Just as Ai Yoshizawa had mocked, Shunsuke Miyano had indeed wallowed in a depraved orgy unlike anything most people could even conceive, let alone experience—a frenzy unparalleled in both the quality and quantity of its participants. A relentless fucking spree, enacted under the constant threat of death itself. Now, he and those same stunning partners were locked as mortal enemies in this perverse war, poised to fight ruthlessly over an uncompromising prize.
Yet, among them, only Shunsuke fought solely for his own survival. A victim thrust into a nightmare, he couldn't even turn to mundane authorities for justice. If he stumbled into a police station babbling about magical grails and goddesses demanding ritualistic orgies until death, the kind officers would pity his broken mind, maybe offer a referral, but never believe a syllable. Appealing to the Magus Association's Clock Tower was even more unthinkable; he'd be dissected or erased for revealing the Grail's existence. As a fringe member of a fallen magus family, Shunsuke knew enough about the merciless cruelty of their hidden world. This was the price magi paid for their power, transcending mundane laws. Reluctantly, brutally, Shunsuke had to accept this reality and navigate the treacherous path laid out for him during that unsettling truce talk.
His only way out, tragically, was to win this obscene Grail War. Losing meant annihilation. Yet, fortune, twisted by the Aphrodite Grail's sick sense of humor, seemed to have leveled the playing field. Its focus on raw carnal struggle stripped away much of the advantage Rin's, Luvia's, and Ai's superior magical talents might have granted. Without sorcery dictating the outcome, Shunsuke, as a physically trained male, theoretically possessed the stamina to compete, even dominate. Though recalling the overwhelming power that had surged through him in the shed—fueled by the Grail or something innate?—he suspected 'normal' endurance might not be enough. Still, it was something. His only advantage.
"So, my partner—this 'Servant'… can I meet her now?" With the horrifying ground rules established, Shunsuke's immediate concern became his assigned accomplice, the unknown entity bound to his fate.
"Go to the room next door. She's waiting," Luvia replied, her voice regaining its languid, aristocratic drawl. "This mansion is my family's private residence, a temporary neutral zone. Tomorrow morning, my maids will escort you all out. Then, the battle for the Grail officially commences. I advise you to use this time wisely to confer with your Servant. Don't blame this young lady later for not warning you."
"Understood." Shunsuke turned towards Rin, opening his mouth, but she immediately raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Save it. We are adversaries. I desire no further unnecessary interaction with you," Rin declared, flipping her twin-tails dismissively, her expression radiating pure revulsion and defiance. "I will obtain this Holy Grail. Whatever the cost!" The finality in her voice extinguished any lingering hope Shunsuke might have held for alliance or understanding. His face hardened, accepting the harsh reality. He was truly alone, save for the stranger waiting next door.
Leaving the heavy atmosphere of the room, Shunsuke walked down the opulent corridor of Luvia's mansion—ornate chandeliers hung from high ceilings, casting light on plush carpets and expensive wall hangings. It was every bit the oligarch's den. Reaching the indicated door, he pushed open the heavy wood panel. Inside, the room mirrored the last, dimly lit by flickering candles, casting long, dancing shadows. But his attention wasn't on the decor. It was riveted, instantly and utterly, to the figure on the large bed dominating the room.
A voluptuous, almost violently feminine form was positioned on all fours in the center of the mattress, facing away from him. She was… riding the bed. Humping it with a powerful, rhythmic intensity, her hips bucking and grinding against the bare linen. Long, deep purple hair cascaded down her back, swaying wildly with her exertions. Her enormous, pale breasts swung heavily, unbound and unrestrained, while her perfectly rounded, snow-white ass clenched and pulsed with each powerful thrust. The bed springs creaked a frantic rhythm—squeak-thump, squeak-thump—under her forceful movements, mingling with her soft, breathless pants and low moans, sounds filled with an unnerving blend of exertion and aching pleasure. It was a scene of grotesque yet hypnotically erotic solitude.
Shunsuke stood frozen, watching in silence as the woman continued her bizarre 'warm-up', her entire body a coiled spring of power and contained sensuality. Sweat sheened on the small of her back, catching the candlelight. Finally, her frantic movements slowed, ceased. She turned her head, her face emerging from the curtain of swaying purple hair, and fixed him with a gaze that punched the air from his lungs. An impossibly beautiful face, sculpted perfection marred only by the chilling depth of resentment, almost hatred—burning in her otherworldly eyes. That look, combined with her exquisitely sculpted features, seared itself into Shunsuke's mind.
