Chapter 381: The Smiling Man (Bonus) (Patreon)

That man was a mass of muscle.

No matter how you think about it, that’s the only way to describe him. Although he was a towering giant over two meters tall, the first thing anyone would notice about him was his overwhelmingly large muscles. Then, when they looked up to estimate his height, they would feel even more despair.

The countless scars etched into his blue-white muscles easily suggested that he had accumulated these from terrifying training and many battles. However, it was also clear that none of those wounds had penetrated deeply.

Trying to cut a massive iron ball with a small knife—of course, the wounds couldn't be fatal. Yes, his muscles were like blocks of steel. A sharp blade might cut his skin, and he might bleed a little, but that would be the extent of it.

His arms were like the bodies of crocodiles. Even though his huge pectoral muscles were bare, his entire body remained as solid as armor. His legs, moving smoothly, were as powerful as the hind limbs of a mammoth.

Despite the leather straps tightly binding his entire body, including his face, the man showed no sign of pain. He even wore a pleasant smile. His attire was minimal. The leather covering his waist and hips was not meant for protection.

But that was enough. His muscles could not be contained by armor, nor did they need to be. They were overwhelmingly massive beyond the need for any such protection.

At dusk, this man walked unkemptly through the idyllic woods spread across the eastern part of Trifas.

By comparison, seeing a giant octopus walking on the road would seem more realistic. He was completely out of place in this naturally serene forest.

The man was the Red Faction’s Servant—Berserker.

"Stop right there, Berserker!"

Someone was chasing after him, like a beast set free. As she leaped and darted through the branches, the girl repeatedly called out to Berserker.

The girl, clad in green attire, had eyes filled with a beast-like inorganic sharpness. Her hair flowed freely, lacking the smoothness of nobility, but it perfectly matched her wild visage. Yes, she was a beautiful, human-shaped beast.

Berserker laughed and, without stopping, replied to her:

"Hahaha, Archer. Forgive me, but I cannot obey that order. I must head to that fortress, to the side of the despot."

Red Archer shouted anxiously:

"You fool! I told you to wait for the right moment. Why can't you understand that?"

But Berserker did not stop. He continued to stride forward powerfully, step by step. By now, he had been walking continuously for two days and nights. He had been spotted by travelers on the road more than once. Archer could only hope that the suspicious priest would handle it appropriately.

"The word 'wait' does not exist in my dictionary."

At this point, Red Archer gave up on him. More accurately, following orders conveyed by a pigeon, she chose to focus on providing support if persuasion failed.

"So, in the end, it’s impossible to communicate with a Berserker."

To her sighing monologue, a voice responded:

"Ah, I thought it would come to this. Berserker’s class isn't just for show, you know."

Upon hearing this voice from above, Archer looked up at the branches. A young man with a serene smile stood there. He was quite handsome. However, his beauty was not that of an elegant knight that would make a noblewoman’s heart flutter. His eyes were as sharp as a raptor's, and his strong, agile body was far from vulgar. He had the heroic aura that anyone, man or woman, young or old, would admire and aspire to.

He was the Red Rider, considered by the entire Red Faction to be the one who could rival the immortal hero Karna.

"Rider, are you saying we should just abandon him?"

With a shrug, Rider replied:

"Well, there's no other way. That thing is a monster that only thinks about fighting. Trying to persuade him makes you the stranger one, don't you think?"

"I'm quite skilled at handling wild beasts. I even considered shooting an arrow through his knee, but..."

If she did that, Berserker would undoubtedly turn on Archer and attack her fiercely.

"You'd be doing us a big favor if you could just manage yourself, sis."

"By the way, why did you follow me here?"

With a welcoming smile, the young man answered:

"Of course, because I was worried about you. Isn't that obvious?"

"Is that so."

She neither blushed, nor was she surprised, nor angry; she did not react at all. For any ordinary woman, no matter how virtuous, such words would undoubtedly make her blush with shyness.

