind of thing that... the "white woman" wanted to make me do.
"Participate in the Holy Grail War," she said. And of course it's normal for people to die in a war.
She wondered how it had come to this. How things had ended up this way. How she had ended up leading this kind of life.

"That being the case, I ask you once again."
The man posed a question to Ayaka as she lay lamenting the past. It looked like he would not give her time to seriously reflect on how she had come to this point.
"..."
In this chaotic situation... she made up her mind about just one thing.
I can't accept any more deaths. Not even if "destiny" tries to force them on me. Not even if resisting it means dying myself. At least I'll die fighting. It's not like my life is worth anything either way.
"May I take it that you are my Master? I am, as you can see, of the Saber class. If you understand, then let us conclude our contract at on—"
"You're wrong."

Closer to half-desperate than to resolute, Ayaka wrung a cry from deep in her throat.
"Completely wrong."
"What?"
The tattoos on her body shone faintly in response to the man's voice, and she realized that they were resonating with him. If she agreed be his master now, she would probably be able to usurp control of the Heroic Spirit, just like the "white woman" had told her she would. But she ignored the "white woman's" designs, and glared at the man.
"I won't... do what you people want anymore," she declared, forcing herself not to tremble with fear, and resolved to lay down her life if she had to. "Just... leave me alone."

OP here, anyone still interested? This chapter is over one hundred pages. Should I continue or what?

Nope

Continue please.
Except you have something importent to do.

Gotchu m8

Ayaka had been sure that she would be killed by the man's sword the moment she spoke. He was different from the black-robed woman, but she could still sense the power of an extraordinary being, completely unlike an ordinary human, from the man in front of her. Normal people were probably the same as worms to him. Or so Ayaka thought.

But, contrary to her expectations, he cocked his head as if at a loss, and returned his sword to its sheath as he spoke.
"I see, so you aren't my Master. In that case, I suppose there's nothing to be done."
Then he looked up at the nearly half-collapsed ceiling and heaved a sigh.
"Is this a theater? Oh dear..."
He narrowed his eyes as if he had received a shock of some kind, and crossed his arms as if lost in thought.
"So modern playhouses are as fragile as that... I suppose the knowledge I got from the Throne isn't enough to really understand..."
Muttering to himself, the man vanished into the wings of the stage.

Ayaka, who had been left behind, let her mouth hang open for a few seconds before a sudden realization struck her.
"I'm... saved?"
But the thought only lasted a brief time...
"Freeze!"
A man's angry shout came from one of the entrances.
It was a different man from before, but Ayaka was able to identify him at once.
The men who appeared from the entrance were wearing matching outfits — police uniforms — and aiming riot control Taser guns at Ayaka. They had not drawn their handguns even though the area was deserted, perhaps because one glance told them that Ayaka was unarmed.
"Put both hands behind your head and get down on the floor! Slowly!"
"...Yes, sir," Ayaka replied unenthusiastically, and slowly did as she was told.
I'm obviously the victim here, she thought. But when she considered that she was a trespasser at the scene of what looked like a terrorist bombing, well, it was probably a natural reaction. And on top of that the mage's corpse was still lying beside her, and the suspicious altar he had used remained on the stage.
Ayaka thought that this looked like it would turn out to be quite the tangled mess, when a thought that it would be difficult for anyone else to understand suddenly crossed her mind.
Police stations... have elevators, don't they? Oh, how depressing.
Actually, I might die from the "white woman's" curse before it comes to that.
While Ayaka was lost in thought, the police officers surrounded her and confirmed that the mage beside her was dead.
"Hey! Did you do this?"
"No, no. I'm the victim here," Ayaka answered in fluent English. The officer pinning her arms responded.

