I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit

This bonus chapter is a small gift—may it bring you a touch of tranquility.

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"The labyrinth was the work of Daedalus—the 'inescapable maze'—a true relic of the Age of Gods," Avicebron began.

"As a creation of that era, it was an unparalleled material for my automaton. No, to be precise, nothing in the modern age could surpass it in suitability."

"And after Asterios's death, his claim over the labyrinth was void. Using it as material for my greatest aspiration before it dissipated—truly a stroke of genius!"

Avicebron's excitement was palpable, and his normally sparse speech grew uncharacteristically verbose.

"With the issue of materials resolved, only one problem remains: the core. What did the other me use as the core?"

Artoria fell silent. Her emerald eyes, tranquil as still waters, reflected Avicebron's masked figure.

Those eyes, clear and serene, seemed to calm Avicebron's previously racing thoughts. Slowly, he pieced together the answer.

"…The other me… used himself as the core, didn't he?"

In addition to vast quantities of materials, Golem Keter Malkuth required a mage to serve as its core. The quality and compatibility of the mage directly determined the Noble Phantasm's strength.

In this war, Avicebron had planned to use a homunculus with exceptional aptitude as the core. However, his efforts had been in vain—every homunculus he tested had been rendered unusable.

If only he could capture a Master from the Red Faction. After all, anyone chosen as a Master by the Grail would have the necessary magical aptitude to serve as the core.

Though such a method was inhumane, Avicebron wouldn't hesitate. His life's work was at hand, and he wasn't above making such sacrifices to see it completed.

But now, everything made sense.

"This explains why you came to thank me, after taking such a roundabout path," Avicebron murmured. "The other me sacrificed himself to activate Golem Keter Malkuth, didn't he? Did he hand over control of the Noble Phantasm to your group?"

He couldn't comprehend it. He simply couldn't understand.

The hope to save mankind—the ultimate realization of his dream—and yet, the other him had entrusted it to someone else?

What was he thinking? Why would he make such a choice?

Then, Avicebron recalled something Artoria had said earlier.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can truly understand. Empathy is the greatest lie… Without experiencing the same struggles, I can never truly share your feelings."

So, it's the same for you, isn't it?

Experiences I haven't had. People I haven't met.

They were both Avicebron, yet they were two individuals who had lived through different circumstances.

The strange magic of Heroic Spirits—the paradox of being alike yet distinct.

For the first time, Avicebron felt a pang of curiosity about what the other version of himself had endured to make such a decision: to entrust the culmination of his life's work to others.

Before he could voice his question, a shout came from outside the door.

"Teacher! Teacher! Are you in there?"

Both Artoria and Avicebron glanced toward the door before looking back at each other.

"Your student?" Artoria asked.

"My Master," Avicebron replied.

Avicebron's Master—Roche—was likely the youngest Master in this Holy Grail War. Innocent and playful, he lacked the scheming nature common among magi.

Roche adored automata, making him an ideal partner for Avicebron. He revered the Caster as his most respected teacher, and building automata together had become his greatest joy.

Avicebron's wish was to create Golem Keter Malkuth, while Roche's wish was to help his teacher achieve that goal. It was this sincerity that made Roche special to Avicebron. Though he would never admit it, the Caster truly cared for his Master.

"You seem quite fond of him," Artoria noted. Though she couldn't see his expression, she felt certain of her observation.

"Fond… perhaps," Avicebron replied, his tone layered with complexity. "But my gaze is fixed solely on completing the Original Man, Adam."

Meanwhile, Roche's voice continued outside the door.

"Teacher! Why did you leave for so long? There are so many steps that still need your wisdom!"

"It seems our conversation must end here. You appear to have much work awaiting you," Artoria said, rising from her chair. "My apologies for taking so much of your time."

"No, it's I who should apologize," Avicebron replied, also standing. "Thank you for sharing so much with me."

He called out to Roche to assure him and then turned back to Artoria.

"When are you leaving? After all, you are only staying here as a Ruler, not as an ally of the Black Faction."

"I plan to leave tonight, once darkness falls," Artoria answered.

Avicebron nodded. He clearly wished to learn more about the other version of himself but knew there might not be another opportunity if Artoria left so soon.

As Artoria headed for the door, she suddenly stopped halfway and turned back.

"Oh, one more thing. There's something else I'd like to tell you."

Her gaze locked onto Avicebron. Though he couldn't describe it, her expression carried a gravity that compelled him to stand straighter, sensing the importance of what she was about to say.

"It's something… that the other Avicebron said to me before his disappearance—a confession as one burdened by sin."

"In a heavy tone, he told me… that he had killed a child."

Avicebron's heart skipped a beat, shaken by her words.

"He said that as a Servant, killing is unavoidable. After all, the Holy Grail War is a ritual fueled by the selfish desires of magi. Even those with clean hands in life may find them stained as Servants."

"But he admitted that among all the atrocities he had committed, one was particularly heinous."

"Avicebron's great wish was to recreate the Original Man and build Eden to save the suffering. For this, he trampled on his dignity and morality."

"He… killed the child who was his Master."

"Being summoned as a Servant, he retained only a record of this event. He could no longer remember the child's face or name. Despite committing such a monstrous act, those details were lost to him."

"Yet, the record of this crime remained engraved in his Spirit Origin, serving as a constant torment—a reminder that, in the end, he was no different from the magi who surrendered to their desires."

"At the time, he believed his actions were the right choice. And yet… the guilt has haunted him ever since."

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T/N: god this is why this story is like my favorite

Ah, Reader. You've stayed for the bonus chapter—how delightful.

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— Ei