Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 64

Chapter 64: The Melancholy of Atalanta Alter

On the observation deck of New Chaldea, Achilles stared at the massive light screen, his usual laid-back confidence completely shattering. The broadcast had just mercilessly exposed his deepest Master-Love traits and private Bond lines for all of humanity and the surrounding Servants to witness. A furious blush crept up his neck, ruining his handsome composure.

He reached up, aggressively scratching his messy green hair, and let out a loud, awkward shout caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Hey, hey, wait a minute! Why am I being analyzed so thoroughly up there? Wasn’t this supposed to be Big Sis’s dedicated feature? Why am I suddenly getting dragged onto the execution block!?”

Following his panicked outburst, the scene on the massive screen shifted once more, panning down to continue its focus on Atalanta Alter’s Interlude.

The evening breeze swept through a dense, simulated woodland, carrying the crisp, earthy scent of crushed vegetation and damp soil. Achilles, having just wrapped up a tense discussion regarding Atalanta Alter’s abnormal psychological condition with the Queen of Sheba and Geronimo, had pulled Fujimaru Ritsuka aside into a quiet, shadowed corner of the trees for a serious talk.

His brow furrowed, casting a shadow over his eyes. His tone dropped its usual playful edge as he sought confirmation from the young Master. “Doesn’t Big Sis seem a bit… off today?”

Fujimaru Ritsuka nodded without a second of hesitation, his expression equally grave.

“I knew it,” Achilles muttered, clapping his hands together with a heavy sigh. He straightened up, his posture shifting into that of a seasoned warrior. “Don’t get me wrong. In terms of pure combat, her performance out there was flawless. She was unbelievably sharp, cutting through enemies like they were nothing.”

He paused, his jaw tightening. “But I really can’t figure out why she would suddenly turn that bloodlust on you, Master. If I hadn’t stepped in to block her just then, you might have actually said goodbye to this world.”

At this point, the tension in his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and a faint, teasing grin returned to his lips as he tried to lighten the mood. “Though, honestly, I don’t think it would have really gone that far. Seeing her freeze up like that… things just might have become a bit troublesome to explain.”

Fujimaru Ritsuka offered an understanding nod, his blue eyes steady and resolute. “I understand. Leave her to me.”

Deep within the heart of the woods, a solitary bonfire crackled and popped, spitting orange embers into the cool night air. The flickering light stretched and warped the shadows of the surrounding trees. Following the faint, warm glow, Fujimaru Ritsuka stepped softly through the underbrush. Just as he expected, he found Atalanta Alter sitting completely alone by the fire, her knees pulled tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around them in a defensive posture. Her profile, painted in the shifting firelight, carried a heavy, suffocating weight of sorrow.

“Atalante?” Fujimaru Ritsuka called out softly, making sure his footsteps crunched lightly against the dirt to avoid startling her.

Atalanta Alter jerked her head up, her feline ears twitching wildly. A raw flash of panic pierced her yellow-green pupils. She blinked rapidly, forcing the vulnerability down and masking it behind a fragile veil of feigned calmness. “Oh… Ah, it is you, Master. It is quite late. Is something the matter?”

Fujimaru Ritsuka closed the distance and sat down on the earth beside her, offering a gentle, sincere gaze. “About what happened earlier during the battle…”

“Ugh…” The moment those words left his lips, Atalanta Alter’s shoulders trembled violently. Her carefully constructed facade shattered into pieces, allowing the heavy, suffocating guilt to swallow her whole once more. She lowered her gaze, staring blankly at the dancing sparks of the bonfire. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, raspy, and thick with unshed tears. “…Yes. I am truly, deeply sorry. Even though I never intended to hurt you from the very beginning…”

“Can you tell me the reason?” Fujimaru Ritsuka asked softly. His voice carried zero blame, offering only a quiet, unwavering concern.

“The reason?” Atalanta Alter repeated the words under her breath, tasting the bitter weight of them. Her sharp claws absentmindedly dug into the soft dirt beside her boots, tearing up small clumps of grass as her expression twisted into deep conflict. After a long, agonizing silence, she slowly lifted her head to look at him, her voice trembling with hesitation. “…Shall we walk and talk?”

