—It’s not my fault.
Alone in his room, Gordes was crushed by humiliation and terror.
“It’s not my fault.”
Muttering that, Gordes drank down an entire glass of alcohol while trembling, trying to deny his own blunder. The taste of the expensive alcohol placed on his night table wasn’t that good. It was a bitter taste that pierced his tongue. Not only was the taste bad, but he also couldn’t get drunk on it—it truly was a fraud product.
“Yes, it’s a fraud. That damn hero… as if that could be Siegfried.”
He stopped drinking—wasn’t what he did. He drank and drank, but—his head hurt, and he remembered the gaze of that annoying swordsman.
Just remembering it made his thoughts, his heart, regain calm.
It hadn’t been ugly or beautiful. It hadn’t been filled with coldness or killing intent either. It had just waited.
“What should I do?”
If it had held expectations for Gordes’ answer, he might have had the time to think. If that gaze had been cold or angry, he would have complied out of fear—even if he was its Master.
If it had calmly given a proposal with merits and demerits—Gordes might have refused, but he wouldn’t have been that enraged by it.
That’s not what it did. It had just waited robotically. It had waited for him to choose Yes or No.
That wasn’t the bond between Master and Servant. I was just a pebble—Gordes thought.
Gordes was a pebble on the path to achieving his objective. Gordes was in the way, so he kicked him away to the side of the path. That was probably the level of recognition he had given Gordes.
“As if that could be a hero.”
Even as he grumbled those complaints, he understood—but he averted his eyes from it. He just continued to avert his eyes. Because that would force him to face his own foolishness as well.
You don’t understand anything.
The terror, shame and sorrow of his Servant realizing that and saying it to him. To prevent that, he acted that way. He didn’t speak to him and wasn’t spoken to either. Because Gordes tried to treat him as a Servant (tool), Saber could only treat Gordes as a Master (tool) as well.
That was only natural. Gordes treated everything besides himself as tools. His objective was the restoration of the proud alchemist Musik family. Even becoming part of the Yggdmillennia clan was a mere stepping stone for the sake of that goal. That was what he was taught. His father and mother said that, and his grandfather and grandmother said that.
…He knew that wasn’t right. He knew that, but he couldn’t think of a way to bring about change. Following the rules imposed on him made his heart feel at ease. We’ll triumph one day. That sworn revenge was pushed upon the next generation by his grandfather, grandmother, father and mother.
He had also of course intended to push it upon his son. Once this war was over, he planned to start the incremental transplant of his Magic Crest to him.
His son also saw him as a tool. He had immediately understood that from his son’s obscure eyes that seemed to rebel at him without trying to hide it… After all, he was the spitting image of Gordes who was reflected in those eyes.
If, he suddenly thought.
If he had recognized his Servant not as a tool, but as a hero with his own personality like the Forvedge siblings had.
Perhaps Saber’s machinelike eyes would have changed somehow. Perhaps the future would have been different.
Gordes laughed scornfully at his own thoughts and poured more alcohol into his glass.
“Ridiculous. What good does it do to think of it now?”
He gulped down the alcohol, but even so—Gordes thought. If, at that time, he had responded to Saber’s suggestion—no, ridiculous. It was ridiculous, so he stopped thinking about it. He was a loser, a dropout. Now he could only leave the rest to someone else.
Concluding that, Gordes finally started to feel the alcohol take effect on his mind.
Geez, how annoying.
While twisting her intelligent and beautiful face in anger, Celenike walked through the hallway with loud and rough footsteps. No matter how much she tormented her Servant, she didn’t feel refreshed by it all due to the frivolous smile he always wore.
She had the greatest feast before her eyes, but she couldn’t touch it. Not only was she not allowed to eat it, but it also remained too hard to chew no matter how much she stabbed at it with a fork.
To Celenike, who was raised and doted upon by the old female magi who practiced the dark arts, patience and self-control were the same things as torture. She could only maintain self-control with things regarding magecraft.
If there was anything that could bring a smile to her noble-looking face, it would probably be for someone to bring the homunculus whom Rider had protected before her. If she gouged out his eyes, cut off his arms, pulled out his tongue and made him eat his own intestines right in front of Rider, even Rider would probably lament and despair.
She wanted to see that expression. She wanted to see it no matter what. If she could see the expression of Astolfo, known as being the loveliest among Charlemagne’s famous Twelve Paladins, twist in despair, she wouldn’t even mind dying.
