Author's Note:
This special chapter is not connected to the main storyline and happened in the alternative universe.
The story will be told from a third-person point of view.
This is a special chapter to celebrate this book reaching 35 chapters! Honestly, I never thought I'd make it this far, so I figured—why not have a little fun to mark the occasion?
This chapter is dedicated entirely to comedy and slice-of-life moments, with maybe a sprinkle of action here and there.
Also, there will be many I repeat MANY OC(original characters) making an appearance—someone I created quite a while ago.
And sorry if I didn't explain my OC appearance correctly.
If there are any moments where canon Servants seem a bit off from their Canon personalities... my apologies! I'm making their personality like that, because my personal impression.
Like I said, this chapter is purely meant to be fun, lighthearted, and full of character-driven interactions.
So sit back, relax, and enjoy this little detour!
And could you tell me your opinion about this chapter when you finished reading?
***
Side Story: Christmas at Chaldea
Year ????
Snow fell gently outside Chaldea's protective dome, blanketing the frozen world in a soothing white glow.
Though the world had yet to fully recover from crisis after crisis, inside the Chaldea facility, a different kind of warmth began to spread—a warmth that came only once a year.
Christmas was approaching.
The usually quiet and sterile halls of Chaldea had started to fill with color.
Shimmering ornaments, twinkling lights, and towering pine trees appeared in every corner of the facility.
Soft classical Christmas music played from the speakers, adding a touch of peace amid the never-ending daily activities.
The Servants and Chaldea staff welcomed the atmosphere in their own unique ways.
Mash Kyrielight walked down the corridor with a gentle smile on her face, carrying a box of decorations by herself toward the cafeteria.
Her face lit up each time she saw a new ornament being hung.
"A scene like this… feels warm, even if it's freezing outside," she whispered.
...
Cafeteria – Chaldea
The cafeteria, usually filled only with the sounds of clinking cutlery and footsteps, had transformed into a warm and lively hub of activity.
The aroma of hot chocolate, sweet spices, and toasted bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and lively chatter.
Tiny lights were being strung along the walls, while soft artificial snow was scattered as decoration.
At the center of the cafeteria stood a massive Christmas tree, not yet fully decorated.
Some ornaments still lay scattered on the floor—red and gold glass balls, ribbons, and little bells waiting to be hung.
Fujimaru Ritsuka (Gudao) and a few Chaldea staff members were climbing a small ladder to place a star on the top, while Fou bounced around below trying to "help" by tugging on the decoration strings with its teeth.
Meanwhile, at the seating area, Servants from various eras and backgrounds had gathered around a long table, warm drinks in hand.
But instead of simply relaxing, they were deep in a serious discussion—or rather, a heated debate—about one very important question:
Who should be Santa Claus this year?
"It's obviously me!" Astolfo shouted, raising his hand high. "I already have the costume, and I can ride a horse! That's basically the same as reindeer, right?"
"Being Santa isn't about appearance, it's about sincerity and generosity," Martha replied calmly but firmly. "I believe Saint George would be a better choice."
"Eh? If it's about generosity, wouldn't that make Gilgamesh the perfect pick?" another Servant chimed in—only to be met with a chorus of protests from around the table.
Gilgamesh, who happened to be passing by with a glass of wine, merely glanced over and scoffed. "Santa? Pathetic. That role is for jesters, not kings."
Mordred knocked on the table. "Hold up. How about we decide based on who can distribute gifts the most fairly? I don't mind being Santa, just don't make me wear that ugly red costume."
"But the costume is cute!" chimed Nursery Rhyme from her tiny seat. "And Santa must bring stories that make all children smile!"
The discussion grew livelier. Some Servants began pointing at each other, others tried to push someone else forward.
A few even started drafting passionate arguments, as if it were a real election debate.
Phrases like "Santa must give without expecting anything in return!" and "Santa should be fair to all!" echoed across the room, turning the cafeteria into a campaign arena filled with laughter and cheer.
However, in the corner of the room, slightly separated from the crowd, a young boy sat cross-legged on a chair—as if the whole situation was merely a small stage for him.
His long, silvery-white hair was neatly tied into a high ponytail that swayed behind him with every step, giving him the air of a princely youth.
His sky-blue eyes gleamed with a mischievous light—like someone constantly plotting his next game or test of wit.
His features were refined, yet still retained the softness of a boy not yet in his teens.
He wore a tailored ensemble that looked more like the uniform of an overly confident child detective than that of a Prince of royal lineage.
A dark navy-blue coat with silver trim hung crisply over a pristine white dress shirt, complete with a neatly tied cravat and a gold pin in the shape of a cross.
A dark waistcoat hugged his small frame, fastened with ornate buttons, and beneath it were pressed trousers tucked into polished, knee-high leather boots.
A pair of white gloves and a pocket watch chain completed the eccentric outfit—more suited for a noble child playing at being an adult than a battle-hardened Heroic Spirit.
This was Charles I, a Servant of the Ruler class. And yet, judging by his playful posture, smug smile, and theatrical flair, few would believe it upon first glance.
Technically, he was a king. In history, it was said that Charles I unified Scotland, Ireland, and England, creating what would later be known as the United Kingdom.
But now, in Chaldea, he was better known as the "little king" who talked big far too often.
Suddenly, Charles stood on his chair—without warning and for no apparent reason—and raised one hand high like a child eager to show something to the teacher.
"Hey! Hey everyone! Listen to me!!" he called out loudly, causing several Servants to stop their conversations and look over in confusion.
Charles proudly pointed to himself, his wide grin nearly outshining the Christmas tree lights.
"As a king chosen directly by God—I repeat, by God!—I am clearly the best choice to be Santa Claus this year! Besides, I know how to give gifts! I once gave a sword I made myself to one of my knights! That's way cooler than dolls or chocolate!"
Some Servants stifled laughter. Others simply sighed, already used to Charles' childlike need for attention.
Next to him, a boy with long black hair tied back and violet eyes sat quietly, sipping his drink.
His face remained expressionless, unchanged since earlier, as if everything around him was nothing more than a passing breeze.
