I, Wang Ha, the Three Red Unparalleled Assassin

As he spoke, Iskandar rubbed his right thumb, index finger, and middle finger together, looking quite mercenary.

"Conqueror King, there's a limit to jokes. A knight's loyalty cannot be questioned."

Diarmuid shook the spear in his hand, his voice stern as he made his stance clear.

Just as Iskandar finished saying goodbye to Diarmuid, Weber, who had been timid and hesitant, suddenly took a step forward and called out to Diarmuid loudly.

“Wait, Lancer. I have something I'd like you to pass on to Mentor Kenneth.”

Diarmuid turned back around, his sharp eyes fixed on Waver, who was trembling but trying his best to remain calm.

“Oh? I don’t mind. Master of the Conqueror King, please speak.”

Iskandar stroked his beard and glanced at Waver, instantly guessing what his little master was about to do, but he did not stop him.

Weber opened his mouth as if to speak, but it took him about half a minute to sort out what he wanted to say.

"Please tell Professor Kenneth that, as of now, there are far too many formidable enemies in this Holy Grail War."

"So if he's willing to temporarily form an alliance with us to deal with the others together, then Webber Velvet will personally come to our door to negotiate tomorrow during the day."

"If both parties can reach an agreement in the end, I am willing to sign a 'self-mandatory certificate'!"

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kenneth, This is Your Forgiveness Color

Late at night, in the presidential suite on the top floor of the Fuyuki Grand Hotel.

Kenneth sat on the sofa in the living room, flipping through the books he had borrowed from the library during the day, while his fiancée, Sora, sat opposite him listlessly with a glass of red wine in her hand.

Although Sora has red hair that looks like burning flames, she gives off the feeling of an exceptionally cold and icy beauty.

She appeared to be slightly younger than Kenneth, probably only twenty years old.

Sora is the daughter of the Sophial family, who have served as the head of the Spellcasting Department of the Clock Tower for generations, but she did not inherit the Magic Crest because she was not the eldest son.

Sora's fate was determined by her birth. She grew up under the strict education of her family, whose purpose was to make her an outstanding woman who would be sacrificed in a political marriage.

Sora disliked this fate. She had fantasized countless times about escaping her destiny, but she was helpless in the face of cruel reality.

Slightly swirling the wine glass in her hand, Sora snapped out of her daze and looked at the man opposite her who had recently become her fiancé through her family's arrangement—Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald.

To be honest, apart from Kenneth not being her type, Sora had no other complaints about this political marriage.

At a young age, Kenneth is not only a genius magician renowned throughout the Clock Tower, but also holds the positions of Monarch of the Mineral Department and First-Class Lecturer of the Spirit Conjuring Department, and is the current head of the Archibald family.

Young, rich, and a highly eligible bachelor – that's probably the best way to describe a young and successful person like Kenneth.

But Sora doesn't consider herself the kind of vulgar woman who believes in materialism. As a young lady who grew up in the inner chambers, she yearns for romance and charm, things that are clearly not something that the bookish Kenneth can provide.

Although this guy, who spends all his time in the lab researching magic, is usually very caring towards Sora, how could Kenneth, who has been single for as long as his age, possibly win Sora's heart so easily?

Sora had almost given up hope and was prepared to live a life of luxury as a wealthy woman, following her husband wherever he went.

However, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, who was summoned by the Holy Grail, revived her previously dormant mind.

Sora believed that the relics Kenneth had prepared beforehand were stolen, and then the knight Diarmuid was summoned using the newly acquired relics in a hurry, which was simply fate.

Knights and princesses, knights and young ladies – these have long represented romance and poignant love stories in the West.

Sora's heart was once again filled with longing and anticipation for freedom.

Although Diarmuid always tried to avoid contact with her, and even ignored what she said, Sora never gave up on the idea of ​​getting close to the handsome knight.

"What's wrong, honey? Are you feeling a little bored?"

Kenneth, who was engrossed in researching information about the Hassans throughout history, seemed to sense Sora's gaze and looked up at his fiancée with a smile.

"That's the downside of small towns in the Far East; there's nothing to do to pass the time. How about we have the waiter bring up some late-night snacks? I'm getting a bit hungry anyway."

Sora tilted her head slightly to avoid Kenneth's gaze, placed her glass on the coffee table, and sighed.

"I'm not hungry. If you want something to eat, just order some. By the way, why hasn't Lancer come back yet? Could he have run into some danger?"

Upon hearing Sora's refusal, Kenneth remained calm and showed no displeasure. He picked up the landline on the coffee table and called the hotel reception while explaining to Sora:

"Don't worry. I'm just sending Lancer to investigate what's going on with that sudden magical fluctuation. If he sees something's wrong, he'll definitely choose to retreat."

"Hmph! Actually, I think you, as the Master, should have gone along too, instead of sitting here slacking off."

Sora glanced at Kenneth with considerable displeasure, feeling that no matter how she looked at him, she couldn't stand him.

"That's true, but I'm trying to find out the legends about other Servants as soon as possible and find ways to deal with them. How can you say I'm slacking off?"

Kenneth seemed to sense the tension in Sora's tone, but out of his affection for his fiancée, he didn't argue with her.

"Then, esteemed Clock Tower magic genius Kenneth, could you tell me what you've accomplished today? Let me broaden my horizons."

Kenneth was speechless after Sora's remark; his efforts today had indeed yielded nothing, an indisputable fact.

Even without consulting relevant materials, Kenneth has a considerable understanding of the legends of other great figures and heroes, such as King Arthur, the King of Conquerors, or that ancient hero king.

However, everything changed when it came to the old man of the mountain, because no matter how many books Kenneth searched, he could not find any record of the other party.

