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Looking at the figure holding the golden chalice high, Da Vinci could only shake her head helplessly. When it came to Alaric’s plan, she was powerless to stop or change it.

Even without her, Alaric would have been able to accomplish it—at most, it was only a matter of how much effort he’d have to spend.

To design a Lesser Grail as a terminal and operate the core functionalities of a Greater Grail System to perform Heroic Spirit summoning—

Da Vinci was well aware of this Grail system’s existence.

There had been the Holy Grail War in Fuyuki, the one that Marisbury Animusphere, the previous Director, had won. With that victory, Marisbury obtained enough funding to operate Chaldea.

Alongside Chaldeas, which began operation in the same year, the so-called Guardian Heroic Spirit Summoning System: Fate, was also officially filed.

There was no doubt that this was based on the downgraded Heroic Spirit Summoning System from the Fuyuki Three Families, which had then been further developed into Chaldea’s summoning system.

Furthermore—

At this point, Da Vinci had already expressed her approval of Alaric’s plan.

Compared to the alien Lostbelts threatening the stars, Alaric’s scheme was objectively safer for Chaldea; at least, it was advantageous to Chaldea in the bigger picture.

This world was not a twisted, erroneous one, but a world that had developed normally to this point—only, a divergence had occurred 450 years ago.

Yet, this history that could no longer develop further had reemerged on Earth because of the Fantasy Tree, beginning its invasion.

There was nothing to pity about a history that had already failed.

Thus, Da Vinci had no reason to refuse, especially since she had already given her answer at the peak of that fateful day.

“So, when do you plan to begin?”

With nothing else to do, Da Vinci rested her chin on her hand. Now that all preparations for the Grail were complete, everything was ready and only awaited Alaric’s action.

With her hands free, Da Vinci hadn’t even started researching new projects. In this idle moment, Chaldea happened to be surfacing from the imaginary space.

“Naturally—”

Already holding victory in his hands, Alaric gazed into the golden chalice, which reflected his own face.

“Tomorrow. I’ll begin tomorrow.”

Alaric said slowly, “Right after I assassinate Ivan the Terrible.”

This was no ordinary Holy Grail War. The pursuit of the Root by magi noble families was no longer applicable here.

Moreover, the Grail system built by Alaric and Da Vinci, limited in scale and affected by the Lostbelt, couldn’t match the output of a true Greater Grail—it couldn’t open a hole to the Root.

If it was impossible, then it didn’t matter.

Thus, with the Root beyond his reach, the golden chalice in Alaric’s hands was left with only one function for him.

Summoning Heroic Spirits—

After the battles in Yaga Taga, the Subterranean Inheritance World, and the Deep Sea Paradise, Alaric had come to deeply understand the energy afforded by the existence of Heroic Spirits.

The sheer energy generated by multiple Heroic Souls attempting to return to the Throne of Heroes was enough to transform an entire underground world into a conceptual metropolis.

Kiara Sessyoin had directly absorbed countless Heroic Spirits, and that vast energy allowed her to complete her transformation into a Beast—

Deeds like these proved that Heroic Spirits were indeed the dazzling stars suspended in human history.

So, would he summon Heroic Spirits?

Alaric’s answer was clear—

There was no need.

It was unnecessary; the magical energy required to touch the Throne of Heroes and perform a summoning was immense, to say nothing of the odds of a successful summoning.

Alaric had already expended and stolen a great deal of magical energy just to construct the Grail. If he had to add the cost of summoning a Heroic Spirit on top, he’d have to make his move even sooner to acquire enough magical energy.

Moreover—

“Servants? Aren’t they everywhere?”

Alaric glanced at the snow-covered world outside the window. To his knowledge, there were already multiple Servants within this Lostbelt. Aside from those summoned autonomously by the world, Kadoc the Cryptic was already accompanied by a Servant of his own.

If he needed to make use of Servant resources, there were plenty at hand—there was no need for Alaric to summon any himself.

“That’s what qualifies me as an ally, isn’t it—?”

Running his finger around the rim of the cup, its cold surface slowly warming, Alaric’s gaze seemed to pierce through the newly-forged golden chalice in his hand, looking far into the distance.

‘Goetia, watch carefully.’