That boy was Kitahara Yuuki, a Servant of the Archer class. A renowned archer from the Sengoku era, he once served as a loyal retainer under the legendary warlord Takeda Shingen. His presence carried the quiet dignity of a battlefield veteran, despite his youthful appearance.
He wore a refined samurai outfit tailored for mobility and precision—his lightweight do-maru armor layered over a dark indigo kimono, reinforced at the shoulders and chest with lacquered plates.
A short crimson haori bearing Takeda's crest fluttered at his back, while his arms were wrapped in cloth guards to steady his bow.
The loose hakama pants allowed swift movement, tucked neatly into shin guards and leather sandals.
Charles turned to him, still standing on the chair, and said dramatically, "Yuuki! Tell them I'd make a great Santa! Come on, you said I was cool during that fight last week, right?"
Yuuki slowly turned to him, stared at Charles for a few seconds without saying a word, then simply shrugged as if to say—'Whatever.'
Charles exaggerated a disappointed expression, plopping back onto the chair with arms crossed and cheeks puffed slightly.
"Geez... you're so cold," he grumbled, though his tone was more of a sulky kid than a regal monarch.
Yet just seconds later, he perked up again and raised his hand high once more. "But I won't give up! I will be Santa this year! Ha! Even the real Santa would be jealous of how cool I am!"
And with that, the debate reignited—this time led by a boy who claimed to be a divine king, with ambitions as grand as the world… and the attitude of a kindergartener playing dress-up.
A few moments of silence lingered in the cafeteria after Charles' enthusiastic declaration.
Then, suddenly, the room erupted again—not with serious debate, but with laughter and teasing full of warmth.
"I can't believe... he's serious?" Mordred said, biting into a gingerbread cookie.
"Santa? That kid?" She pointed at Charles with her thumb and snorted.
"He's not even tall enough to put the star on top of the tree!"
Astolfo, sitting beside her, clapped his hands excitedly.
"But that's what makes it perfect! Imagine Charles in a Santa outfit, walking around Chaldea in a toy train! Let's pick him!" he cheered, brimming with enthusiasm like he was voting for a mascot.
"By the way," Achilles mumbled from the next table, resting his chin on his hand, "isn't Santa supposed to deliver presents quietly? I think our little king would be yelling out loud every time he handed out a gift."
Charles, of course, heard everything. But instead of getting offended, he grinned slyly and said, "I don't need to be quiet! I'm the Grand Santa! My gifts should be announced with fanfare—complete with music and spotlights!"
"In that case, you're not Santa, you're a game show host," Mash chimed in from the doorway, just entering with a box of Christmas ornaments.
"But... I guess this Christmas won't be boring."
Meanwhile, Fran simply raised both her arms, moving her fingers back and forth between the tree and Charles—trying to explain something through gestures.
Mordred glanced at her and chuckled.
"Fran says Charles is better suited to be the tree star than Santa."
Charles looked up, confused. "What do you mean I should be the star...?"
"But Charles... the star usually goes at the very top of the tree," Mordred said with a grin. "You ready to be lifted up there, Little King?"
Charles' face turned pale. "W-Wait! You're not actually—?!"
Without warning, Mordred and Achilles stood up, exchanging mischievous smiles full of intent.
"No! I'm a king! I have dignity! I—HEY! DON'T LIFT ME!!!"
Laughter filled the cafeteria as two powerful Servants attempted to hoist Charles, who kicked and flailed in the air like a child being forced into a bath.
Yuuki still sat calmly, sipping his drink, and said quietly, "Told you. Should've let it go."
And so—Christmas spirit in Chaldea wasn't just about trees and presents, but also about togetherness, laughter, and of course... the sweet chaos that only the unique Servants living there could create.
.
.
.
After the "Charles becomes the Christmas tree star" incident—which ended with Mordred and Achilles getting scolded by Da Vinci for almost knocking down the tree ornaments—the Servants finally decided to settle things in a more… democratic way.
A large board was placed in front of the cafeteria order desk with the words:
"SANTA CHALDEA SELECTION — ONE VOTE FOR ONE CHRISTMAS DREAM"
Mash, who had been appointed as the impromptu committee head by Roman (who chose to "supervise from afar" for his psychological safety), held the ballot papers and began reading out the names of the candidates.
"All right, the first candidate… Charles I," said Mash.
Charles stood with his hands on his hips, chin slightly raised. "Naturally. No one is more fitting."
"Second candidate… Astolfo."
"Me?! Eh? Wah, wah, I didn't nominate myself, but if I'm chosen, I'm ready!" said Astolfo, waving his hands enthusiastically.
"Third candidate… Jeanne Alter Santa Lily."
Everyone turned to look at a quiet little girl sitting in the corner, hugging a sack of toy presents with a calm and slightly confused expression.
"…I didn't nominate myself," she mumbled.
"But you were once Santa," Mash replied calmly. "So you're automatically nominated."
"And the fourth candidate… Mordred."
"WHAT?!" Mordred shouted.
"Accepted!" Achilles yelled as he wrote her name on the board.
.
.
.
Once all candidates were announced, the voting process began.
The Servants came one by one, wrote down their chosen name on a piece of paper, and placed it in the ballot box guarded by Fran (who took her role as "ballot guardian" very seriously).
Every time someone approached, Fran would give a small bow, as if giving her permission.
When it was Yuuki's turn, he simply stared at the box for a few seconds, then wrote something down and slipped it inside.
Charles glanced at him hopefully. "Yuuki! You voted for me, right? You must have voted for me! I mean—"
"Voter confidentiality," Yuuki replied flatly.
Charles immediately winced. "So cruel…"
Once all votes had been collected, Mash stood before the board and began counting. All eyes were on her.
"All right… with the highest number of votes, a total of seven candidate… the winner of the Santa Chaldea selection is…"
Astolfo began an unofficial drumroll by tapping on the table.
"…Astolfo!"
"Huh?!" Astolfo blinked wide-eyed.