"If that's true, then what happened here? Why are you in the opera house while it's closed for renovation?"
"Umm... Well, you see..."
Ayaka considered lying that she had been abducted by the mage, but she would soon be exposed if they checked the local surveillance cameras, and that would only make things even more confused. But she could not tell the truth, either.
The police officers seemed to have concluded that Ayaka's reluctance to speak was indeed suspicious, and one of them produced a pair of handcuffs.
"You are under arrest for trespassing, and suspected terrorism and destruction of property. You have the right to remain..."
Wow, they actually say it.
Ayaka found herself thinking as she listened to the Miranda warning she had often seen in American TV shows. She did not know what would happen next. She was prepared to die, but she could not accept dying while still falsely accused of the mage's murder and the destruction of the opera house. She was still lying face-down on the floor as she pondered, and when she opened her eyes... there "she" was again.
A young girl wearing a red hood.
The police officers did not seem to be able to see her. They passed back and forth through the area where she stood without comment.
The red hood was pulled far forward, and Ayaka could not make out anything from the nose up. But the girl was looking at her, and smiling faintly. She opened her mouth to say something.
Ayaka did not want to listen. She did not want to see any more. But still she could not look away.
Ayaka knew why. This was a self-inflicted curse, and it had bound her for years.

The girl in the red hood was trying to tell her something, when...

>maybe the manga will show this scene on the next chapters.

"Wait."
A commanding voice reverberated through the opera house. At the same time, the girl in the red hood vanished.
When Ayaka and the police officers turned to look in the direction of the voice, they saw a man resplendent in noble garb standing among the solitary VIP seats in a portion of the third floor that had escaped collapse.
Huh? That's...
Why is he still here?
Ayaka wondered, but the man faced Ayaka and the officers, and unilaterally declared:
"I will give testimony. It was not that bespectacled girl who killed the man."
"Who's there? Don't move!"
Maybe it was a matter of distance. It was not Tasers that the police officers trained on the man as they shouted, but handguns. The man, however, gave no indication that he cared, and continued to majestically deliver his speech.
"Incidentally, it was not she who destroyed this theater, either."
"What?"
"I did it, with this sword."
The man audibly slapped the scabbard of the sword hanging at his waist as he spoke. The police officers scowled. They signaled to each other with their eyes, and several ran off towards the VIP seats where the man was. They did not seem to believe the story that he had done it with the sword, but they did appear to be wary of this man who had named himself the culprit.
"Be careful, he may have planted more bombs."
The man seemed to have heard the officers' whispers, because he began to sound annoyed.
"I would prefer not to be lumped in with bombs and... Hm?"
He broke off in mid-sentence. Part of the half-destroyed ceiling had begun to collapse again.

"Look out..." Ayaka mumbled instinctively.
The officers noticed it as well and tried to run, but it did not look like several of them would make it in time.
Then the man in the VIP seats laid a hand on the sword at his hip, and drew it in a motion reminiscent of Japanese Iai.
The power could hardly compare to his earlier strike, but a streak of light nevertheless extended from the blade and smashed the chunk of falling stone to atoms.
Both the police officers who had been saved by a hair's breadth without understand what had happened, and those who been powerless to do anything from their places of safety were left blinking in amazement.
The man who had accomplished this feat addressed the stunned officers with a regal bearing. As he spoke, he turned his gaze on Ayaka for just a moment, and flashed her a little smile.
"Will this be enough to prove me guilty?"

. "Good grief, this has gotten to be a real nuisance. I mean, trouble at the summoning of the all-important Saber... This is supposed to fall under Ms. Fracesca's jurisdiction; perhaps her bad habit has reared its head again."
Faldeus heaved a sigh, but then began to contact various locations, as if to say that this degree of trouble was within expectations.

"It's me. The incident at the opera house is to be reported as an accident. Some paints used in the renovation caught fire, and..."
He had gotten that far when his words abruptly trailed off.
"...Excuse me. I'll be in touch again later."
He ended the call and turned his gaze to one of his banks of countless monitors, a screen that displayed the local cable broadcast.

