Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 86

Chapter 86: I Like Artoria

Romulus slowly approached. The heavy flagstones beneath his feet buckled and cracked, pushed upward by the thick, encroaching roots of a phantom giant tree. He tilted his head slightly. Beneath his golden helmet, his crimson eyes carried a glint of exasperation.

“Do you still not understand? King of the Holy Lance, you have yet to unleash the Holy Lance’s true power.”

He paused, his gaze dropping to Artoria’s white-knuckled grip on the spiraling golden weapon. “No, to be precise, you have not succumbed to its power. You are fighting right now to protect your Master, not to protect the world. The Lance of the End, when wielded in such a manner, will never truly shine.”

“What did you say…!” Artoria’s head snapped up. Indignation flared in her emerald eyes. “My lance remains absolute! Its radiance has never faded in the slightest!”

“…It cannot be helped. I truly did not wish to perform such an un-Roman act.” Romulus looked at the stubborn king. He slowly lowered his great spear, his broad shoulders slumping in a rare display of helplessness. A soft sigh escaped his lips before his tone hardened into deadly seriousness. “But there are times in this world when brute force must be applied. And now, Fujimaru Ritsuka, is such a time.”

Ritsuka watched the towering Divine Ancestor slowly pivot toward him. His stomach dropped. He instinctively scrambled a half-step backward, his voice trembling. “He… he plans to attack me directly…!?”

But contrary to the young Master’s terrified expectations, Romulus did not raise his weapon. Instead, he locked his piercing red eyes onto the boy and suddenly unleashed a deafening, booming roar.

“I ask you, Fujimaru Ritsuka! Quickly declare that you like Artoria Pendragon!”

“Eh—Hah!?” Ritsuka froze. His jaw went slack, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. His brain completely short-circuited, utterly failing to process the Divine Ancestor’s bizarre train of thought.

It wasn’t just him. Countless spectators watching the light screen across the multiverse instantly erupted into utter chaos, their faces mirroring the boy’s sheer bewilderment.

Inside the Tohsaka Manor of the Fifth Holy Grail War, Tohsaka Rin vaulted right over the back of her sofa. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at the broadcast. “What the hell is that giant talking about?! This is a life-or-death battle! Why is he suddenly forcing a love confession mid-fight?!”

Back on the screen, Artoria was equally paralyzed. The hand gripping her divine construct faltered. A thoroughly uncharacteristic wave of shock and embarrassment washed over her stoic features. She whipped her head toward Romulus, her voice cracking with disbelief.

“You… you brute, what nonsense are you spouting?! This is utterly barbaric! Is this the vaunted Roman way?!” She immediately spun back to her bewildered Master, a faint, traitorous pink creeping up the tips of her ears. “Do not listen to his ravings, Ritsuka! Just focus your mind on transferring mana to me!”

Romulus completely ignored her protests. He took another heavy step forward, his booming voice echoing across the battlefield, the absolute certainty in his red eyes burning brighter. “All statements from outsiders are rejected! Fujimaru Ritsuka, quickly say you like her!!”

Artoria’s cheeks flared a brilliant, furious crimson. Shame and annoyance warred on her face as she leveled a death glare at the Roman founder. “You dare to mock me so—!”

Ritsuka sucked in a massive breath. He suddenly threw his head back, locked eyes with Artoria, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“I—re—al—ly—like—you—!”

Artoria’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The fierce indignation on her face shattered, instantly freezing into pure, unadulterated panic. A scorching heat exploded across her cheeks, rushing all the way to her earlobes. She jerked her head away, her voice dropping to a flustered, mosquito-like squeak.

“Eh—ah, yes, thank you very much!”

A split second later, her kingly facade desperately tried to reassert itself. She waved her free hand frantically, her tone entirely unconvincing. “N-No, wait! I do not require the affections of a contractor…! This is completely irrelevant to the battle!”

Romulus watched the frantic display, a knowing, thoroughly amused smile curving his lips. He shook his head gently. His red eyes now carried the distinct, teasing wisdom of a deity who saw through all mortal facades. “What about the reverse, then? How would you feel if your Master loudly declared that he hated you?”

Artoria answered without a single second of hesitation, her voice dripping with genuine grievance. “My mood would plummet completely! My heart would ache!”

“Exactly. You have finally been tricked into speaking the truth, Knight of the Holy Lance.” Romulus’s smile widened into a triumphant grin. “The affection of your contractor brings you joy. You have long harbored deep feelings for him.”

Artoria’s face went as red as a ripe apple. She practically spun on her heel, entirely unable to meet Ritsuka’s gaze, her voice a rapid-fire string of flustered excuses. “Ah… no, I mean, this is simply the natural relationship of trust a Servant holds for their Master…! It is not ‘affection’ at all!”

Romulus did not press the issue further. He merely chuckled, waving a massive hand with a look of paternal indulgence. “Let us assume that is the case. Let us assume that is the case.”

His gaze settled back on Artoria, the teasing mirth fading into a deep solemnity. The mockery vanished from his crimson eyes, replaced by a deep, divine compassion. “Knight of the Holy Lance, although you are the Child of the Dragon, your essence remains human. You are a being who yearns to remain human. Your soul still possesses an unextinguished warmth. Though you stand from the perspective of a god, looking down upon all living things, you have yet to forge the cold, unfeeling heart of a god.”

“The existence of a Deus Ex Machina is ultimately unqualified for you, and this, too, is—”

Ritsuka looked up into the Divine Ancestor’s eyes. A sudden spark of understanding flashed in his mind. He finished the sentence without missing a beat. “Rome, right?”

“—Precisely.” A brilliant flicker of approval danced in Romulus’s eyes. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, the sound overflowing with absolute Roman grandeur and romance. His scarlet cloak whipped wildly in the wind generated by his booming laughter. “Rome is romance—”

“It symbolizes the entirety of humanity. It exists as humans who have departed from the Age of Gods, yet retained the heart to love.”

With those final words, Romulus’s towering figure began to slowly dissolve into golden motes of light. He merged effortlessly into the sunlight, leaving behind only a faint, lingering essence of Rome, as though the great founder had simply been a dream.