Then, she shifted, turning sideways on the bed, giving him the full, breathtaking view. Shunsuke's jaw dropped slightly. Her breasts were staggering—immense, perfectly spherical, heavy orbs of pale flesh that defied gravity, tipped with delicate pink nipples that hardened visibly under his gaze, like perverse invitations. Despite the monumental size of her bosom and the generous curve of her hips, her waist was impossibly slender, emphasizing the dramatic hourglass shape. The long, lustrous purple hair, parted in the middle, framed her face and spilled over her shoulders and onto the heavy swells of her breasts, shimmering with an unnatural, ethereal glow in the candlelight. Her entire, obscenely bountiful body was offered to his gaze, naked and potent, triggering a jolt of terrifyingly familiar lust deep within him. He remembered this body—the weight of those breasts, the feel of those hips clamped around his waist…
"Are you… practicing?" It was the only coherent thought Shunsuke could manage, the first words breaking the charged silence.
"Even the most ignorant beast knows to sharpen its claws before the hunt," the woman murmured, her voice a low, resonant contralto, her gaze drifting towards the mattress she'd been abusing. "Even for a 'war' as foul, as laughable as this… the Grail itself is real." She paused, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "But… I cannot recapture the feeling from back then."
"Back then?" Shunsuke asked, taking a hesitant step closer.
"The overpowering sensations of being invaded… violated by you. The hatred… mingled with the climax," she stated with chilling calmness, her eyes meeting his again, pinning him in place. "Supposedly the only value in this Grail granting me flesh." She practically spat the words.
Shunsuke flinched. Clearing his throat, he tried to regain control. "Right… Anyway… what's your name?"
"Gorgon," she replied flatly. "My Class is—irrelevant. Utterly meaningless for this contest."
"Gorgon… like the monster? Luvia mentioned Servants could be summoned from history or myth…" Shunsuke felt a chill despite the room's warmth. He forced himself closer. "I'm Shunsuke Miyano. Your Master, I guess. Though I'm useless, barely any magic ability at all."
"Your magical pathways are indeed negligible," Gorgon confirmed, her voice devoid of inflection. "A brutally honest self-assessment."
"Ah… haha. Right. Sorry about that…" Shunsuke offered weakly.
Gorgon merely stared at him, silent again, her long purple tresses pooling around her on the white sheets. The intensity of her gaze, like that of a deeply wronged concubine trapped in a gilded cage, made Shunsuke's heart pound erratically. Finally, she spoke again, her voice thick with disappointment. "Why? Why was I assigned to you?" she demanded, looking past him as if addressing the Grail itself. "Must even this defective, mocking cup torment me further in this manner?"
"...You really want to win this?" Shunsuke asked softly, sensing the raw desperation beneath her anger.
"At the very least," her voice trembled slightly, betraying the depth of her feeling, "I wish to alter the predetermined fate of my dear sisters… their deaths by attrition, by slow withering…" From those words, Shunsuke felt an emotional intensity mirroring Rin's and Luvia's, but laced with ancient sorrow rather than ambition.
"...Can the Grail truly grant that?"
"It is a flawed Grail, yes, but still an omnipotent wish-granting device," Gorgon explained, her gaze turning distant, nihilistic. "All things eventually return to the Root, yet the Grail is an aberration. Those unwilling to vanish cling to their regrets, becoming Heroic Spirits, enslaved by it. The greatest magi, the most legendary heroes… all would gamble everything for its power." She looked back at Shunsuke, a spark of cold curiosity in her eyes. "Compared to them, the fact that you were dragged into this war yet remain largely untouched by its temptations… is perhaps the only thing about you that vaguely impresses me."
"Untouched by its temptations…"
"Perhaps that is also why it wishes you dead," Gorgon mused, echoing Luvia's and Ai's assessment despite presumably never having spoken to them. "You lack the inherent wickedness it favors. Even your desires are insultingly 'normal', faint." Her lip curled in a sneer. "But regardless of your nature, why force me to serve you? Even that girl with the thin magic circuits possesses more avarice, more drive to seize this prize than you! And yet, I am shackled to…"
Her venomous expression made it clear: the Grail's Master-Servant pairings ignored the participants' wishes entirely. Gorgon burned with the desire to win—Servants shared in the Grail's reward, after all—yet she was bound to Shunsuke, the participant with the weakest motivation and arguably the least compatibility with the Grail's perverse demands. Power levels aside, his lack of willpower was a critical disadvantage.
Furthermore, while Shunsuke was male, his advantage wasn't absolute. He was still fundamentally human; he could be fucked into exhaustion, drained dry, pushed to the brink of death. The events in the shed were undeniable proof. Even in this twisted, sexually charged ritual, if those brilliant, ruthless girls unleashed their full magical potential and strategic cunning—potentially enhanced by their own Servants—the odds of the reluctant, outmatched Shunsuke achieving victory seemed vanishingly small.
No wonder Gorgon radiated such profound despair and resentment. Facing her palpable disappointment, Shunsuke knew there was only one path forward. Clenching his fists, he met her furious, desolate gaze.
"Sitting here wallowing in despair won't help either of us," he stated, his voice firmer than he felt. "We need to figure out how to fight back. Let's start planning our tactics."