When he saw what was being shown, he initially wondered if a hostile mage might not be showing him some sort of illusion. Any mage well-versed in the Holy Grail War would probably have harbored the same doubt. After all, local cable station it might be, but... a genuine Heroic Spirit was being shown on live television broadcast.
The buzzing crowd of onlookers turned to look at each other when they caught sight of the youth's anachronistic appearance. To all appearances, it was the costume of an actor who had been preparing for a performance. Maybe gas or something had exploded during a rehearsal? When they considered the incident with the desert pipeline that had been reported that morning, many of the onlookers were still inclined to think it an accident. Even the reporter was beginning to think that maybe it had not been a crime after all, but some mishap during the renovation.
However...
The man being led by the police suddenly leapt forward — still handcuffed — and reached the top of the tallest vehicle there, a fire-engine, in a mere few bounds.
The crowd was taken aback by the fact that the man had dashed up the engine without using his hands at all, relying only on the strength of his legs. The flustered police officers pointed Tasers at him. And amid the noise and tumult...

"Hear me, people of Snowfield!"

The man's voice carried strangely far.
"Having destroyed your theater, a sacred place in which to recite poetry and perform tales, We are overcome with shame. Everything is due to Our negligence. We will make no excuse."
Like a direct jolt to the brain, the meaning of the words easily penetrated the minds of all who heard them. Almost like a magical covenant.

"But in lieu of explanation, We will make you a promise! We swear by the great ancestor of Our chivalry, Arthur Pendragon, and by the great knights the songs of whose victories resound in Our native land that, on Our honor, We will compensate you for the destruction of this theater!"
The townspeople listened in awed silence.
It could hardly be called a speech; it had not even filled thirty seconds. When they considered only the meaning of the words, they were inclined to laugh it off as nonsense. But coming from the man's mouth, those words were accompanied by an mysterious ring of truth that shook the ears and hearts of the crowd.
Could he really repay them for the opera house?
Just who was this man?

"Thank you for your courteous attention! We pray that your lives will be full of most excellent song!"
Doubtful silence reigned. Having said his piece, the man dismounted the fire-engine contentedly. Then, just like that, he was bundled into a patrol car and taken away. No one spoke. Everyone was overwhelmed by the atmosphere the man had projected.

Except for one person, Flat Escardos. He turned to the watch on his arm, eyes shining, and clapped as he whispered:
"Amazing! Cool! I bet he's the king of someplace! Talk about charisma! Oh, Jack, I've got it! Let's make it so you were really the king of someplace too!"

"Well, there are certainly numerous theories that I was actually royalty, but... is that really what we should be thinking about after our first sight of a Heroic Spirit, one of our enemies, in the flesh? I have a feeling that he left several clues to his true name just now. King Arthur and so on?"
"Oh no, it will be so much more fun and exciting to find out who he is later! I know, let's not fight him and make friends instead. I mean, he's so cool."
"I have grown genuinely uneasy about whether you understand the meaning of the Holy Grail War."

While the pair of Heroic Spirit and Master conversed, a bespectacled female inconspicuously emerged, still not handcuffed, and was made to board a patrol car. The onlookers' heads were still full of the man who had appeared shortly before, and most failed to notice her. Only that young Master, Flat Escardos, displayed an unusual reaction.
"Huh?"
"Is something the matter?"
"No, that person just now... Maybe it was just my imagination."
Flat looked after the patrol car, head tilted to one side, and maintained that attitude as he resumed his telepathic conversation with the Heroic Spirit.
Well, I say telepathy, but Flat was actually speaking out loud, and so came to be regarded by the other onlookers as "a dangerous guy who gets worked up and talks to himself."

Bump this thread if anyone is still interested so it won't end up in the archive.

"Oh, honestly! It's inconceivable! Unexpected! Completely unforeseen! But I suppose it's things like this that make life worth living! What fun! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!"
Francesca was alone in the dark room, rolling with laughter.
"Hee hee, ha ha ha ha! Hyah ha ha! Oh, oh, no more! It's too good! My spleen and bile ducts will get all twisted up!"
She lay face-up, flapping her feet with a heartfelt smile. All the while Francesca was shouting, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"Ah! Ah! I've watched so many Grail Wars, but even I've never seen a Servant get arrested by the police before! I don't know why Art didn't show even though we used that medium, but I don't even care anymore!"
She went on laughing for about another three minutes.

