The demonic dragon had been successfully slain.
Gazing at the clear lavender sky, Mordred stood frozen for a long time before finally loosening her trembling hands. The holy sword slipped from her grip and embedded itself diagonally into the ground. With a soft thud, the girl collapsed onto her back, limbs splayed wide.
"Ah—finally, it's over."
Ignoring the dull pain radiating through her body, Mordred squinted her eyes, savoring the long-lost feeling of laziness. For a moment, she felt drowsy.
"Looking back, it really was a long war."
Ambushes, assassinations, crushing defeats, victories—lives ended with both satisfaction and regret. Some met their demise in rebellion; others shed their last drop of blood defending their homeland. Some willingly marched into battles they knew they couldn't survive, all for the sake of justice. Some sacrificed everything for their wishes. Even the weak left their mark through great deeds. And some lived their entire lives as heroes, gallant until the very end...
Those who sought power witnessed death. The noble and compassionate chased after life.
The one who pursued forbidden power spread draconic wings and soared—only to be struck down by the one wielding the holy sword, reenacting an epic tale.
The heroes who had once descended upon the world together had now all faded away, leaving only her and a tiny girl who had long since left the battlefield to become a child in some mother's arms.
"We won... but it doesn't feel real." Muttering to herself, Mordred suddenly grinned. "But Father, I did it."
"Yeah, you really are amazing, Saber. As expected of my Servant." Someone plopped down beside her, the breeze they stirred carrying the faint scent of tobacco. "I know you're happy, but you don't have to call me 'Father,' you know? Though, I don't mind it."
"Shut up, Master." In the past, she might have flown into a rage, but now, Mordred only gave Lionheart's back a light, disgruntled pat. "I wasn't talking about you."
"Is that so?" Lionheart shrugged. "What a shame."
"Counting survivors, assessing damages, erasing traces of magecraft... There's still so much left to wrap up." Fiore counted on her fingers before sighing. "Turns out being the family head isn't as easy as I thought."
"You've got me to help, Sister." Caules pushed her wheelchair forward, gazing into the distance. "We'll take it step by step. Besides, our efforts weren't in vain."
"True." At the thought, Fiore pressed her lips together and smiled happily. "Who would've thought the Greater Grail would end up back in our hands? When the Hanging Gardens collapsed, it must have fallen somewhere nearby."
"Yeah, but there's something strange about it. If the Grail really fell with it, we should have sensed its presence by now..." Caules frowned, lost in thought, but the joy of victory quickly swept his doubts aside. "Well, whatever. We'll just have to search for it ourselves later."
Filled with hope for the future, the siblings paused atop a small hill, admiring the warm morning light that washed over them like ocean waves. A gentle breeze swept by, lifting a woman's long hair as Reika Rikudou tucked a loose strand behind her ear, smiling softly. "To think someone like me could witness such a grand battle..."
"You're too modest, Miss Reika." Sieg walked up beside her with a light chuckle. "You were Sakatsuki-sensei's most capable assistant, after all."
"Mommy." Little Jack tugged at Reika's sleeve. "Where's Daddy? Where is Daddy now?"
Children speak without filter, but the Masters exchanged troubled glances, all falling into silence.
How could they possibly say—your daddy was just treated as a boss to be farmed, his ashes scattered by Mordred's holy sword?
Seeing no one answer, the silver-haired girl pouted, her large eyes welling up with tears—only for someone to cover them from behind.
"Guess who?"
That familiar, lightly amused voice.
Little Jack immediately brightened, turning around to hug the person covering her eyes without even needing to look.
"Daddy!"
Time seemed to freeze. Fiolla's small mouth fell open. Under his sunglasses, Lion King's eyes widened. Caules' pupils constricted. Sieg shifted into a guarded stance. Yet Reika Rikudou showed no surprise, merely covering her mouth with a soft laugh:
"Welcome back, Mr. Sakatsuki."
"Now now, I never left."
Golden-white spiritrons gathered, outlining a British-style coat. The gentlemanly youth lifted Little Jack with one hand while using magecraft to block her hearing. With his other hand, he removed his top hat—light swirling as it transformed into a familiar pistol.
Watching Mordred leap up but falter half a beat too slow from exhaustion, Sakatsuki raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a triumphant smirk:
"Surprise~~~"
A gunshot rang out. The spiraling bullet pierced the rebellious knight's chest in an instant, shattering her spiritual core.
With this single strike, the Assassin successfully eliminated the last remaining enemy.
"Guh—" Blood gushed uncontrollably as Mordred's vision blurred with indignation and shock. "Damn you... why..."
"Why am I not dead? Not telling, dummy~" Sakatsuki blew imaginary smoke from his gun barrel, basking in his assassination success. "Finally, Red Saber's down too. That means the winner of this Holy Grail War is undoubtedly me."
No one objected. Only Little Jack giggled, running back to Reika's side and tilting her head curiously at the Masters whose expressions shifted from shock to despair. Seeing the stunned silence, Sakatsuki shrugged helplessly, adjusted his bowtie, and doffed his hat in a polite bow to his surroundings:
"And so the curtain falls, the lights dim. Shall we go, Watson?"
