Stare—
Before Atalanta and Shakespeare, the black-robed young man smiled naturally, as if genuinely infected by the silver-haired little girl's innocent grin.
"Daddy, you seem really happy today."
"That's because a certain stubborn fellow finally came to their senses."
"Hmm? Who's the stubborn one?"
"Well~ that's a secret—"
"Eh—Daddy? Daddy!"
Little Jack pouted and threw herself into Sakatsuki's arms to sulk, while the young man chuckled, skillfully yet with a touch of novelty, teasing the child he had personally saved.
Outside the door, Artoria hurried past with a potato cake in her mouth, only to backtrack moments later to the doorway in astonishment:
"Lord Sakatsuki?! You... you're back?"
"As expected of my king, noticing so quickly." Sakatsuki lifted little Jack onto his shoulders, eliciting giggles from her as he explained, "Though I wouldn't say I'm back. It's just that someone finally opened the door for my power."
Artoria easily grasped Sakatsuki's metaphor, her face lighting up with a radiant smile: "Regardless, it's wonderful to see you, Lord Sakatsuki."
"...That remains to be seen, my king." The young man responded with a slightly bitter smile.
Their tacit exchange didn't escape the notice of the other two present, especially Atalanta, who had been observing the entire scene and suddenly felt like a thousand-watt lightbulb:
"Since when did these two become so close?"
"Strange indeed. I've also heard from Miss Reika that Sakatsuki and Artoria usually have no interactions. Even when work matters arise, they only exchange brief words—nothing like today."
Indeed, Atalanta was correct. During the homunculus incident, Sakatsuki had threatened Artoria with a Command Spell to stop her. Since then, the two intelligent individuals recognized their incompatibility and maintained an appropriate distance, rarely communicating unless during wartime lulls—lest their arguments deepen the rift between them.
Yet now, Sakatsuki and Artoria were chatting and laughing without any signs of discord.
"Perhaps you should ask?"
"Me? Don't be ridiculous. Why don't you—...fine." Under Shakespeare's expectant gaze, Atalanta pursed her lips, her tail flicking unhappily before she reluctantly stepped forward.
"Hey... what's going on with you two?"
Sakatsuki and Artoria paused their conversation. After exchanging glances, Artoria resumed munching on her potato cake and cheerfully walked away, while Sakatsuki turned back with an exaggerated shrug: "Seems he suits you better after all."
"What do you mean?"
Sakatsuki smiled without answering. Deep within his soul, a platinum sun sank below the horizon as dark blue waves churned beneath a sky painted with sunset hues.
Closing and reopening his eyes, that icy, detached demeanor returned to the young man's features. Studying Atalanta's perplexed expression, he smirked slightly and stepped forward to pinch her cheek.
"Ow, ow!"
"Is there still time to dwell on this?" Sakatsuki eased his grip and sneered, "All our preparations are complete. Next, we'll return to the Black Faction and prepare for battle."
"Got it..." Atalanta's beast ears drooped lazily as she leaned against Sakatsuki, feeling his shoulders stiffen momentarily before relaxing again, which brought her some comfort.
This was the Sakatsuki she knew. The smiling young man from earlier had been too dazzling—so dazzling that it had wearied Atalanta.
In ancient Greece under the gaze of the gods, such radiant heroes were never in short supply. Yet it was precisely because of this that their tragic endings became tales of lament and fascination.
But no matter what, Atalanta didn't want Sakatsuki to meet such a fate.
So, this was fine. If cold detachment could bring safety, if reason could evade danger, then Atalanta would never wish for Sakatsuki to become a fool shouting about honor and justice. Even if all glory and disgrace remained hidden in the shadows, what did it matter to the two of them?
Let others fight over those empty titles. All she needed was for him to live safely by her side.
Holding onto a hope she hardly dared believe in, Atalanta closed her eyes, savoring these final moments of tenderness with her beloved.
————
The night deepened—the last darkness before dawn.
In the gardens of the Fortress of Millennia, amidst a field blooming with azure flowers, Achilles gripped his spear in the "Viper" stance. This was a technique that involved holding the spear's midpoint to deliver swift thrusts and deflect enemy attacks. In this stance, the fastest strike targeted the opponent's solar plexus.
But such an attack would naturally be dodged with a sidestep—no, that assassin would likely vanish from his sight in an instant. According to his teacher's analysis, the magecraft Sakatsuki wielded could achieve spatial displacement and instantaneous creation.
His ghostly movements alone were troublesome enough, but to make matters worse, the young man also wielded two divine weapons. In other words, Achilles's immortality was useless against Sakatsuki.
Achilles had never underestimated Sakatsuki's strength. What held him back from becoming a top-tier Servant was merely his physical limitations and combat skills that hadn't yet reached divine levels. However, the Third Magic's endurance partially compensated for his physical shortcomings, and his combat skills were nothing to scoff at. Even after manifesting in this world, the young man continued to hone his spear and blade, step by step, under the watchful eyes of heroes.
