Row upon row of cryogenic pods stretched out before them—each one sculpted in the likeness of terracotta soldiers.
And sealed inside each one… was a legendary figure, a hero carved from the annals of history itself.
It was as if the entire place were a grand display case, and all those heroes were nothing more than Shikotei's personal collection.
====
"This is insane… literal life-sized figurines?" Kirina muttered, torn between envy and despair.
After all, she was a diehard collector of all things Heroic Spirit-related—figures, posters, costumes, plushies. Every allowance she'd ever gotten had gone straight into that bottomless pit.
But the tragedy of it all was that figures were absurdly expensive.
The cheap prize ones cost hundreds. The good quality ones? Tens of thousands.
And then there were the auction pieces, where a Heroic Spirit themselves had infused a fraction of their own magical energy into the product—
At that point, you weren't buying a "figure" anymore. You were buying a bonafide low-grade Noble Phantasm.
Those things went for millions.
The true endgame for collectors: one wall of merch, worth an entire house in the capital.
In this age of Heroic Spirits turned idols, the broke Prime Minister of the once-mighty Great Britain—poor Mordred—had been reduced to selling her looks just to make money to prop up the crumbling imperial budget.
Even King Arthur herself had caved, filming a whole series of shameless promotional videos—pulling out Excalibur here, brandishing Rhongomyniad there.
The sun had well and truly set on the empire where it never used to.
They didn't even have enough funding left to keep their warships afloat.
To save their sinking empire, father and son had no choice but to debut as idols.
And so, the once-proud Knights of Britain had come all the way here, hoping to cash in.
What else could they do? Their empire had been reduced to little more than "two cats and a handful of kittens."
Looking again at the extravagance of the First Emperor—who had gone so far as to gather up every hero of two thousand years of history—Kirina couldn't help but sigh.
So this… this is what true disparity looks like.
The more she watched, the more sour she felt.
"Ugh… I'm so jealous it hurts!"
As expected of His Majesty—casually achieving feats she couldn't even dream of.
While she was still debating whether to save money on a cheap prize figure or splurge on a mid-range collectible, he had built an entire life-sized display cabinet filled with real, frozen heroes.
Comparisons really do kill.
"Collecting heroes as living figurines… yeah, that's crazy," Sanjiro admitted.
Never in his life had he expected that the little boy who once needed his protection would grow into something so unthinkable.
But then again—there was the brat standing next to him.
Compared to her, Shikotei wasn't even the most ruthless.
Shikotei only wanted to hoard the heroes of history as figurines.
This brat? She wanted to ignite human history itself, to burn all of humanity as fuel!
Under the gaze of the world, the voice of the First Emperor boomed from the depths of the Vault of Heroes:
"Captain of the Guard—when selecting candidates, do not pick those with ill intent or treacherous ambition."
"What, it's not just based on combat ability?" The sunglasses-wearing Guard Captain blinked in surprise.
"Those who would cause civil strife after awakening cannot be considered. For example, the Peach Garden Oath brothers—they'd probably seize the chance to hijack the government."
Shikotei continued:
"We must choose those who are devoted to the people, who bring an end to calamity, whose names will be sung for generations."
His resounding voice echoed through the grand hall—and at the same time, reverberated through the great hall of Epang Palace in the present day.
The gathered Heroic Spirits stared in shock.
From his words, it was clear—the Lostbelt First Emperor disdained the summoning of spirits altogether.
His retainers weren't spirits at all. They were real, frozen people.
When the name of the Peach Garden Oath was mentioned, the other Heroic Spirits all turned to look in one direction.
Komei gave a polite cough.
"Ahem… Time rolls on like a river, sweeping away kings and warriors alike. Victories, defeats—they all fade into nothing eventually. Best not to dwell on the past."
But no one was really looking at him. Their eyes were fixed on the actual culprits: Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and Zhao Yun.
In the Age of Heroic Spirits, these martial generals were far more popular than most emperors—hence why they had been able to descend, while rulers like Ryu Bi(Liu Bei) and Cao Cao had not.
