"I'm Tired of it!"
"Sick of all of it!"
That face—the one that said she'd give up everything for him.
That look in her eyes—like no matter how far he went, she'd always chase him.
What did they even know?
"Don't talk like you understand our bond. You don't. Not even close."
She clenched her fists. "My connection with the King… it's not—"
"You're a fake."
"SHUT UP!"
Hephaestion's hands trembled, but Waver—no, Lord El-Melloi II—wasn't lying. Deep down, she knew it too.
That king who used to ruffle her hair, who'd smile and say:
"Let me give you a name."
"I refuse."
She refused every single time. That was the one command she'd never obey.
Because…
"You're his shadow. His double. His safeguard."
Yeah. That was enough for her.
She didn't need a name.
As long as she could walk beside him.
As long as she could keep him safe from curses, lies, and the dangers spun by fate… she didn't care if she vanished without a trace.
"You're a decoy," Waver said quietly, "a scapegoat, a human shield in place of the King."
He wasn't saying it to hurt her. Not like that smug guy beside him—Melvin, with his laser-beam eyes and twisted grin. Waver wasn't interested in picking her apart for fun. But he was weak, and the only way to protect Gray was to keep peeling away the layers of this Servant's mystery.
"That's why she appears under the class of 'Faker,'" Melvin said, tossing his hands in the air. "A fake Heroic Spirit, summoned by a fake Holy Grail. No name. No legend. Just an imitation."
"So what?" Hephaestion—no, Faker—lifted her sword, her voice razor-sharp. "Does that make me less real?"
Waver exhaled slowly. He had to say it, even if it cut deeper than anything else.
"I always wondered why you weren't among the King's army. His 'Ionioi Hetairoi.' That laughing, charging, battle-hungry King wouldn't have forgotten a single comrade. He told me once… his army isn't just a Noble Phantasm. It's a bond. A memory. A promise. He remembers every name. Every face. He'd call for all of them—"
"SHUT UP!!!"
Faker howled and lunged at him.
CLANG!
Her sword slammed into Gray's shield that she shifted Add into. Gray winced, digging her heels in and forcing Faker back.
"Master! Let me handle her!"
"You rejected him!" Waver roared, louder than before. "You turned your back on his call! Iskandar never forgot you—he couldn't! That's what made him the King of Conquerors!"
"Don't act like you know everything!" Faker's voice cracked, and her lip bled where she bit down. "You're the reason! All of you! Because of fools like you, he couldn't stop! We told him over and over—it's not real! That place doesn't exist! But no…"
'A King who doesn't conquer isn't a King at all. So go on—conquer the impossible.'
Her heart burned with rage—not just at Waver, but at all of them.
The fools who followed.
The King who forgave them anyway.
"Faker, cool it," Melvin said, his voice tense. Magic surged, coiling around her like a thunderstorm ready to burst.
She was activating her Noble Phantasm.
SCREECH—
The train doors creaked open. Someone walked in quietly. But no one noticed. All eyes were on Faker.
"Don't even think about stopping me, Master," she growled. "I may have been summoned to serve you, but this man—this man dies."
Her blade pointed to the heavens.
"Come!"
"Agh, have it your way," Melvin muttered with a sigh. "Heroes and their tantrums… always part of the deal."
"Sorry to drag you into this!" Faker shouted, swinging her sword.
RRRRIIIIIP—
The air split open. A divine chariot wreathed in thunder descended above her.
"A Master's job is to let their Servant be selfish once in a while," Melvin laughed as he leapt onto the chariot.
"Now this feels familiar…"
Waver looked up at the thunderous spectacle. Even knowing Faker was just a shadow, a substitute… he couldn't help but marvel.
This is what the King of Conquerors should look like.
Maybe, just maybe, if he could defeat her here…
Maybe it meant he'd finally caught up.
Maybe next time they met, he could look Iskandar in the eye and say, "See? I wasn't just tagging along."
Even if the King no longer remembered him.
But for now…
"Master!" Gray shouted, scythe raised high. "She's using her Noble Phantasm! I'll need to release mine if I want to protect everyone here!"
Even if it meant she wouldn't be…
"Leave it to me."
A hand ruffled her hair.
"You've done enough."
"You're finally here?" Waver pushed up his glasses. "I figured you'd wait until the last second."
"What, and miss all the fun?" Cyd shrugged, taking Add from Gray's hands.
"But—"
"You don't need to play the hero against a Servant, Gray." He flicked her forehead. "You've already caught up. That's enough."
But if the cost was putting his student at risk…
No. Not worth it.
"So this was your plan all along," Waver sighed. "Fine. I'm counting on you."
"Hey! Let go of me, brat!" Add shouted, back in his cube form. "If you want everyone to live, Gray has to unleash that Noble Phantasm!"
Cyd ignored him. A crystal on the bracer hidden beneath his sleeve pulsed with light. As it activated, golden radiance spilled from Add's body.
"Gray's on break."
"Wait—WHAT?! How are you using me?!"
Add's form vanished completely, replaced by a towering pillar of light.
Cyd exhaled and raised both hands.
"This can't be real…" Gray whispered. "That's… that's the Holy Lance…"
"Tch. That light… what a spectacle," Melvin's eyes gleamed.
"Don't you DARE!" Faker's eyes blazed, gold and silver flaring like twin suns.
"A Mystic Eye?! She had another trick left!" Waver gasped.
Even protected by his Mystic Eye Killer, it still shook him. But…
"Ugh—!" Gray lunged, trembling, and wrapped her arms around Cyd's neck, tightening her grip.
"S-Sorry…"
"Gray," Cyd said calmly, gripping the glowing lance. "You're stronger than that. Your will, your soul—even a Heroic Spirit can't twist those. So listen. Listen carefully."
[Round Table Convenes…]
A voice whispered in Gray's ears… but then cut off, like someone had jammed the signal.
"Wait—why am I still here?!" Add shouted, stunned.
He was only a simulated personality. The moment the seal was lifted, he should've vanished. And yet—he remained. He could feel it.
A miracle.
[Thirteen Thrones convene.]
"You've got to be kidding—"
[No objections? Ugh, whatever. Let's just pass everything.]
[Fine by me.]
[Do as you like.]
[Hmph.]
…
"So you were always there," Cyd whispered, smiling. "Just… far away."
"Cyd…" Gray stared, eyes wide. His long fingers reached into the column of light.
"Holy Lance—"
His lips curved into a grin.
"Anchored."