Type-Moon, What Do You Mean You summoned Tiamat?! Chapter 36: What the Hell Do You Want to Do?!

"You saw everything that happened at the amusent park, didn't you? The abnormal disaster at the ruins and that mysterious blue-haired female Servant… Caster, did your Noble Phantasm obtain any useful information?"

In the dimly lit police chief's office, Orlando Reeve sat in a large executive chair with a stern expression. From the encrypted phone on the desk ca the voice of his eccentric Servant, Alexandre Dumas.

Not long ago, while the King of Heroes and the blue-haired goddess had shaken the entire city with their fierce battle, the great writer had secretly observed the scene from his underground workshop through the city's extensive police surveillance network.

anwhile, deep in a remote basent, Alexandre Dumas — dressed in a luxurious coat, legs casually crossed and feet propped on a cluttered desk — swirled a glass of red wine while staring at the ceiling in a completely relaxed manner.

He burst into loud laughter toward the microphone. "Ah, I got it. At first, even with my Noble Phantasm I couldn't find a single record of that blue-haired goddess in the history books. But thanks to tonight's exaggerated battle, I'm 100% certain of her identity."

"This is insane. I never imagined such an outrageous anomalous situation could occur in a Holy Grail War. No matter how perfect your plan was, Mastah, executing it in front of her would be harder than climbing to heaven."

"By the way, I have so heartfelt advice for the Mastah from our cooperative relationship."

Dumas' usually carefree voice was now completely serious. "If you think that black-haired boy is the only breakthrough and plan to directly behead the human Master — whether you do it yourself or have Faldeus do it behind the scenes — you should abandon that idea imdiately."

"Even if you try to ambush the woman herself by any ans… she probably wouldn't even flinch. She'd just think so ignorant child was playing around."

"But if you're foolish enough to touch the 'child' she's protecting behind her… well, you know what happens."

Alexandre Dumas tilted his head slightly, his deep gaze seeming to pierce the classical wooden ceiling. He grinned. "If that 'Mother' truly goes mad, no one in this Holy Grail War can stop her, Mastah. Tonight's arrogant King of Heroes is the best negative example right in front of you."

"From that solemn tone… it seems her background is even more terrifying than the King of Heroes'?" Orlando frowned, his expression unreadable.

"Ah… that's right. The reason I couldn't find information about her before wasn't because my Noble Phantasm malfunctioned or was interfered with. It's because that woman doesn't even exist among the ranks of heroes. She is… the most ancient primordial goddess rejected and denied by this very planet."

"A goddess…?" Orlando, who had been lightly tapping a cigar on the table, suddenly stopped. "You an… a true god was summoned to Snowfield City?"

"No. To be precise, she cannot be defined by the narrow word 'goddess.'" Dumas laughed quietly. "She is the common mother of all gods…"

"The Sea of Life symbolizing the origin and return of all things, that soul-stirring song of sorrow, and… despite displaying such desperate destructive power, it was rely a small clone stuffed into a Servant's spiritual core. With so many obvious characteristics, even my brain, which prides itself on being the greatest writer, should have guessed her identity long ago."

Alexandre Dumas took a deep breath and slowly spoke the forbidden true na in a tone filled with epic reverence.

"Tiamat is the Goddess of Creation in sopotamian mythology, and at the sa ti an existence that symbolizes the principle of humanity's evil and return."

Thud.

Orlando's cigar suddenly fell onto the solid wood desk.

The police chief, known for his iron will, showed an extrely intense emotional fluctuation on his face for a brief mont.

Dead silence lasted for several seconds.

Then Orlando slowly raised his head, his previously calm voice carrying a hint of emotion. "Dumas… your advice is probably too late."

On the other end of the phone, Alexandre Dumas froze mid-motion while holding the receiver. Then he suddenly stood up from his chair.

"Hey, you're joking, right?! Are you serious, Mastah?! I'm not exaggerating — absolutely no one must be allowed to touch that boy——"

Before Dumas could finish, Orlando abruptly hung up and quickly dialed Faldeus' highest-level encrypted private line.

But… all he heard from the receiver was the despairing busy tone.

Snowfield City's police chief unconsciously gripped the receiver tightly.

"Damn it, that Faldeus already…"

Orlando was instantly engulfed by a strong sense of crisis. He pushed his chair back, grabbed a black cloak from the coat rack, and pressed the red button on the desk representing the highest-level crisis.

"Captain, what happened?!" His deputy's urgent voice imdiately ca through the desktop communicator.

Orlando strode toward the door without looking back and gave orders to the communicator. "Imdiately go to the underground armory and wake those people… Prepare for maximum combat readiness ahead of schedule."

He walked to the door, paused briefly, looked up at the stormy night sky, and spoke in a low, terrifying voice.

"Snowfield City will probably undergo a complete transformation from now on."

…

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