On the plains outside the Fortress of Millennia—clang!
"Alex! What's taking you so long? Don't tell me you're slacking off! That bombardment just now means Her Majesty has returned."
Surrounded by the honor guard of the Astartes Third Legion, Liver spoke leisurely as he collected battlefield data and tactical readings. Stroking his well-groomed beard, he gestured toward the Astartes warriors beside him who were busily scanning and recording data with their various instruments.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
A series of heavy impacts rang out as Alex's golden-winged longsword clashed violently against Mordred's brilliant Clarent, the Brilliantly Shining Royal Sword.
Scarlet lightning and violet-red flames collided furiously, the blades shrieking under the strain of their combined physical might. Sparks cascaded upward like molten stars, scattering into the dark sky.
BOOM!
The two combatants broke apart, shockwaves tearing across the scorched grass. Alex planted his golden sword into the ground and tilted his head back with a sigh. Slacking off? Really? Liver, you're the one taking it easy here.
Though Alex bore the title of Legion Commander of the First Astartes Legion, every commander with a number following his own—Liver, Budo, and the others—outranked him in both experience and prestige.
He couldn't help it; he was the youngest among them.
Both Budo and Liver were veterans, men he himself had once looked up to.
"Liver, my friend, we're just digital avatars. We can't access any of our higher protocols. The simulated Honkai energy output is limited as well..."
"And besides," Alex added, glancing at the distance between them, "that Red Saber isn't someone you take lightly."
"Hah? So the tin can admits I'm dangerous now? Hahaha!"
Wiping the blood from her lips, Mordred grinned and swung Clarent onto her shoulder. Though her limbs still tingled from the earlier paralysis, her fighting spirit burned just as fiercely.
"Well, I'll admit it—you've got impressive skill for your age," Alex said sincerely. Even in battle, he gave respect where it was due.
Seeing Mordred's expression brighten with childish pride, her tail practically wagging with delight, Alex couldn't help but think, She really is just a kid.
The moment of calm didn't last. Realizing she was being teased, Mordred immediately pointed her sword toward him again. "Hey! Tin can! Don't think I'll go easy on you! Why'd you stop? You giving up already?"
"Indeed," Alex said calmly, looking up at the sky. "It's no longer my fight. It's Her Majesty's turn now."
Turning back toward Liver, he gave a subtle nod. "First Legion, retreat!"
Snapping his notebook shut, Liver raised his voice. "Third Legion, retreat!"
Instantly, every Astartes warrior on the field dissolved into streams of violet-red particles, vanishing from sight.
"Huh?! Wait—hey! The fight's not over yet—" Mordred's protest was drowned out by a thunderous rumble!
Before she could finish, a massive gust of wind slammed into her like a wall. Caught off guard, she staggered backward, narrowly avoiding being thrown off her feet. Though uninjured, her composure was gone.
"What the hell... another Noble Phantasm?" she muttered, stabbing her sword into the ground to brace against the storm. The violent wind tore across the plains, whipping sand and debris into her face.
...
"Descend—Glory of the Empire!"
Selene extended her slender hands, scarlet eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement.
Vrrrmmm—!
The instant her incantation ended, a tangible wave of mana surged outward from her palms like a tidal flood.
The sheer pressure shattered the cooled crust of molten earth beneath her. The air roared and churned, swirling with violet-red motes of energy that spiraled around her before bursting outward in all directions, filling the heavens with light.
"Not enough... this mana isn't nearly sufficient to sustain Shikoutazer's full manifestation under my Rider-class parameters," Selene muttered, her tone sharp but calm. "I could summon a reduced construct—a mere hundred-meter frame—but if I'm to use it, then I'll use its true might. Anything less would be unworthy."
A lesser toy was never her style.
With a dismissive wave, she released all Astartes legion summons, recalling the mana sustaining them and channeling the immense energy back into her own core. Through the Servant link, Selene contacted her Master—Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia.
"Master, this mana is insufficient. To fully release Shikoutazer, your circuits will be torn apart if you attempt forced output. Use a Command Spell."
On the balcony of the Fortress of Millennia, Celenike nodded, crimson eyes gleaming with manic devotion. Under Darnic's uneasy gaze, she raised her right hand—three crimson crowns etched upon it.
"By the power of my Command Spell, I order you, Rider—unleash your Noble Phantasm! National Defense Machine God—Shikoutazer!"
The central crest flared, glowing brilliantly before dissolving into motes of light.
Celenike was no fool; she wasn't one of those incompetent third-rate magi. Her command was precise, surgically specific. A Command Spell's power bordered on true magic—its effect strengthened the more narrowly focused the order, and weakened if made too broad.
"Perfect. That will suffice."
Under the spell's authority, Selene felt the final restrictions lift—the seals on the incantation shattered.
"The Empire's origin—past, present, and eternal future—exist as one."
"From the past unto eternity, this moment shines unbroken!"
"This is the most radiant hour of the world! Let all stars pale before my light! Manifest—"
"National Defense Machine God—Shikoutazer!"
At that declaration, Selene's form was enveloped by a transparent lattice of geometric light, her body dissolving into the blinding heart of a colossal crimson beam that erupted skyward.