The pale moonlight bled through the canopy, shrouding the entire forest in a thin, silvery veil. The lonely, rhythmic chirping of insects rose and fell in the brush, occasionally broken by the rustle of small woodland creatures handling the dark. Atalanta Alter and Fujimaru Ritsuka strolled side by side down the narrow dirt path. She lifted a hand, pressing her fingers gently against her chest. Beneath the dark fabric of her outfit, she could clearly feel her heart—a heart that belonged neither to the world of the living nor the dead—fluttering wildly against her ribs in sheer nervousness.

Meanwhile, in the alternate universe of the Prisma Illya timeline, Illya sat glued to the light screen alongside Miyu and Kuro. Watching this incredibly delicate, vulnerable inner monologue unfold, Illya’s ruby eyes lit up with sudden realization. She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh! This format, this exact kind of monologue… it feels just like Jalter’s inner thoughts when she was out on that date with Master a while back! Yeah, it totally has that exact same vibe!”

Kuro immediately leaned over, reaching out a hand to aggressively ruffle Illya’s silver hair with a teasing smirk. “My, my. Has our little Illya suddenly become a connoisseur of maidenly inner monologues?”

Illya swatted Kuro’s hand away with a huff, puffing out her chest triumphantly. “Hmph! I think my romantic judgment is absolutely spot on!”

Miyu sat quietly on the other side of the couch, watching the two of them bicker with a faint, fond smile gracing her lips, choosing to simply enjoy the peaceful moment.

Back on the forest path displayed on the screen, Atalanta Alter remained completely silent for a long stretch of time before finally bringing her steps to a halt. She turned to face Fujimaru Ritsuka, her voice dripping with a heavy, ancient exhaustion. “As you can see, the Calydonian Boar is possessing me.”

She paused, her gaze drifting away from his face and up toward the vast, distant expanse of the night sky. “The reason Calydon is feared as a Demonic Beast is entirely because of this pelt. Once a normal human dons it, they become a monster far beyond the boundaries of the mundane. And if a hero dons it… they become a demon capable of slaughtering even that very beast itself.”

As she spoke the words, that deep, familiar sorrow clawed its way back onto her features, tightening her throat until her voice cracked with raw emotion.

“…Of course, there is always a price to be paid,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “For me, the Beastification skill is the absolute cost of wielding this power. Although my mind does not become entirely chaotic and broken like it would under the effects of Mad Enhancement, my thoughts still… they still sometimes become clouded, completely dominated by raw, bestial instincts.”

“No, that is not it.” She suddenly shook her head violently, her feline ears flattening against her hair as a flash of intense pain crossed her eyes. Her voice dropped even lower, bordering on a desperate whisper. “At that moment… for that split second, I… toward you, I…”

The true words hovered right on the tip of her tongue, heavy with a possessive, terrifying affection she dared not name. But she suddenly choked, swallowing the rest of her sentence whole and falling into a miserable, dejected silence.

“Could it be…?” Fujimaru Ritsuka’s eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked together. He took a half-step forward, about to press her for the truth, but she sharply cut him off.

“That… that is enough,” Atalanta Alter snapped, whipping her head away to completely avoid his gaze. She forced a rigid, unyielding firmness into her tone, building a wall between them. “Yes. I will not fail next time. I will absolutely not let a mistake like that happen again.”

With those final words, she ruthlessly suppressed every ounce of her swirling emotions, forcing her posture back into her usual aloof, untouchable demeanor. She gave him a stiff nod. “I will head back first. Let the other three Servants protect you from now on, Master. It is much safer that way, and… you will feel far more at ease, will you not?”

Without giving Fujimaru Ritsuka a single second to respond or object, she turned on her heel, her voice clipped and urgent. “Let us end this talk here. Come, let us go back.”

Deep in the woods, the forgotten bonfire continued to crackle and spit, its dying light reflecting against the silent, retreating backs of the two figures. This quiet nighttime conversation had ultimately failed to pierce the core of her heart, yielding nothing but shadows and unresolved tension.