——

Time flew by. While Alaric waited for tomorrow, Ritsuka Fujimaru and Mash Kyrielight finally made contact with the so-called rebel army that Alaric had mentioned.

That had been three months ago. Shortly after the Fantasy Tree had taken root, Servants autonomously summoned by the Grail formed the so-called rebel army to protect the Yaga, who suffered under Ivan the Terrible’s tyranny and the environmental threats.

Before that, Ritsuka had already used the Round Table Mash carried to perform a true Heroic Spirit summoning—

But that was no longer Alaric’s concern. At the moment he set foot on this land at dawn the next day, he embarked on a new path.

Silent ghosts wandered this land of snow, with silver-white everywhere one looked.

After the world was frozen, Ivan the Terrible had created new lifeforms capable of surviving here, but in doing so, he had also destroyed the possibility of a future.

Even in the year 2019, civilization here was still primitive and brutal.

Just as the world was covered in ice and snow, civilization itself had come to a halt—or, rather, lost any chance to move forward.

Not only were their bodies changed, but after their very minds were altered, the Yaga who had once been human became a new species called Yaga. Humanity had become a thing of the past, now deemed a feeble, obsolete race by the Yaga.

Because of this transformation, this world—devoid of humanity and now ruled by the Yaga—was judged by the Human Order as a dead end for human history, and after a long passage of time, was pruned away.

Accelerating his pace deliberately, Alaric, like a specter, soon slipped past barrier after barrier and reached Moscow, where Ivan the Terrible resided.

It was a city overflowing with the Emperor’s authority.

Unlike the wooden villages of many Yaga, Moscow was a modern city. The palace, surrounded by tall buildings, stood grandly, radiating the might of the Tsar everywhere.

Moreover, the streets were teeming with pitch-black soldiers—the personal guard of Ivan the Terrible, whom Holmes and others called the Slaughter Troopers.

Months earlier, it had been Princess Anastasia who led forces to assault Chaldea, freezing it solid.

Without stopping, Alaric strode past the Slaughter Troopers stationed on Moscow’s streets.

A silent sword aura brushed past the street like a breeze, leaving a trail of crimson flowers in its wake.

Thud. Thud.

Corpses, cut cleanly in half, toppled to the ground, unable to even resist as if they hadn’t noticed the sword aura at all.

Death’s hell was spreading—those far away could not see, and those who saw, died instantly.

By the time Alaric reached the gates of the Moscow palace, the ground behind him was already blanketed with white bones. In the distance, more Slaughter Troopers were streaming in.

The Slaughter Troopers, decimated and without fear, had only one thought: to punish those who blasphemed the Tsar.

Under the gaze of these stars, Alaric stepped into the palace. At the same time, hell itself entered the palace.

Thud. Thud.

Bodies fell, rivers of blood flowing, but quickly frozen solid.

By the time Kadoc, inside the Moscow palace, realized what was happening, Alaric was already before him.

“Kadoc, this is our second—no, third time meeting?”

Alaric, at ease, tried to recall how many times he’d run into this Cryptic. Ever since entering the Russian Lostbelt, it had only been a handful of times.

It wasn’t that Alaric disliked him—Kadoc simply avoided meeting with him more than necessary.

The pressure of the Lostbelt was enough to keep Kadoc awake at night; he hardly needed more trouble.

Unlike the carefree Alaric, Kadoc, now face-to-face with him, couldn’t help but frown. “Sir Alaric, what are you doing here? You even killed the Emperor’s personal guard—are you declaring war on him?!”

Though he spoke without flinching, Kadoc couldn’t help clenching his fists.

To the Cryptic, Alaric was an equal to Koyanskaya and Father Kotomine—an Apostle of the Alien Star.

He’d even fought Anastasia during the assault on Chaldea, and his strength was beyond question.

He could easily be described as on par with a Servant.

Kadoc believed that, in terms of combat power, perhaps only Kirschtaria or Daybit could suppress him.

As for Kadoc himself, a magus barely able to perform Beast Magecraft, there was no comparison.

By his side, the Princess of the Snow Country silently stepped in front of Kadoc, clutching her doll. “Please state your purpose, knight.”

Unlike the tense Kadoc, Anastasia remained calm, as if unconcerned by the heavy losses among the personal guard.