"Damn it… he really is similar."
Whenever Achilles saw Sakatsuki, he couldn't help but recall that man—the strategist of the Trojan War, the greatest adventurer in Greek mythology, and the protagonist of unyielding will.
His name was Odysseus. After Achilles's death, he devised the Trojan Horse to conquer Troy. After the war, to return to his beloved, he sailed across the seas, enduring the Cyclops Polyphemus, the curse of Poseidon, the temptations of the witch Circe and the nymph Calypso, the song of the Sirens, the strait of the sea monster Scylla, the wrath of Helios, and countless other trials—yet he pressed on, head held high.
His martial skills were not outstanding among the rain of heroes in Greece, but his will, spirit, and cunning even earned the admiration of Achilles—especially the fact that he managed to topple Troy, which Achilles had failed to conquer—leaving Achilles with a subtle sense of resentment.
And now, this assassin who closely resembled Odysseus had ultimately become Achilles' opponent. Unfortunately, he had already lost his Master, and with less than a tenth of his power remaining, he was no longer qualified to face Sakatsuki in a direct confrontation.
Achilles did not feel bitter. The one who had killed his Master was none other than Sakatsuki—meaning this was his own failure to protect his Master, Sakatsuki's overwhelming victory in the battle of wits.
"But... there is still hope. If I cast aside all burdens and wield my spear purely as a warrior—even in my current state, I can still pierce your throat."
As the sun was about to rise, Achilles ended his meditative battle. He opened his eyes, gazing disdainfully into the distant darkness, then headed toward Sieg's room.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Huh? Who is it? We're about to go to bed, you know~"
"Black Rider, it's me—Red Rider, Achilles. I have serious business with you."
While Achilles sought out Astolfo and Sieg, Karna was bathing. He inadvertently looked up, his gaze meeting that of the dragon-slayer in the distant Hanging Gardens. Mordred lay in her sleeping bag, her eyes sparkling as she recalled the brief time spent with her father, the King of Knights. Semiramis and her Master, Amakusa, rested in the throne room, conserving their strength. Chiron was on the rooftop, sharing his thoughts with his Master, Fiore.
Red Lancer, Red Saber, Red Assassin, Black Archer, the conversing Red Rider and Black Rider, and the soon-to-return Red Archer—only seven members remained between the Black and Red factions.
Meanwhile, among the Blue faction, which had already surfaced, Shakespeare was scribbling furiously, as if racing against time to record the legends of heroes. Avicebron touched the core of Adam before standing up as if finally making up his mind. Siegfried gazed down at the night sky. Jack the Ripper slept embraced by her Master, Reika Rikudou. Artoria swung her spear and sword, while Sakatsuki cast magecraft, returning with Atalanta and the others to the Black faction's fortress.
Caster, Caster, Saber, Ruler, Assassin, Assassin—these were the six members Sakatsuki had painstakingly gathered from nothing, the foundation of the Blue faction.
The bell of fate tolled. As the golden Holy Grail ignited, a dazzling dawn climbed over the hills, showering the world with the impartial blessing of the gods.
Having finished her devout prayers, the golden-haired saint stood up, her school uniform transforming into armor and a circlet. The banner of victory fluttered as the Ruler buried her regret—the missed chance to speak with the one she longed for—deep in her heart and took her first step forward.
"I'm heading out."
"May you have a safe journey, Holy Maiden."
Thus, dawn arrived.
When they boarded the plane purchased by the Yggdmillennia, entrusting themselves to the steel vessel hurtling through the sky at hundreds of kilometers per hour, and finally caught up to the Hanging Gardens beyond the clouds—Sakatsuki, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them.
Around him, Achilles, Karna, Chiron... a group of Servants sat together, subtly forming what seemed like an encirclement. Only Jeanne d'Arc was absent from this aircraft, apparently deployed as a shield for the fleet.
Yet Sakatsuki showed no reaction to any of this. At this point, he merely stretched his limbs and gazed upon the final spectacle.
The battle had finally reached its ultimate stage—
Seven thousand five hundred meters above the earth, a vista utterly beyond human reach.
The boundless azure filled his vision, while the unseen horizon marked the limits of the human world.
Here was a perfect world devoid of any shadows. In this pristine domain still untouched by civilization, an offering embodying all of humanity's wishes had now been presented.
The Chalice of Desire.
The final battle for those whose hearts had known defeat.
An object that accumulated countless wishes yet could grant only one.
An existence that would produce but a single beautiful answer.
—Even if that wish was steeped in madness and despair.
"It begins..."
The young man's whisper dissipated into the air. As if responding to his words, the Empress in the throne room flicked her fingers, unleashing a pillar of black light that collided with the approaching steel wings.
The first attack came not from any ordinary source, but from the twenty-meter-long black panels arranged around the courtyard—an ancient magecraft known as "Tiamtum Umu: The Black Coffin of Ten and One," whose destructive power could rival an army even in modern times.
And this was the first obstacle the Black faction had to overcome!