After that she staggered to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes, and turned her gaze to the crystal ball. Reflected in it was a scene of that Saber being made to get out of the patrol car and taken inside the police station.
"Oh, I see. So that's how it is," Francesca went on happily talking to herself, nodding in apparent agreement with something. "The other Master's must at least know that there's a Heroic Spirit in the station now, so they'll all be gunning for the police! Oh, how dreadful! I'll be snacking and cheering you on from here, so do your best, Mr. Police Chief!"

Bump

"That's... King Arthur?"
The chief of police, Orlando Reeve, spread his office blinds with his fingers and peered out at the parking lot. He saw that the Heroic Spirit — apparently Saber — was walking to majestically for someone being "hauled in," and sighed with his usual sour look.
"I see we didn't send out Clan Calatin in time."
"It happened in the city center. Apparently some officers on patrol rushed in before they could take care of it," his secretary reported coolly. When she had finished, she asked the chief about future developments.
"How do we proceed? Deal with them inside the station?"
"Assemble the members of Clan Calatin here... but first, investigate the woman who was brought in. Find out if she's a Master or not.

Depending and the circumstances, we may be able to form an alliance."
"An alliance, sir?"
"If the what Francesca told us is correct, that should be King Arthur, but... On TV, he swore 'by Arthur Pendragon,' didn't he?"
"Yes, sir. We have also received a report to that effect from the officers who were at the scene."

"In that case, doesn't swearing by yourself sound strange to you? He could always be some hero linked to Arthur — a knight of the Round Table — but wherever he comes from, we can't expect to challenge Saber and come out unscathed. If he manages to fire his Noble Phantasm even once in the time between our taking care of his Master and him disappearing, it will mean trouble."
The chief clasped his hands over his desk, concealing his mouth as he continued:
"To begin with, if that woman is enough of a mage to steal the right to be Saber's Master, it's only natural for her to have some kind of plan."
"I don't know about that, sir. It's also possible that she is an amateur and only knows the rudiments of magecraft."

:^(

Never give up.

"A puppet of the Einzberns?"
The preceding evening they had received a report that an Einzbern homunculus had entered the city. Faldeus and Francesca were probably aware of it as well, but the chief had not yet exchanged information with them on that point.
But even if the Einzberns were making no direct moves, it was a real possibility that they were employing some outside mage. If they feared betrayal, they could always find some means of manipulating an amateur who merely possessed magic circuits to do their bidding.
"Also consider the possibility that Francesca, not the Einzberns, is behind her. That woman would betray us in five seconds if she thought it would be fun. Faldeus is allied with us, but even he could easily turn on us depending on the inclination of his superiors."
The chief continued with slightly downcast eyes, recalling the clash of Heroic Spirits in the desert, and the gigantic crater that had been born as a result.
"In any case, as long as we have not only Gilgamesh, but another Heroic Spirit capable of facing him on equal footing to deal with, we can't have too much insurance."
Then, looking to the future looking to the future from the dual standpoints of police chief and Master, Orlando dispassionately issued instructions to his secretary:
"Keep a watchful eye on both the woman and the Heroic Spirit. For the time being, choose detectives who don't know the circumstances, and treat them as strangely-dressed suspects in a possible terrorism case."

Dawn was still far off. In the interrogation room of Snowfield Police Station, a bizarre interview was being conducted.
"...So, your name is?"
"If you are troubled for a name to address me by, please call me 'Saber,'" the handcuffed aristocratic man answered the sour-faced police detective, sitting majestically in his chair.
"Saber? Like a cavalry saber? Well, ain't that clever. What drugstore did you find that sword we confiscated from you in, anyway?"

A sarcastic query. The man who called himself Saber grasped the meaning, and responded with a cheerful smile.
"I think I'll use that 'right to remain silent.' It's my favorite sword; I'd be in trouble if there was a flood of customers and they sold out."
"...You've got quite a mouth on you for a guy dressed up as a king or knight or something."
"Quite perceptive. I see the officials of this country are of a superior order."
Saber sounded impressed. The detective's response was irritated.
"You touched in the head? Or is it drugs?"

