Later, in a quiet corner of the mall
"This is your proof of victory."
In a dimly lit corner of the first-floor hall, Dracula, one hand covering his face, handed Gilgamesh the disc he had paid for.
After the race, Dracula had compensated the store for the broken equipment, cast a spell to dispel the crowd, and brought the other two kings to this quiet corner.
"Hahaha! A fitting trophy. I accept it without shame!" Gilgamesh laughed with regal arrogance as she took the game disc, gazing at it with satisfaction. "As proof of defeating the two of you, I shall add it to my treasury for eternity."
"Oho," Iskandar scratched his head. "Is this the legendary Hero King acknowledging us as worthy rivals?"
"Enough foolishness," Gilgamesh snapped. "Yes, pride is a king's nature. But I am no fool. In this Holy Grail War—where champions from every realm gather—there may yet appear someone even this king acknowledges… even someone who could defeat me."
She pointed to Iskandar. Then turned her finger toward Dracula.
"And you too, Dracula. Though I have yet to cross blades with either of you, I have a feeling—you both might prove to be opponents worthy enough to stir excitement in me."
"Well, what an honor that is… Miss Gilgamesh," Dracula replied drily.
With a hearty laugh, Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, added,
"Then I shall declare war on you as well. In this Holy Grail War, I shall defeat you and reclaim that prize!"
"Heh. Come at me if you dare," Gilgamesh said with a scoff, arms crossed.
"Any fool who dares defy the laws this king has laid down—who dares covet the treasures of my vault—shall receive due punishment from my own hands!"
They locked eyes—and burst into bold, thunderous laughter, as if the battlefield were a banquet hall.
Dracula watched them with a blank expression.
The laughter gradually died down. The two of them turned to look at Dracula.
A heavy silence fell over the three. Time ticked on—one minute, two… nearly five passed.
Then Iskandar leaned in and tapped Dracula's shoulder. He whispered,
"Hey, hey—say something, would you? If you just stand there in silence, it makes me and Sparkles here look like a pair of idiots. This atmosphere's unbearable…"
Dracula sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"What can I even say? I prepared everything. Not a single oversight. And still, in the end… I lost for the most ridiculous of reasons. What is there left to say?"
Iskandar let out a hearty, sheepish chuckle, scratching at his cheek.
"You two—one with Luck rank A, the other A+. And me?" Dracula looked from Gilgamesh to Iskandar with mild disdain.
"A historically unprecedented E- in Luck. What can I say?"
He covered his face and waved his hand as if to dismiss the entire ordeal.
"We're not even playing the same game."
"Aw, don't be so down," said Iskandar, patting him on the shoulder. "Sure, divine favor matters, but it's precisely because destiny stands in our way that we must trample it beneath our feet! That's what it means to be a man!"
"Hmph. Easy to say when you've got an A+ rank in luck."
Dracula turned, walking away at his usual languid pace. Without turning back, he waved a hand lazily.
"Farewell, the both of you. Today was… a blow, but I suppose I still enjoyed myself. Sort of."
"Well then, I'll take my leave as well!" Iskandar said with his usual boisterous tone, heading toward his Master, Waver. "Let's meet again on the battlefield—with our swords drawn, Miss Golden Sparkles!"
Gilgamesh gave a cold laugh and turned away without a word.
As Iskandar walked side by side with Waver, his expression grew uncharacteristically serious.
"So… have you grasped anything from this chaotic situation?"
Waver, rabbit-like eyes suddenly sharp, pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses from who knows where and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.
"Hmph. Let's say I've gotten a preliminary understanding. That golden-haired woman is a formidable one, Your Majesty."
"Of course she is," Iskandar said. "She wouldn't be the oldest of kings otherwise. But what's your read on her?"
"From my close-range observation… I believe that Gilgamesh is appearing under the Archer class," Waver said in a cool, analytic tone. "Traditionally, that would imply a focus on long-range combat. Her weakness would logically be close quarters—but if we consider the legends, her melee prowess shouldn't be underestimated either. While the class constraints are there, to be frank, Your Majesty—she might still outmatch you in a direct brawl."
"Then should we reverse that and attack from range?"
"No," Waver—no, Zhuge Liang, the strategist who now possessed Waver—shook his head. "To meet strength with weakness is the move of a fool. If you're going to fight her, you must exploit your Rider-class speed to its fullest. Do not let her lock you down with her firepower."
