Multiverse: Starting with Killer queen in Type Moon

"Found him? Did he leave the workshop?"

Medea raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. Though she had only observed Roland's Black Shadow Corps in action a few times over the past couple of days, she already understood how terrifying they were.

Compared to her own Dragon Tooth Warriors, which were more suited for overwhelming numbers and brute magical pressure, Roland's shadow ninjas excelled in infiltration, stealth, and precision. Their reconnaissance capabilities were so high that it felt as though a thousand elite assassins were working in unison under one will.

They had already scouted and mapped nearly every other Master and Servant base, except Darnic's. His complete absence had puzzled both of them.

"It's not like he left," Roland said, a strange expression on his face. "He just hid... in a very specific place."

Through the vision granted by one of his Black Shadow Corp scouts, Roland had finally located Darnic. It wasn't that Darnic had hidden in an inaccessible location, just one so counterintuitive and low-priority that it had been glossed over until now.

Seeing Medea's curious expression, Roland simply chuckled and waved his hand.

"You'll understand when you see it."

The kneeling shadow ninja slowly dissolved into a black vortex at their feet, rippling outward like a puddle of living ink. It engulfed Roland and Medea, pulling them into the dream.

---

In a long, dim corridor, walls humming with arcane circuits and the flicker of unstable lights overhead, a dense atmosphere of solemnity and magic pressure hung like a suffocating fog.

Two massive magical furnaces roared at the center of the space, crackling with mana and casting sparks into the air like electric storms.

Before them, Darnic stood, watching a foggy scrying mirror. The image inside shimmered with holy light and violent winds, King Arthur and the King of Conquerors locked in a titanic clash.

"Hmph… King Arthur and Iskandar," Darnic muttered, expression darkening. "It seems the other Masters have summoned some serious contenders."

Without turning, he addressed the presence behind him.

"Lancer. Think you can take them?"

From within the shadows, a space where no light reached, a calm, steady voice answered.

"That Rider is manageable. But should the Holy Sword bearer become an enemy, the outcome would be uncertain."

"That's enough."

Darnic nodded. As one who survived the previous Holy Grail War, he knew not to underestimate Servants. Despite some early hiccups in this one, he had complete faith in his own Lancer's strength.

He then asked another question, more casual this time.

"By the way, where are the homunculi in this workshop? When I activated the dream state to repel intruders, they all disappeared."

"They're guarding the outer perimeter," Lancer replied. "But since they lack spiritual cores, they can't access this space. This branch of your workshop... it's not reality anymore, but a separate plane, a dream world."

This was Darnic's trump card.

Alienation. A pinnacle trait of elite workshops, allowing a mage to overlap their domain with another world, much like a lesser form of an Unlimited Blade Works-like Reality Marble. Though it lacked the sheer weight of a personal Reality Marble, it still allowed Danic to reshape the space according to his will.

Here, walls could loop endlessly. Rooms could reassemble themselves after destruction. One could step forward only to end up back where they started. The very laws of distance, space, and logic bent to the caster's intent.

And Darnic had taken this even further.

Through decades of obsession, he'd refined his technique, shifting not merely space but anchoring his workshop in a layer of the dream world, a place where material and spiritual intertwined. In this "dream layer," damage didn't behave normally. Pain was real, but lethal damage often only manifested after the dream dissolved back into reality.

Only beings with a true mystery, with sufficient magical weight and conceptual depth, could even affect this space.

"Only someone like Kenneth could possibly bring high-level magecraft into a dream and have it stick. But aside from him… no one can touch me here."

Darnic smirked, a gleam of pride flashing in his eyes.

"And the Servants? Sure, they can manifest here, but without a Master guiding them, they'd just waste energy. Meanwhile, this space bends to me alone."

From the shadows, Lancer offered a detached counterpoint.

"Which also means your safety is paradoxical. Once the workshop becomes a dream, it becomes untouchable. But if someone can enter, your safe illusion collapses instantly."

Darnic waved the comment off with a sneer.

"Still… who could even find this place? Even if they were aware of the dream-space, without the right frequency, they'd never enter."

"No… you're wrong, Master."

Lancer suddenly raised a hand, sharp and tense, moving protectively in front of Danic.

"...?"

Darnic paused, confused, but wisely didn't protest. He'd seen Lancer's instincts before, when Lancer reacted like this, something serious was coming.

And then, out of the flickering dream-fog… they arrived.

Black shadows slid silently across the ground, growing, unfurling, until the silhouettes of shadow-clad ninja soldiers emerged from nothingness. One after another. Surrounding them.

Each of them moved like they belonged here, as if this dream-space were just another battlefield they'd already conquered.

"Impossible… this is my dreamscape!"

Danic's eyes widened in disbelief. He recognized the gear, the movements, these were the same familiars Roland used.

But how could they enter the dream world? Were they even real?

Even Lancer, usually emotionless, looked disturbed.

"...This is an invasion from another layer entirely," he warned. "Master, brace yourself."

The black-clad ninja soldiers didn't attack.

Instead, they shifted aside with eerie coordination, opening a silent corridor.

From its end, Roland stepped forward.

He smiled calmly.

"It really was a pain to find you, Darnic."

Darnic narrowed his eyes.

"Master of Caster… what is this? You intend to assassinate me?"

"I just wanted to confirm something," Roland said softly, crimson light flickering in his irises. "To see whether you were worth killing first."

His gaze slid past Lancer without fear, landing squarely on Danic.

You could read the calculation in his stare. This wasn't blind aggression, Roland was analyzing everything: placement, mana flow, psychological reactions. To him, Danic was already a solved problem.

This guy... survived the last Holy Grail War. That alone says everything.

Not only had he mastered the Way of the Gods, but he'd anchored his life in the presence of his Servant, never straying, never exposing a weak link.

And this dream-based workshop? Impressive. If Roland hadn't stumbled upon it by accident, even his Shadow Legion would have overlooked it completely.

Yet Roland's curiosity wasn't just about Danic.

It was about his Servant.

In a typical Holy Grail War, Masters didn't know each other's Servants' true names, and thus couldn't easily assess strengths. It was why Berserker-class Servants like Lancelot were such effective wild cards.

But here… Roland frowned.

This Lancer's stats…

"All five parameters, Strength, Endurance, Agility, Mana, Luck, are at B rank? All five?"

No variation. No particular weakness. No singular peak. It was…

"...weirdly perfect balance."

Too perfect. Too stable.

The kind of stability that made Roland immediately suspicious.

—Who the hell is this guy?