What answered him was another voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"Neither wholly victorious nor wholly defeated! Though not quite a happy ending, neither is it tragic. What an ambiguous conclusion! But such is inevitable—for 'the web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together'!"
"Though I must say, never thought I'd be called Watson! Hahaha... Well, I do possess a remarkable talent for silence!"
It was Shakespeare—that detestable turtle hiding in his shell...
With great effort recognizing the owner of this voice, Mordred collapsed heavily to the ground, grievously wounded. Whether it was her imagination or not, as her vision gradually darkened, the girl heard the sound of something shattering. Then the clear blue sky and drifting white clouds turned into fleeting glimpses before her eyes.
Finally, a crimson curtain descended, bringing this fabricated drama to its conclusion. A quill dipped in ink danced across the pages, leaving behind iridescent blue fluorescent writing that declared the end.
[Bad End]
—Bad Ending: Failed Subjugation
What the hell? Failure?!
Mordred, the Round Table knight who had been granted the holy sword and achieved the great feat of saving the world by slaying the evil dragon, stared dumbfounded at this line of text.
What kind of joke is this? I defeated the third-phase boss... I defeated Sakatsuki, damn it!
Why is this a bad ending? Did I miss some crucial quest? Forget to pick up a key item? No, wait—this isn't even an actual boss fight! Since when did the Holy Grail War have so many rules?!
"I must be dreaming, and it's definitely a nightmare..."
"My, my, you figured it out so quickly?"
Following the most troublesome opponent and the cruelest truth, the most hated voice also forced its way into Mordred's consciousness. "As expected of Artoria's child. Let your all-knowing, caring big brother help you wake up~~"
"...Drop dead, Merlin!"
"Ahahaha, sorry, but that's the one thing I can't do~~"
————
When Mordred finally opened her eyes from the haze, she felt so exhausted she might as well be dead.
Not in the physical sense, but mentally ravaged beyond measure.
Utterly drained.
Anyone who first got impaled by a supposedly dead guy, then was told they'd painstakingly achieved a bad ending, and then had to endure mental pollution from the most detestable old bastard would have their Sanity points drop low enough to attract Nyarlathotep.
"But at least it was just a dream..." Shaking her head, Mordred propped herself up on her elbows. But when the sight of her British-style white-and-gold coat and the simple yet highest-quality fiber-woven robe came into view—
Little Mo promptly flopped back down.
"A dream, this must be a dream within a dream. Damn it, wake up already, me!"
"Um, Saber, you rolling around on the ground throwing a tantrum isn't a good look."
"Shut up, Master! Speaking of which, do you have a Command Spell? You must have one, right? Hurry up and wish for me to kill myself! That way I can wake up from this dream!"
"Hey hey, are you serious?"
Watching Little Mo's breakdown with concern, Artoria bit her lip lightly and shot the young man a reproachful glare.
"Look at what you've done..."
Facing the genuine rebuke from the "ahoge," Sakatsuki spread his hands helplessly, his expression the picture of innocence. "What can I do? Even I didn't expect you to secretly give Excalibur to Little Mo, and for her to actually undo so many of its seals."
"Resulting in the enemy she worked so hard to defeat not only surviving but taking the chance to backstab and kill her." The white-haired incubus smiled cheerfully. "Ah, rather than anger, I'd say the embarrassment weighs heavier."
"Speaking of which, Merlin, you can actually leave Avalon? Has Morgan gotten careless, or has the Counter Force gone soft?"
"Ahaha, I merely lodged my consciousness within Artoria's scabbard. The power I can wield is just a tiny bit." Merlin pinched his fingers together, indicating a minuscule amount. "Just barely passable, good enough to serve as an alarm clock at best."
"Hah, truly fitting for you—a peeping Tom hiding in the Garden of Avalon."
"Likewise, the self-proclaimed last knight of the 'Wind Spirit Moon Shadow Sect.'"
"Both of you, that's enough." Seeing Sakatsuki and Merlin getting along a little too well, Artoria massaged her temples and cut them off. "Lord Sakatsuki, I'll go comfort Mordred. As for you—"
Her voice trailed off slightly as her gaze swept past the somewhat irritable Atalanta and the evasive saint, before she finally let out a light hum and turned away.
"Before you leave, sort out your complicated relationships."
"Yes—"
Drawing out the word, the English gentleman clad in the Robe of Heaven glanced at the bewildered crowd, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"It seems everyone is doing well."
Before his eyes were Karna and Siegfried sizing each other up, Semiramis gripping Amakusa's arm, Chiron and Achilles deep in thought, Astolfo tearfully clutching Sieg's sleeve, and two young women who had formed deep bonds with 'him.'
Reika stood gently beside Sakatsuki as always, while little Jack happily held both their hands. Artoria crouched down, whispering something that made Mordred hug her with a pout, the nightmare watching with an amused grin.
Since the final battle began, there had been no sacrifices. The flames of war, the clashes, and the despair seemed like a distant dream, fading away amidst the breeze and the hues of dawn.
"As the ultimate victor, it seems I owe everyone an explanation. Now then, where to begin…"
Removing his top hat with an elegant bow, Sakatsuki raised his eyes, the playful mockery replaced by a radiant blue hue:
"Let this be the opening line of our tale—'The curtain rises, and thunderous applause shall follow!'"