socalfunplaces Page 640
Page 640
A very faint, almost imperceptible, cool light, like moonlight, flashed briefly beneath her fair skin.
Her tightly clenched fist slowly loosened, leaving a trace of dark red, like dried blood, on her fingertips.
Matou Ike calmly withdrew his hand, his palm empty. His azure demonic eyes, like the most precise scanner, silently recorded every subtle physiological reaction, energy fluctuation, and the moment the storm in her crimson pupils subsided after she swallowed the degraded fruit.
Deteriorated fruit, deteriorated effects.
But it's enough... to temporarily satisfy the senses of this lost planet.
For now... suppress the devastating "hunger" that could erupt again at any moment.
Chapter 665 Meeting (4k)
The faint dark red mark remaining on Arcueid's fingertips had not completely faded, and the strange warmth left on her palm, soothed by the deteriorated fruit, was slowly settling in.
In her crimson pupils, the turbulent storm had temporarily subsided, leaving only a blank, calm like the murky sea after a storm.
Matouike's Mystic Eyes silently recorded this brief change, like a scanner freezing the experimental subject's state data.
at this time--
crunch.
A cheap plastic chair was pulled out without warning, making a screeching sound.
A figure, with an almost offensively familiar air, sat down in the empty seat opposite Matou Pond with utter ease—the very chair next to Arcueid.
Matou Ike's gaze, like a cold probe, instantly focused on this uninvited guest.
The newcomer was very young. He wore a black priest's robe that was slightly faded from washing but was exceptionally clean, which covered his slightly thin but powerful figure.
A simple silver cross necklace hung down his chest, swaying slightly with his movements, reflecting a cold, hard light under the restaurant's pale fluorescent lights.
Beneath the short red hair was a face with distinct features and a touch of oriental characteristics. Traces of his youth could still be seen between his brows, only sharpened by the passage of time and something deeper.
Familiarity.
A faint yet undeniable sense of familiarity, like an undercurrent beneath the surface, stirred Matouike's vast, nearly saturated memory bank.
Countless faces and fragments of information surged like a vast sea of stars, and the retrieval process hummed silently on the verge of overload.
He frowned slightly, a purely physiological reaction to a malfunction in calculations, rather than an emotional displeasure.
"...A proxy?" Matou Ike's voice rang out, deep and steady, with a cold scrutiny.
This attire, this demeanor, this ability to pinpoint him precisely in the midst of chaos—their allure is all too clear: a hound of the Holy Church.
However, the other party's reaction was unexpected.
“Brother Chi,” the red-haired young man spoke, his voice carrying a deliberately lowered cheerfulness, yet also revealing a subtle familiarity with an old friend and… a probing tone.
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes, as sharp as tempered steel blades, staring directly at Matou Ike.
"...Don't you remember me?" The tone was as if reminding a forgetful older brother.
Brother Chi.
This title, like a rusty key, suddenly plunged into a dusty corner of Matou Ike's vast memory bank!
The torrent of searches was instantly directed to a specific coordinate!
"...Shirou?" Matou Ike's voice carried an unusually faint sense of confirmation, like dust being brushed away.
It wasn't entirely a question, but rather a precise retrieval from the vast ocean of memory of that name, somewhat blurred by the passage of time—
The red-haired little boy who used to follow behind Father Kotomine Riki.
Kotomine Shirou.
Shirou's lips curved into a very shallow, almost imperceptible smile, as if he were slightly pleased that Matou Ike had finally remembered him, but the smile vanished in an instant, as quickly as an illusion.
His gaze swept over the pure white figure beside Matou Ike, who wore a hood, had his head down, and exuded an inhuman aura, with an extremely natural, almost casual, look.
“Ike-nii,” Shirou Kotomine’s voice rang out again.
This time, his gaze was no longer a casual sweep, but rather a cold, probe-like scrutiny unique to an agent, precisely and unabashedly locking onto the pure white figure wearing a hood and with his head bowed beside Matou Ike.
"……Who is this?"
He paused, then his next words, like an ice pick thrown out, carried a sharpness so direct it was almost cruel: "A vampire?"
There was no beating around the bush, no tentative concealment. This straightforward question suggested that there was some kind of unspoken, unceremonious bond of absolute trust between him and Matou Ike, one that transcended differences in factions and positions.
The tone was so natural, as if he were asking about something insignificant.
Faced with this pointed question that directly touched on core taboos, Matou Ike didn't even raise an eyebrow.
It was as if Shirou wasn't asking about a non-human being capable of triggering the highest level of purification within the Holy Church, but rather about the origin of a roadside stone.
He picked up the already cold cup of black coffee in front of him, the dark brown liquid swirling gently in the rough porcelain cup. The movement was as smooth as a pre-programmed sequence.
"Hmm." A simple, nasal sound escaped from his pale lips, acknowledging the other party's judgment on the nature of existence.
Then, he took a sip of the cold coffee, the bitter taste spreading across his tongue, as if savoring this absurd reality. As he set the cup down, the bottom made a slight clinking sound against the cheap plastic tabletop.
"I found it on the road." Matou Ike's voice remained calm and even, as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly piercing through the wall, projecting onto the ruins of London shrouded in chaos and smoke.
“After all, during this period of time…” His tone carried a subtle, almost icy sarcasm, “…similar fantasy species have appeared… a bit too frequently.”
An understatement.
To describe a princess of a true ancestor, an existence symbolizing planetary touch and possessing destructive power, is like describing an item found in a lost and found—simply "picked up on the street."
