"...I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades."

As I recited the ancient oath, I smirked imagining Morgan's expression should he see me now. The old Enforcer would be aghast at the casual invocation of all evil. But sometimes you have to cross lines to do the right thing. Now was one of those moments.

It wasn't easy finding information about the Holy Grail War. Requesting it from the Association obviously wasn't an option, so I had to do with Bob who demanded to be freed for a whole week. Some persuasive arguments involving a threat to throw him into a well allowed me to cut that time to two days.

It was a good thing I was in Japan now, so neither Murphy nor Morgan could blame the ensuing events on me.

In the end I've got what I wanted. The Holy Grail War (which was actually closer to the Holy Grail Bar Brawl) was a contest between seven wizards. Each summoned a great hero of myths and legends to fight by his side. The last man with a Servant still alive would witness the revelation of the Holy Grail - an artifact capable of granting any wish.

It was a great temptation. With such a power I could achieve anything. World peace, infinite wealth, power beyond imagination. Hell, I could even make Murphy wear a dress for once. Though I wasn't too sure such a miracle could really be granted.

In the end, though, there was one thing that I truly wanted. One thing for which I would fight in a death tournament: resurrection of the first girl I've ever kissed. She was the only good thing I had in my life for a long time before Mister came along. And, even though she was a lost cause at the time, I still felt responsible for her death.

If I could get a second chance for her, it was worth fighting.

"...Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past they restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance –!"

I finished the chant. For a moment the circle lit up brightly, blinding me. When I could see again, there was a figure in the middle of the circle which I did not expect.

When I was imagining what kind of Servant I will summon (I could not afford to purchase a relic to force the matter, my funds were exhausted as it is), I thought of Heracles and King Arthur and Gilgamesh: men who reforged the world around them with their words and their swords. Noble warriors ready to penetrate any foe in their way with deadly naked steel.

It was not the case here. What I saw was delicate and fragile, like a flower ready to be crushed under a callous man's foot.

Before me stood a young woman with fair features and curves I had trouble making out under her heavy cloak. She wasn't a warrior. She was a girl wearing her mother's clothes and pretending to be an adult.

Call me a chauvinist, but in this moment I understood why so many kings in stories put their daughters in high towers, away from the cruelties of the world. I wanted to do the same.

***

Medea...

The revelation of her identity changed everything. What I mistook for an innocent flower was a poisonous forbidden fruit.

Her beautiful looks, her delicate manners, her cute pout when she didn't get her way - all was but a facade designed to lure men like Jason to their doom.

I had to be careful. I could all too easily see myself in place of Jason, falling for a pretty face and not noticing a dagger hidden behind her back until it's too late.

Cutting her supply of magical power was a logical move. Witches like her naturally excelled in subtle curses. They had much more hate to spare, and Medea clearly wasn't an exception, what with killing her own children out of spite and jealousy.

Some would think it's counter-productive, given there was a war ahead of us - Medea said as much. But, not to brag, they didn't have as much experience with this type of conflict as me.

War is not a place for subtlety. There is no use in poisoning an enemy or making him impotent when he thrusts a sword in your face.

Wizards like me are better suited for it. We are like hammers: blunt, heavy and setting everything on fire. Well, maybe not exactly like hammers.

Either way, cutting Medea's supply of power meant I had more to use, which was sure to prove useful in the upcoming battle.

Unfortunately, that argument didn't convince Medea, so I had to use a Command Seal to make her drop the subject. I had to make clear that we couldn't establish a working relationship if she were to second-guess my every decision. It was bad enough that I had to second-guess hers. It's too bad that "follow my commands" is a too general order for the Command Seals to work properly, but at least I could threaten her with them should she step out of line.

***

"The base could be improved if I were to use my power," Medea said.

When did it come to this? Both innocent child and woman scorned disappeared, leaving behind only nagging wife.

I sighed.

"The base is fine. I enchanted the perimeter. I am no good in illusions, so it won't conceal the place," I admitted self-deprecatingly, "but it should endure under assault."

"But it could be better. We are going against Heroic Spirits. Every drop of power matters."

Clearly, she wasn't about to let go of the tangent. I very much doubted she could improve the defenses. She probably just wanted to change the aesthetic of an admittedly dreary place. Bachelor lifestyle I enjoyed before now wasn't conductive to tidiness. Clothes carelessly thrown around and coffee mugs left on the table probably grated on her nerves. At least she didn't demand to change wallpapers or move the furniture to other side of the room only to move it back when she didn't like the new look.

I decided to humor her.

"Fine, fine, you may do it."

"R-right now?" Her haughty demeanor disappeared in an instant. She looked like a schoolgirl who has forgotten the answer and was desperately biding for time hoping that a bell would save her from teacher's scolding.

"Yes, what's the matter?"

"Well, I..."

I waited patiently. There will be no bell to save her.

"I... don't have enough power to do it," she said in a tiny voice.

I sighed. That was so her: acting tough, claiming the patronage of gods and ancient powers. But when it came down to walking the walk, she deflated instantly.

"It's no use trying to jump over your head," I chided her gently. "How can I trust you to support me in battles if you constantly overestimate your abilities?"

She looked at me pleadingly. Damn, a man could drown in those eyes.

Damn my chivalry. I never could walk away from a girl in distress.

"Oh, well, I suppose I should lend you a hand," I said, noting how her face lit up in joy. "By the power of the Holy Grail, I order you, Caster: use your power to change that building in accordance with your wishes."

As I said that, the last Command Seal disappeared from my hand, leaving behind a faint burn scar.

I looked around. Nothing has changed. Was even the power of a Command Seal not sufficient?

I looked back at Caster. She was smiled like a canary who managed to poke a cat in the eye.

"You know, Master, I am probably going to disappear soon, but somehow I fail to feel any regrets."

I smiled at her reassuringly.

"You aren't going to disappear on my watch. You aren't strong, but with m-"

The world exploded around me.