—At the same time. She seemed to greatly hate the homunculus who had stolen Rider’s heart to this extent.
There was something that Astolfo had never given her no matter how much she wished so since he had been summoned as Rider of Black.
It could probably be called love. Cherishment, affection and the joy that came with it were emotions that Celenike had difficulty understanding.
Why wouldn’t he direct those emotions towards her? How annoying. Even though that homunculus has just a transient life like a mayfly.
In reality, she had wanted to search for him till the bitter end. Not only was she skilled in magecraft, Celenike also had the most vindictive personality among the Yggdmillennia clan. To her, the homunculus was already nothing more than an annoying pest. The kind of bug that one had to search for through even the roots of grass and eradicate.
But she couldn’t take up her time to search for a single homunculus. Finding him wasn’t impossible with her dark arts. But a lot of preparations would need to be made to do so, and it was made harder since the homunculus whose whereabouts were unknown was also an excellent magus.
There would be no point to it if she attacked unskillfully and ended up being bitten by a cornered mouse. She could do nothing but give up regarding the homunculus until the end of this war.
It made her want to see Rider’s anguished face and do even more extreme things to him. She wanted to violate him, disgrace him, and dye him in despair—but Celenike somehow managed to hold herself back from such wicked acts. Once this war was over, once her side won, she could do so with no problems.
Once they beat the Red camp, she would give up her wish and participation in the war. She would use all three Command Spells to violate Rider until he died.
Perhaps it was because she was walking in such an overly irritated manner, but a homunculus bumped into her shoulder as she passed. The young boy, in charge of setting the table for meals, bowed his head and apologized with vacant eyes.
I’ll do it to him, Celenike decided.
“You, come with me for a bit.”
The homunculus had no right to refuse. And Celenike had not one fragment of sympathy for a homunculus servant. Furthermore, consumption was a virtue for magi.
With a vulgar pleasure that even other magi would scorn, Celenike decided to release the stress she’d kept building up for the time being.
—Something weird has happened.
Roche Frain Yggdmillennia sighed. He stirred up his extremely curly hair and tried to settle his disordered thoughts.
Their side’s Saber had fallen. Moreover, it was due to suicide. He thought Heroic Spirits were people with a bit more sense, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
“Geez, how absurd.”
This should have been a war with plenty of leeway for their side.
With Lancer of Black, Saber of Black, Archer of Black and the combination of him and Caster, he had been confident that they could knock down any enemy. To put it more accurately, he had confidence in making golems that could deal with anything.
The Black Masters valued his golems far too lightly. Certainly, Saber of Red had cut them down with a single strike. But those were golems made to serve as lookouts. It didn’t mean that they were inferior to the others he made, but their purpose was strictly detection and giving reports. Golems that displayed true battle specs wouldn’t have been defeated so one-sidedly.
Of course, they would have been defeated in the end, but his golems existed in the hundreds. Saber might not get injured against ten or twenty of them, but if she was attacked in waves with golems numbering beyond a hundred, who knows what might have happened?
…He was fully aware that it was an abstract academic theory. However, the possibility of that was definitely not low.
But in truth, he understood it was expecting too much for Saber to be taken down by his battle-type golems.
The problem was Caster’s Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, Golem Keter Malkuth: Royal Crown, the Light of Wisdom. Naturally, he guessed that Caster’s Noble Phantasm was also a golem. But for some reason, Caster was vague about its precise form.
…That was because Roche was still inexperienced. He wanted to think that was the reason. However, based on the words Caster sometimes let slip, it at least seemed to be a huge golem. After that, Caster of Black had told him this as well.
—This golem is not meant to be invincible.
—Rather, it must be designed so that it can die through any kind of means.
—The golem I’m creating possesses life. Therefore, it will die.
—My golem is not a craft to simple move clay dolls. My golem is the creation of life… in other words, a copy of the original human, Adam.
That was the being Caster aimed to create. To Roche who thought that it was sufficient to just create a capable golem, Caster’s thinking was extremely shocking.
He wanted to help, and if he couldn’t do that, he wanted to at least be next to him to watch him make it. Frankly speaking, the Great Holy Grail War was nothing other than a troublesome event for Roche. If it weren’t for the battle around the Holy Grail, he wouldn’t have been able to witness the miracle of summoning Heroic Spirits, and naturally, he wouldn’t have met Caster of Black—Avicebron.