Records of the eighteen Hassans throughout history are available, including the last record concerning the Mad Nobunaga, but there is no record of a first Hassan.

If Kenneth hadn't witnessed Hundred-Faced Hassan paying homage to the Old Man of the Mountain, he would have suspected the man was falsely identifying himself.

"Darling, please give me some more time, I'm sure I'll be able to achieve something."

Kenneth confidently assured him, but all he got in return was a lukewarm sarcastic remark from Sora.

"Really? I think instead of wasting your time like this, you should find and kill that clown who ambushed you last time. Otherwise, you'll lose face even if you return to the Clock Tower."

Upon hearing this, Kenneth clenched his fists tightly and frowned deeply, clearly hurt by those words.

Just then, accompanied by a subtle fluctuation of magical energy, Diarmuid, who had just returned from the previous day, broke free of his spirit form and revealed his physical form.

Diarmuid's appearance stopped Sora, who was about to continue provoking Kenneth, and Kenneth also temporarily suppressed his anger and looked at his Servant.

The knight, wielding two pistols, stepped forward, knelt on one knee before Kenneth, and placed the red and yellow pistols on the carpet, one on each side.

"My lord, I am back. The matter of the massive magical fluctuations from before has been investigated and clarified."

After listening to Diarmuid's detailed report, Kenneth nodded knowingly and tapped the armrest of the wooden chair lightly with his fingers.

"I didn't expect Caster to be the first one to leave, and Saber suddenly disappeared halfway through. It seems that the Einzbern family has been up to something underhanded."

"By the way, my lord. Rider's Master Waver Velvet asked me to pass on a message to you."

Kenneth looked surprised upon hearing this, then his expression turned angry, and he let out a mocking laugh.

"Hmm? That ungrateful bastard Webber? Well, I'd like to hear what kind of self-righteous nonsense he's going to spout this time."

Next, Diarmuid repeated Weber's words verbatim, causing Kenneth to fall into deep thought, his previous disdain gone.

Kenneth mentally reviewed all the information he had gathered so far, and although he didn't want to admit it, his group was indeed the weakest of the remaining groups.

Diarmuid, a Lancer, only has two Noble Phantasms, both of which are anti-personnel Noble Phantasms. Although he is exceptionally skilled in martial arts, he doesn't seem to have any advantage in terms of attack output.

Although he already knew what was going on, Kenneth clearly wasn't going to say it out loud; teachers never back down or ask their students for help.

"That was wise of them to know that they couldn't win alone and instead sought to unite with others. I had the same idea."

Kenneth raised his hand and coughed lightly before speaking. Then he casually picked up a piece of paper from the table and wrote a reply to Weber.

"Diarmuid, go and give this to my stupid student now, and tell him to come see me here at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Chapter Thirty-Eight: What Makes a Warrior?

The following morning, the sun shone brightly.

With Kenneth's invitation in hand, Weber and Iskandar, led by a waiter from the Fuyuki Grand Hotel, arrived without any hindrance at the door of the presidential suite where Kenneth was staying.

"Although he is a bit annoying, the mentor is indeed a mentor. His skill in setting up the barrier is beyond words."

Webber looked around as he went, examining the temporary magic workshop that Kenneth had painstakingly created, and found that many of the arrangements were beyond his comprehension.

"Is that so? I don't think so. Anyway, with one crushing and dominating charge, all obstacles in my way will be flattened!"

Wearing a white T-shirt with the words "Great Strategy" printed on it, Iskandar picked at his ear with his fingers and shrugged indifferently.

Weber glanced helplessly at the burly man beside him, then covered his forehead with his hand.

He realized that discussing the intricacies of magic with such a muscular guy was a huge mistake.

Weber sighed heavily, took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, and raised his hand to knock on the door of the presidential suite in front of him.

But just as his knuckles were about to land on the door, Weber's movements suddenly stopped.

Or rather, they were frozen in place, as if some terrifying flood or ferocious beast lurked inside the house.

"No, no, I need to prepare some more. Let me go through all the negotiation procedures in my mind first."

Weber muttered to himself, lowering his raised hand back down.

His current behavior is no different from that of a student who has committed a serious offense and is about to be summoned to the homeroom teacher's office for questioning.

When I arrived at the teacher's door, I hesitated and dared not go in. I was terrified, but I didn't forget to prepare my excuses.

Well, if we're talking about Waver stealing the relics prepared by Kenneth and then participating in the Holy Grail War, then that's exactly the case.

Iskandar frowned upon seeing this, a sharp glint flashing in his bright eyes, and his expression turned serious.

He could tell that Weber's state at this moment was not one of anxiety and uncertainty due to fear of failure in the negotiations, but rather a simple state of fear and dread.

"Kid, what are you so afraid of?"

Iskandar questioned, and then habitually raised his large hand to deliver a crisp, powerful flick on the forehead to Webber.

With a soft 'snap', Weber's little head tilted back under the force.

Caught off guard, the boy took two or three steps back before stopping, clutching his red forehead and squatting on the ground, letting out a cry of pain like a small animal.

"Rider!? What are you doing now, you idiot?"

Webber jumped up from the ground and shouted, but compared to Iskandar's towering height, he, a dwarf who was less than 1.6 meters tall, looked utterly harmless.

Iskandar stood with his arms crossed, his body ramrod straight, his gaze sharp and piercing, and his expression no longer the usual jovial one; he exuded the majesty of a king.

Waver, who was being stared at like that by the King of Conquerors, fell silent and lowered his head timidly, not daring to look directly at the king's serious expression.

"Wave, if you're already this afraid before even seeing the other person, then don't go around claiming to be the Master of Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, after you leave here. I can't afford to lose face like that!"

Upon hearing Iskandar's extremely serious words, Weber looked up in surprise, but he couldn't find a trace of a joke on the giant's face.