Reborn in Type-Moon: Starting by Adopting Sakura - Chapter 39

Archer’s eyes moved around the church like he was cataloging every corner. When he looked at Kirei and his father, his expression didn’t change. But when his gaze swept past Tokiomi, a meter behind them, his pupils contracted slightly.

“Already made arrangements with an ally before the summoning? Looks like I’ve got myself a pretty resourceful Master. Talk about drawing the short end of the stick.”

He kept that cocky stance as he continued. "Here's the thing—I don't know who I am. Or I guess you could say I don't remember my life before this."

Tokiomi and Risei looked at each other. Kirei could see the confusion pass between them.

"You mean... amnesia?" Tokiomi couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

In everything he knew about the Holy Grail War, this had never happened. Sure, maybe the Servant was lying. That was possible. But Tokiomi had too much pride to think a Servant would lie straight to their Master's face when asked a direct question.

"Call it whatever you want," Archer said.

He walked toward Kirei, taking his time. "You're my Master, right? Let me make something clear. I'll win this war for you. But I'm not taking orders. How we fight—that's my call."

Fine. Difficult Servants came with the territory. Kirei looked at his mentor. "Tokiomi-sensei?"

"Oh." Archer raised an eyebrow. "So that's what this is. It’s not just cooperation—it’s support."

Tokiomi nodded. "Exactly. I'm the one who wants the Grail. Win it for me, and you can do whatever you think is best."

No point in getting into power struggles now. They had Command Spells if things got out of hand. There were still plenty of questions that needed answers, but the war hadn't even started yet. No reason to create problems where there weren't any.

"You're pretty easygoing," Archer said. "Alright then. We'll leave it there. All this summoning wore me out—I'm going to get some sleep."

And just like that, he disappeared. Spirit particles scattered where he’d been standing, leaving the three men stunned, staring at empty space.

Up on the church roof, moonlight spilled everywhere, turning everything silver.

Archer materialized and immediately saw him—a golden Servant holding some kind of stone tablet. The guy's eyes looked like they were on fire.

"Hmph. Mongrel." The golden Servant's voice dripped with disgust. “I expected you might show up, but you’re still an eyesore.”

The atmosphere seemed to freeze around them, as if the golden Servant’s disdain chilled the air itself.

He stood there like he owned the world. The pressure coming off him hit Archer like a wall.

Archer's body tensed. His hand twitched toward where a weapon should be. "Do we know each other?"

The casual grin from downstairs was gone. Archer frowned, suddenly very aware this could go bad fast.

"If you want answers from me with that tone, you'll die ten thousand times over."

Archer kept his mouth shut. Those eyes were telling him he was walking on thin ice.

"I'll give you one chance," the golden Servant said. "Show me what you can do."

“If I’m not mistaken,” Archer replied carefully, “my Master is an associate of yours. We have no reason to fight.”

Gilgamesh made a sound that might have been laughter, but there was no humor in it. "Fool. You're not even worth the effort."

His gaze sharpened, and Archer felt it like a blade against his throat. "You came here with a job to do, didn't you?"

The words hit Archer hard enough that he felt his chest tighten. His eyes went sharp. He raised his hand, making the movement bigger than it needed to be, trying to cover his reaction. "I don't know what you're talking about. Every Servant has their own reasons for wanting the Grail. As for mine—"

“Enough.” Gilgamesh lazily lifted his chin. “This clown show ends here. I detest liars—especially lapdogs lying through their teeth.”

Archer: “…”

That look—those eyes—they were saying: I see everything. Don't bother with whatever name or story you're hiding behind. I already know who you are.

"You're..." Archer stared at him. The words wouldn't come.

A Caster. If this guy really was who Archer thought he was, this was very, very bad.

"Those fragments wouldn't have summoned you," Gilgamesh said. "You're a fake."

Something that might have been amusement crossed his face. "So what are you doing here?"

Archer: “…”

Those red eyes saw everything. Up here on the church roof, with moonlight spilling over both of them, he spoke like he was stating a simple fact: "You're not from the Throne of Heroes. You're Counter Force’s lapdog."

And he was right. This Servant hadn't come from the same place as the others. His whole origin was different. He wasn't really a "true" Servant at all.

He was a defense mechanism. Humanity's unconscious will to survive made flesh. The kind of being that got summoned not through prayer or worship, but because the world needed someone to do the dirty work.

A Counter Guardian.

His class wasn't random either. Archer came with perks.

Every Servant gained different skills based on their summoned class. Assassins had Presence Concealment. Casters had Territory Creation. Sabers and Riders often had Riding. Likewise, the Archer class came with a special skill: Independent Action.

The skill to work without constantly draining magical energy from a Master. Perfect for solo missions where backup wasn't coming.

So it was more accurate to say this Guardian wasn’t “summoned”—he’d been dispatched.

"Oh? Getting flustered already?" Gilgamesh said. "Going to snap like a cornered dog?"

Archer's hand moved toward his waist. His body dropped lower, ready to spring. One move and he could unleash hell.

It was a solid opening position.

But this wasn't a conversation anymore. This was an interrogation, and Gilgamesh was asking all the questions. The guy knew too much. Which meant—if Archer wanted to finish his mission—this man needed to die.

Didn't matter how strong the enemy was. He just had to be stronger.

But Gilgamesh only smiled. "There’s no need for that. Go ahead. Do whatever it is you came here to do."

"You're saying you won't get in my way?"

"I said I wanted to see what you could do. Let me enjoy the show. Even a clown has entertainment value.”

Archer straightened up, letting his guard down. “This was an unpleasant meeting.”

He dissolved into spirit particles and disappeared.

Unless absolutely necessary, Archer had no intention of fighting someone this troublesome.

Left alone atop the roof, Gilgamesh stood beneath the moonlight. The night wind tugged gently at his white headdress.

He gazed up at the stars—frosty and distant—beneath a white full moon that stared down like an unblinking eye.

“It’s coming soon, isn’t it? The light that will either illuminate the dark—or destroy the future.”

Whatever was about to happen, whatever chaos was heading their way—

He spread his arms wide.

“Come, then. Be it the end or the beginning—I will bear witness to it all.”

“Even the moment that not even I can foresee.”

…

Tokyo, Akihabara.

Manaka stood by her window, watching the moon hang over the city. Down the hall, she could hear the quiet murmur of voices from the workshop where Yuu and Irisviel were still working on the Lesser Grail, their conversation punctuated by the occasional clink of tools.

In her room, Sakura hunched over her desk, squinting at her computer screen.

"Ugh, C++ is so hard," she muttered. "But I have to figure this out."

She was completely absorbed, frowning at the screen like solving this one line of code was the most important thing in the world. She hadn’t even noticed it was well past dinnertime—or how long she’d been sitting there.

A few hours later, she pushed back from her desk and flopped face-first onto her bed, still fully clothed. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into sleep.

Nine o'clock had come and gone an hour ago, which was probably when she should have called it a night anyway.