"I can save you."
She stated a fact calmly, "Reversing this level of damage, while troublesome, is not impossible."
A startling burst of hope instantly erupted in Kayneth's eyes.
"However,"
Herta's next words snuffed out that spark of light, "there's no need."
She tilted her head slightly, as if stating a fundamental truth: "Since you chose to step into this game where life is the stake, you should have been prepared to bear all consequences, including exiting in the most undignified manner. Inferior skill or poor luck are all part of the gamble. The current result is simply one of the possibilities you had to face when you chose to participate. I have no obligation, and even less interest, in rewriting the ending for a loser."
Kayneth's eyes fluctuated violently; that hope rapidly transformed into a deeper despair, and then, into a sort of realization.
Immediately following that, another intense emotion surfaced in those gray, defeated eyes—a death wish.
Yes, he did not want this lingering existence, this 'living' where every second was a dual torture of body and soul.
He would rather end this pain completely.
Herta read the change in his gaze.
The corners of her mouth curled up slightly in a very faint arc.
"Hmph."
She gave a soft snort, "Praying to me for release? You think you're worthy?"
A failed Magus, a pathetic wretch who couldn't even control his own death—what right did he have to make her act?
Even if it was just to grant him a swift end.
However, seeing the plea in those eyes grow weaker yet clearer, the slight interest on Herta's face dissipated entirely, replaced by a sense of boredom.
"...Fine."
She looked away as if her mood had been spoiled, no longer watching the unpleasant sight on the ground. "How boring. Consider this a bargain for you."
As the words fell, she casually snapped her fingers.
Snap.
A soft sound.
Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald's broken body began to turn into grayish-white dust from the edges, disintegrating silently.
The process was quiet and swift, as if he had never existed there at all.
Before the last grain of dust scattered, Herta seemed to catch the final trace of intent transmitted from those eyes that were about to be completely extinguished.
(Thank you.)
Herta turned and left the abandoned factory without looking back, leaving that insignificant dust and its end completely behind her.
The winter sun shone thinly into a secluded back alley, painting the piled-up junk and mottled walls with a layer of pale gold.
Stelle stood deep in the alley, her gaze firmly locked onto a green public trash can ahead.
The bin's body was somewhat rusted and the lid was half-open, yet in Stelle's eyes, it seemed bathed in holy light, its edges shimmering with an inviting glow for exploration.
(A perfect curve... just the right amount of wear and tear... that half-open lid is like a silent invitation...)
(This is the one.)
She took a deep breath, like an ascetic monk about to perform an important ritual, and began her pre-exploration preparations.
First, she carefully smoothed the hem of her coat to ensure no extra wrinkles would hinder her movements; then she rotated her wrists and ankles, adjusted her breathing to steady her heartbeat; finally, she pulled out a pair of reasonably clean cotton gloves from her small bag and put them on solemnly.
Only after finishing all this did she approach the radiant trash can with slow, steady steps, almost like a pilgrimage.
Three steps, two steps, one step... just as her fingertips were about to touch the edge of the cold lid, she stopped, as if someone had pressed the pause button.
(Not right.)
(There's still one step unfinished.)
Stelle slowly turned around, her eyes—which lacked highlights—pointing precisely toward the boundary of sunlight and shadow at the alley entrance. A tall man in a black priest's cassock with a hollow expression had been standing there for who knows how long, silently watching her every move.
Kirei Kotomine.
He had noticed this gray-haired girl since the chaotic battle outside the Tohsaka Residence last night.
Her combat style was efficient to the point of being instinctual, with no wasted movements, and she remained abnormally calm even when surrounded by Assassins.
What interested him more was that she possessed an... indescribable purity. Not the purity of a saint, but a purity closer to 'emptiness'.
This created a sort of twisted resonance with the unfillable void within his own heart.
Therefore, after The Church received reports of a suspicious individual rummaging through trash cans across the city, he had personally followed her.
He wanted to know what this strange girl was searching for.
Was there something in that trash can that could fill her, or... something that could make him feel a sense of reality?
Their eyes met.
Stelle: "..."
(Thinking: Who is this? A pervert? Or does he want to steal my trash can?)
Kirei Kotomine: "..."
(Expressionless face, with an inquisitive void deep in his eyes.)
Silence lasted for about ten seconds.
Stelle decided to take the initiative.
She pointed to the trash can behind her and asked in a flat, matter-of-fact tone: "You want this too?"
Kirei Kotomine hadn't expected her to be so direct. He paused for a moment and answered truthfully: "No. I am simply curious as to what you are searching for."
"Searching?"
Stelle tilted her head, seemingly a bit confused by the word. "It's not searching. It's exploration, it's Trailblaze."
She turned back to face the trash can, her tone carrying an almost missionary solemnity. "Every container that has yet to be Trailblazed carries the forgotten possibilities of this city. The process of Trailblazing itself is the meaning."
In Kirei Kotomine's hollow eyes, an extremely faint ripple seemed to flash by.
Possibilities? The process is the meaning?
These words combined in a strange way, faintly touching his nerves.
"Inside here... what possibilities could there be?"
He took a few steps forward, still maintaining a distance, but his gaze also fell upon that unremarkable green iron bin.
A putrid smell was already faintly detectable.
Stelle didn't answer, but instead showed him through her actions.
With a steady and gentle force, her gloved hand lifted the half-closed lid, as if uncovering a treasure chest.
The air in the alley seemed to become a bit more "rich."
Stelle was completely unaffected. Her eyes became focused and sharp as she began to Trailblaze methodically.
Kirei Kotomine subconsciously took half a step back, but his eyes involuntarily watched Stelle's movements. He saw her reach in without hesitation and begin to rummage through it in an orderly fashion.
First, she carefully pushed aside a few shriveled drink cartons and waste newspapers on the top layer, her movements as gentle as if she were performing archaeology.
"Look,"
She pinched a flattened juice box printed with cartoon patterns. "A child's sweet choice, abandoned here. It witnessed a brief moment of joy, then returned to silence. This is a cyclic slice of consumption."
Kirei Kotomine: "..."
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