"I suppose so. In my youth, I was even nicknamed Oc e No. To those around me I must have seemed eccentric, but I took it as a compliment."
"I see. So then you bought into your own hype, got carried away and wrecked the opera house?"
"Certainly, I got carried away. It is a fact that, realizing that I had been summoned atop a gorgeous stage, replete with luxury, I was in high spirits," Saber addressed the officers, his expression growing serious. "What you ought to do is look into what it will cost, and how many craftsmen it will require, to repair the opera house. Inform me, and I will make amends."
"You'll have to ask the DA about that. In the first place, does a nut like you even have a chance in hell of covering the cost?"
"If I said I didn't... I'd be lying."
"You got somebody to foot the bill for you or something?"
The costume the man called Saber had on looked to authentic to have been bought at a local party goods shop. It had probably come with a hefty price tag. The detective in charge of the interrogation, having reached that conclusion, was attempting to draw some information out of the man, when—
"If you like, you may even finance it for me. I will not forget the favor."

"And you can quit screwing around!"
The detective banged his palm on the table. Saber brooded for a moment, grunted, then opened his mouth to speak.
"I won't say for free. I can show you a trick. You'll have the chance to see something that's likely beyond the bounds of your common sense."
"A magic trick?"
"Yes. I'll be frank... it's quite something. You'll be amazed."
Saber spoke with an innocent smile like a child's.

. The police officers exchanged glances, smirked, and decided to play along with the madman.
"Ha. In that case, why don't you show us what you can do in your condition?" one of the officers said.
Saber nodded, smiling, raised his cuffed hands and gave them a shake.
"I have nothing in my hands. Do you agree? Look closely."
"...Yeah."
"...And now, I'm going to disappear."
"Huh?"

. he officers were puzzled, not quite taking in the man's meaning. Then... Saber's body vanished like mist. His handcuffs, left hanging in the air, fell to the table with a loud clatter.
"...!?"
"Wha..."
The officers were all on the verge of panicking. They ran their eyes over their surroundings, stretching hands to the pistols and stun guns at the hips.
"Where'd he go?"
"What happened?"
"Do not open the door!"

The uproar continued... but as soon as they took their eyes off the man's chair for a moment, he was back in his original position. The only difference from before was the handcuffs, which were lying empty on the table.
"..."
The officers trained their guns on the man, wiping away cold sweat.
"D, don't move! Do not move!"
"I haven't moved a step. I told you, didn't I? That you'd be amazed?" Saber said. Then he wiped the smile from his face, as if to say that the joke ended there, and addressed the police officers with a serious expression.
"Of course, I could have gone through the wall and escaped, or even done something to you. Or taken my leave of the opera house without ever being seen."
The blazing glint in his eyes projected an intimidating air, as if he was about to devour the officers' souls. In spite of which, Saber stubbornly endeavored to prove that he bore them no ill will.

"This is my way of showing you 'respect.'"
"'Respect'...?"
"Before the question of atoning for the crime of destruction, to make another shoulder the blame for it would be a knight's dishonor. If I behaved so, I would never again be able to face the founding king of my native land, whom I love and respect. For that very reason, I ask you, who have proof of my power, to understand. I intend to make amends, but I do not intend to be restrained. I have merely come here to testify that the woman is innocent."

The police officers sank into silence at Saber's quietly-spoken words. The content of the man's words was too out of place and absurd to believe, but an intimidating aura continued to emanate from him, and forced them to accept it.
"That I do not eliminate you with force is the bare minimum of respect due to the noble intentions of loyalty to your task dedication to the public peace. I will abide your restraint until dawn."
The word "respect" came out of Saber's mouth, but the police officers were regarding the man before them with looks of fear. Like frogs caught in the glare of a snake, they were rooted to the spot. It appeared that they truly were faithful to their mission, because they continued to glare at Saber in spite of that.
Saber, perhaps comfortable being the target of their animosity, spoke cheerfully.
"I will vanish with the dawn, so, well, you had better think how to gloss it over now."
Finally, with an innocent smile, he tacked on a remark that really must have been mockery.

"If you like, we can think on it together."

Saber is cute.