Yu stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty, my loyalty is beyond question. Command me as you will—I shall never waver!"
In life, he had served Ryu Bi. But as a Heroic Spirit reborn, he was free to choose.
And truthfully, compared to Ryu Bi, was not the First Emperor the most legitimate ruler of all?
The very founder of the imperial throne itself!
Without him, no one after would have even had a throne to fight for.
"I feel the same!" Fei blurted out, almost tripping over himself to swear loyalty.
On the throne, Shikotei's expression remained utterly calm, betraying nothing.
"Your Majesty, I will throw myself into fire and water for you, guarding the people unto death itself!" Yu added, doubling down.
"I feel the same!"
"I feel the same!"
The back-and-forth between the two brothers was almost comical.
Fei's over-the-top earnestness, his emotional gesturing, was so unintentionally funny that the other Heroic Spirits had to stifle their laughter.
Komei could only shake his head in silence.
A man without education truly was limited. If you had no words of your own, all you could do was keep parroting: "I feel the same!"
At that moment, Shikotei's gaze fell upon him.
The Emperor's pressure was overwhelming, like a mountain crushing down.
Komei didn't hesitate for a second. He bowed deeply:
"…I feel the same."
Are you kidding? This was the First Emperor. Who dared oppose him?
Before the Emperor could even reply, the screen shifted again.
Koyanskaya chuckled.
"As expected of you. Freezing Heroic Spirits—what a trump card!"
"This is the resting place for myself and the generals who fought by my side," Shikotei replied coolly.
"Strange… History is full of rulers who discard their generals once peace is won. Why leave behind this pack of warmongers?"
Surely, such violent warriors would become a liability in times of peace.
"Why do you say so? They fought for peace. Should they not be eternally praised for it?" Shikotei sounded genuinely puzzled. "They cannot live forever as I do—so they chose to sleep. Compared to your so-called Heroic Spirits, is this not a better fate?"
"…Yes, I suppose so. First Emperor, you truly could take the place of Alaya itself—this place very own Alaya!"
Alaya—the collective will of humanity, calling upon spirits from the flow of history whenever mankind was threatened.
But here was Shikotei, preserving all his heroes alive, forever. In practice, there was no difference.
"Alaya?" Shikotei's voice was calm, brimming with absolute confidence.
"Why should I replace it? Does it even deserve to be compared with me?"
"..."
For once, Koyanskaya was struck silent.
Majesty, does Nameless know you talk like this?
How is anyone supposed to have a conversation with you?!
The Guard Captain soon presented two new candidates.
The first was Shin Ryougyoku(Qin Liangyu)—the only woman to be officially recorded as a dynasty's general in the main chronicles.
A protector of the empire in every sense.
The second was none other than the famed strategist Kan Shin(Han Xin).
Upon being awakened, Kan Shin immediately asked with a gleam of curiosity:
"Your Majesty, have you called me forth to march on the Moon? Or perhaps to venture even further into the stars?"
The Great Wall in orbit had already been terrifying enough. But this?
Now they realized—the Emperor was setting his sights on the cosmos itself.
No wonder Shikotei had ordered everyone to watch this video.
The dread of the Council of Gods' fleets, which had shattered the Heavenly Court's defenses, was already melting away.
In the face of an interstellar Dynasty, what did the Council of Gods even amount to?
And so, the real question was raised:
What could the Lostbelt Emperor possibly have done so heinous that Nameless was determined to bring him down?
The video shifted once more—
The silver moon hung high in the sky as Nameless and his companions faced down even greater horrors.
Towering giants, wreathed in endless flame, came charging to slaughter mankind.
In that moment of crisis, Mash deployed her Noble Phantasm without hesitation, erecting massive walls to shield the villagers.
"Well done, Mash! Now I can fight without holding back!" Mordred laughed, rushing headlong into battle, swinging her cursed sword with reckless abandon.