"I won...? I won?! But I wasn't even ready! I haven't thought about the gifts! I need to—wait, is this for real?!"
Mash nodded with a smile. "Yes, and you won by a majority."
"How many votes did I get?" Charles asked quickly.
Mash opened one of the ballots. "…two votes."
Charles dropped to the floor, staring blankly ahead. "Two… only two… and one of them is definitely my own…"
Yuuki slowly turned to him and said, "…I voted for Fran."
"…"
"WHAT?!"
.
.
.
In the end, Astolfo was crowned as this year's Santa Chaldea. He enthusiastically began assigning roles: who would help wrap presents, and who would join the caroling.
Charles—still bitter—was forced to join the carolers and sing Padoru songs by Nero, who was very excited about Christmas music.
But when night fell and Chaldea's artificial snow began to drift down, the cafeteria was filled with lights, laughter, and warmth.
Though he didn't win, Charles laughed when Astolfo dramatically handed him a "Santa Medal" for "bravely nominating himself without shame."
And amidst it all, Yuuki simply leaned against the cafeteria wall, watching with a nearly invisible, faint smile.
Christmas in Chaldea might be full of chaos… but it always ends in laughter and togetherness.
...
However, not all Servants welcomed the day with the same spirit.
Amid the cheers and the glowing lights hanging in every corner, there were a few figures who chose to keep their distance from the crowd, sinking into their own solitude.
One of them was Robin of Loxley—a famed Archer known for his calm demeanor.
Unlike the cheerful figures gathered in the cafeteria, Robin walked alone through Chaldea's relatively quiet hallways.
The Christmas lights blinked slowly along the walls, but none of them managed to catch his attention.
His appearance was unassuming: a young boy with a calm face, tousled silver-gray hair, deep blue eyes that were sharp yet weary, and a long dark green cloak that covered most of his body—leaving only his head visible.
His frame was lean, yet slightly taller than Charles I, which occasionally irritated the Ruler boy in secret.
Robin wasn't heading to a party, nor to the place where the other Servants were gathering to exchange presents.
His steps were purposeful and quiet, taking him down the corridor toward one of his favorite places—Chaldea's Combat Simulator.
To Robin, Christmas was just another day. He didn't hate the celebration, but he didn't feel the need to be part of it either.
There was something about the sound of laughter and sparkling lights that felt too distant from his life as a knight who had once devoted himself to his King.
Christmas Eve, to him, was the perfect time to train.
To escape the noise for a while, and perhaps...
to quiet the thoughts he didn't want to remember.
After a while, Robin's steps came to a halt.
Not from fatigue, nor hesitation.
But because, at the end of the empty corridor, two figures were already standing.
The dim corridor lights cast faint shadows behind them, creating long silhouettes along Chaldea's white walls.
The girl stood with her back to Robin, her small frame barely moving.
In front of her, a boy stood calmly, his mouth moving as if speaking about something.
They looked to be around the same age.
Just beside them, the door to the Combat Simulator remained firmly shut.
Robin watched them silently.
The girl had pale short white hair, and her eyes were a glowing light green, like glass touched by morning sunlight.
Her outfit seemed ill-suited for a child her age—too revealing, too provocative. But Robin knew that appearance was not just an aesthetic choice.
She was Jack the Ripper.
An Assassin-class Servant, the infamous serial killer immortalized in whispers of fear.
Within that small child's body lay a collision of cruelty and innocence—terrifying and tragic all at once.
Standing in front of her was a boy, no less striking.
His hair was neat, his eyes sharp like porcelain dolls, and he wore a formal 18th-century suit, complete with a small vest and polished black leather shoes.
Unlike Jack, this boy carried a calmer aura, though no less mysterious.
His name was Hart.
Known in history as a genius wooden puppet maker, with works that seemed to possess souls of their own and spectacular puppet performances.
Now, he appeared as a Caster-class Servant, bearing the title "The Puppeteer."
They seemed to be conversing in hushed voices, words that didn't reach Robin's ears.
But once they noticed his presence, the two slowly turned to face him.
Jack's light green eyes stared at Robin without blinking, her expression unreadable.
Hart's expression, meanwhile, remained calm.
The corridor suddenly felt colder.
Not because of a threat... but because the silence between them held too many unspoken things.
Robin merely raised an eyebrow slightly, then let out a soft sigh.
His shoulders sank a little with the exhale, showing either fatigue or perhaps just the kind of boredom that was a regular part of his life.
"…You two planning to use the simulator too?" he finally asked, in his usual laid-back tone.
His voice was calm, yet nearly drowned in the emptiness of the hallway.
Still, his eyes remained alert, shifting from Jack to Hart, then back again.
Several seconds passed before one of them responded.
It was Hart who finally spoke.
The boy turned fully toward Robin, a faint smile curling on his pale lips—a smile that looked polite, but not entirely readable, as if it could be genuine or just a social habit.
"Not really," Hart replied in a soft and measured tone, almost like he was reciting poetry. "We just finished in the simulator. We were simply discussing our performance."
He slowly raised a hand, mimicking the motion of positioning a puppet on a stage.
"There's much to evaluate, especially regarding attack rhythm and movement coordination. Jack was a little too fast with her finishing move, and I may have been too focused on my magic lock patterns," he continued with a light chuckle.
Jack still didn't say a word. She just stood there, staring at Robin with blank, unreadable eyes—not hostile, more like someone waiting for their turn to speak… or strike, if needed.
Robin shifted his gaze away, clicking his tongue quietly.
"So, you two treat training like… a stage performance?" he asked, half-mocking, though without any real malice.
Hart chuckled softly, giving a small nod.
"Every battle has its composition. Rhythm. Structure. If you can orchestrate it like music… then chaos becomes art."
Robin muttered something unintelligible—either a scoff or a lazy sigh—before turning his face away, now staring at the Combat Simulator door just a few steps ahead.
His dark blue eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the dim hallway light.
"Well then… I guess it's my turn to play," he said flatly, almost like he was speaking to himself.
Hart nodded lightly, like an observer who knew when it was time to leave the stage.