However, for this Archer who had lived amongst wild beasts, sweet talk held no meaning. Having his flattery fall flat, Rider awkwardly scratched his head. Then, he cleared his throat, returning to the task at hand.

"In any case, our mission is to provide rear support, which means aiding Berserker within our capabilities while gathering as much intelligence as possible."

"We're about to face the enemy. If things go smoothly, that guy should reach the fortress by midnight. However, there should be an intercepting force before that."

"Ah, indeed. I'd love to see what the Black Faction is capable of."

Both Archer and Rider were top-tier hunters and warriors. They didn't believe for a second that they could achieve victory by storming the fortress, guarded by seven Servants, with just half their number.

"To stop that Berserker, we'd need at least two Servants or a full assault by all of us. Otherwise, it's impossible."

Indeed, even with such efforts, stopping Berserker would still require extraordinary measures.

"That said, he's entirely different from the Berserkers we know of in our lore."

"True. Since he can talk, I thought his Madness Enhancement level might be low."

Red Berserker's Madness Enhancement level was off the charts. Although he could speak, making it seem like his Madness Enhancement was low, Berserker could only talk without actual communication. He wasn't disobeying orders; he simply didn't understand them. Even a Command Spell's order required stacking two spells to be effective; otherwise, it merely felt like physical pressure to him, unable to halt his actions.

"The Thracian gladiator, the symbol of rebellion—Spartacus. Truly, a man with a peculiar character."

Red Berserker, Spartacus. He was a Roman gladiator slave who one day led seventy-eight companions in a daring escape. He defeated a pursuing force of about three thousand, inciting slave uprisings across various regions. Although he was ultimately betrayed by trusted pirates and dismembered by the Roman army, he achieved many victories before that. To the oppressed slaves, he was indeed a beacon of hope.

He despised all tyrants and was driven to challenge all powerful figures. He fought to protect, care for, and heal the weak. Above all, he was a Berserker who fought for rebellion. That was Berserker.

"By the way, Rider, what happened to your horse?"

"I'm here to gather intelligence. I don't want to give away my information to the enemy. So, this time, I won't be using them."

"Ah, well, if it's you, it shouldn't be a problem. Are you using a sword or a spear?"

"Of course, a spear."

Rider and Archer continued their relentless pursuit of Berserker. Given his slow, straight path, there was no chance of losing him.

"By the way, Archer, I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"Have you seen your Master's face?"

"No, I haven't. The only person I've met is the Master's intermediary, that priest."

After being summoned, Archer immediately realized that the man before her wasn't her Master. This was evident because someone who looked like a Servant accompanied him, and, most importantly, she didn't feel the connection that indicated she was linked to her Master.

"Same here. Well, that's just how magi are, I suppose."

"No matter how you look at it, it's quite unusual. But, considering what awaits us in the end, it might just be death."

The primary concern in this Holy Grail War wasn't losing the battle but what would happen after victory. Regardless of which side prevailed, the likelihood of all seven members surviving unscathed was low. However, an ending where only one person survives is also improbable.

Moreover, the Holy Grail can only grant the wish of one group. Therefore, internal conflicts would begin the moment victory was achieved. Any magus would naturally aim for the "Root," the source that records all past and future events, located outside the world. If a relic capable of granting such a wish were within reach, it would be natural for allies to turn against each other.

Of course, this applied to Servants as well. To realize their wishes, they would need to eliminate their comrades.

So, even if they fought together, such relationships would only last until the final moments before victory was decided.

"Is that why they don't want to show their faces?"

"No, no, no matter what, they should at least show their face. That priest and his Servant feel very suspicious."

"Assassin, right? She claimed her true name was Semiramis."

During their meeting, Red Assassin boldly revealed her true name, leaving both Archer and Rider speechless.

"No matter. Because I am Assassin, my very existence is uncertain. At least revealing my true name serves as proof of our cooperation."

Despite her words, Rider and Archer did not trust her. The strong aura of decadence surrounding her made the two pure warriors uneasy and distrustful.

