"You have done well to return, Hassan! And the people, too—you have endured well! Clean up your wretched appearances and rest to your heart's content!"
"Ah, thank you... thank you so much...!"
"We just couldn't... we couldn't abandon what we believed in... To people like us... thank you!"
"—Not for yourselves, but for your faith..."
"Lady Cleopatra. I leave them in your care."
"Oh? Hassan. Where are you going?"
"I shall repay this debt of gratitude—and at the same time, make contact with the 'Old Men of the Mountain'."
"My..."
"I will tell everyone in the settlements—'Chaldea is our brother, to whom we owe a great debt'! To not aid them now would be the shame of the Old Man of the Mountain! Even if I must heap shame upon shame, I shall become the bridge between them and us!"
"Sir Hassan—"
"Before that, I must head to the grounds of the 'Holy Selection'! We cannot allow their brilliant light to be stained by the blood of our brethren!"
"B-But from here on... If Pharaoh Ozymandias steps out, the truce will be broken, and the Ozymandias of Chaldea will have to recover even more refugees..."
"Then I shall run until this body shatters—!"
"Wahahaha! If that is the case, then there is one here—a Pharaoh belonging to Chaldea with a reputation for domination, is there not?"
"You are—"
[The End of Sorrow—Shine, O Holy Sword of Ideals]
In Servant battles, and indeed in all acts of combat, 'Information' holds absolute value.
No matter how great the hero, if their weakness is known, they are powerless.
No matter how great the army, no matter the force, if they are flanked or their gaps exploited, they are fragile.
Like Achilles' heel. Like Siegfried's back. Like a technique a Gold Saint has seen once.
To be 'countered,' to have one's 'hand revealed'—is a 'poison' far more fatal and troublesome than facing a thousand armed men.
Once the poison of 'known knowledge' circulates, countermeasures are no longer possible. Whether it is a Blessing or anything else.
It is a poison that cannot be defended against, even if one has been 'Reversed.'
Because that is a 'Truth' handed down from ancient times.
Truth is a sphere. No matter how you look at it, it cannot be reversed.
Therefore—to Tristan, the Knight who advanced carelessly and was dosed with the poison of the 'Known'—
"How can... this be—!"
Victory is impossible, not even one in ten thousand—!
Chapter X: The Dragon's Roar
"Drop dead, you Bird-brain!!"
Mordred unleashed a breathless combo, her ferocious sword constantly threatening and breaking Tristan's stance.
Though rough, her strikes were assisted by Mana Burst. Because they were rough, they targeted vitals with terrifying precision; a failure to evade meant certain, massive damage.
"I've thought this for a long time! Your lamenting tune is annoying as hell!!"
"Guh—!!"
Mordred stomped on Tristan's leg with all her might, then drove Clarent deeply into him from above.
"I'll smash that pretty-boy face of yours!!"
Tristan, unable to move, was subjected to the 'Secret of Pedigree' helmet as Mordred delivered a barrage of full-force headbutts.
"Gah, gahah! Guah—!!"
Defense was impossible. Because Artoria was constantly aiming for both his arms.
"You are a dozing swine who accomplishes things with a single finger! 'I will not let you play anything other than a counterattack'!"
If he moved to defend, he would be cut down along with his defense in that instant. His only choice was to counterattack, but—
"Of course—I saw through that long ago!"
The blade of sound he played in desperation was swatted down lightly and easily.
Here, his 'Reversal' dragged him down. Right now, he had become 'Weak to Saber.' A desperate strike fired while his Spirit Origin was shaken by Mordred's assault was nothing more than a gentle breeze to Artoria's swordsmanship.
"Oraa!! Oraa!! Oraa!!"
His face was relentlessly bashed, the beautiful man's features crushed into ruin.
"Nuh, nuuuuuu—!!"
Out of frustration—no, as the optimal move—he aimed for the 'Master.'
"Mash, close your eyes. As long as you try to see, you cannot track his arrows. Watch the wind, listen to the sound."
"Yes, Knight King!"
With the Knight King's calm and precise advice, every attack was blocked and hindered by the shield, swatted down before it could reach the Master.
Between the self-awareness and determination gained from learning Galahad's name, and the physical modifications she had undergone, it was no exaggeration to say Mash was now in near-perfect condition.
And Mash displays her greatest power precisely when protecting something.
To break the defense of a Mash dedicated solely to the battle of 'protecting her Master' was impossible.
—And, there was an exception here.
The Master present here was no ordinary Master.
[Suuuu————]
A Monster of Dialogue, one who shoulders the Evils of Humanity born of Necessary Evil.
Humanity's last hope, and the 'Worst' Master who mercilessly crushes her adversaries: Fujimaru Ritsuka—!
[————■■■■■■■■■■■———!!!!! ■■■■■■————!!!!!!]
Ritsuka screamed with force far exceeding human volume, and 'vibrated' the air of the entire area.
