Satsuki also noticed the arrival of Kirei Kotomine.
One of her objectives had been achieved—though she had little interest in the exact relationship between Kirei and Kiritsugu Emiya.
Back at the Holy Church, however, Kirei's unexpected display of interest in Kiritsugu had caught Satsuki's attention.
This was a man who cared for nothing. But precisely because of that, once something piqued his interest, the consequences promised to be entertaining.
Of course, Satsuki herself did not truly care.
She simply reasoned that as long as Kiritsugu was present, it would be easy enough to create an opportunity for Kirei to meet him. And then…
She snapped her fingers. At once, magical energy surged once more from Kayneth's body behind her.
Under her control, Lancer's form materialized again from spirit state.
The moment he appeared, an overwhelming killing intent radiated outward, born from fury he could no longer suppress.
"Ki-ri-tsu-gu Emiya!"
Without question, to see his Master nearly slain before his very eyes was an outrage even a magnanimous hero could not bear.
Yet that fiery wrath of the Sun God met a solid wall—the cold, golden eyes of Satsuki.
"Take your Master back for treatment. With Saber present, you cannot kill Kiritsugu Emiya."
"…"
Satsuki's words left Karna unable to refute. Though he had not yet crossed blades with Saber, from her Saint Graph and the aura of magical energy she carried, she was undeniably a top-class Servant.
Meanwhile, his Master's injuries were dire. Half his magical circuits were ruined. If he did not receive treatment soon, even if he survived, he could no longer maintain the status of a magus.
For Kayneth, who had built his life upon his talent and ability, such a fate was far crueler than death.
Seeing the struggle in Karna's eyes, Satsuki drew from her waist a black folding fan. At its base shimmered a black pearl. At the same time, she released a faint trace of Berserker's aura. Karna's expression stiffened.
"Regarding the commission you asked of me—once your Master has recovered somewhat, come find me again."
Having spoken thus, the great hero Karna finally relented. Bowing his head toward her, he said: "I thank you. Next time we meet, I will fight you with all my strength, as you wish."
With that, he lifted his gravely wounded and unconscious Master. Cloaked in fire, he departed from the scene.
No one dared interfere with the murderous Lancer, even though this would have been the best opportunity to eliminate a rival.
In the next instant, Satsuki's figure flickered and appeared beside Kirei Kotomine.
Stretching out her hand, she drew forth a black rift in the air, as though a crack in space itself. Reaching into it, she said: "Kirei Kotomine, I have already completed the mission to eliminate Caster. You must have sensed the disappearance of Caster's magical singularity, yes?"
"…Indeed."
The magical anomaly that had once radiated across the entirety of Fuyuki had suddenly vanished during his skirmish with those two women. At the time, he had been wholly focused on killing Kiritsugu Emiya, and gave it little thought. But now… had Caster truly been eliminated quietly by this Servant before him?
Could she really possess such strength?
"Even if I personally believe you are not lying, this matter must still undergo formal verification by the Holy Church before it can be confirmed," Kirei replied with an emotionless face. "What, then, is your purpose in bringing this up now?"
"I have no interest in the Church's rewards. That is my Master's concern."
"My purpose is only this—that your Servant reveals himself to me, so that I may meet him…"
Meet him... Meet him... Meet him...
Even before the echo of Satsuki's words faded—
The entire world fell still.
No, it was not the world that had stopped. It had been cut off, severed temporarily by some power.
A suffocating aura of darkness and death swept outward across all visible space.
Kirei Kotomine, Irisviel, Maiya Hisau, even Chaldea's party in the distance—all of them were frozen in that instant.
The only ones able to move within this space were Saber, protected by Avalon, and Satsuki, who had already transcended the boundary.
"What is this? This sudden aura of death…"
Saber's eyes revealed an unprecedented tension and grim resolve. In the air lingered whispers from the abyss of death itself… like the sighs of the dying, like the beauty of flowers returning to dust, like the ultimate decree of fate, like the merciless arrival of the Reaper.
Under this crushing weight of death that pierced directly into the soul—before even seeing the one who had released it—the Knight King of Britain found her fear uncontrollable. She was forced to release her Noble Phantasm.
The golden holy sword illuminated the area, its star-born power granting her just enough mana to continue standing.
But the scene before her eyes was no longer the castle or the forest's edge.
Instead, she stood within a dark, fathomless canyon.
Around her lay countless corpses—tens, hundreds, thousands—sprawled endlessly to the horizon, all the way to the peak of a towering mountain.
Her pupils narrowed.
At the summit, she saw the black-haired Servant she had once crossed blades with, standing silently upon one side of the cliff.
And on the opposite side of the high precipice stood an unfamiliar figure.
When Saber raised her eyes to him, even she—who cared little for life and death—was struck by the stench of death in an instant.
Before her stood a Heroic Spirit—or no, something far beyond the definition of a Heroic Spirit. This was a swordsman who had already become one with death itself.
His body had long since rotted away, his bones fastened together with steel nails. His death-black wings were woven into armor draped upon his shoulders. His hands rested upon a cracked, rusted longsword. Beneath the skull mask his face was hidden, leaving only two ghostly blue lights glowing in the sockets of his eyes.
At the very first glance, Saber's bones trembled. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh. The inescapable omen of death tore relentlessly at her reason.
Without explanation, she realized this was not an existence she could ever hope to oppose.
No—this was an existence that not even the entirety of her forces and armies could hope to overcome. A being beyond all standards of Heroic Spirits.
For this existence itself was—Death!
...
"Do you wish to sow death, to wither the green fields?"
The being before her was a Heroic Spirit who had endured for over a thousand years, the deepest shadow hidden behind the veil of history.