Watching the events in the interrogation room on his desk monitor, the chief pressed his fingers to his temples and heaved a sigh.
"...He appears to be entirely unconscious of the secrecy of the Holy Grail War."
Then, furrowing his brow, he issued instructions to his secretary, who stood beside him.
"Exclude normal officers from future observation and interrogation. Assign it to members of Clan Calatin. Perform memory alteration treatments on all personnel in the room with him now."
"Understood."
The secretary saluted. As she did so, the chief took the sword lying on the table in his hand.

"...This is the Noble Phantasm we confiscated from him?"
"Yes, sir. It doesn't appear to be anything more than an ornamental sword... but that might be because its true name has not been released."
"No, this really is just an ornamental sword. I can't sense even a speck of magical energy."
When he reached that point, a sudden realization struck the chief.

"...Just now, when he assumed spirit form, did this sword disappear?"
"I can't say, sir... I was distracted by the monitor as well, and didn't notice."
"Hmm..."
According to the report from Faldeus' survey team, Gilgamesh had "fired" hundreds, maybe thousands, or Noble Phantasms the night before. Now, however, not a scrap of them remained. Of course there was always the possibility that Faldeus was lying, but it seemed more probable that some force had acted to retrieve the fired Noble Phantasms to Gilgamesh's treasury.
"There are still a lot of black boxes in the Holy Grail War. It appears we'll need to give some thought to the relationship between Heroic Spirits and their equipment."
With his eyes fixed on "Saber's sword," which he was actually holding in his hands and touching, the chief ruminated on the future.
"I'll ask Caster for his opinion later... although I doubt he'll give me a straight answer."
Then he replaced the sword on the table, and directed his steps towards the entrance of the conference room.

"I'll meet with the woman who appears to be Saber's Master."
"Isn't direct contact dangerous?"
The secretary let her unease show through.
"...If I pawned it off on a member of Clan Calatin and it turned out to be a trap, it would still be risky," the chief answered in frigid tones. "If I didn't have the resolve to put myself in harm's way, I would never have chosen these tactics."

you're doing god's work OP

Ayaka, who had finished her interrogation and been stuffed into the holding area commonly called a "jail" or a "police cell," was exhausted. She lay face up on the bed, still wearing her glasses. Surrounded, not by iron bars, but by walls and a door, she was now completely isolated.
It was a far cleaner room than Ayaka had anticipated. If you left out how cramped it was, the cell seemed more agreeable than camping in a tent, or worrying about mosquitoes and ticks in a cheap hotel.
Ayaka had heard that in America they made no special distinctions between jails, detention centers, and prisons. Then again, she wasn't clear on the difference herself. In any case, it didn't change the fact that she would not be leaving for a while. She resigned herself, looked up at the ceiling, and decided to get some rest.
But agitation kept her awake.

I really appreciate this, OP.

Thanks, not even a fatefag btw but this strange fake really caught my attention.

Her head was full of the contents of her examination. Who was she? Where had she come from? Why had she been there? She seemed to be Japanese, so what was her objective in visiting America? A long litany of questions designed to sound out a suspect's past. It had been a reasonable, straightforward course of action, but Ayaka had found it unbearably painful.
Oh, I hate it. I hate it.
Even remembering it is a pain.
No, that's wrong. I'm not annoyed.
I just don't want to remember because I'm scared.

. While traveling this country's vast expanse, she had been able to forget the past. She had been able to run from her sins.
For a while, I didn't see her, but...
The red hooded girl who had appeared at the opera house. Picturing the smile beneath her hood made Ayaka's whole body break out in a sweat.

She had been made to ride an elevator several times while she was being dragged through the station, and every time she had been on tenterhooks. She did not know how many years it had been. She had done her best to not even enter buildings that had elevators. Because she had known that the instant she set eyes on an elevator, the red hooded girl would be standing behind her.
The police officers had appeared to be unable to see her, but Ayaka had certainly sensed her presence inside the station elevator.

