Chapter 378: [378] Death, the Devil’s Offering

Words : 1799 Updated : Oct 15th, 2025

Chapter 378: [378] Death, the Devil’s Offering "Ah... ahh..." Merely meeting those ice-blue eyes shimmering with iridescence made the old man feel as though his soul was being torn apart. Yet he shook off the supporting hands of his family, straightened his back, and displayed the Command Seals on the back of his hand to the man before him: "Indeed, this old man is your Master, O Servant who has descended from the realm of fantasy!" Even as he spoke these words, the old man recalled the demon’s warning. [Remember, what you face is no mangy mutt, but so-called heroes of mankind.] [If you foolishly think you can whip them into submission, you’d better pray your Command Spell activates faster than they can kill you, heeheehee...] Thus, the old man—who had long lost everything—cast aside the dignity of a magus and dropped to his knees before the black-robed ’hero,’ uncaring of baring his neck to the figure. Gasps erupted from his family. "My deepest apologies for summoning you in such an unsightly place. I beg for your mercy..." "Spare me the unnecessary words." Beneath the black robe, the ice-blue hue in the young man’s pupils faded, vanishing entirely. In the flickering candlelight, he seemed like a shadow without weight, drifting lightly. "If you are the magus who summoned me to participate in this Holy Grail War, then first tell me—what do you seek from the Grail?" Perhaps the Servant’s indifferent demeanor gave the old man false confidence, or perhaps the flames of vengeance burned away his subservient facade. His head snapped up, his clouded eyes brimming with fanaticism. "This old man—no, my clan’s sole wish is but one! To expel—no, to trample every magus who dares meddle in the Holy Grail War! To crush this war itself, to grind the ambitions of the Yggdmillennia beneath our feet until they turn to dust!" Between ragged coughs, the old man raised his hands as though grasping the distant shores of his vengeance. "Ahh... And when that time comes, we shall make our wish upon the Greater Grail—a wish for my clan to reign supreme over all creation! A wish to make those traitors of Yggdmillennia weep blood in regret! It shall... It shall surely be granted!" The fervor spread. The long-suffering members of his family raised their hands in unison, chanting the name of the Greater Grail with reverence. The crimson candlelight reflected in their eyes, igniting a wildfire of malice that seemed ready to consume the world. Amid the crumbling room, only the shadowy figure remained detached, coldly observing this zealous devotion before speaking calmly: "One final question—what was the catalyst used to summon me?" A final question? Interpreting the Servant’s words as a sign of submission, the old man—steeped in suffering—was overcome with euphoria. He knew he had taken a decisive step toward his ambition. Lost in triumph, it took him a long moment to respond. "Ahh... It was an ancient relic obtained through a transaction with certain entities. A prayer text rumored to belong to the Order of Assassins—one tied to their founding leader." The founding leader—the Old Man of the Mountain. The shadow swayed faintly, as if in contemplation. Unable to contain himself, the old man pressed: "O my Servant, might you now reveal to me your true name—?" "Heh." The abrupt chuckle froze the old man’s blood. In the shadows before him, those rainbow-hued ice-blue eyes ignited once more—this time, finally tinged with an emotion called ’mockery.’ "It seems unnecessary after all. Someone who doesn’t even understand the basics of the Holy Grail War, who can’t even check their Servant’s information, still dares to covet the Greater Grail..." A crisp click sounded. With the racking of a bullet, the frenzied atmosphere in the room dissipated instantly, replaced by a bone-chilling cold that seemed to kill the soul itself. The old man stared blankly, as if unable to comprehend the situation, his gaze fixed on the weapon in the Servant’s hand. Was that... a pistol? Though it resembled a handgun, beneath its sleek black barrel extended a thin, razor-sharp blade. Blood had congealed upon it like a spider’s web, forming honeycomb-like crimson patterns. What baffled the old man most was that the barrel was now pointed directly at his forehead. ["If you think whipping them will make them obey, you’d better pray your Command Seal activates faster than they can kill you..."] The demon’s whisper echoed in his mind. While refusing to grasp its true meaning, the old man instinctively raised his final lifeline: "By my Command Seal, I order ’Blue’ Assassin—" Bang! The gunshot responded faster than his words. The magical bullet pierced the old man’s forehead, splattering blood mixed with brain matter. By the time the family members realized their patriarch’s death, the Assassin’s exclusive feast of slaughter had already begun. Whoosh— The mere fluttering of the black cloak extinguished the last few candles with its chilling gust. In the next instant, the panicked crowd lost sight of the Servant. "Where... where is he?!" "Did he... run away? Aaah—!" The speaking member’s scream ended abruptly. When the others turned in terror, they only saw bisected flesh hitting the floor, swiftly turning lifeless. Bang! Bang! Bang! Muzzle flashes danced in the darkened room. As three members collapsed, someone finally understood: "Damn it! He’s invisible! Run outside, now!" The panicked magi swarmed out like ants from a