Scarlet light flared as he cut down a giant with ease.
At the same time, Nameless and the assassin Keika blurred into the shadows, striking like phantoms, cutting down the burning monsters.
Soon, the battle was won.
The villagers gathered, faces full of gratitude.
And beneath the moonlight, Keika lifted her voice in song, dancing with her blade:
"Among the blossoms, a jug of wine. I drink alone, with only the moon as my companion. Raising a cup to invite the moon—and my shadow—together we are three."
Her figure was ethereal, a stark contrast to the bloodthirst she had shown moments earlier.
"Drinking under the moon, dancing among flowers…" Nameless murmured.
At that moment, a child tugged at Keika's sleeve.
"Big sis, your song was beautiful. What did it mean?"
"It means… when you drink alone among blooming flowers, you invite the bright moon and your shadow to drink with you. And the three of you share joy together."
Keika smiled faintly.
"You people must also have times when you wish to drink alone under the moon, right?"
"I've never had alcohol, but I really love the moon! Because the moon is so pretty!" The little one lifted her head toward the full moon, her clear eyes reflecting the silvery glow.
Nameless reached out and stroked her head.
"Yeah, the moon is beautiful. Want me to teach you a few poems?"
Looking at the child made him think of Shikotei when he was young.
So innocent, so cute—back then, he too was filled tirelessly with knowledge.
"What's a poem?"
The child tilted her head in confusion.
Nameless replied gently:
"It's a beautiful kind of writing. It can take something ordinary and etch it forever into the heart, turning it into the loveliest dream."
"What's writing?"
The child looked even more bewildered.
The farmers standing nearby all exchanged puzzled glances.
Patiently, Nameless explained:
"They're symbols that record culture and pass it down, so you know who you are, where you are, who your father and mother are."
"Father, mother? What's that?"
"Your parents—the ones who gave birth to you and raised you."
"What are parents?"
The series of questions and answers quickly drew the Chaldeans over, their casual attitude giving way to a growing sense of unease.
No matter how ignorant someone was, surely they would at least know what their own parents were?
Why didn't she even know about the ones who gave her life and raised her?
Nameless pressed further:
"Then do you know who gave birth to you, who taught you how to dress and eat?"
"Why would we need to know that? After we're born, people without jobs take care of us until we grow up. They teach us how to work and praise His Majesty the Son of Heaven, who grants us our happy and peaceful lives."
Her innocent reply left everyone shaken to their core.
It was now painfully clear.
In this Lostbelt, ordinary people had no access to writing or books whatsoever!
Mordred exploded in anger:
"This world's people—he's stripped away their wings of knowledge, penned them up in a prison of illiteracy, treated like livestock!"
"Indeed… it's unbearable!" Da Vinci too was outraged.
As the universal genius, her greatest joy was to share knowledge, beauty, and wonder with others.
Yet in this Lostbelt—
The First Emperor had severed cultural inheritance itself, condemning people to remain forever in ignorance!
How was this any different from raising cattle?
Those who had once idolized and praised him now shuddered in horror:
Scrimodotic-[Damn… this is basically a version of Cyberpunk 2077!]
HistorianWithWifi-[Burning books and burying scholars… wait, is this the true meaning behind it?!]
DaoistYoungMaster-[Terrifying—he actually cut off all cultural inheritance, forcing everyone into eternal ignorance!]
MonaLigmaBalls-[A utopia? State-run child-rearing? Happiness through stupidity? No wonder Nameless came to end this Lostbelt… it literally severs the future of mankind.]
At the marketplace entrance, Cu Chulainn stood there speechless as he watched the video alongside two Heroic Spirits who were supposed to be sworn enemies.
Seriously, don't you people have anything better to do?
Worse still, he worried they might start fighting and level Fuyuki, so he had no choice but to keep them company.
Gilgamesh threw his head back and laughed at the scene in the video.
"Ha! The First Emperor thought to flaunt himself before me, but this time he's been utterly disgraced!"