So fighting in the war couldn’t be helped. But although there were still a ton of things he wished to learn from Caster, the length of the Great Holy Grail War was far too short… Because of that, Roche had decided on what to wish for.
His wish was for Caster to be fully resurrected. Caster also had a wish he wanted to fulfill in the present world, so it should be fine to assist him a little.
When he heard Roche’s wish, Caster of Black had said, “Thank you.” It didn’t mean that Caster’s detached attitude had changed, and his teaching didn’t become softer.
But they communicated through the heart. Just knowing that was a great yield to Roche.
He didn’t find it this interesting to mingle with other people. It was rarer for there to be someone whom he could respect from the bottom of his heart. Roche’s parents had never shown interest in him. No, even if being raised by golems was a tradition of the Frain family, he had never once felt love and affection even beyond that.
That might be necessary for a magus. Love for one’s family was sometimes a heavy burden in the quest for magic. So it’s better not to give any love from the beginning. At the very least, that was the policy of the Frain family.
Furthermore, Roche was a child who was called the Frain’s greatest masterpiece since the family had joined Yggdmillennia.
Roche himself recognized that as well. He had carefully read the numerous grimoires that contained the feelings of his ancestors as if their blood ran through it, and had tilted his head in puzzlement at why they would explain in drawn-out words such a simple—easily understood thing.
And then, he had summoned a genius. He was overwhelmed by him right from the start, and then admired him. The man who was on the same level as him… no, who he thought might even be lowering his level to match his.
It was unthinkable for him to serve Roche. Roche himself had to be taught by him. And one day, he would watch from beside him as Caster fulfilled his dream.
He would do anything for the sake of that. If human lives were necessary, he would mow down as many as it took. He would even do things that would undermine his own family.
It can’t be helped. After all, it’s for the sake of fulfilling sensei’s, our dream—
—Ah, that was scary.
The eldest son of the Yggdmillennia’s clan’s Forvedge family, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia, trembled while walking down the hallway as he remembered what he’d just seen.
Following closely behind him was his Servant, Berserker of Black… Though he thought that she was a little too close, like a spirit hanging off his back.
What filled him with fear wasn’t the enemy. It was one of his allied Servants—Lancer of Black.
Caules still hadn’t grasped exactly what had happened, but it seemed that some trouble had happened between Saber of Black and his Master Gordes.
In any case, as a result, Saber had been eliminated without even fighting. It truly was a nightmarish development. By capturing Berserker of Red and changing his Master, they had increased their number of Servants to seven. Although Assassin still hadn’t joined up with them, they had at least gained the superior advantage in the quantity of their forces—just when he thought that, this happened.
Lancer of Black had naturally been furious at that report. It was truly a fit of rage. The force and intensity of it had been enough to make even Celenike, a cold-blooded practitioner of the dark arts, turn pale. To be honest, he thought it was a miracle he was currently still alive like this.
That was a Heroic Spirit; that was Lancer. Furthermore, he was Vlad III, who was known throughout the world for his harsh governance and skewers, a man who had without hesitation skewered even aristocrats who should have been his relatives.
And at the same time, the other gathered Servants were worthy of even more admiration for not having been gripped by considerable terror when they faced Lancer’s rage. He could at least understand Archer, Berserker and Caster remaining calm since they were bystanders to the event. But the supposed related party, Rider of Black, had remained calm no matter how much Lancer raged… or rather, he had just smiled as if enjoying himself.
Was that strangeness of smiling in that situation without feeling even an iota of fear Rider of Black’s grounds for defence? The other related party, Gordes, had desperately made excuses, but no matter how Caules thought about it, he was just reaping what he sowed.
Unfortunately, Yggdmillennia had lost Saber of Black.
But Caules was not particularly pessimistic about this incident. It appeared that Saber of Black had been Siegfried, the great hero of the Netherlands. At the same time as being truly invincible thanks to bathing in the blood of a dragon, he was famous for having died a tragic death from being pierced in the back due to a leaf from a lime tree that had clung to his back while he was bathed in the blood.
And then there was that incident—due to Gordes trying to force Saber to unleash his Noble Phantasm with a Command Spell in a fit of confusion, there was a chance that his true name had been exposed. If the Red camp found out that his true name was Siegfried, they would naturally take many countermeasures. They wouldn’t just simply try to aim for his back.