"Of course," he replied with the same calm, courteous tone, as if they were exchanging turns at an instrument rather than a combat simulator.
"Come, Jack."
The short white-haired girl didn't say a word, only gave a small nod and quietly followed Hart.
Her movements were light, almost like a shadow gliding across the corridor floor.
They walked slowly past Robin, their steps barely audible—contrasting with the silence that grew even heavier as they moved away.
There were no parting words, no lingering glances.
Only the quiet moment hanging in the air as Robin stood alone in front of the simulator door.
Once they disappeared around the corner, Robin took a deep breath, then pushed open the heavy simulator door and stepped inside.
No audience, no performance review—just him and the targets to shoot.
…
Chaldea, a facility that housed dozens—no, hundreds—of Servants from various ages and legends, had grown far beyond its original form.
In the beginning, there were only two main places that served as gathering spots for Servants: the Combat Simulator, where they could unleash their battle instincts and sharpen their skills, and the Cafeteria, the center of all casual interaction, discussion, and—of course—food.
But as time passed and more Servants were summoned to Chaldea, the need for varied entertainment increased.
Some started complaining about the dull routines; others nearly caused chaos from the lack of non-combat activities.
In response, Chaldea expanded its facilities.
From a European-style bar for veteran knights and mature souls, to a small, glittering casino for those who liked testing their luck.
But among all these, one stood out as unique and unexpected: the Arcade.
This place wasn't built upon Servant requests, but because the Chaldea staff themselves began to feel the strain of their work and the moral weight of their responsibilities.
They needed an escape—and thus, the idea of a digital entertainment room was born.
Even so, it quickly caught the attention of the Servants. Many came out of curiosity, and soon found themselves hooked.
Here, the difference in eras melted away—where legendary kings, shadowy assassins, scientists, and gods from mythology could sit side by side playing modern consoles, computer or classic arcade machines.
The Arcade wasn't just a place to play; it was a space between battles and reality, where laughter and competition could bloom without the risk of death.
And it was here that another story was about to begin.
...
Arcade - Chaldea.
This place was usually filled with neon lights, the excited tapping of buttons, and the cheerful laughter of Servants blowing off steam from training and battles. But tonight was different.
Most of the staff and Servants were attending the Christmas celebration being held in the cafeteria. Music, food, and joy filled the air… except in this quiet corner.
The Arcade room was lit only by the soft glow of monitors and idle game machines. And among all the empty chairs and abandoned controllers—there was one Servant who remained.
Chailvier Don Quixote.
Yes, that's how she introduced herself—with full confidence that she was a true knight.
Those who saw her for the first time would often frown, assuming she was just an eccentric young girl.
Black hair with bright purple highlights, a white beanie with a cross emblem, a loose hoodie that hid her slim figure, thick boots paired with strapped shorts, and striking pink eyes.
Her gaze was sharp, full of determination… and a bit of frustration.
Many doubted her status as a knight. But Chailvier didn't give a damn.
She had a Noble Phantasm that could transform her outfit into a grand, majestic knight's armor—a dazzling transformation that made her doubters eat their words.
But even a knight could be defeated by one enemy: gacha games.
"…Ya gotta be kiddin' me," she muttered, staring at the monitor with a dark expression.
Her hand gripped the mouse, trembling, eyes fixed on her hundredth pull that still hadn't brought her the five-star character she wanted.
The Lancer class was infamous for its bad luck… and apparently, that curse extended into the digital world.
Chailvier bit her lower lip, then leaned back in her seat with a long sigh. "I've fought a freakin' giant windmills and won. But how the hell am I losin' to a measly 0.7% rate?"
She then click the-ten pull again.
The monitor lit up again, displaying the words "Better luck next time."
"…Ya messin' with me."
Not believing the result, she clicked for another ten-pull.
The monitor showed another painful result: not a single five-star character.
Just a string of numbers, fake sparkles, and the same annoying "Better luck next time."
She exhaled deeply. Her hands went limp on the table.
Her fingers trembled, unsure if it was from anger or from all the digital currency she'd sacrificed… never to return.
And just as she was about to curse her luck more loudly—
"One hundred and twenty rolls and still nothing? That's just sad."
A light, almost cheerful voice came from right behind her.
Chailvier froze. She turned slowly, her face showing a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a little… annoyed.
Standing behind her was a red-haired girl with a short side ponytail, wearing Chaldea's winter coat, arms crossed, and a mischievous smile on her lips.
Fujimaru Ritsuka (Gudako), her Master.
In Chaldea, there were two main Masters.
Interestingly, they shared the same name, but had opposite genders. Because of this, people usually referred to them as Gudao and Gudako.
Chailvier scowled, quickly turning off the monitor—though it was clearly too late.
"…Ya peeked, didn't ya?"
Ritsuka (Gudako) giggled. "Peeked? You almost screamed when you failed that pull. I think half of Chaldea can heard it."
She stepped forward, leaning against the edge of the arcade table, eyeing the pile of empty snacks and energy drink bottles scattered around.
"Chailvier, you've been holed up in here since last night, haven't you?"
The Lancer girl just snorted, turning away lazily. "I'm… trainin' me luck, that's all."
"By challenging RNG and losing every time?" Ritsuka grinned and gave Chailvier a light pat on the shoulder.
"Ugh, yer such a pain," Chailvier groaned, hugging her knees on the chair.
"But you're adorable when you fail that bad. Want me to take a picture? For the legendary knight's defeat archive?"
"Master…!"
Ritsuka (Gudako) laughed, finally sitting in the chair next to her.
Once her smile faded, she looked at Chailvier gently. "Listen, I know you like this place. But tonight is Christmas Eve. I want you to come to the cafeteria and enjoy the celebration."
Chailvier blinked slowly. "Why? I ain't really into loud, rowdy stuff like that."
"You said the same thing last year. then you stayed up all night here chasing a virtual character."
Ritsuka (Gudako) sighed softly. "I think it's better if you stay up eating cake, trading presents, and playing dumb games with everyone else."