"Yes, Semiramis. The Empress of Assyria. Ah, why do those who call themselves kings, regardless of gender, always act so arrogantly? It's infuriating, truly infuriating."

"Being served by others tends to make one adopt that attitude. In terms of status, we're equals, so there's no need to worry."

◇◇◇

Meanwhile, at the Yggdmillennia fortress, the six pairs of Masters and Servants gathered once more.

Following Darnic's signal, Black Caster activated the seven-branched candelabrum, projecting the scene outside the castle. This magecraft, which used a flying golem as a relay point, far surpassed the range of ordinary magi's clairvoyance.

What the golem revealed was a crude, half-naked giant advancing through the forest—an indescribable sight.

Darnic spoke first.

"Everyone, according to Caster's report, this Servant is relentlessly charging through the forest towards the Yggdmillennia fortress, day and night."

Upon hearing this, everyone present fell silent. In a war, it was natural for Servants to attack. However, whether it was a surprise attack or an all-out offensive, it was common sense for multiple Servants to attack together. Of course, exceptions existed, such as Red Lancer, who was assigned other tasks.

With no sign of any subordinates around, it meant this Servant intended to charge in alone. It was an incredibly foolish act, but there was only one class among the seven that could perform such a reckless deed with ease.

"I judge this to be Red Berserker. Likely due to an extremely high level of Madness Enhancement, he is in a berserk state, desperately seeking enemies."

Servants summoned as Berserkers had varying levels of Madness Enhancement based on their legends. A lower level of Madness Enhancement granted fewer status boosts but allowed for some degree of communication. A higher level of Madness Enhancement significantly boosted their status but made it nearly impossible to communicate or command them.

Of course, there were exceptions, such as Vlad III, who sat calmly on his throne, more composed than most Servants—a case of extremes producing opposites, perhaps.

Fiore asked, "What should we do, Uncle?"

"Of course, we mustn't let this opportunity slip by. Dispatching three Servants should suffice. However, this is a unique chance in this Holy Grail War. If things go well, this Berserker might even become our pawn."

Darnic's words sparked a flurry of discussion. Once it quieted down, Vlad III, in a calm voice, starkly contrasting with the frenzied man in the image, asked:

"Let's hear the detailed plan. You must have gathered the Servants here with this in mind."

"Yes, my lord."

Thus, Darnic began to outline his plan.

It had to be said that Darnic, a veteran of the Third Holy Grail War, spoke with such rich experience that everyone couldn't help but listen—except for two.

One seemed distracted, their large eyes darting around as if plotting something.

The other kept their head down, their eyes subtly scanning Saber, Caster, Rider, and Gordes.

◇◇◇

Three hours had passed. The sun had set, and the forest was gradually enveloped in darkness. Berserker's previously smooth advance had come to a slight halt.

"Enemies?"

"Yes, but they don't seem to be Servants."

As Archer noted, those blocking Berserker's path were Yggdmillennia's vanguards—combat homunculi and enormous bronze golems that even Berserker had to look up to. There were over a hundred of them.

"What should we do? Should we help him?"

Rider's proposal carried a hint of disappointment. Naturally, if they were facing Servants, it would be a different story, but this was trivial. There was no need to intervene, so the two chose to watch.

The battle between the Red Berserker and the Black vanguards was utterly one-sided.

A homunculus's battle axe cleaved into his shoulder, and a golem's fist smashed into his face. Despite receiving blows that could shatter steel, his smile remained undiminished. It seemed to grow even brighter.

From the start, Berserker had no intention of avoiding any attacks. Instead, he seemed to deliberately jump into them.

He absorbed, absorbed, and simply absorbed the blows. Despite being severely injured, his euphoric smile never faded. Soon, the homunculi and golems, despite not being exhausted, became confused and stopped their attacks. At this moment, Berserker began to move.

"Pitiful puppets of despots, at least find rest beneath my sword and fists."