Firstly, since he was a dragon-slayer, they would probably try to avoid facing him with a hero possessing the blood of a dragon. Conversely, while Siegfried was a dragon-slayer, he had been bathed in the blood of a dragon, so he might receive fatal damage from Noble Phantasms that are tremendously effective against dragons.
Naturally, such countermeasures wouldn’t necessarily go as well as it sounded. But… in any case, the enemy could work out that many countermeasures if they found out. The Black camp’s first plan had been to construct strategies that pivoted around Saber of Black, but if his true name was seen through, they would need to revise their plans. However—at the same time, there had also been the chance that his true name wasn’t exposed.
In the end, that uncertain situation had beckoned confusion on the battlefield. That was the worst possible result. From the start, it was normal for the battlefield to be ruled by chaos. If even more factors that confused it were included, there was no telling what result it would lead to. Caules didn’t like that kind of gambling. Saber had died, so they should just form a new system of order.
From the start, the Black camp had the advantageous position. Based on the system of the Great Holy Grail War, it was impossible for it to turn into a drawn-out war. Furthermore, this war in Trifas was known to magi throughout the world.
…Yes, for the Association of Magi who prized honor and prestige, they couldn’t stand the continued existence of this Fortress of Millennia for a day or even an hour more.
In that case, they should just drop a cluster bomb on it—but as expected, that was a method that they couldn’t use as the Association of Magi.
Honor, tradition and convention… there were a mountain of things beyond one’s control in this world. Both the Association of Magi and the Yggdmillennia clan were bound to them.
It was simple to just discard those values as ‘stupid and trivial’, but—Caules himself couldn’t do anything about it as someone who was bound to them. He understood that fact so well it pierced his body. The world and human life was like that.
He would just do what he had to do. If he died along the road, that was the end of it—so Caules concluded.
Noticing that he was muttering to himself, Berserker suddenly peered at his face.
“Ah, sorry. It’s nothing.”
He sighed. But then, even if he said he would do what he had to do—there was nothing he could do with Berserker like this. Having lost her reason, she could only break through the enemy directly before her when she went out on the battlefield.
In other words, there was no need for any directions from Caules at all.
Even so, Berserker was, in a way, exceptionally convenient for Caules as a Servant. After all, there was almost no need for him to supply her Prana. She could absorb the residual prana that existed on the battlefield and could in effect continue to fight perpetually.
It was true that the Black Servants didn’t have to fear running out of prana as long as they had the prana supply from the homunculi, but there was a limit to how much they could provide. Most of all, Caules had doubts about whether or not they could provide prana for seven Servants even with Saber gone now.
Shortly after summoning Berserker, Caules had performed battle simulations where not only did he make Berserker not absorb prana with her Noble Phantasm Bridal Chest: Maiden’s Chastity, but also cut off her prana supply from the homunculi.
The result was that she was assaulted by light dizziness just by moving and swinging her mace several times. If she remained in that state for five minutes or longer, she’d probably be incapable of even standing.
This was Berserker’s actual consumption rate of prana. It would have been a great burden to bear for Caules who was generally accepted to be a third-rate magus.
But this unease was resolved as long as Berserker had her Bridal Chest. Naturally, it would definitely turn into a crisis if she lost her Noble Phantasm—but she would have already pretty much lost in such a situation in the first place.
Of course, it would be an exaggeration to say that he had no problems with her, but…
He suddenly heard the familiar sound of a wheelchair squeaking across the floor. Stopping his pondering, he turned forward and found his older sister Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia there. The one pushing her wheelchair was her Servant, Archer of Black, Chiron.
Puzzled, Caules suddenly stopped walking. It wasn’t that there was anything strange about her Servant pushing her wheelchair. The issue was the black suitcase she held in her lap.
“Nee-san, are you going out somewhere with that dangerous thing?”
It appeared he was correct, as she nodded with a solemn air.
“Yes. I’m going out to make contact with Assassin of Black and his Master.”
“Contact? …I think that thing’s quite dangerous to bring for just that, though.”
Stored inside Fiore’s suitcase was the Bronze-Link Manipulator: Coupled Reinforcement Mystic Code that she had designed herself.
“Using the computer is fine, but you should at least look at the local newspaper too, Caules.”
Fiore frowned and scolded Caules. “Yeah, yeah,” Caules responded very half-heartedly. This made Fiore raise her eyebrows even further, but Archer gently pushed her wheelchair, stopping her sermon from going any further.
