The holy relics found in Cornwall had finally arrived.
Early that morning, the homunculus maid informed Emiya Kiritsugu of the news. Without hesitation, he rushed to the most magnificent and darkest place within the Einzbern estate: the chapel.
Although religion still held influence during the time of the Einzbern family's founding, as a pure magus lineage, this chapel was never meant for praising divine grace or seeking peace of mind. It was a place of rituals. And so, the stained glass adorning its towering windows did not depict saints or angels but the thousand-year history of the Einzbern family itself.
They were the oldest among the Three Great Families and the one with the purest wish. Had it not been for the passage of time and their fruitless pursuit of miracles, they might still have been living secluded in frozen mountains, following the same traditions from millennia ago.
Kiritsugu moved down the long corridor and entered the chapel, his gaze lifting toward the stained glass window above the altar.
At its center stood the figure of the Winter Saint, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Irisviel. Two magi flanked her, all three reaching their hands toward a glowing Holy Grail suspended in the heavens.
The composition made a statement: the Einzbern family's refusal to rely on outsiders. Beneath it, however, was a newer panel, installed only after the last Holy Grail War.
The memory drew a frown from Kiritsugu. He recalled that unfinished conversation with Irisviel from some time ago.
"The Holy Grail War is cursed? It's not that I don't believe you, but this…"
"I know it's difficult to believe," Irisviel had said gently. "But this isn't a delusion. It's not a lie."
She had hesitated then, her maternal instinct overtaking her duty as a creation of the Einzberns.
"Kiritsugu, you know that the Einzbern family has endured all this time to recreate the Third Magic. But after so many failures, when there is no hope left, simply proving the Third Magic's existence has become more of a purpose of the entire Einzbern than recreating the third magic."
That admission, a cold analysis of the family's tragic obsession, had forced Kiritsugu to regard her seriously.
"Great Grandfather used to be obsessed," she'd continued. "But after the last war… he changed. It's like he became a different person. He stopped caring about the Third Magic, as if he had already confirmed that someone existed who could save everything. That he just needed time to prove it now."
Kiritsugu had raised an eyebrow at that.
"Is that such a strange idea?" he asked. "He's lived for two centuries. Maybe he glimpsed the Grail's power last time."
"That's exactly the problem," Irisviel had replied with a sigh. "The Einzberns were created for the sake of the Third Magic. Even though we're all artificial, if anyone could ever become our true master, it would only be the Third Magician. But that's impossible because the Third Magic can only be reproduced if the Holy Grail works."
"But none of the previous wars were successful," Kiritsugu said grimly.
"Exactly. So how could he have been so sure… Unless something affected him? And yet, he still insists on joining this war. That leaves only two possibilities."
"Either the influence was shallow," Kiritsugu concluded, "or it was deep and inseparable from the Holy Grail itself."
"Which means," he continued darkly, "everything will be revealed when this war begins."
The sound of footsteps from the other end of the corridor broke his train of thought. Just as Kiritsugu reached into his pocket for a cigarette, he hesitated.
"A way to save all mankind… heh."
He chuckled sardonically, gazing up at the new stained glass. Unlike the others, it didn't match the Western style of the chapel. It had been installed after the last war.
At its center was a swirling shadow, ominous, like a whirlpool of darkness. Surrounding it were three Eastern ink-style designs: a scarlet dragon, a proud horse, and a loyal hound. Even with limited understanding of the style, Kiritsugu, raised Japanese, could easily tell what they were.
A dragon, a steed, and a dog. Are these the keys to salvation?
He narrowed his eyes. Whatever plans the Einzbern family had for this war, it didn't matter. He would use the Grail for his wish, for the salvation of humanity.
A voice echoed through the chamber.
"Emiya Kiritsugu. This will be the final assistance the Einzberns provide you."
From the shadows emerged an old man with a beard like a frozen waterfall. His eyes, sunken yet sharp, bore into Kiritsugu with a chilling clarity.
Jubstacheit von Einzbern.
He approached slowly, both hands holding a charcoal-black long cabinet. Following him silently was Irisviel, her expression unreadable.
Kiritsugu instinctively looked away. Even now, he couldn't stand the man's fanatical gaze.
'There's no way that kind of fanatical man could be possessed by a demon… right?
"I am not worthy of this honor, Patriarch," Kiritsugu murmured.
But Jubstacheit didn't acknowledge the humility. With great care, he opened the cabinet, revealing the relic within.
It was a golden scabbard, its surface inlaid with dazzling colours. Etched along its center was a string of ancient, otherworldly runes, fairy script. Though it appeared more like an artifact of prestige than a weapon, the fact that it had remained pristine after fifteen hundred years said everything.
This was no mere relic. It was
> Avalon.
A treasure belonging to the King of Knights. Even in the modern era, with the right magical activation, it still retained power.
Jubstacheit reverently lifted the scabbard from its velvet lining and held it out to Kiritsugu. His eyes gleamed, almost feverishly.
"With this, you shall summon the strongest Heroic Spirit! And we will fulfill the third magic"
There was no hesitation in his voice. Only obsession.
Kiritsugu bowed his head and accepted the relic in silence. He did not reply to the madness in Jubstacheit's tone. He had grown used to that over the years.
Irisviel, however, furrowed her brow. She said nothing, but her gaze lingered on the old man as if she'd seen something… strange.
For a moment, just a flicker, something stirred above the scabbard.
A faint shimmer of bright yellow.
It drifted from Jubstacheit to the golden sheath, coiling above it like a spectral guardian.
'Was that a.....dragon?'
The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Irisviel blinked, startled. But Kiritsugu and Jubstacheit showed no reaction, as if nothing had happened.
'Was it just an illusion?'
It felt real. Yet the moment passed, and the three stood there in silence.
A knight's relic. A mad patriarch. A hero of justice. A quiet homunculus.
In the stillness of the ritual chapel, the Holy Grail War drew ever closer, and the gears of fate continued to turn.