He stood more than two meters tall, half a head higher than Satsuki. The words from his mouth carried a peculiar rhythm, imbued with the weight of ages, like the counsel of a venerable elder, filled with far-seeing wisdom on life.
"Only after wildfire sweeps across the plains can the fields be reborn anew."
Answering him, Satsuki's golden Tenseigan flared at full strength for the first time, seeking to pierce the mystery of the armored Assassin before her.
But his past was like a still, fathomless pool hidden in the depths of a canyon. Without a ripple, it blocked her gaze entirely.
Was this the Assassin class skill—Presence Concealment?
No. Not even Presence Concealment at rank A could so easily obscure her sight, much less right before her eyes.
No—the truth was that his sheer power was the key.
"It seems you are the same as I," the aged voice echoed from beneath the skeletal helm. "One who already stands beyond the boundary."
"Merely the product of chance. All things have the nature of awakening—just as you, just as she."
The skeletal swordsman nodded in satisfaction. "As with the existence of death itself."
"Death is the fairest punishment, and also the fairest blessing. Like the awareness innate to all, it is born with every being—its meaning depends only on how one awakens to it."
Satsuki's eyes were calm, yet filled with realization. She gazed upon the shadowed land of death around them without a trace of mercy.
The swordsman's eyes glowed with ghostly blue light. "And your faith—how does it transcend death?"
At this, Satsuki slowly spoke: "Some, upon being diagnosed with a terminal illness, finally think to pursue their unfinished dreams, and each day suddenly becomes precious beyond measure. But in truth, every person suffers from the same 'terminal illness'—the inevitability of death. The reason most beings fail to cast aside trivialities and devote themselves to deeds meaningful in this life and the next is because they do not realize this. They believe instead that they will live long."
"Compared to last month, this month is closer to death; compared to yesterday, today is closer to death; compared to day, night is closer to death; compared to the last instant, this instant is closer to death…
"From the moment of birth, like lambs led to slaughter, we are drawn step by step toward death."
"No one escapes birth, aging, sickness, and death. Wealth, desire, fame, and power cannot ease even the pain of illness—much less prevent death itself.
"Though many who enjoy 'happiness' in the present never prepare for the old age, sickness, and death that await, escape is impossible."
Thus, the question of how to end the cycle of suffering became the most pressing of all.
—And yet, the most pressing of problems is precisely the one most avoided.
Seeing the elderly, people assume all may live to such an age. Few think of the many who perish before growing old!
What guarantees that youth means survival? Some die in the womb, some at birth, some crawling, some walking. Some die in childhood, some in adulthood, some in old age. All die in their turn, just as fruit falls when it ripens.
The towering swordsman said flatly: "Beneath my blade, death is the end."
Satsuki shook her head. "That is the delusion imposed by appearances. Without liberation, beings are caught in endless reincarnation. Death is not the end—it is but one node within causality. Reincarnation is the ceaseless cycle of life into death, and death into life."
"Born of conditions, gone with conditions, death is but one expression of conditions dispersing. But 'conditions' themselves can never be destroyed, nor ended."
At length, the swordsman robed in death finally spoke again. "That is your view of death. Yet most people do not share such a perspective. They drown in human desire—and death is the final punishment for it."
Thus, as the First Hassan, he chose to serve as a watchful blade, punishing corruption within the Order itself.
For a holy order guided by God, if its deeds were evil in the eyes of mankind, they could not be forgiven.
Therefore, he would never permit the corruption of the Order—neither in spirit, nor in practice.
"So mankind must undergo discipline."
Satsuki nodded, agreeing with his words. "The fortune of beings lies in their innate wisdom at birth. But their suffering also comes from that wisdom. Without knowledge or awareness, there would be neither life nor death. To see through the illusions of the world and penetrate the appearances of things requires polishing one's spirit and self-discipline."
A heavy silence spread between them, like ivy climbing around the toll of an evening bell. The skeletal swordsman stood with his sword planted in the ground. "This does not change the fact that death will inevitably come. What can change is only part of the perception of the living."
"For the immortal are the dead, and the dead cannot awaken. They lack the system to receive and use external information, nor do they possess the motivation to awaken. Thus—'those bound by magic draw near the mortal world, while those awakened drift far from it.'"
Satsuki looked at the skeletal swordsman before her. Though her Tenseigan could not pierce the origin of his existence, his essence as an undead was laid bare.
"Then why, as one bearing the class of [Saver], have you descended into the mortal world?"
The swordsman's ghostly blue eyes turned toward her. He was the second Servant in this Holy Grail War to perceive Satsuki's true nature.
"Perhaps only because—'I willed it.'"
No sooner had his words fallen than a low sound reverberated through the canyon.
Ring~
Ring~
Ring~
Alongside the toll of a bell proclaiming fate, Assassin's body began to steam with terrifying mana and blue ghostly fire.
"Through our exchange, I have seen you are not the awakened Buddha you claim, but something wholly opposite."
"Without death, there is no life. Only through death may life exist. The causality you name is not liberation, but samsara. From samsara arises the demon. That arrogance, that desire to transcend death itself, is precisely why the Counter Force rejects you…"
"Though you have become a demon through rebirth, since you too stand beyond the boundary, I must declare my name…"
"From the abyss of the canyon, from the gloom of death itself—I am Hassan-i-Sabbah, the Old Man of the Mountain."
"Then I too shall speak my name."
With her proclamation, Satsuki's body radiated the immeasurable might of Vipralopa. The abyssal canyon itself groaned and cracked beneath the unleashed force.
Without restraint, she entered once more into the form of the Demon Buddha. Her eyes cold, she looked upon the swordsman named Hassan-i-Sabbah. Three overlapping voices echoed through the space:
"My name is—Demon Buddha Māra."