“…Geez. I’m going to have a talk with you once I return.”
“I get it, I get it. I’ll listen properly when you get back.”
“Really? Then, I’ll be going now. Look after the place while I’m gone.”
Fiore left those words and departed with Archer. Seeing them off, Caules sighed, and then Berserker agitatedly pulled at his sleeve.
When he turned to face her, her silver and gold eyes, which flickered in and out of sight from behind her long forelocks, looked like they were trembling with an inner fire.
“What? Are you mad about something?”
She nodded twice.
It seemed Berserker had been angered. By whom? Obviously, by Caules. But unfortunately, she couldn’t communicate with words, so he couldn’t tell what she was angry about.
“Is it about Nee-san?”
For now, Caules guessed that random, and Berserker nodded affirmatively. Tilting his head in puzzlement, Caules managed to find the answer with her affirmative and negative gestures.
The two of them returned to his room and faced each other. Caules sat on a chair, and Berserker sat down on the bed facing him. Incidentally, Caules’ room could probably be called the strangest room in the Fortress of Millennia. There were several grimoires on his bookshelves, a crystal ball on his desk, and chess pieces placed along the corners of the room, perhaps meant to affix a Bounded Field. All that was fine, but the problem was the computer enshrined on his desk.
Darnic grimaced, Gordes scoffed and Fiore sighed at it, but in Caules’ opinion, science and technology weren’t without their worth. In the first place, they were in an era where magi also had to communicate through information technology unlike a decade ago. Unexpectedly, the one who used this technology for a lot of correspondences was the dark arts practitioner Celenike. Maybe she used it to conduct research on cursing techniques performed through the computer network.
“…In other words, you mean that? You can’t stomach the way I was mentally overpowered by an opponent we might have to face someday?”
Affirmative. Indeed, it was hard for him to say that Berserker’s anxiety was just needless fear.
“Well… This doesn’t have any persuasive power if I say this to a Servant, but my older sister is a monster, you know.”
Caules’ eyes became tinged with nostalgia as he sighed. Though he grumbled that she was a monster, there was a glimpse of something like pride in him as he said it.
“Well, I’m not so stupid as to resolve myself to die and commit a suicide attack. More importantly, the battle with the Red camp comes first. Just like Archer said, the other side’s Rider is extremely overpowered.”
In the first place, it was abnormal for a Servant to be unbeatable by those without divine blood. Fortunately, the Black camp had Archer. Though his Divinity received a Rank Down due to being summoned as a Heroic Spirit, he still possessed divine blood.
If they hadn’t summoned him, their side’s defeat would have been fixed at that point. Naturally, even without defeating the Servant, there was the option of killing his Master. However, that was a plan with little hope of success for Berserker and a third-rate magus.
“I think you also understand, but make sure you do not to fight that Rider. Okay?”
Berserker vigorously nodded her head. It appeared she had learned her lesson after fighting him just once. It couldn’t be helped if her attacks wouldn’t affect the enemy right from the start.
Thank goodness this is a team battle, Caules thought from the bottom of his heart. If this had been a normal Holy Grail War, he honestly didn’t feel that they could have won no matter what they did. Bridal Chest was a constantly-active-type Noble Phantasm that was easy to use, but if Berserker unleashed her other Noble Phantasm, Blasted Tree: Lightning Branch of Crucifixion1, with all her limiters released… the price for wielding power she normally couldn’t boast of would be too high.
The price for it was death. If Berserker of Black, Frankenstein, released all her limiters and unleashed her Noble Phantasm at maximum power, all her functions would halt. Since that was what was written in the blueprint left behind by none other than Doctor Frankenstein himself, he had no choice but to believe it.
Naturally, it was also possible to unleash it without releasing her limiters, but that would lower the power output. In order to avoid as much uncertainty as possible, Caules had also measured the Noble Phantasm’s power output when it was unleashed without releasing the limiters.
After putting up a Bounded Field to clear people out of the forest during the day and retreating back to what he thought was a safe distance, he had made Berserker use her Noble Phantasm.
Its power output was at best C rank, at worst D rank by his estimation. He had used golems he earnestly requested to borrow from Roche as a standard of measurement for its power, but the lightning strikes got weaker the farther they traveled from Berserker, while conversely the golems she hit at point-blank range had been literally turned into garbage.