The roar of a [Wicked Dragon] that shakes the world and snaps the hearts of listeners. A rough technique utilizing the theory of Dragon Breath—'turning the throat and lungs into an alien world'—recreated by converting the mud into magical energy to reinforce her organs.
A simple [Roar] creating [Frenzy]. But that angry bellow seized control of the 'Atmosphere' and the 'Air,' the 'Sound' that vibrates them, and the 'Vacuum.'
Though the volume was so great that even her voice could not be heard—coordination was perfectly achieved through the support of the Master, Servants, and the 'King of Heroes.'
—Earplugs, origins of auditory protection have been selected! Already ejected to everyone, ears covered!
(What a noisy affair. It sounds as if the Grail itself might shatter.)
The Dragon's Roar was completely blocked by the Treasure 'Soundproofing' from the Treasury.
(Everyone, now! Pile it on!)
Through the mental link between Master and Servant, communication and understanding were flawless.
"Guh, nuh, —kh!"
Hearing the 'Sound' that appealed to primitive instincts, Tristan froze.
The terrifying scream, encroaching on the recreation of a 'Dragon Kind,' robbed any living creature that heard it directly of their freedom.
At the same time—even the harp of 'Failnaught' was strummed haphazardly, weakening it to a shadow of its original power and momentum.
(To be suppressed... to be suppressed to this extent—!)
Dragged inside a Reality Marble, retreat or escape was impossible.
Even if escape were possible—he could never flee from the King's treasures in the sky, nor the Princess's eyes.
He would be shot dead from behind.
—Just as he had done to the people.
Now, all was lost. Even decent resistance was impossible.
—Just as the people had been killed.
All that awaited him was 'Death.'
—Just as he had done to them.
"Such... such a—that... that I...! Should fall 'unable to do anything' but scatter...!"
Fate caught up with him here.
Upon the treacherous Knight—the 'Golden Ship with Black Sails' was closing in—!
"I heard about all your screw-ups from the Pharaoh! I've got nothing to say to you bastards who've fallen to beast-hood!!"
"Mor... dred...!"
Clad in lightning, Mordred roared.
"I won't forgive you lot for making stupid choices, and that includes me! No matter the reason! To show reason, to demonstrate discipline, to be a light for the people—that is the way of a Knight! For a Knight to break that... the meaning of that is heavier than death!!"
She drew Clarent, aiming from his shoulder to his torso—
"If us Knights lose sight of the 'Path of Chivalry'! If us Knights fall to become beasts! Then where the hell is the hope for those who looked at our backs and found hope supposed to go!! I won't acknowledge it! Not the Lion King, not you bastards!! You lots who became beasts—"
True Name Release. Clarent responded to Mordred's scream—!
"Like hell I'll acknowledge you!! Turn to ash, you mock-bird bastard!! 『Radiant and Brilliant Royal Father Against Me (Clarent Blood Arthur)』!!!"
Clarent, harboring crimson lightning, shattered Tristan's body, tearing him apart and sending him flying.
"—Final... ly... you have separated..."
While being blown away, Tristan laughed.
"At the very least, just that Master—!"
He unveiled his Noble Phantasm with a desperate wish—
"No, you will strum nothing more. Because you will be cut down right here!"
Artoria, catching up swiftly with a boost of 'Mana Burst' faster than the momentum of him being blown away, declared.
"I put the resentment of future generations into this one stroke! Specifically, I'll slam the bill for your parting words right into you! Consider it a severance package!!"
She raised the black and white Holy Swords high.
"————『I Didn't Understand the Human Heart But I Knew the Preciousness of Human Life (Excalibur)』————!!!!"
In an X-shape, she slashed through Tristan—and severed both arms that plucked sorrow—!
The right arm and left arm flew into the distance.
The lifeline of the Child of Sadness was severed here and now—
"—This is, my—"
His final words were—not permitted.
—Just as he never lent an ear to the people begging for their lives.
『Thrust, and devour. Thirteen Fangs.』
The Knight King declared that he must settle that karma.
『The Lance that Shines to the Ends of the World (Rhongomyniad).』
The storm that shatters the world, unleashed by Rhongomyniad with its Thirteen Restraints released. The silver gale swept Tristan up, fixed him in place, and crucified him in the air.
"Tristan. I shall strike down your body, along with your Blessing."
Responding to the Knight King's declaration, the Holy Sword was slowly drawn and raised.
"—Sleep. We shall judge every last bit of the Round Table that has gone mad as sinners and beasts. —The Lion's Round Table, the Goddess's Lance—we shall shatter them."
Light gathered, extended, towered, and transformed into a gigantic golden blade.
Its majesty pierced the heavens, parted the clouds, and penetrated the starry sky.
—Beautiful...
A majesty that pierced even the planet's atmosphere, looking like a tower standing upon the star.
(So this is the Holy Sword that repelled the White Titan...)
Output on a different order of magnitude. A gigantic 1km in size. A crystal of ideals and illusions that even a Titan could not avoid a fatal wound from.
