With Steve's solemn declaration, the atmosphere in the courtyard soared to its peak.
The air no longer merely carried magic—it carried a mighty power called "wish," one strong enough to reverse fate itself.
He directed the six Masters to form an ancient, sacred hexagram, each standing at a point around the ritual's center: Irisviel.
"Reach out your hands."
His voice was inarguably commanding. "Bind your will, your desires, everything you are, to this sword."
Emiya Kiritsugu, his blood-stained hands trembling but determined, was the first to grip the Jeweled Sword's hilt.
He was followed by the eternally elegant, white-gloved Tohsaka Tokiomi; the scarred, ugly hand of Matou Kariya, deformed by magical alteration; the well-kept hand of Kayneth, symbol of Lordly glory; the nervous, sweating hand of Waver, still a mere boy; and finally, the hand of Steve himself, covering all the others as if stamping the final seal upon their pact.
"—The ritual begins!"
At his command, through the perfect conduit of the Jeweled Sword, six disparate streams of magical energy surged into Irisviel's body!
At that instant, she gave a low, mixed moan of pain and ecstasy as her whole being was enveloped in a pillar of pure, golden light, rising slowly into the air.
From across countless parallel worlds, infinite magical power was pouring in!
The night sky above Ryuudou Temple was torn asunder, replaced by a grand, dazzling nebula—a vortex of pure cosmic energy!
On the chest of Irisviel's sacred "Dress of Heaven," the seven soul-shaped cavities for the Servants began to glow one after another.
The very first cavity, filled with the soul of Hassan of the Hundred Faces—the only Servant to have been killed before Steve's arrival and thus his soul could open a cavity, sparing him much later trouble.
Already shining brightly; the remaining six empty golden rings filled up at a pace visible to the naked eye.
As the seventh cavity blazed like the sun, the human Holy Grail, Irisviel, reached a state close to true Magician!
Amid this most wondrous, fever-pitch moment, she gazed down with a smile at the four heroic spirits still on the ground.
"The first wish, then..."
Her voice was sacred, mysterious—like the chorus of the world itself. "In accordance with the laws of this world, I shall grant all of you true bodies!"
No sooner had she spoken than Steve, Artoria, Gilgamesh, and Iskandar were simultaneously bathed in a gentle light.
Their spiritual forms rapidly materialized into true, flesh-and-blood bodies!
Steve could clearly feel his blood running, his heart pounding forcefully, body warmth spreading out.
No longer an illusion wrought by magecraft—this was a living, breathing human body.
"Hahaha! This is a feeling I haven't had in ages!"
Iskandar roared as he flexed his massive arm.
Gilgamesh closed his eyes, savoring a deep breath of the night air, a look of contentment on his face.
Artoria stared in confusion at her own hand, marveling at its real weight—her emerald eyes brimming with astonishment.
Although, technically, incarnating as living beings was unnecessary (having formed a contract with Alaya to participate in the Grail War across spacetime), for some reason—perhaps due to Irisviel's fleshly desires, or Steve's magic-empowered incitements—an inexplicable connection had formed, leaving Artoria feeling oddly out of place in her own era.
At that time, perhaps only a certain fraudulent magus, perched in Avalon's paradise and watching curiously, could perceive with unparalleled clairvoyance and magical knowledge that Steve had just decisively severed that fatal contract between Artoria and Alaya.
Moments later, Irisviel turned her gaze upon herself—her eyes filled with resolve and compassion.
"And for me...this is liberation."
The Third Magic, "Materialization of the Soul," formally activated!
Her body decomposed and re-formed within the golden radiance, her flesh and bones turning to pure magic, finally condensing into a holy radiance—a golden Grail covered in intricate patterns, quietly floating in midair.
Her soul separated from her body, transformed into a sphere of pure white light overflowing with infinite warmth, descending slowly like a feather.
On the ground, Red Archer stepped forward from where he'd long waited, swiftly unveiling the blank, white-clothed puppet Steve had crafted in advance.
The soul's orb landed gently upon the puppet's chest and merged with it.
A miracle occurred!
The dead puppet's skin turned supple and rosy, its silver hair grew out like moonlight. Its tightly shut eyes slowly opened, and the deep crimson pupils—typical of automata—now shone with the brilliance of life.
In mere seconds, Irisviel stood there again, just as before—yet filled with new vitality and elegance.
"...Iri!"