Chailvier glanced at her now-dark monitor, then back at her Master. There was a warmth in those words—something hard to refuse, even if reluctantly.
She finally crossed her arms and gave a small nod. "If ya insist… fine. But I ain't promisin' I'll have fun."
"That's okay. What matters is you show up." Ritsuka (Gudako) stood and held out her hand.
After a few seconds, Chailvier took it with a reluctant but steady grip.
As they walked out of the Arcade, the distant lights of the Christmas celebration began to twinkle into view, replacing the fading neon glow of the machines behind them.
.
.
.
The walk to the cafeteria was quiet.
Chailvier and Ritsuka's footsteps echoed softly along Chaldea's quiet corridors.
Most of the lights were dimmed, leaving only the faint glow that cast long shadows on the floor.
There was no sound besides the distant hum of the cooling system and the occasional creak of the metal beneath their shoes.
No one spoke.
Not because it was awkward. Quite the opposite—the silence felt comfortable. Like two people who didn't need words to acknowledge each other's presence.
But as they passed the door labeled Combat Simulator, Chailvier suddenly stopped.
She narrowed her eyes, glancing toward the tightly shut door, her brow furrowing slightly. A faint but strong Servant aura was leaking from behind the wall.
"…Someone's in there," she muttered.
Ritsuka (Gudako) also stopped, staring at the door briefly. She stayed silent for a moment, thinking, then nodded lightly.
"Hmm… at this hour… probably Robin."
Chailvier tilted her head. "That guy? Why's he still hangin' around here?"
"He likes quiet places," Ritsuka (Gudako) replied with a shrug. "And honestly, I kinda suspect he's just avoiding the crowd."
She smirked, then turned to Chailvier. "How about we go kidnap him?"
Chailvier paused for a moment, then took a deep breath like it was some difficult mission. "If ya say so… then fine."
Without waiting any longer, the two of them entered the combat simulator.
...
Combat Simulator – Chaldea
As the door opened and they stepped inside, the world around them shifted.
A forest.
The simulator changed drastically, revealing a scene of tall, dense trees shrouded in a light mist.
The air was damp, and faint birdsong could be heard, creating the illusion that they were truly standing in the heart of a medieval English woodland.
Ritsuka (Gudako) stepped forward first. Her shoes crunched lightly on the digital leaf-covered ground, her eyes scanning the surroundings as she raised her voice.
"Robin! I know you're here! I've come to peacefully kidnap you!"
A moment of silence followed. Then, from behind the shadow of a large tree, a young boy appeared with a lazy smile and a yawn.
"I think you guys took the wrong door, This isn't the cafeteria," said Robin, leaning against a tree trunk, his hand loosely holding his bow.
Ritsuka crossed her arms and looked at him patiently.
"Robin, there's a Christmas party tonight at the cafeteria. And yes, I came here to pick you up. Don't tell me you'd rather be alone here than eat cake and drink hot cocoa with everyone else?"
Robin just shrugged.
"Yeah. I like the forest more. It's quiet, no crowds, no carols… and most importantly, no one's forcing me to wear some ridiculous hoodie."
Chailvier, standing behind Ritsuka, scoffed sharply. "Absolutely stunning. Turns out the legendary archer from Round of Lionheart is more of a coward than I thought."
Robin turned to her with a teasing grin.
"And I thought the little Don Quixote wasn't joining the party 'cause she was too busy pulling gacha for some virtual characters."
"I oughta stab ya right now, y'know." Chailvier replied with an irritated glare.
"Feel free. I've got thirty arrows waiting for you." Robin said with a thin smile.
Tension instantly filled the air, though Ritsuka (Gudako) seemed immune to this sort of exchange.
She let out a deep sigh as Chailvier—her face flushed and visibly annoyed—turned to her and said:
"Master, please use yer Command Spell. Now. Make that brat come with us."
But Ritsuka (Gudako) simply raised her hand and showed the Command Spells.
"Can't. Unfortunately, Robin isn't my Servant."
Chailvier fell silent for a second, her expression shifting to surprise before realization hit her.
"Oh, right," she muttered under her breath, then clicked her tongue in frustration.
In Chaldea, the Servants were divided into two major groups—not out of conflict, but simply because there were too many for one Master to handle.
Thus, Fujimaru the Gudao and Ritsuka the Gudako split the responsibility.
Ritsuka (Gudako)'s Servants included: Chailvier Don Quixote, Red Hare, Charles I, Nero Claudius, Astolfo, Heracles, Okita Souji, Enkidu, Sasaki Kojiro, Zhuge Liang (El-Melloi II), Alexander the Great, and others.
Meanwhile, Fujimaru (Gudao)'s Servants included: Robin of Loxley, Kitahara Yuki, Ushiwakamaru, Romulus, Hart, Jack the Ripper, Oda Nobunaga, Gilgamesh, Miyamoto Musashi, Archer (Emiya), Iskandar, and many more.
"So, he's not under my contract. I can't command him, let alone force him," Ritsuka (Gudako) said with a helpless smile, then turned back to Robin.
"But I thought… it would be nice if you came. At least, for the sake of togetherness."
Robin looked at her. His usual relaxed gaze disappeared, replaced by something deeper.
"…In that case," he said quietly, "fight me first."
Chailvier raised an eyebrow, then gave a sharp snort.
"Cheeky brat… challengin' my Master? I ain't lettin' that slide! Seems like yer ready to taste my lance!"
With a single fluid motion, magic surged from her body. Her hoodie, white beanie, and boots vanished instantly, replaced by shining knightly armor that covered her from neck to toe. Its design was elegant and sturdy, radiating nobility and strength.
Yet, no helmet adorned her head—Chailvier's face remained visible, showing a confident expression framed by her black hair with bright purple highlights and glowing pink eyes brimming with battle spirit.
In her hands, a long spear appeared, glowing faintly as if polished by enchantment. Her signature weapon.
Chailvier Don Quixote was no longer just a gamer girl sitting in front of a monitor. Now, she stood as a true knight—despite her petite frame and appearance far removed from the classic image of a war-hardened soldier.