(A brilliance too great for a human body. A pure light that will eventually burn even its wielder. —Truly, a star of the earth. Though it is a pity the wielder is slightly misaligned.)
From the Vimana, the three narrowed their eyes at the dazzle akin to the morning sun.
Forged by wishes, polished by ideals, tempered in the Inner Sea of Stars. A Noble Phantasm that became a noble illusion, standing at the apex of Holy Swords.
"Bundled is the breath of the planet. The torrent of shining life. —Farewell, Sir Tristan. You were too pessimistic—but the sound you played possessed a beauty unmatched within the Round Table."
—It will never be told what Tristan felt or thought upon hearing those words.
Blinded by excessive tragedy, killing those he loved, unable to move his fingers fully due to sorrow.
Even so—the story of a single knight who martyred himself for loyalty, reversing his entire 'Self' to serve the King, ends here.
—However, if there was just one thing. If he left just one word behind.
"『Sword of Promised Victory (Excalibur)』"
It was the expression on Tristan's face as he was swallowed by the vast, gigantic aurora of the Holy Sword.
His appearance was pitiable; pierced by Mordred's armor, shattered, his face swollen beyond recognition.
It was not anger.
It was not hatred.
And—it was not sorrow.
As if to say, 'I have truly seen something pleasant.'
Like a commoner witnessing the final moments of a knight who repeated atrocities and treachery.
From the bottom of his heart, he laughed—cheerfully.
Swallowed by the heat of the light resembling a great waterfall—he vanished without a trace.
Chapter XII: The End of Sorrow
—Tristan of Sorrow was slain here.
The chain of treachery and atrocity was—judged by brilliance and severed here.
"—"
Eventually, the world returned to its proper form, and the scenery reverted.
"—You idiot. Lion King or whatever, despairing before you even came to Chaldea."
Peh, Mordred spat.
"See ya. Good riddance."
"Archer will be disposed of as a criminal. There are no exceptions."
Wham, Artoria swung her sword to clear the blood and sheathed it.
"The cause of your defeat was only one thing. One simple answer. 'You clouded my mood.' —Rest assured. I won't let you be lonely. I'll cut down everyone at the Lion King's Round Table and put your heads on display together, as friends."
She smiled brightly, refreshingly. Her Round Table Purge List was filling up, and she was very pleased.
"—I feel like Mr. Galahad is saying something. ...'The end of sorrow is near'."
"—Yeah. We will definitely overcome this Singularity."
The two looked up at the sky, renewing their determination.
Thus, the Gift of 'Reversal' was slain.
The remaining Blessings were—'Unwaning,' 'Rampage,' 'Agravain (Severity).'
—Without time to soak in the afterglow of victory.
"Is the farewell ceremony over? It was quite a spectacle of trampling. He likely has no regrets."
"Gil!"
"Come, board. The skirmish is complete. —What lies ahead will be the critical moment."
—The party headed for the Wailing Wall, the Main Gate of the Royal Castle.
—There, 'Unwaning' lay in wait.
Epilogue: The Silver Arm
(Are you okay? Air?)
—Thank you, Fou. ...It frustrates me that I can't say I'm 'okay' with certainty...
(...If it is painful...)
—No, don't stop me. No matter how painful, no matter how scary... even if I tremble, the one thing I won't do is look away.
(—...)
—I want to see the entirety of the world. I want to know it. Because that is my 'Joy'... Even if it's scary, even if it's terrifying. I have to face it without looking away, without running away.
(————)
If I 'watch' it, even while trembling... then surely, there must be something I can overturn, something I can change.
(...That's right. That is right. Exactly so.)
—Let's go. My King! To the land of the 'Holy Selection'!
No matter what awaits... I will not look away! That is my battle as the 'Hero Princess'!
(—Umu. Your determination, your fighting spirit. And the result it beckons. I shall witness it with my entire soul!)
—Fou, will you hold my hand?
(Air...?)
...Share your courage... with me...!
(...Of course!)
Fou snuggled tightly against her soul.
(Come, fluff me and calm down!)
—Yeah!
(—...Though it is always the case, it seems I can no longer afford to make even a one in ten thousand mistake. —Good grief. To accept nothing less than perfection from a King... what a truly demanding Princess.)
"Mashu, do you hab any froat lozengers...?"
"Senpai, your voice—!?"
[Does the tolling of the bell that maddens the living signal fate, or a guidepost? —O Daughter of the Dragon who harbors evil. Advance without corruption.]
[—If only your path could tie a bond worthy of entrusting this sword. All shall be guided to the mausoleum by the guidance of the Evening Bell—]
[Holy City - Wasteland]
"—This place is... Was I invited?"
"—The Holy City... Now then, is there a role for me, or not...? Are you there? ...Ramesses."
[Refugee Camp]
"—..."
"Ramesses?"
"—No, it couldn't be... could it?"
-------------------------------
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