At the same time, it is quite natural to attribute Arcueid's existence to the current global context of "mysterious leaks and global chaos"—
An abnormal state that even the Holy Church cannot fully control and can only struggle to cope with.
It was as if she were just another "abnormal item" that had accidentally ended up on the street and needed to be dealt with in this chaos.
"Found it on the road..." Emiya Shirou repeated these four words in a low voice, a very faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
His eyes, sharp as tempered steel blades, lingered for a moment on Arcueid's profile, which hung low beneath his wide hood.
There was no deep-seated hostility or purifying impulse that one would expect from an agent facing vampires; instead, it was more like evaluating a... peculiar tool, or a complex puzzle.
He didn't ask for details, nor did he question whether the "picking up" process involved a devastating battle or an incomprehensible contract.
It seems that the explanation given by Matou Ike itself carries enough weight and credibility.
His gaze returned to Matou Ike's face, his fingertips unconsciously tapping lightly on the greasy plastic tabletop, producing a dull thud.
“I see…” Shirou’s voice trailed off, carrying a knowing yet meaningful tone, “So, Chi-nii, what do you plan to do with this… um… ‘item found on the road’?”
"Of course, we'll bring it with us for now." Matou Ike's answer was calm and indifferent, as if he were stating a temporary storage plan for an item.
He picked up the cold coffee cup and gently ran his fingertips along the rough surface of the cup.
Deep within the Demon Eye, the speed at which the eerie light flowed remained unchanged, but that gaze, like a precise scalpel, silently passed over Kotomine Shirou's shoulder and pierced the seemingly empty, blurry area behind him, divided by the restaurant's pale lights and the shadows of the street.
“And…” His voice rose slightly, carrying a cold, unavoidable penetrating power.
"...You've asked me so many questions, but you haven't even introduced yourself to me yet..."
His gaze lingered on the empty shadows, as if piercing through the barrier of vision to lock onto some unseen presence. "...Where is the one behind you?"
The air seemed to freeze for a moment. The laughter of diners at the next table, the sizzling of frying, and even the hum of fluorescent lights all seemed to be cut off by this invisible gaze.
Kotomine Shirou's expression instantly became somewhat subtle. The deliberately maintained cheerfulness and familiarity of reuniting with an old friend receded like the tide, replaced by a sense of "I knew it" helplessness, mixed with a bitter smile that his hand had been seen through.
"As expected..." He sighed softly, his voice carrying a hint of genuine frustration.
"...I can't hide it from you, Brother Chi."
He shook his head, seemingly already accustomed to Matou Ike's extraordinary insight.
He didn't turn around, but raised his voice slightly, speaking to the empty shadow behind him in a tone that was almost commanding, yet strangely reassuring:
"Come out, Karen."
The sound fell like a pebble thrown into a lake.
The air in that shadowy area outside the restaurant, bathed in the dim light of the streetlights and the restaurant's fluorescent lights, seemed to ripple slightly.
Immediately afterwards, a slender figure slowly emerged from the canvas, revealing its outline.
She walked silently out from the boundary between shadow and light, stepping into the pale light of the restaurant.
A simple, slightly faded black nun's habit covered the girl's slender yet exceptionally upright figure.
The wide hood hung low, covering most of her face, revealing only her beautifully shaped jawline and a touch of pale lips.
What is most striking is her hair hanging outside her hood—not an ordinary color, but a pure, cold white, like fresh snow, shimmering unnaturally under the light.
“Karen Ordesia.” Shirou Kotomine’s voice rang out at the right moment, with a formulaic tone, as if he were showing off an important church property.
"Currently... I am in charge of guarding it."
“Oh…” Matou Ike’s lips twitched upwards for the first time ever, forming a cold and knowing smile.
It wasn't a warm smile, but more like the confirmation of finding a corresponding barcode in a complex database. "...She must be Kirei Kotomine's 'child'."
This statement is like a boulder thrown into a calm lake!
——!
Karen Altasia, who had always been as calm as a delicate doll and exuded a cold, holy aura, trembled almost imperceptibly the moment she heard the name "Kirei Kotomine"!
Beneath the wide hood, the pupils of those eyes, which were originally as pure as gold and devoid of any emotion, suddenly contracted!
A faint, yet incredibly clear, trace of pain, disgust, and some deeper, darker hatred, like a poisonous vine, instantly coiled around those beautiful golden eyes!
Her pale, slender fingers, clasped together in front of her, suddenly tightened, the knuckles making a slight "crack" sound from the excessive force, as if she were about to crush her own bones!
This intense reaction, originating from the depths of her soul, created a fatal rift with her previous inhuman calm! That name was a curse etched into her very bones!
“Brother Chi…” Shirou Kotomine’s bitter smile deepened, a smile that carried a hint of genuine helplessness, and even a touch of… being overwhelmed by the other party’s all-knowing intelligence capabilities.
He subconsciously shifted half a step to the side, his body slightly blocking Karen and Matou Ike's line of sight, as if forming an invisible barrier.
"...I didn't expect your intelligence network to have reached such a deep level." His gaze swept over Matou Ike's still calm and expressionless face, his tone complex.
"They can even find out information at this level, like information from within the church?"
"It's nothing." Matou Ike's voice remained calm, as if he were stating a trivial matter. He didn't even glance at Karen, who was visibly shaken by that name, but simply picked up his cold coffee cup; the dark brown liquid reflected no emotion in his eyes.