Ayaka, paling with fear, had made absolutely certain not to look in her direction. All the while telling herself, "She and I are different people. This has nothing to do with me."
In the end, Ayaka could not tell whether the red hooded girl was a ghost, or an illusion her own mind showed her, or something else entirely. All that mattered to Ayaka was the fact that she could see the red hooded girl.
She was supposed to have come to this city to escape from that girl, so why had it turned out like this? Just as Ayaka settled down to ponder the question afresh, there was a sudden change in her situation.

"Are you well? You look quite tired."

Without warning, the man from the opera house appeared in a corner of her cell.

i appreciate this OP

"!?"
Startled, Ayaka shot upright. The man who had entered unnoticed called out to her again.
"Don't act so surprised. Passing through walls is nothing if I shift to spirit form. My interrogation's been put on hold. I was put in a cell a little farther down, so I came to check in on you."
The man had easily penetrated the locked isolation cell. Perhaps he really was some kind of spirit. There was far less distance between them than there had been even at the opera house, and Ayaka stood up so as to be on her guard. Pressing her back to the wall, she opened her mouth to speak.
"...I thought I told you to leave me alone," she bluntly enquired.

"You're not my Master, are you?" The man asked back.
"...That's right. I'm not your Master or anything else."
Ayaka meant her answer as a curt refusal, but when the man heard it, he grinned like a mischievous child.
"I guess that means I've no need to obey your orders, then!"
"Wha..."
"Now I can bother you all I want. I'm going to take personal care of you, so be prepared."
The man sounded cheerful. Ayaka shook her head. She had had enough.
"Please, just leave me alone."

THKS for your hardwork.
BTW doublepost(text).

Well it already got fixed, thank you. Sorry for bother. I

"As much as I love to grant the wishes of the common people as best I can, there's a reason why that won't do."
"A reason?
In the face of the dubious Ayaka, the Heroic Spirit got straight to the point.
"I think it's due to the rites built into your tattoos... It looks like my magical energy 'lines' are connected to you, instead of the mage who had my Command Seals."
"...What?"
The man's abrupt manner of speaking caused Ayaka to knit her brows.
"In other words.."

yeah I noticed it immediately

I get magical energy from you, and that allows me to materialize in this world. That means our fates are linked, even if it isn't a proper Master and Servant relationship," he lightly announced, then continued to the dumbfounded Ayaka. "Without you, I probably wouldn't have been able to manifest in the first place. I am in your debt. Thank you."
The man held out a hand to shake. Ayaka brushed it aside and scowled at him.
"...If you feel indebted to me, leave me alone."

"That I refuse to do! I will take good care of you. And bother you as well. I'll save you, even if you wail and rave that you don't want me to. After all, if you die, I disappear, and then I won't be able to obtain the Holy Grail."
"You're going to save me from something...?"
"Of course. From the other participants in this war. Master or not, as long as your magical energy lines are tied to me, you will naturally be targeted."

"This is the worst..."
Ayaka held her head in her hands.
"Think positively," the man told her. "Compared to having all your skin flayed off, being rubbed in salt, and being in the same situation, for example, you're much better off because you're not in pain."
"You give some extreme examples..."
"I've often been told that I am extreme in everything I do."
The man sounded embarrassed, as if he had just been complimented. Ayaka, perhaps realizing that anything she said would be useless, decided to sound him out and broached a different topic.
"You're a noble or something, right? Doesn't being arrested by the police go against your pride or something?"
"It's much better than when I was imprisoned in a mountain fortress. I can step out for a stroll when I please. Besides, if you had been punished in my place, that would have wounded my pride far more. Oh, but I'm not just helping you for the sake of my pride."
"I told you, you don't have to help me at all..."
Ayaka heaved an exasperated sigh. The man continued to address her with an easy manner, completely unlike the speech he had made on top of the fire-engine.
"Call me Saber for the time being. To go without naming myself to my benefactor is dishonorable, but sooner or later I will find an opportunity to tell you my true name."
Saber then turned back to Ayaka with a serious air.
"Won't you tell me a few things now? What were you doing in a place like that? What are those tattoos?" he enquired. After making a troubled face for a moment, however, he shook his head and posed a more important question.

It would be nice if someone typeset this. Keep up the good work, OP.