"Come on, Robin of Loxley," she declared boldly, grinning. "If ya ain't got the guts to show up for a party, at least prove yer courage right here!"
Robin chuckled briefly, then pulled an arrow from behind his back. "Sure… why not?"
Ritsuka (Gudako) could only rub her forehead and mutter,
"A peaceful Christmas? Yeah, right…"
With a wry smile, Ritsuka (Gudako) took a few steps back, giving space to the two Servants now facing each other.
The forest within the Combat Simulator fell silent, the only sound the rustling wind among the trees, carrying the tension between them.
Chailvier gripped her spear with both hands. She leaned forward slightly, taking a defensive stance—but the look in her eyes said one thing clearly: "I'm going to strike first."
Robin, on the other hand, remained relaxed—but Ritsuka (Gudako) knew well, that was exactly his style. He lowered himself slightly, one knee bent, already gripping an arrow and ready to fire at any moment.
And then—
"Hyaahh!"
Chailvier charged in first. Her steps were swift and steady; even with her heavy armor, she moved as if her body were light as air. Her spear thrust forward in a horizontal jab, aimed straight at Robin's stomach.
But Robin jumped to the side, dodging with the agility unique to a forest hunter.
In one quick motion, he countered by firing an arrow at Chailvier's legs, hoping to throw off her balance.
But the girl shifted her body, letting the arrow bury itself harmlessly in the ground.
"Not bad," Robin murmured. "But can you be a bit faster?"
Chailvier didn't answer. Instead, she struck again—this time with a low sweeping slash from her spear, trying to knock Robin down.
Robin leapt into the air, and before landing, he fired two arrows in quick succession.
One of them nearly grazed Chailvier's shoulder, but the knight's armor deflected it with a loud metallic clang.
Clang!
"I ain't playin' 'round, Robin!" Chailvier shouted as she launched another attack. She began to spin her spear, building momentum with a flurry of blows that forced Robin to keep dodging.
But in the midst of that storm of strikes, Robin suddenly darted forward, entering dangerously close range, and—
Smack!
He used his bow as a blunt weapon, striking Chailvier's shoulder shield. Not enough to knock her down, but enough to create an opening.
Robin jumped back again, exhaling as he drew a special arrow—his trademark poisoned shot.
"Poisoned arrow, huh?" Chailvier narrowed her eyes. She started to channel magic into her spear.
A faint blue aura began to swirl around the weapon, a sign that she too was ready to unleash her full power—though she hadn't released it just yet.
They stared at each other for a moment, their breaths steady but tense.
"If we keep this up... we're gonna wreck this simulator," Robin joked, half-seriously.
Chailvier shrugged. "Wouldn't that be the best bloody Christmas present?"
Ritsuka (Gudako), who had been sitting on a rock nearby, cut in with an exhausted voice, "Do you guys realize this was just supposed to be a casual Christmas invite? Not a deathmatch?"
Robin and Chailvier looked at each other—and almost at the same time, they chuckled softly.
Their fight wasn't truly over, but both of them knew: they were equals. Neither superior, neither defeated. And maybe... that was enough for tonight.
Robin lowered his bow. "Alright... I'll come. But don't expect me to be all smiles."
Chailvier let her spear dissolve back into mana particles, and deactivated her Noble Phantasm—her heavy armor transforming into a hoodie, a white beanie, and the boots she had worn before.
"Deal," she said. "Long as ya don't run off 'fore eatin' the damn cake."
Ritsuka (Gudako) stood up, clapping her hands. "Finally! Now come on, before the others drink all the hot chocolate."
And with that, the three of them walked out of the virtual forest, heading toward the celebration that awaited them in the real world.
...
Cafeteria – Chaldea.
The atmosphere in Chaldea's cafeteria that night was warm and cozy, bathed in the soft glow of hanging lights and accompanied by the gentle strains of Christmas carols in the background.
The air was filled with the aroma of sweet pastries, hot chocolate, and spices, bringing a sense of comfort and warmth that contrasted with the snow gently falling outside the facility.
At the center of the room stood a giant Christmas tree, decorated with sparkling ornaments, red ribbons, and twinkling lights.
Near the tree, Nero Claudius stood gracefully in her festive dress, singing Christmas songs with a cheerful voice, occasionally accompanied—grudgingly but enthusiastically—by Charles I, who sang along despite himself.
At one of the long tables, several Servants were chatting, sharing stories of the gifts they hoped to receive.
Light laughter and relaxed conversations filled the space, creating an atmosphere of familial warmth.
Not far away, Mordred lay slumped over a table, her face buried in an empty plate, having lost spectacularly in a cake-eating contest against her "father," Artoria Pendragon.
The King of Knight remained calm and composed, continuing to eat her cake with a steady rhythm—one bite, then a sip of tea. Her expression was stoic, almost like an unmoving marble statue.
She paid no attention whatsoever to Mordred, who had collapsed ten plates ago, her face planted on the table in defeat.
However, just as Artoria reached for the next slice, her eyes caught a movement.
Someone approached with steady steps and sat down across from her without a single word.
That person—or rather, that figure—was none other than herself, in a darker, colder form: Artoria Pendragon (Alter).
Their eyes met across the table. Neither spoke, but their presences clashed silently. The Alter exuded a sense of severity and gloom, and from the look in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't come for tea... but for a challenge.
Elsewhere, Jeanne d'Arc sat calmly, her gentle smile watching the merriment around her.
Her gaze was warm, like that of an older sister delighted to see her family gathered in peace.
She watched the Servants chatting, laughing, and sharing stories with sincerity and joy.
In contrast, not far from her, Jeanne Alter leaned on her elbow, her hand propping up her chin, eyes half-closed, looking thoroughly uninterested in the surrounding holiday spirit.
Yet despite her bored expression, her eyes occasionally flicked toward Jeanne d'Arc—briefly, then quickly turned away again.
As if, deep beneath her indifference… there was a hint of curiosity she refused to admit.
At another table, Gilgamesh (Caster) and Enkidu were immersed in quiet conversation. A faint smile sometimes graced Enkidu's face.