Berserker grabbed the golem's face with one hand. Effortlessly, he hurled the three-meter-tall golem far away, crushing the unfortunate homunculi caught in its landing.

"Come, your turn."

With that, he casually swung his sword horizontally. The upper bodies of the homunculi present were blown away. He punched a struggling golem, and its magically reinforced bronze head disintegrated into dust.

Berserker’s rampage did not cease. He spread his arms wide and charged forward, grabbing five golems at once and forcefully leaning back. The stone dolls, weighing several tons combined, had their heads shattered by his throw.

It was like a human typhoon. Each sword swing and punch created heaps of debris.

Red Berserker smiled as he swung his sword, and smiled as he threw his punches—a true nightmare. Even the homunculi, who barely possessed emotions, were infected by this madness and chose to flee.

After "tearing apart" the last golem, Berserker surveyed the destruction and slaughter he had wrought, nodded in satisfaction, and continued to move forward.

"He's smiling."

"He can still smile."

Archer and Rider exchanged uneasy glances, feeling a unique discomfort from witnessing something so horrifying. Fighting was expected, victory was expected—they had no complaints or admiration for the gruesome end. But Berserker's constant smile was enough to send chills down their spines.

"Hmm. Surely, that Heroic Spirit could only be a Berserker."

If he had shown anger, Archer and Rider might have considered him a rational Berserker. But he was smiling. Smiling in delight, as if something thrilled him deeply, fighting, killing, smashing.

"Anyway, now his strength is clear. To stop him, we'll need some significant Noble Phantasms."

"Hmph. Archer, do you think he can take down a Servant?"

"Who knows? If that guy's Noble Phantasm keeps functioning, it's not impossible..."

"But, making a Noble Phantasm 'keep functioning' is an incredibly difficult feat..."

Even though they fought on the same side, the Red Servants didn't share the details of their Noble Phantasms with each other. Berserker was an exception, as his Master had disclosed it.

His Noble Phantasm was called Crying Warmonger: Howl of the Wounded Beast. Due to its extremely unique nature, in a typical Holy Grail War, it would be nearly certain he wouldn't survive.

"But, if those 'Black' Servants keep mindlessly attacking him, it might turn into something interesting."

Indeed, the more he got injured, the more damage he took, the stronger he became. With that Noble Phantasm, there was even a chance he could decide the outcome of this Holy Grail War with a single blow.

"Hmm."

Archer twitched her nose slightly in apparent displeasure. The smell of iron and machine oil seemed to be an unbearable stench for her, akin to an animal.

"What’s wrong?"

"We've been discovered. The Black Servants are approaching."

Archer's senses far surpassed Rider's. If her words were true, they would soon face the enemy.

"Alright, time to fight."

"Understood."

Two servants summoned their respective weapons.

The spear summoned by Rider was significantly different in appearance from the spear of the Red Lancer, Karna. Lancer's steel spear was a massive lance that relied on its sharp spearhead and immense weight to cause destruction. In contrast, the spear held by Rider was simple, sturdy, and designed for close combat.

Judging by its length and the way it could be easily gripped with one hand, it was likely a throwing spear. It seemed that Rider intended to challenge close combat without using his original weapon, "Chariot." To be honest, this was sheer bravery. However, his calm demeanor vividly showcased just how heroic the Red Rider was.

On the other hand, Archer summoned her unmistakable bow. The black-coated Western bow, longer than her height, was said to be the Celestial Bow granted by the goddess of the hunt, Artemis. Its name was Tauropolos: Bow of Heaven, an epithet of Artemis, known as the Bull Slayer. It was a perfect match for an archer and a masterpiece of its kind. There was nothing it couldn't pierce.

"Well then, Rider, I will retreat and cover Berserker alongside you."

She immediately retreated, disappearing into the darkness of the forest. Even though Rider could sense her presence, he had no idea where she was. It seemed that becoming a top-tier hunter made blending into the forest a simple task.

"Alright. Now, let me give them a gentle greeting."