A pillar of violet-red energy, vast as a mountain, lanced into the heavens—piercing even the height of the Hanging Gardens. The darkened sky and the scorched earth below were bathed in imperial radiance.
Then—the light began to shift. The pillar fractured, its brilliance congealing into countless particles of dense magical essence that swirled and condensed, sketching the outline of a divine machine.
Rumble... rumble...
Crack... crack... crack...
The world itself seemed to tremble beneath the deafening roar.
For the citizens of Trifas, this night would forever scar their memories.
By day, they had endured earthquakes, forest fires, collapsing gas lines—terrifying yet explainable disasters. They had gossiped about Sighișoara's "Jack the Ripper" killings and the explosion that leveled a church. But tonight—tonight was something beyond human comprehension.
"Look over there!"
"What—what is that?!"
Those fleeing through the streets froze. Eyes wide, they stared toward the plains, the luggage in their hands falling forgotten to the cobblestones.
"Dear God... what is that thing?!"
"It's... it's a god..."
"Is this... divine judgment?"
Every witness felt their throats tighten as an indescribable dread seized them. The world—their world—had changed. Reality itself now felt dreamlike, wrong.
Even the mages dispatched from the Clock Tower stared, pale and trembling.
They had known—intellectually—that this Grail War was fought by heroes of legend, by beings that defied common sense. But to see this... this was madness incarnate.
The towering figure, its form piercing the clouds, seemed to blot out the stars themselves.
A god that stood five hundred meters tall—its arrival heralded by the tremor of the world.
Its entire body was forged from an unknown divine metal, humanoid in shape, draped in a grand cloak, and crowned upon the head like a sovereign deity gazing down upon the mortal world.
Every soul who beheld the colossus—whether magus or commoner—felt like an insect before the sky. Their legs trembled uncontrollably, hearts crushed beneath the sheer weight of awe.
And then, as they knelt or collapsed in terrified reverence, the giant's head ignited.
Vrrrm—!
Within a flood of radiant light, a massive beam of destruction erupted from Shikoutazer's crown, lancing straight into the plains outside Trifas.
The night turned to fire.
BOOM—!
The crimson beam swept across the fields like a scythe, leaving molten scars in its wake.
RUMBLE—!!
The flash of red light blazed brighter than the sun, a colossal sphere of flame bursting skyward. The explosion's shockwave roared outward in waves, consuming everything in its path like a tidal storm.
The ground quaked violently, and within seconds the panic spread. Survival instinct surged through the populace as people screamed and fled into the darkness.
"Run!"
"We'll die here!"
...
Even the Masters of Yggdmillennia, standing on the fortress balcony, were struck silent. One by one, they swallowed hard.
Even Fiore, calm and well-bred as she was, couldn't restrain herself from muttering, "What... what terrifying power..."
They all thought the same thing—thank the heavens that Rider of Black was on their side. If Her Majesty had been summoned by the enemy, none of their preparations, no matter how elaborate, would have meant a thing. Against such absolute destruction, all resistance was futile.
"Still... powerful as it is, Her Majesty's force may be too much—for the Grail War, and for this city," Fiore murmured softly.
Beside her, Celenike—the Rider's Master—burst into wild laughter, drunk on glory and madness. "This... this is godhood! What divine strength! Magnificent! The Greater Grail belongs to Yggdmillennia now!"
To you, more like it, Caules thought grimly. He doubted Celenike would ever surrender the Grail willingly now that she commanded such a weapon.
"Still," he said quietly, glancing toward his sister, "Fiore... Darnic and Roche still haven't returned. Isn't that strange?"
"Hm?" Fiore wheeled closer, her brow furrowing. "You're right. I have a bad feeling... Could it be a Red Servant slipped inside the fortress?"
"Lord Darnic," she called through the comm-line, "I request permission to investigate—"
...
When the blinding light faded, the battlefield was unrecognizable. The grasslands were gone, replaced by a molten scar—an endless canyon split across the earth.
"It's over, Berserker Spartacus."
Within Shikoutazer's core chamber, Selene spoke softly. The first strike of the Ultimate Teigu had been dedicated to him. For a rebel, she thought, he should be satisfied to fall beneath the hand of a god.
The synchronization between Selene and her Teigu was absolute. After enhancing it with Honkai energy, Shikoutazer had become a perfect extension of her will. Within the core, she could control it directly as though piloting through a living VR construct—every motion, every sensor, every limb felt as if it were her own body.
Outside the core, she could even command it remotely—but as a Rider-class Servant, the Noble Phantasm's blessing bound her within. If she left the core, Shikoutazer would dematerialize instantly.
From her vantage high above the earth, she saw the remains of Spartacus—the monstrous mountain of flesh now nothing more than ash scattered by the wind.
"Now then," Selene murmured, her gaze lifting toward the distant heavens, "it's your turn... Assassin of Red, Semiramis."
At her command, the titanic machine shifted, the air vibrating with mechanical resonance as it turned toward the Hanging Gardens suspended above.
Clack—clack—clack—!
The armor plating along its massive arm opened, revealing a colossal cannon embedded within the palm—its barrel more than fifteen meters wide.
"Well then, Amakusa Shirou Tokisada," Selene whispered, a dangerous smile curling her lips. "Let's see how you play your next move."
"Your Majesty! We have an emergency!"