What she cared about was only one thing: whether Russia could continue.

And in her eyes, this had nothing to do with Alaric.

“I have my own business.”

Alaric’s gaze swept the surroundings. In his perception, Father Kotimine, who claimed to be Rasputin and was using Kotomine Kirei’s body, was on his way.

Koyanskaya, as usual, was not present, running her business cheerfully outside.

Furthermore, a Servant who should have been deep within the palace—in Ivan’s private chambers—was missing.

Alaric, of course, knew of this one: one who bore false memories and called himself “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,” but was in truth “Antonio Salieri,” the Anti-Hero.

That is, Avenger.

A being who shouldn’t have been summoned as an Anti-Hero. Though Salieri had once been the Court Conductor, he was also a respected musician with many students, including Mozart’s favored pupil Süssmayr, Mozart’s son Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart, and even Beethoven.

However, around 1820, the legend that “Mozart was murdered by Salieri” suddenly spread worldwide.

Though it wasn’t true, people fantasized about the cruel tale of a genius loved by the gods and a talented man who hated and killed him.

Even Salieri’s statement to his student Moscheles—“that’s pure malicious slander”—was twisted into a confession of guilt.

Some even claimed the old man slit his own throat with a knife in repentance.

Aside from Salieri, Father Kotomine, Koyanskaya, and Anastasia, Alaric sensed a fifth presence in the palace.

It was not a Servant’s spiritual signature, but a living creature. Fundamentally no different from the Yaga outside, its only distinction was scale.

If the Yaga outside were as fragile as beasts, the monster inside was enough to rival a god—even a chief deity!

His name was Ivan, the first Yaga—Tsar Ivan the Terrible!

And Ivan’s lair was not merely a single chamber at the palace’s heart—the entire Moscow palace was his den!

Retracting his gaze, Alaric looked at Anastasia. If anything stood in his way, she was one such obstacle.

Anastasia, determined to protect Russia and ensure its continuation, would never allow Ivan to awaken.

With that thought, Alaric spoke: “Princess, could you please step aside?”

“——”

Finally, Anastasia’s expression changed as she whispered, “You’re with those demons from Chaldea.”

Behind her, aside from Kadoc, lay the path to Ivan’s chambers.

Even Anastasia didn’t believe Alaric’s target was Kadoc.

There was only one answer left.

He was heading for Ivan the Terrible’s chambers—

“That’s not quite true. Our goals are different, after all.”

Alaric waved a hand. “Ivan hasn’t acknowledged the Fantasy Tree’s legitimacy, has he? As Tsar, he’d never allow you to do something like that.

Does the Fantasy Tree still have a chance to sprout?”

“What do you mean?”

Kadoc’s brows furrowed tightly as he stared at the man before him, still little more than a stranger after just a few encounters.

To the Cryptics, Alaric’s origins were largely unknown.

He wasn’t among those who’d entered Chaldea two years ago but had joined during the incineration of human history. If anyone knew his background, it would be fellow Apostles of the Alien Star: Koyanskaya and Kotomine Kirei.

But neither Koyanskaya nor Kotomine would ever share information about Alaric—

Which only made Kadoc more wary of this mysterious man.

“Ivan the Terrible isn’t an ordinary Yaga. He was the most ancient giant creature discovered in the Russian tundra, and through fusion with it, Ivan entered a growth phase. Whether due to his heroic aptitude or imperial bloodline—”

Alaric’s lips curled slightly. “He’s still growing even now.”

From the moment he became the first Yaga 450 years ago, the monster called Ivan the Terrible had never ceased growing—until he became such a colossal being!

He had surpassed the realm of humanity, becoming as powerful as a god.

In terms of sheer strength, he could even contend with Tiamat!

“They say mammoths and sabertooths went extinct because their teeth kept growing until it killed them.

But Ivan even overcame and surpassed that destruction.”

As Kadoc’s gaze grew even more cautious, Alaric continued, “The Emperor is no longer a revered and beloved being, but has become a monster feared by all.

You built a dream for the Emperor, and the Slaughter Troopers are monsters born from that dream—but that dream ends today.”

Alaric’s smile faded as he spoke quietly, “Today is the moment to wake from the dream.”