nest. Yet with every step, companions’ screams rose like nightmares. The Servant harvested lives with silent efficiency—by the time they reached the doorway, half the magi had fallen without resistance. "Activate the bounded field! Raise the workshop’s defensive formations!" The magus who first urged their escape kept shouting orders, until he saw a flicker of ice-blue flame ignite before him—like a soul-ferrying will-o’-the-wisp from the underworld. "Die." The Assassin walked through a fragmented world. A casual slash of his gun-blade erased another red line, along with its entire outline vanishing into nothingness. Why were these moving outlines scribbled with line-like doodles? Like cracks—as if they’d shatter into pieces any moment. Holding faint murderous intent, the Assassin naturally used his tool to slice through those chaotic scribbles, erasing the fleeing outlines. Erase, erase, erase, erase. As effortlessly as slicing paper with a craft knife. Kill, kill, kill, kill. The oblivious killer indulged his creative urges to the fullest. Until finally— "Ah." The assassin blinked, and amidst the melting pain, the irises in his eyes dispersed, the eerie, graffiti-like world returning to normal. Thus, the sight of blood and bones strewn across the ground came into view. The fanatical people were gone, the mages who sought the Holy Grail had vanished. Reflected in those eyes, their fates had long been sealed. The black-robed assassin, untouched by a single drop of blood, pondered for a moment before turning back into the room and crouching down. Perhaps due to the effect of the Magic Crest, the old man who had been the first to be struck in the head was still clinging to life. When the assassin met him again, bloody tears streamed from the old man’s dim, yellowed eyes. "Why... why... a mere familiar... I treated you with the utmost courtesy..." "Though I feel like I’ve forgotten many things, I can still recognize what courtesy is," the assassin replied earnestly. "You merely adjusted your grip to better wield a tool. There was no respect in that." "Ah... ah..." "Moreover, your goal was the Holy Grail, wasn’t it?" Holding the hand of his ’Master,’ marked with Command Spells, the assassin chatted idly with the barely breathing family head as he traced the magic circle. "I don’t know why, but the Holy Grail belongs to me alone. My apologies. As fellow competitors, I must ask you to die." The light of magecraft bloomed, and the three Command Spells on the old man’s hand vanished. In their place, three red patterns glowed on the back of the Servant’s hand. As the flame of life flickered out, countless thoughts raced through the old man’s mind in his final moments. Even with his shallow understanding of the Holy Grail War, he knew that Masters and Servants were supposed to be partners, and that Command Spells were the safeguards magi used to restrain the heroes. For a Servant to declare his Master a ’fellow competitor’—such a thing was as unbelievable as the Command Spells transferring to the Servant himself... [In that case, your souls, your existence, everything shall belong to me. In return, I permit you to overturn this world, to throw everything into chaos. Hahahaha...] The mad laughter echoed once more in the old man’s heart. In his deep regret and sudden realization, he finally understood one truth. The demon had promised them the chance to overturn the world, but never said they would live to see it. Everything they had done had already been priced in the shadows. "So... everything our family had... was just the cost to summon you... was it?" As his vision darkened, the old man saw icy blue ghostly flames guiding him toward the endless underworld. His lips trembled. Perhaps it was fate’s mercy that allowed this family head to learn, in his final moment, the true identity of the ’hero’ who had slaughtered them all. "An assassin named Sakatsuki..." Squelch! Expressionless, the young man tore open the old man’s flesh, plunging his hand into his heart and retrieving a Magic Crest that emitted a faint black glow. Though the main lineage’s original Crest had been lost, the offshoot the old man possessed was still one of the family’s symbols. Now that the bloodline had declined, the Magic Crest he held represented the family itself. Of course, at this very moment, it had already become Sakatsuki’s possession. The tuning magecraft activated, eliminating the rejection reaction from the crude removal of the Magic Crest and solidifying it into a ’phenomenon’ for storage. After completing all this, the Assassin finally snapped out of his focused state, looking at his own hands with some confusion. "Strange... I’m an Assassin, right? Why can I use magecraft? No, more importantly..." Recalling the old man’s final words, the Assassin blinked, murmuring that name with a mix of unfamiliarity and curiosity. "Saka...tsuki...?" Each syllable dropped into the loop of fate, sending ripples outward. The waves spread, echoing through the depths of space and time, until at some point, the ’self’ connected with the core of the ’ego.’ Within the already dead Greater Source, a white-haired young man with golden eyes abruptly looked up at the stars in the sky, stunned. "This is——!" *** Hey readers! Want to read ahead? ???? Join my Patreon for early access to 30+ advance Chapters! Your support helps me write more and bring the story to you faster. ????patreon.com/aarvan????

Chapter 378: [378] Death, the Devil’s Offering

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