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh (Archer) lounged arrogantly, half-sunken into a luxurious chair noticeably grander than the rest—naturally, brought out from the Gate of Babylon.
In his hand, a glass of wine shimmered with a deep violet-red hue under the Christmas tree's lights.
Each sip was taken with exaggerated elegance, as if the world were merely a stage for his radiance.
Beside him sat Ozymandias, the sun king of Egypt, sharing the same wine from a gold-engraved goblet, his thin smile radiating regal pride.
The two sat like gods observing the festivities of mortals—silent, composed, yet clearly savoring the grandeur and splendor befitting only kings.
Occasional chuckles escaped them—not from jokes, but from the mutual recognition of their shared arrogance.
As though two empires were celebrating together in a small space called Chaldea.
In another corner, Iskandar was throwing a "hot chocolate party" with as much vigor as he would a war feast. The only victim of his enthusiasm was Zhuge Liang (El-Melloi II), who held his cup with resignation, clearly preferring to enjoy his tea in peace.
Alexander cheered beside them, like a child meeting his own idol, brimming with excitement.
Not far from them, Chailvier Don Quixote, Robin of Loxley, and Ritsuka (Gudako) sat playing cards.
Chailvier was focused and fired up, Robin played with a laid-back yet sly expression, while Ritsuka (Gudako) enjoyed the game, she herself occasionally laughing softly—more at the dynamic between the two than the game itself.
Mash and Fujimaru (Gudao) sat together at another table, enjoying an assortment of cakes and dishes.
Mash spent more time watching the surroundings, occasionally glancing at Fujimaru (Gudao) with a soft smile, as if wanting to make sure everything was okay.
Oda Nobunaga and Okita Souji were caught in a lively debate—a near-tradition in Chaldea by now.
Their voices grew louder, yet the atmosphere remained oddly warm and familiar. Masamune Muramasa sat nearby, silent and observant, watching their interaction as though analyzing a duel fought with words.
Meanwhile, Ushiwakamaru laughed gently while chatting with Miyamoto Musashi, their conversation seemingly about combat styles and the flavors of food.
In a quiet corner of the cafeteria transformed into a small stage, Hart passionately performed a puppet show with his handcrafted wooden dolls.
The simple cardboard stage was adorned with Christmas decorations and glittering paper stars.
The wooden puppets, moved by Hart's hands, danced gracefully, enacting a classic tale of a knight in search of the true meaning of giving.
A row of children sat neatly, their eyes glowing with excitement. Nursery Rhyme, with hands clasped before her chest, looked enchanted.
Jeanne Alter Lily clapped her small hands, faint smile appeared on her face, she occasionally whispering in awe to Jack the Ripper, who quietly held a faint smile.
Beside them, Saber Lily sat upright and poised, smiling gently as she enjoyed each scene. Child Gilgamesh looked the most expressive, his eyes shining as if witnessing the greatest show in the world.
Hans Christian Andersen, seated with his notebook, seemed busy scribbling—perhaps jotting down revision notes.
Though he occasionally frowned, there was a flicker of pride on his face.
"The puppet's movement in the second act is a bit slow," he muttered, though his tone wasn't as sharp as usual.
Backstage, William Shakespeare stood holding the script, his voice loud and rich with dramatic intonation as he narrated the story behind the puppet scenes, making each line sound like it was pulled from ancient tales.
His distinctive voice drew laughter and applause, bringing the performance to life.
Soft laughter, cheers, and the sparkle in the children's eyes turned that corner of the cafeteria into a tiny fairy tale stage—a place where wonder, dreams, and imagination came together, even if just for one night.
Outside the cafeteria, Astolfo—who was chosen as this year's "Santa"—was busily delivering presents to the rooms of the other Servants.
Dressed in a full Santa costume complete with jingling bells and a cute hat, he cheerfully made his way around, dragging along Achilles, who had been forced into the role of gift courier.
Achilles let out a long sigh, his face one of resignation, clearly this was not the kind of battlefield he had in mind.
On the other side of the cafeteria, a group of more... unique Servants gathered in an equally festive yet colorful atmosphere. Fran was sitting with Medea Lily and Helena Blavatsky.
Fran could only nod and use body language when spoken to, but the other girls seemed to understand her just fine.
Helena was tinkering with a small crystal while excitedly explaining about Christmas energy and magical theory, while Medea Lily enthusiastically took notes on anything interesting.
Not far from them, Karna and Arjuna sat across from each other.
A quiet air surrounded them—not of awkwardness, but of wordless understanding.
They simply shared a cup of warm tea, occasionally glancing at the celebrations around them. Between them sat Gareth, looking awkward yet clearly happy to be near two legendary figures.
At another table, Paris and Apollo (still in sheep form) sat with Euryale, Stheno, and Medusa (Lancer).
Stheno was busy organizing a list of who deserved presents, with Euryale nodding in full agreement.
Paris tried to look enthusiastic, but his face betrayed confusion when Stheno started listing categories like "cuteness value" and "gift presentation ability." Medusa only sighed quietly, occasionally petting Apollo on her lap, as if that was more soothing than listening to her sisters' chatter.
Meanwhile, at a quieter table, Okada Izo, Sasaki Kojirou, and Li Shuwen gathered. They didn't talk much—these preferred to observe.
Occasionally, Li Shuwen offered a comment on proper tea-drinking technique, while Okada Izo looked restless from not having killed anyone that night.
Sasaki just chuckled softly, enjoying the peace like a flowing stream, before turning his gaze to a puppet show.
At a table near the wall, Anastasia sat with Ivan the Terrible—the giant somehow wearing a tiny Santa hat, courtesy of Anastasia.
From time to time, Ivan would mumble something, and Anastasia would nod, responding with a gentle smile.
Kiyohime, Tamamo Cat, and Meltlilith sat together at a table near the kitchen.
Kiyohime was staring at someone in the distance (possibly Gudao?) with a gaze full of fiery passion.