"As for her Noble Phantasm… I haven't witnessed it yet, so I won't make premature assumptions. But judging by her confidence, she must possess a trump card that ensures no one gets close without consequence. Most likely, she has some form of suppressive or controlling Noble Phantasm to ward off melee attackers. I will try to draw it out in the future."
"Excellent. I'm counting on you, my strategist." Iskandar grinned. "With the East's greatest mind on my side, I feel invincible!"
"You flatter me," Zhuge Liang replied, pushing up his glasses. "To stand with the famed King of Conquerors is honor enough."
"Then strategist—what do you think of the other one? That Dracula fellow?"
"My advice is—leave him be for now," said Zhuge Liang coolly. "If Gilgamesh at least seems to acknowledge the war's rules, that one… doesn't even care the Holy Grail War is happening. And, Your Majesty—you noticed the women around him, didn't you?"
"Oh yes. That Dracula fellow is quite the enviable man," Iskandar laughed. "But those girls… they're no pushovers. They're the real deal, aren't they?"
"Indeed. That suggests they have no intent to participate. So there's no point in provoking them—making enemies out of idle powerhouses would be foolish."
"Then I leave it all to your judgment, strategist. Lead me to victory!"
"You have my word," Zhuge Liang said solemnly. "I shall do all in my power to bring Your Majesty triumph."
---
"Hmph… Iskandar, the so-called King of Conquerors?" Gilgamesh muttered to herself, casually winding her shimmering golden hair around a finger as she walked. "Quite a troublesome opponent. Judging from the way he was summoned, each faction likely has two Servants this time around. That fool wouldn't personally test me unless he had someone else—a strategist—handling the bigger picture. He's probing my hand, is he? Should I hide my cards… or show my power to intimidate?"
"No matter," she concluded, eyes brimming with confidence. "With my strength, there's no chance I'll lose."
"As for that other guy… Dracula, was it? Doesn't seem eager to fight. Well, fine. I'll deal with Iskandar first."
She suddenly let out a sigh.
"Tch. Why does he get a diligent, tireless strategist as a subordinate, and I have to do everything myself?"
She thought about her own team. The black-clad, red-coated man whose face she could barely remember.
"Must be because I summoned some useless lolicon fake. He's good for decoys at best. And instead of doing recon, the moment he showed up he went running off to follow Tohsaka's daughter like some obsessed stalker."
She narrowed her eyes. "Right. I'll send him out next time to do reconnaissance. If he refuses, I'll tell Tohsaka he's got eyes for his daughter and let him dispose of the guy."
Just as that malicious grin began to spread across her face—
Thud.
A soccer ball slammed into her pristine white fur coat, leaving a filthy black stain.
"Who dares sully the King's garments!?" she snapped, whirling around.
She was met with wide-eyed stares from a group of seven- or eight-year-olds, frozen in fear.
"S-Sorry, miss… Could we have our ball back?" the bravest of them stepped forward and asked timidly.
"Oh… just brats," she scoffed, instantly losing interest.
She picked up the ball and handed it to the boy.
"Hey. Watch where you're kicking next time. If you weren't just kids, I'd have made you all slaves for that offense."
"But I suppose I've better things to do than bicker with ignorant little urchins. Now take your ball—and scram."
She patted the boy on the head and turned, walking off in a flourish.
Dracula dragged his feet behind the girls, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world hung on them.
Jeanne slipped quietly beside him and asked,
"Dracula… after observing those two Masters up close, did you manage to gather any intelligence?"
"Huh?" Dracula blinked, looking at Jeanne. Then he lowered his head in thought.
"…How about steak for dinner tonight?"
"Ah... That's a good idea—wait, no! I'm asking you, after being in such close contact with those two Servants, didn't you gather any useful intel?!"
Jeanne had first reflexively agreed with a nod, only to realize the context a beat later. Her voice rose in frustration.
Dracula, unbothered, raised a finger with leisurely grace.
"First of all, you're wrong on the count," he said. "Not two Servants—three. That little Master brat has another monster residing inside him... someone extremely dangerous."
He extended a second and third finger in turn.
"And second, none of the three are ordinary. They're smart. They know I'm not someone to mess with—and since I have no interest in fighting over the Grail, they'll definitely avoid provoking me."
With hands on his hips, Dracula declared confidently:
"Don't get me wrong—this isn't about targeting anyone. It's just that everyone else in this Holy Grail War... is complete trash!"
He shrugged theatrically.
"So, since there's no real threat, and they're unlikely to pick a fight with us, why waste brain cells worrying about them?" His grin widened as he added, "Now, back to our original topic—how about steak for dinner tonight?"