Irisviel controlled her original body and walked gracefully toward the Holy Grail. Perhaps because she was now using her true vessel, this artificial body had, over time, become indistinguishable from the Winter Saint of that bygone era. Yet compared to the saint's frail, extreme form at the moment of her sacrifice, Irisviel's appearance was far gentler.
At this moment, her holiness surpassed even that of the Winter Saint. Even after so many years, Aslan still retained vague fragments of memory. And as with all memories shaped by time, the features of the past grew exaggerated within his dreams.
He remembered the Winter Saint lying upon the altar, declaring that her sacrifice was for the Root. In the dream, her face was magnified, distorted, almost grotesque.
To be honest, Aslan had been disillusioned when he first witnessed her expression. Before he truly understood her, the Winter Saint had been one of his goddesses. But he soon learned she was no goddess at all—only a lunatic driven to madness by her obsession with reaching her goal.
Where was her holiness? Where was her sanctity? It existed only in the robes she wore and in the unattainable ideals she proclaimed.
Now, under Irisviel's control, the artificial body raised its hands. The heavenly garment it wore glowed with radiant white light. Without hesitation, Irisviel pressed forward. Her body could no longer suffer harm, so what mattered it if her original vessel was sacrificed?
The Prophet's voice rang out:
[Open, Gate of Heaven, and grant us blessings and miracles!]
The Prophet's cry of regret followed:
[Close, Gate of Heaven, and free us from sin and evil!]
[The curtain falls.]
[The golden age is over.]
[That distant dream, that distant hope… was a forbidden mistake from the beginning.]
[Stars fall from the sky;]
[The sky is the switch to nothingness;]
[The small note that leads to the Root is stained by our sins.]
[…At last, with joy,]
[You (I) are freed from the pain carried for so long,]
[Now I rest in peace.]
On the path to the Grail, where a space like a sheer cliff yawned, Irisviel's vessel stepped forward without pause. Her feet touched the surface as if it were calm water. Golden ripples spread outward with each step, carrying her forward toward peace. And indeed, once Heaven's Grail was awakened, all evil would be purified.
Her body dissolved into golden light. The surging black mud, caught within its radiance, transformed into a luminous, crystalline flow. It was pure liquid mana. To turn corruption into such purity—how immense must the power of the Grail be? And this was only its overflowing excess. The true reserves within had not yet been touched.
Aslan watched the magic power flowing into clarity. He raised his hand, producing a small bottle—much like the one that once held the power of the island. But unlike the vessel tainted with dark residue, this one was flawless, pure, and exquisite. Compared to the destructive essence of the island's power, this new energy seemed almost divine.
He intended to leave this purified mana for Melusine. After all, she had likely exhausted the island's power in the battle. His stores were not infinite.
Though Aslan could replenish them at will, doing so in the modern age would cause too great a disturbance. To avoid harming innocents, he would need to descend into the underground tomb beneath the Clock Tower—nearly impossible to infiltrate unnoticed. The alternative was to return to the inner sea of the stars, but doing so would draw the attention of magi across the world. Envy, hatred, and greed—he had no wish to deal with any of them.
The bottle quickly drank in the surrounding mana until all was gathered, leaving only the shining Grail itself. Yet Aslan felt no desire to claim it. Still, to leave it unbound was dangerous.
He spoke softly:
"Listen to my wish, Holy Grail. From now on, wear shackles when granting the wishes of others. Wishes born of malice shall not be fulfilled. Wishes that harm the world or humanity shall not be fulfilled. Wishes that defy morality shall not be fulfilled. Let all be weighed by these conditions. And let these rules remain eternal, never to be erased by the wishes of those who come after. That is all."
The Grail consumed a portion of its power, and spectral chains manifested around it, sealing it gently within. If before it had been no more than a terminal, now Aslan had given it a filter—a safeguard ensuring it could not become a tool of destruction.
As long as the Grail remained intact, future wars would surely continue. Perhaps one day, he too might require it—to materialize his soul when his own life approached its end.
The Holy Grail, its duty fulfilled, gradually fell silent once more.
Summoning his forging hammer, Aslan struck the earth. The ground shifted rapidly, reshaping itself into a protective cage around the Grail. The underground chamber expanded and reinforced itself, a sanctuary built to keep the relic safe from theft.
Thus, the Holy Grail War came to its end.
Aslan had been the first to wish upon the completed Grail, and it had consumed part of its reserves. Now, it would slumber until the next conflict.
For the time being, everything was concluded. The next Holy Grail War would not come for another ten years.
-End Chapter-
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