Tamamo Cat was busy writing a list titled "Who I'll cook breakfast for tomorrow," while Melt looked slightly annoyed that no one seemed to understand her aesthetic sense when it came to modern Christmas trees.
Not far from there, Cu Chulainn (Lancer), Cu Chulainn (Caster), and Setanta had formed their own table. They were laughing and joking, making bets on who could eat the spiciest cake (crafted by Caster Cu himself) without drinking water. Setanta clearly regretted participating.
Near the food serving area, Tawara Touta and Chen Gong were busy with papers and pens.
They were evaluating decorations, the food list, and drafting a report on "Christmas Effectiveness in Boosting Servant Morale." Chen Gong looked extremely serious, while Touta seemed more focused on calculating how much had been spent on decorations and food.
At the far end of the cafeteria—sheltered from the crowd and laughter that filled the room—sat a young boy: Kitahara Yuuki.
He leaned back casually in his chair, his gaze fixed on the glittering Christmas lights that hung beautifully from the ceiling.
In his hand, a cup of hot chocolate still released thin wisps of steam, but it remained untouched.
His face was calm, almost expressionless, yet behind those eyes lay something deeper: thoughts that wandered far beyond the celebration around him.
The colorful lights danced slowly in his eyes—violet eyes, sharp yet serene. He didn't look sad, nor did he seem lonely.
But he wasn't truly part of the joy either. He simply… chose to remain on the sidelines. Like an observer content at the edge of the world.
His reverie was broken by a soft voice that pierced the quiet beside him.
No sound of footsteps, no shadow to herald her arrival—someone had already taken the seat next to him. Kurohiko Yuki.
Her hair was short and jet-black, like a moonless night. Her eyes glowed golden—not the warm glint of pure gold, but like sharp metal freshly forged.
Her skin was tanned, and on her face was a faint smile—barely there, yet deeply sincere and quiet, like the smile of someone who knew what it felt like to sit in that place.
A Servant of the Caster class. A mystery in the form of a young girl. Her identity wasn't recorded in any of Chaldea's archives. No legend matched. No history remarks. Not even a folklore.
But her presence was real, and her power undeniable. The researchers could only speculate… and silently acknowledge that something in her gaze held a story never spoken—and perhaps never would be.
"If you keep staring blankly like that… your hot chocolate's going to get cold," she said softly, her voice flat but warm.
Like a winter breeze that didn't bite, but rather soothed.
Yuuki turned his head slowly. He looked at her for a few seconds, as if only just realizing she was there. Then, his gaze shifted to the cup in his hand. The steam was indeed almost gone.
"…You're right," he murmured briefly.
Christmas night continued around them, filled with laughter and cheers.
But in that corner, where no one had to pretend and no one had to smile just because the atmosphere demanded it, two young souls sat side by side—letting the world pass by at a rhythm only they understood.
Silence lingered. The hot chocolate in Yuuki's hand was finally touched—he took a slow sip, letting the warmth flow into him.
Beside him, Yuki remained seated, her eyes still fixed on the dancing Christmas lights in the distance.
But this time, she spoke first.
"Can I ask you something?" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Yuuki turned slightly, didn't respond with words, but his gaze gave her permission.
"I'm curious… You look lost in thought. As if your soul is somewhere else."
She shifted her gaze to his face.
"What are you thinking about?"
Yuuki looked down for a moment, his fingers gently caressing the surface of the warm cup in his hands.
"…The people who once fought beside me," he finally replied, softly.
"Comrades who stood by my side on the battlefield. We didn't talk much, didn't always see eye to eye. But we trusted each other."
He took a deep breath, his voice carrying the weight of memories still fresh in his mind.
"I think of them… and my lord—Takeda Shingen. A leader who not only led from the front but also knew how to make arrows like me and also believe that we as his retainers… are mattered."
Yuuki stared at his cup for a moment, then at the lights. "I think… I miss them."
Yuki didn't respond immediately. She let his words hang in the air, absorbing their meaning. Then, slowly, she spoke.
"There will be days like this," she said softly.
"Days when the past feels closer than the present. When the shadows of those who are gone feel more real than those still around us."
She turned to Yuuki, her voice still gentle, but with a quiet firmness.
"And it's okay to let ourselves remember, now and then. Because that's human. And because that… is proof that we care." Her smile appeared, faint as the reflection of the moon on a lake's surface.
"But don't let those shadows steal all the light from today."
Yuuki looked at her, silent.
"What's already happened… let it be a part of you. But don't let it hold you back," Yuki continued.
"We all have a past. But the only thing we can truly change—is what happens now."
For a moment, only the distant sound of children's laughter on the other side of the cafeteria could be heard. But between them, it was as though no other sound was needed.
Yuuki smiled faintly, this time genuinely. "…You speak like someone who's lived twice."
Yuki turned, chuckling lightly. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. But one thing's certain—I'm good at imitating people who once lived wisely."
The two of them laughed quietly. Gently. And the night passed on—with a hearts no longer drowning in the shadows of the past, but side by side, slowly walking toward the present.
Christmas night went on, quietly.
Snow continued to fall outside—but the warmth within the cafeteria felt like the world had stopped warring, just for a while.
Though Chaldea still stood on the edge of a great threat, tonight was not a night for battle.
It was a night for remembrance, for smiles, and for simply feeling alive.
Laughter echoed from a small stage in the corner. Tiny lights hung from the ceiling, blinking softly like stars watching from above.
Servants who once knew only the battlefield now savored rare peace—eating cake, watching puppet shows, or simply sharing warm glances in quiet corners.
And the night closed in gently, like a warm blanket that soothed the soul.
When the day changed again, and Chaldea's alert sirens rang once more, that night would still live in their memories.
A night when all the differences, scars, and unfinished missions… were covered, just for a moment, by false stars and overly cheerful Christmas songs.
Because even in a world torn apart, amid fractured timelines and uncertain fates—there was still room for small miracles.
Still room to sit together, to remember, and to forgive oneself.
And for those who experienced that night, the world was no longer completely dark.
They had experience one night…
…when everything felt bright.
The End.