When the Absolute Demonic Front video was uploaded, the other had dragged him along for a public viewing—hoping to expose him to humiliation.
But instead, his glorious performance had turned the so-called "public execution" into a grand display of magnificence.
Every Heroic Spirit present had practically drowned in jealousy.
So now, the First Emperor had tried the same stunt with his own video—
And the result?
Tch. I am I, and you'll never compare.
"What are you laughing at? Didn't enough of your black history get exposed already?" Hercles snorted.
What was there to be so smug about?
Even before that, Unlimited Blade Works and Oath Beneath the Snow had already laid his dirt bare.
"Heh. The First Emperor stripped his people of wisdom. How is that any different from keeping beasts penned up?" Gilgamesh shot back.
"Indeed… it's not," Heracles admitted grimly.
The true difference between mankind and beasts was civilization—
Knowledge carried from generation to generation, passed down through writing, allowing successors to surpass their forebears.
But in this Lostbelt, all cultural inheritance was cut off. Humanity's future had been locked in stasis forever.
No matter how majestic the Space Wall or the Palace Warship… who could revere such a ruler?
Would you really want to live illiterate, working like a slave every day, with no culture, no joy?
Both agreed.
Cu Chulainn grumbled at their unlikely consensus:
"Easy for you to say. Try studying runes—it's hell…"
He still remembered how Scáthach had forced him to study runes to exhaustion—harder than any high schooler's cram sessions.
How could anyone actually learn them?
So, naturally, Cu had run away—
All the way to Fuyuki, hiding his name to live as an ordinary fishmonger.
Studying? Impossible. Not in this lifetime!
Then—
He turned and spotted a broadcast on the nearby screen:
[The Queen of the Land of Shadows Plans Visit to Fuyuki City!]
"???"
Cu was instantly dumbfounded.
Don't come here! Please, for the love of the gods, don't come here!!!
He had fled all the way to Fuyuki, and yet she still chased him to teach?
Fine then! He'd defect to the First Emperor and live as an uneducated grunt!
While he was still stewing in panic—
On screen, Nameless let out a weary sigh.
"As I thought… he has strayed down the wrong path. This Lostbelt must be corrected."
He had once held a final glimmer of hope for Shikotei.
But after that exchange with the villagers, all hope was gone.
The youth who once aspired to carry on the wisdom of the ancients had become a cold, unfeeling tyrant, oppressing all beneath him.
"The readings are spiking!"
Da Vinci's voice was taut with alarm.
Instruments showed a surge of magical energy ahead—monstrous in scale, beyond imagination.
BOOM!
A massive construct came crashing down from the heavens.
A colossal mechanical creation—real, tangible, overwhelming.
"What the hell is that thing?" Mordred exclaimed.
"Be careful—it's giving off a terrifying magical reaction, stronger than any dragon!" Da Vinci cried in shock.
Though it stood only three meters tall, its parameters overflowed with absurd power.
"Hah! Just some tin doll. Watch me smash it to bits!"
Mordred laughed and charged without hesitation.
Her blade flared with a blood-red beam, her Noble Phantasm already primed.
If the opponent was powerful, then she would respond with her strongest strike—a warrior's respect.
Swinging her weapon, she roared:
"This is the evil sword that destroyed my father—!"
[Clarent Blood Arthur — Rebellion Against My Beautiful Father!]
BOOM!
A dazzling scarlet pillar engulfed the enemy, erupting like a miniature mushroom cloud that obliterated the farmlands.
Crash! Crackle!
The mechanical shell shattered completely.
Mordred laughed triumphantly.
"Pathetic! One strike and it's gone. Too weak!"
"Careful! You only broke its outer shell—think of it as clothing!" Da Vinci warned.
From the wreckage emerged a terrifying figure.
The upper body was human, with four arms, each gripping a long spear.
But the lower body… was that of a horse.
A true centaur.
And despite taking Mordred's full Noble Phantasm, it was utterly unscathed.
