Gilgamesh's crimson eyes swept lazily over the bare, almost dilapidated underground room.
He didn't bother to hide the disgust and contempt in his gaze, as if he were looking at something filthy.
"Hiding in a place this foul again? Like some insect nest, mongrel."
His voice was saturated with unbearable condescension.
Every syllable underlined the unbridgeable gap between their stations.
Kiritsugu was long used to this Servant's habitual insults.
He stubbed out the cigarette before it could burn his fingers, his expression unchanged.
Then he went straight to the point.
"Archer, how are things outside? Any new movements or intel from other Servants or Masters?"
No greetings, no pleasantries.
Those would only invite more mockery from the other side.
"Intel?"
Gilgamesh let out a short, cold snort through his nose, as if he'd just heard an absurd joke.
"Why should I, this king, lower myself to gather intelligence for a mongrel like you?"
"Watching those ants flail and disgrace themselves at this little banquet is already a rare diversion to help this king kill eternal time."
"If not for the fact that your erroneous Command Spells still possess a somewhat amusing binding force—and that this bizarre situation has sparked the faintest sliver of curiosity in this king…"
His words dripped with complete disdain—not only for Kiritsugu, but for the Holy Grail War itself and every participant in it.
In his eyes, Kiritsugu was nothing more than a tiny creature who had, by sheer luck—or perhaps by misfortune taken to the extreme—brushed against a fragment of his radiance.
Even the title of "Master" barely applied to him.
He fundamentally had no right to issue orders to him, the oldest King.
The King of Heroes.
"…"
Kiritsugu fell silent.
His knuckles whitened slightly from the force of his grip.
He knew perfectly well how overwhelmingly strong Gilgamesh was—an absurd, rule-breaking degree of power.
That deluge of Noble Phantasms that could rain down like a storm from the sky was, in theory, enough to crush every other Servant currently in the world.
But that destructive might was completely beyond his control.
Everything Gilgamesh did was governed solely by his own whims and moods.
Calling him a Servant was almost misleading.
He was more like an extremely dangerous, utterly unpredictable "ally" who could turn on you at any moment.
Counting on him to actively help gather useful tactical intel was nothing but wishful thinking.
However, Kiritsugu was not unprepared.
His truly reliable source of information was never this lofty King of Heroes.
Just as Gilgamesh began to feel bored with Kiritsugu's silence—and his form started to dissolve into golden spirit particles, ready to depart as arrogantly as he'd arrived—
In one corner of the room, the deepest patch of shadow began to stir unnaturally.
The darkness moved like a viscous liquid with a will of its own, flowing and gathering in silence until it took shape as a small figure in a tight black bodysuit and a distinctive white skull mask.
Its arrival didn't stir the air, didn't make a sound.
It was as if it had always been part of the shadow, and only now stepped forward from the background.
WrongServantAssassin.
One of the many faces of Hassan-i-Sabbah.
Another "error" of a Servant, summoned by Maiya Hisau.
In complete contrast to Gilgamesh's swaggering presence that screamed for the whole world to acknowledge him, Assassin's appearance was pure silence and secrecy.
He bowed lightly in the direction of Maiya and Kiritsugu, his posture respectful.
That was obedience toward the one giving the real orders, and the one holding the contract.
"Master."
The voice that emerged from beneath the skull mask was hoarse and dry, carrying a strange layered echo, as if countless overlapping whispers spoke from behind the mask.
It felt eerie, inhuman.
"I have obtained partial intelligence."
Gilgamesh's departure slowed for a moment.
His scarlet eyes flicked toward Assassin, who'd seemingly crawled right out of the cracks in the earth.
There was instinctive disdain there—for this kind of skulking, hidden existence.
But there was also the faint curiosity of someone seeing a new toy.
Even so, that tiny spark of interest clearly wasn't enough to make him stay and listen to a "bug's" report.
He gave a barely audible cold snort, then fully dissolved into a cloud of golden motes, fading from the air.
Only a faint, lingering sense of crushing pressure remained.
Kiritsugu didn't care in the slightest that Gilgamesh was gone. If anything, he secretly felt relieved.
His gaze sharpened like a hunting hawk's, fixing on the Assassin who was still bowing with head lowered.
"Report."
The order was short, cold, stripped of any excess emotion.
"Yes."
Still bent at the waist, Assassin began.
"Lancer and his Master have been confirmed. The Master is Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, Director of the Department of Spiritual Evocation at the Clock Tower. They are staying on the top floor of the Hyatt Hotel in the city center."
"Kayneth has converted it into a workshop with considerable defensive and counter-attack capability. There are many bounded field nodes—standard methods will have difficulty infiltrating without making a sound."
"Rider, the King of Conquest Iskandar, and his Master, a young man named Waver Velvet, are currently living in a rented house in the suburbs."
"The Conqueror behaves in a very flamboyant manner. Last night he rode his Gordius Wheel across the skies above the city, seemingly with no intention of hiding his movements."
"Berserker's current Master is Matou Kariya of the now-ruined Matou family."
"Matou Kariya's physical condition is extremely unstable. His mana supply appears to be severely compromised."
"Berserker's rage is primarily fixated on Saber. He exhibits an abnormal level of obsession and hatred toward her."
This matched, for the most part, the conclusions Kiritsugu had reached through other channels and his own deductions.
He nodded, signaling Assassin to go on.
He knew the real key points usually came later.
"In addition,"
Assassin's voice paused for a moment.
The layered echo seemed to grow heavier, suggesting the information to follow was more significant.
"I have also discovered traces of Saber and her Master, and it appears they are not acting alone."
Kiritsugu's brows instantly drew tight, forming a deep, vertical frown.
This was not part of his original expectations.
"Details."
His voice sank even lower.
"Saber and her Master, Irisviel, seem to have formed a stable alliance with another group."
"The other side appears to be an Archer and an Assassin."
Assassin elaborated:
"The four of them are currently moving together. Their relationship is close—they seem to be sharing a base of operations and information."
"I attempted to send in a clone to observe more closely, but that Archer's perception is extremely sharp. He is highly sensitive to irregularities in magical flow. The clone was nearly detected and locked onto."
"An alliance…"
Kiritsugu repeated the word under his breath—a word that sounded especially grating in the context of a Holy Grail War.