Danmachi: The Multiverse Portal

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After that attack, everyone in Snowfield understood one thing: the Holy Grail War was far from finished.

Even though the military had taken over the city, the ritual was not about to end.

...

Snowfield Police Department

"Another fight has started already?" August sat in the police station, sipping bitter black coffee.

Instead of looking annoyed, he seemed excited by the news.

"A new fight just four hours after sunrise… Not bad." He turned to Rethusa and the other Artemis Familia members. "Have you rested enough? You won't have much more time."

The Holy Grail War would not stop just because someone called a truce or took over the city. Speeches meant nothing to the ritual. As long as there were Servants and Masters, the fighting would go on.

"We're ready," Rethusa answered at once.

According to Artemis, another powerful Servant had entered the battlefield. How could any of them stay behind after hearing that?

"Then let's go."

Artemis and Hestia personally took the lead—gathering their respective followers before heading toward the new battlefield.

Orlando Reeve watched them prepare to leave and frowned. "Wait. You're going there just like this?"

"What else would we do?" August smiled and gave him a reassuring thumbs-up. "Relax. We've prepared for this. As long as we're managing the Holy Grail War, we'll take responsibility for anyone killed or injured inside Snowfield. We won't let the body count get out of hand."

"Your job is to keep the streets under control and stop regular civilians from wandering into the battlefield," August continued.

"Leave everything else to us."

They had actual Goddesses on their side. Even if things got worse, almost no one in the world could hold them responsible.

"Fine." Orlando finally relaxed.

He had already accepted that the Holy Grail War was out of his hands, and keeping public order was the best he could do. If anyone criticized him for giving up so soon, Orlando doubted the other factions would last much longer anyway.

Just looking at the calm soldier in the conference room made that clear. Alexandre Dumas said the man's basic strength was like that of people from the Age of Gods, and even an ordinary soldier could probably defeat everyone in the police station easily.

And there were tens of thousands of them.

The United States had already surrendered. Since August promised Snowfield would not turn into a slaughterhouse, Orlando was glad to stay at his desk and do paperwork.

August had not left yet when Olga Marie Animusphere remembered something.

"Oh, right. There's one more matter concerning this Holy Grail War."

She turned toward Orlando. "If a girl named Olga Marie Animusphere contacts the station, tell her to come here and wait for me."

She already knew that her counterpart from this timeline was coming to Snowfield. The girl had taken an overnight flight and would probably arrive in a few hours.

"Understood." Orlando paused before nodding.

The heir to the Clock Tower's Department of Astromancy was basically magical nobility. Even without the odd link between the two Olga Maries, Orlando would have welcomed someone of her status himself.

"Good." With that settled, Olga Marie put one arm around August and lifted him into the air.

He barely had time to react before his Caster carried him off to the battlefield. Olga Marie Animusphere could fly high without any trouble.

Orlando watched them leave through the open door and let out a long breath.

"At least they aren't impossible to deal with..."

He looked toward the only soldier who had remained behind. The man in camouflage returned his gaze with complete ease. As far as he was concerned, Orlando was already a defeated opponent.

"You people use familiars, right?" the soldier asked. "Put the battlefield on the screen. I want to watch."

Vera Levitt gave him an apologetic look. "Our department doesn't really specialize in traditional Magecraft. We can detect magical signatures from other familiars and track their movements, but our own familiars are limited. Sending one that far and keeping a stable visual feed would be hard."

Most members of Clan Calatin didn't come from famous magical families. They were chosen and trained through modern systems, not through generations of family breeding.

"Your technology is that bad?" The soldier stared at her.

"…" Vera wisely said nothing.

"Fine. I'll take care of it." The soldier pulled out his phone and made a call. "It's me. Send the signals from the battlefield to this room."

He hung up. A few seconds later, the big screen in the conference room turned on. Satellite footage showed two groups already fighting outside Snowfield.

On one side was the True Archer, Alcides.

On the other was the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, flying through the sky on Vimana.

The battle had already begun.

"As expected of Gilgamesh. He's really strong." The soldier leaned forward, focused on the footage.

"The other guy looks good too. Alcides— the legendary demigod." He watched Alcides fight back against the Gate of Babylon and clicked his tongue in appreciation.

"This feed is great. Damn shame I'm stuck here. Otherwise, I would have gone over there myself."

He never wanted this guard job, but orders were orders, and military discipline gave him no choice. Like the others who came to this world, he wanted a chance to fight its legendary heroes.

Alas, he was not allowed to leave his post...

The soldier remembered something and looked at Orlando. "You have a Servant too, don't you? When are you sending yours out for a fight?"

"Mine is a Caster," Orlando said flatly. "He wouldn't stand a chance out there."

What kind of Master would send a Caster to the front lines?

"He's that bad?" The soldier gave him a skeptical look.

Orlando's eye quivered in annoyance.

"If I remember correctly, the strongest Casters are all good at close combat."

The soldier had received plenty of Fate-related knowledge from his friends before the deployment. He might not know every detail beyond the early stories, but he remembered the important parts.

He pointed at Gilgamesh firing the Gate of Babylon across the screen.

"That Gilgamesh has a Caster version who qualifies as a Grand Caster candidate. His specialty is swinging around a giant axe. The Axe King of Uruk."

"Then there's Merlin, the court magus from your King Arthur legends. Another Grand Caster candidate, and supposedly one of the best swordsmen around. The Sword Saint of Britain."

"And the proper Grand Caster was King Solomon. His specialty was boxing. The King of the Ring."

He looked at Orlando like the answer was obvious.

"And your Caster is helpless in close combat? That's pathetic."

To the soldier, close combat was a basic skill for any real magus. If a magus couldn't throw a punch, he had no right to call himself one.

"…What the hell are you talking about?"

Orlando and Vera stared at him. What kind of Caster fought with axes, swords, and fists? They wanted to call it nonsense, but the soldier had listed real Heroic Spirits and titles without hesitation, which made his claims hard to ignore.

"Are all Grand Casters like that?" Orlando asked.

'Has Caster been hiding this from me?' A troubling thought crossed his mind.

Alexandre Dumas could make Noble Phantasms for others, but he always said he couldn't use those weapons himself. What if that was a lie? What if Dumas was just pretending to be helpless because he didn't want to fight?

Orlando then thought of August's Caster. Olga Marie Animusphere was a magus from the Department of Astromancy and a member of the Clock Tower. She was also one of the strongest Servants in Snowfield. Surely someone like her knew how to fight up close.

'So Caster really has been playing me…'

Orlando's face grew serious.

...

Elsewhere in Snowfield, Alexandre Dumas shivered.

"…Who the hell is talking about me?"

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