"Incredible! Its power readings are incalculable!"
Da Vinci's eyes widened.
"This entity's strength far surpasses that of a normal Servant—it's at the level of a god! If it had a body large enough, it might even rival the Evils of Humanity we've encountered before!"
A nightmarish foe beyond imagining.
The centaur let out a thunderous roar:
"Enemy confirmed—combat commencing!"
Its massive form blurred into lightning, weapons swinging down upon Mordred.
BOOM!
She met the blow with her sword, but the impact carried a crushing weight, like an entire mountain.
Blood spurted from her mouth as her small frame was hurled through the air.
Vmmm—
The enemy's figure flickered once more—and when it reappeared, it was already at Mordred's landing spot.
Its speed was so overwhelming that Mordred couldn't even think. Instinctively, she cried out:
"Nameless, save me!"
At that instant of certain death, a familiar figure appeared before her—Nameless.
Layer upon layer of violet petals blossomed outward, forming seven shining barriers that stood between her and the enemy.
[Rho Aias — The Seven Rings that Cover the Burning Heavens!]
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Before Mordred could even breathe in relief, the violet shields were shattered one after another by sheer brute force.
Within that bizarre, monstrous centaur body burned a power greater even than the tyrant—Vortigern.
"Die!"
The centaur roared.
Behind its back, a phantom mountain surged into view.
Beneath the towering peak, a giant figure appeared, straining to lift the mountain with his bare arms.
[Mountainous Power and Matchless Valor: My Strength Plucked Up the Hills, My Might Shadowed the World!!]
BOOM!
An unimaginable force exploded outward, like a mountain itself crashing down upon them.
The ground beneath Nameless and Mordred collapsed instantly, unable to withstand such overwhelming might.
At this desperate moment—
Nameless's eyes shifted, his world turning into stark black and white.
With a simple slash of his blade, the phantom mountain looming above was split clean in two.
[Mystic Eyes of Death Perception — The Power to Sever All Things!]
All things bear death—even mountains have the concept of an ending.
With one strike, he cut apart the enemy's devastating attack.
For the first time, the terrifying opponent faltered, halting in place to gaze down at them.
Nameless met its gaze and spoke the name aloud:
"Kou, the Conqueror of the Wilderness!"
"What? The Conqueror of the Wilderness himself?!"
Doctor Roman exclaimed in shock.
"But he was Qin's mortal enemy! How could he exist here, when the First Emperor still lives eternally?"
"No… this is no longer a man," Nameless answered gravely.
"He is a true ultimate weapon of war—Kuaiji Zero-Type!"
It was clear now. After Kou's death, Shikotei had obtained divine relic technology and reforged him into a killing machine.
Two thousand years of strengthening had raised him beyond gods themselves.
Da Vinci's voice trembled with awe:
"He wields power fit to cross the stars, to wage war among the gods themselves. He's comparable to the Evil of Humanity—Tiamat!"
This was no warrior bound to the earth. His combat abilities were fit for space itself.
He could no longer be classified as a Servant… nor as a mere machine.
The only fitting word was—
A Gundam.
Just then—
A new magical presence surged from afar. It was the figures of Ranryō-Ō and Yu Mei-ren, who had previously been defeated by Nameless's charm.
"Lord Kou, why have you come alone?"
Yu Mei-ren's voice was soft and sweet.
"I came to collect combat data—so that we may completely annihilate these outsiders!"
Kou's voice was as commanding and imperious as ever.
"Since you are here, fight at my side!"
"Yes, as you command!"
Yu Mei-ren stepped up beside him—but in the next instant, to his astonishment, she and Ranryō-Ō struck from either side in a sudden betrayal.
Kou roared in fury:
"What? You dare raise your blades against me?!"
"Once, I had no choice… but now, I only wish to be a good person!"
Yu Mei-ren's lips curved into a smile, revealing two sharp little fang-like teeth.
"Sorry, but I'm an undercover agent!"