Caules estimated that it was powerful enough to kill most Servants if the limiters were released and she fired it from point-blank range… However, the price for it was too high. There was no proportional gain in killing one enemy Servant at the cost of losing one of their own.
“…Berserker, though I think it goes without saying. Basically, don’t release Blasted Tree’s limiters, okay?”
Berserker tilted her head oddly at Caules’ warning. As expected, no matter how high her intelligence was, it appeared that Berserker was truly Berserker—Caules sighed.
In any case, for the combo of a third-rate magus like himself and Berserker who has a hard-to-use Noble Phantasm, there was no other choice but for him to strain his intelligence to come up with a plan. Even if he was third-rate as a magus, there should be an inexhaustible number of means he can use as a Master.
“…Ah, that reminds me, Nee-san said to read the newspaper.”
Suddenly, he recalled Fiore’s earlier words and had a homunculus bring him a local newspaper. After thanking the homunculus, he opened the newspaper and read the article that seemed to be what she had noticed.
…Indeed, there was some truth to what she said. After he finished reading the article on the serial killer, Caules stood up.
“Now then. Berserker, sorry about this, but please look after the place while I’m gone for a bit.”
Caules picked up several magical tools for summoning evil spirits and beasts that were stowed away in his desk, and equipped them on his person. He put on a bracelet with the names of beasts inscribed upon it on his wrist and stored black insect eggs in the tiptoes of his shoes.
Though they were small fries that wouldn’t last even a second against a Servant, his panther familiars and his horde of earthworms that crawled into the enemy’s body and caused pain would probably reasonably harass an enemy magus.
Caules once more felt his sleeve being agitatedly pulled. Explain yourself, Berserker’s eyes demanded.
“…It’s nothing, I’m just going to go help Nee-san a bit.”
Saying that, Caules glanced at his computer. The email he’d received told of how the Association magi stationed in Sighișoara were being murdered one after another.
This information meant two things. First, the person who had taken out those magi was at the very least not a member of the Yggdmillennia clan. Second, the fact that Fiore was heading there meant that it was the work of a Servant.
And, though this was just guesswork on his part, if Assassin of Black and his Master were to oppose both the Yggdmillennia and the Red camp… it was conceivable that there would be a clash between Archer of Black, Assassin of Black and a Red Servant. In other words, a three-sided battle.
This was—an extremely bad situation.
“Even if the chance is one in a million, we can’t afford lose Archer now. If it was one-on-one, the enemy magus would probably fight my sister. That’s what it means to be a professional. But, if it’s a two-on-one battle with me included—no matter how weak I am, he’ll probably run away. Because that’s part of being a professional too. But it’s true that we have to protect this fortress. So I’ll leave you here to continue defending it. Well, in the worst case scenario, I’ll call you with a Command Spell.”
Berserker of Black thought that she should go along with Caules if possible in order to protect her Master, but his order to protect the fortress was also rational.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of fighting to the death with the enemy. Anyone who would fight in a two-on-one situation is either very strong or a simple fool.”
There was no falsehood in Caules’ words. He truly didn’t intend to fight. Anyway, his sister was strong. Let alone normal magi, she wouldn’t easily lose to even magi that could be called first-rate. Her altered Magic Crest, said to be ranked next to Darnic’s, was like a precision instrument.
Her Servant, Archer of Black, was also a first-rate Heroic Spirit. Within the Yggdmillennia’s camp, Lancer of Black was the banner and Archer of Black was the cornerstone.
That was what made the worst case scenario so frightening. If Assassin of Black and Archer of Black clashed and a Red Servant used that as an opening to defeat Archer, it would mean defeat for them.
But, just by adding Caules into the equation, the magus of the Red camp would probably choose to withdraw. Necessarily, the Red Servant would also withdraw. He could do that not through his own power, but just by being there, so it would probably be easy.
After watching Caules leave the room, Berserker suddenly took notice of the computer, which had been left on. It seemed he had forgotten to turn it off. What a careless Master. Electricity is precious—Berserker sighed and, without hesitation, pulled out the computer’s plug.
She was scrupulously considerate as a Servant. Her Master would probably praise her for it as well.
(1) Here, the literal translation of Blasted Tree’s Japanese name is “Lightning/Thunder Tree of Crucifixion”, but the original term for “lightning tree” (雷樹) is meant to poetically describe lightning strikes, and due to how the Noble Phantasm is later revealed to work, CanonRap and I decided that this translation would be more appropriate.