Chapter 02 - Illya: I'm Fighting the Fourth War? Huh… Seriously?
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Kirei Kotomine stood frozen for several seconds before chuckling quietly at the absurdity of his earlier doubts.
Assassin might be the weakest class on paper, but there was no question he had summoned a Hassan. While he couldn't pinpoint which generation of Hassan this was, it was common knowledge that Assassins excelled at deception—lulling enemies into complacency before delivering a fatal strike.
The white-haired girl before him was undoubtedly in disguise. Her unsettling gaze… even he, her Master, had nearly fallen for the act.
Is this what it means to be a hero worthy of the Throne of Heroes?
Kirei steadied himself with a deep breath.
"I am Kirei Kotomine. Chosen by the Holy Grail as a Master in this Fourth Holy Grail War. I am your Master. You understand this much, Assassin."
His voice was low and commanding, dispelling the chapel's oppressive tension.
The young Servant blinked as modern knowledge flooded her mind. In an instant, she mastered global languages and grasped the Holy Grail War's fundamentals—common knowledge for summoned Heroic Spirits.
"So… Mister, you're saying… you're my Master?"
"This is my Command Seal," Kirei replied, revealing the three blood-red sigils on his hand. His gaze lingered on this peculiar Servant.
By Fuyuki's rules, summoning "Assassin" without a catalyst should only yield a Hassan. Yet this girl defied expectations. Her pajamas were modern, her demeanor disarming.
An act, Kirei concluded. Even the most harmless Hassan is a blade in the dark.
Heroic Spirits were beings of legend, and Assassins thrived on patience. Some waited years in shadows before striking. This girl's "clueless child" act was a façade. Beneath it lay lethal danger.
Meeting Kirei's stare, the girl nodded hesitantly.
"Then… our contract's settled? I fight for you seven days, and you… feed me seven days?"
"You could say that."
Not that summoning a Heroic Spirit counts as child labor, Kirei dryly mused.
"As your Master," he pressed, "reveal your True Name, Assassin. This will help me strategize."
He displayed his Command Seal again—a warning disguised as a gesture of partnership. Tokiomi's teachings echoed: Heroic Spirits are pride incarnate. Even allies may betray you.
History brimmed with Masters slain by their own Servants. The risk was low, but not negligible. His teacher had hammered one truth into him: Never let your guard down.
Those three Command Seals were his nuclear deterrent—a reminder that he held her life in his hands.
"My True Name… probably? Uh… Illyasviel. That's right…"
The girl—Miss Illyasviel—scratched her cheek, feigning uncertainty. Inside, dread coiled like ice.
She hadn't just recalled her name. She remembered everything—the inexplicable leap from her dorm room to this foreign chapel, the crushing truth that she'd been thrust into a death game against legends.
Fight? Me? I'm just a normal person!
Even as a Heroic Spirit, she couldn't rival myths like Heracles or King Arthur. Fear gnawed at her—primal, suffocating. She didn't want to die here, erased without meaning.
Why me? Why? I don't want to die—I don't!
A storm of thoughts raged, but the Assassin class's Presence Concealment hid her turmoil. Kirei missed the tears glistening in her ruby eyes.
She wasn't a hero. She wasn't a warrior. Joining this war was suicide. She wanted to flee—to gorge on KFC's Crazy Thursday specials, to burrow into her bed and never leave.
But escape was impossible. Seven days. A seven-day death sentence.
"Illyasviel? European, then?"
Kirei combed his memory. No Hassan or Assassin bore that name.
"Assassin… clarify. Which Hassan generation are you?"
"Master," Illya interjected suddenly, "tonight's the war's first night, yes?"
Silence. Then, resolve hardened her voice. Survival instincts had overridden panic.
If I want to live, I need a plan. Survive. Survive at all costs.
The path was clear: eliminate everyone else. Kill before being killed.
"Correct. Why?"
"One more question… Servants are untouchable by ordinary magi, right? Only other Servants can fight them. Yes?"
Hope tinged her words.
Kirei arched an eyebrow. "According to past records, yes. The gap between Heroic Spirits and modern magi is… insurmountable."
Mystery had faded. No modern Heroic Spirits existed. The disparity wasn't just power—it was existential. Even a Magician might struggle against a third-rate Servant.
Of course, this was conjecture. The Holy Grail War remained a regional oddity, beneath the Clock Tower's notice. True Magicians? They were myths within myths.
"Thank you, Master! I know what to do now~ (*＾＾)/!"
Illya's despair flipped to manic energy.
If I can't beat Servants, I'll slaughter their Masters! Tonight's the first night—some haven't even summoned yet!
Instinctively, she activated Spirit Form and Presence Concealment.
"...?"
In a blink, she vanished. Only the summoning circle remained.
Kirei stood alone in the silent chapel, staring at empty air.
Gone. She slipped away like smoke.
Heroic Spirits' logic was alien, shaped by dead eras. Some clung to archaic codes—chivalry, feudal loyalty. But that didn't matter now.
"What did she mean? Why thank me? Is my Servant… inherently rebellious?"
He glanced at his Command Seals, frustration simmering.
"Wait… I didn't even check her parameters or Noble Phantasm. How am I supposed to report this to my teacher?!"