Emiya Kiritsugu let out a suppressed howl. All restraint forgotten, he rushed forward. Hugging his wife, the tears flowed freely.
"I'm back, Kiritsugu," she replied, smiling blissfully in his arms.
Relief flooded his features as he looked to Steve, gratitude inexpressible in words.
But the ceremony was not yet over.
The golden Grail, floating in the air, still radiated tremendous power, sustained by the ceaseless flow of mana from the crowd.
"Next!" Iskandar shouted, "It's your turn now, brat!"
Waver, shoved ahead by the Conqueror, stammered forward, and shouted at the Grail with all his might. "Please...please make me a top-class magus!"
The Grail responded with a humming vibration; a golden light poured from above into Waver's body.
He let out a muffled groan, feeling an unprecedented surge of power erupt inside!
He could see his sparse circuits multiplying and strengthening at an impossible rate!
The crest magics that spanned three generations, marked on his arm, seemed to overflow with the wisdom of the Age of Gods—countless arcane skills and theories flooded his mind!
As the light faded, Waver realized his magical capacity now equaled that of a "Pride" ranking magus. Laughing and sobbing, he was overcome with joy.
"It's our turn, Lord Kayneth," murmured Tohsaka Tokiomi.
He and Kayneth exchanged glances, stepped forth into the center, and together cried their ultimate wish as magi—one universally shared:
"Open two holes to the Root!"
Shuuu!
Hardly had they spoken when the space before them rippled like water. A door of pure, ineffable blue light materialized gently.
Within it stretched a starry night, deep enough to swallow everything. The beginning of all, the end of all.
The origin's swirl stood right before them.
Kayneth's breathing quickened unconsciously, devouring the sight with greedy eyes. But at the final moment, he hesitated, glancing back at the direction of his workshop in Fuyuki City.
Therein lay his pride—and his... whimsical fiancée.
For one fleeting instant, he faltered.
His heart roiled, torn between glory and love, truth and mundane concerns. As a magus lord, yet a man in love, the choice was daunting.
The idea of parting—without even a farewell—to that beautiful woman with the short wine-red hair, nearly broke him.
This is why, even with the Root's Gate gaping open before them, an almost "disqualifying" urge arose: to first run and find her, just to say goodbye.
But seconds later... magus fate asserted itself.
Sorry... goodbye, Sola.
Clenching his jaw in resignation, Kayneth recited her name in silence, then strode determinedly to be the first through the blue door, vanishing forever into endless truth—without once looking back.
Now only Tohsaka Tokiomi remained.
Instead of diving in, he turned and sought out the awkward, conflicted man at the edge of the group: Matou Kariya.
"Kariya-kun," Tokiomi sighed, his face somber and contrite as never before. "Caster has already told me everything... The mistakes I made were grievous and irreparable."
"And for all you've done this past year... for Sakura, thank you."
He bowed deeply.
The sudden apology and gratitude embarrassed Kariya. Glancing at the elegant magus he'd once envied and hated, he was reminded of a certain almost-friendship of their student days.
"...You're saying this now...?"
Kariya's voice was hoarse, unsure how to answer, like a hapless humanities youth.
"I'm now going to the place of every magus' lifelong dreams—likely never to return." Tokiomi smiled gently, standing straight. "My wife Aoi and Rin... I leave them in your care."
"With your kindness, I know you'll keep them happy."
"...Hey! Tokiomi!"
Farewell, old friend.
But Tokiomi had no more regrets. With the composure and grace befitting a magus at the verge of death, he entered the Root's Gate.
The miraculous door closed slowly, vanished without a trace.
At this point, every Master's wish had been granted.
Diarmuid the Lancer approached where Kayneth had vanished, gave a knightly salute—his role fulfilled.
"Saber," he said to Saber, "it has been an honor to face a knight such as you in this world."
"My wish is fulfilled. I have no interest in a second life."
"Lancer..."
"Until we meet again."
Smiling, the handsome knight shimmered into golden motes, dissolving swiftly into the night wind, returning to the heroes' eternal throne.
In the courtyard, only the final, greatest problem remained.
All eyes turned to the silent black knight.
Not even voicing a wish could dispel Lancelot's obsession. Only by battling his king could that deep regret be resolved.
He turned slowly and, from the slit in his helmet, the crimson glow locked onto Artoria—now wearing the flesh of a living person.
A fierce, sorrowful fighting spirit surged within...
…
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