Chapter 244: Absolute Blade: Endless Three-Stage
Unattainable ideals and dreams often meet an end that is nothing but futile. Yet, at times, conviction is more important than anything else.
In this desperate situation, one who did not possess a steadfast will could not possibly persevere. If one did not persevere until this very moment, a miracle could not be realized, and the impossible could not be accomplished.
The power hidden within Shirou's soul awakened at this moment. His main body, situated in another space, transmitted power through the pathways of the soul from that world. At this moment, the eyes of the body inhabited by Senji Muramasa erupted with an iridescent glow. His pupils spun with radiant, rainbow-colored light, stimulating the absolute maximum potential of his form.
The purple light on the Demonic Sword erupted into violet flames, enveloping Shirou's entire body. His heart of steel burned within those purple fires. Under the reinforcement of his Mystic Eyes, and by paying the ultimate price of his physical form, he sought out the strongest possibility.
Among the many legends of the slaying of the Great Deity Yamata-no-Orochi, there existed a Martial God even more powerful than the Serpent God—one who was likewise stained by the cursed blood of the Serpent God. His name was—Susanoo!
The purple flames erupting from the Demonic Sword soared high, swirling in the air to transform into samurai armor. A Karasu-Tengu helmet and pauldrons manifested, equipping themselves onto Shirou's body one by one.
The first strike of Endless Three-Stage utilized exquisite, ultimate footwork to charge before the enemy.
The girl, who had vanished from the air, appeared before Shirou in the next instant. She unleashed hundreds of golden, intersecting slashes in a flash before vanishing into the air again, passing him by.
Shirou raised the Purple Flame Demonic Sword before him. Purple flames erupted, blocking all the slashes outside his perimeter.
The second strike of Endless Three-Stage lands behind the enemy. It is an instantaneous strike that ignores all resistance, returning to the original starting position after passing behind a caught-off-guard foe.
The purple Tengu wings on his back unfurled. His extreme, storm-like speed exceeded Majin Souji's movement at this moment.
The collision of blades produced intense sparks of fire.
The second strike still did not land. Majin Souji adjusted her distance and faced Shirou, gathering her momentum to unleash her strongest blow.
At that moment, a massive amount of magical energy erupted from the girl. Everything in the surroundings was shrouded in white light. The only distinct color was the Purgatory great katana leveled in the girl's hands. The black blade expanded infinitely in that instant, transforming into a pillar of black light that shot directly toward Shirou.
"The final strike! Let it end!" Majin Souji shouted loudly.
Inside the white space, golden light enveloped the infinite black light within, expanding continuously. It seemed as though nothing in the world could evade this peerless strike. This was the light of the "Endless"—without limit, without obstacle, without boundary—a pillar of ultimate black light that broke through any frontier.
"Haaaaaaaaah! It's not over yet! Because I said I would save the people here!!" Shirou raised his sword and charged. He tilted his head and lowered his body, rushing forward.
The black aurora expanded bit by bit, incinerating the left side of the Tengu wings on Shirou's back and burning away the armor of his pauldrons. Even the skin of his left arm was destroyed the moment it touched the aurora; the stark white bone exposed at his shoulder turned to ash under the light.
Shirou gritted his teeth, enduring the agonizing pain of his bones being ground away. He surged forward, continuously closing the distance between himself and Majin Souji. In the gap between a two-meter-long nodachi and a katana, the moment the purple blade in his hand touched the girl would be the moment the winner was decided.
Majin Souji sensed that if things continued like this, she would be cut down. She hurriedly withdrew the Purgatory blade that was emitting the Endless light. Lacking the time to change direction, she slashed directly downward. Utilizing the length advantage of the great katana, she aimed to cleave the left side of Shirou's charging body.
Simultaneously, Shirou, having reached the girl's immediate proximity, swung the Demonic Sword gripped in his right hand. Purple light flashed, effortlessly piercing through the area just above Majin Souji's abdomen.
The Holy Grail hidden within the girl's body was pierced and pushed out.
Previously, he had slain bandits, severed the horns of demonic men, and pierced the serpent's body polluted by black mud—all to let his blade bathe in the Serpent God's cursed blood.
The Demonic Sword Shirou had forged could not yet be called a Divine Construct, but when it underwent its transformation, it gained a trait of "Ultimate Sharpness," possessing the potential to cut through anything.
By allowing the Demonic Sword to continuously absorb the Holy Grail's magical power, the blade finally possessed the ability to pierce the Grail itself.
With a shattering sound, the golden cup broke. The hole that appeared in thin air was absorbed completely by the Demonic Sword.
The purple blade, having inhaled the black mud, began to crack. Finally, it turned into shimmering, fine crystalline fragments and scattered. The specks of fluorescence were swept up by a gust of wind and drifted into the sky.
"Why? Why go to such lengths?" Majin Souji asked in confusion.
The man, lying in a pool of blood with his left arm severed and half his body sliced open by the blade, revealed a smile and said, "I told you at the start... I'm not actually very good at swordsmanship. But to save everyone, ordinary methods wouldn't have won."
"I can't understand... ah..." The expressionless, tan-skinned girl maintained her pierced posture, looking at the fallen man. Tears involuntarily dripped from her face.
"It's okay if you don't understand now. As long as you're alive, you'll understand one day," Shirou said with a smile as he lay on the ground.
"Master!"
"Lord Shirou!"
"So I only made it this far this time, huh... I'm sorry, I still lost to fate..." Shirou lay on the ground, gazing at the sunset clouds painted in vast strokes of gold and orange-red, as if the entire sky were burning. He muttered to himself.
His ears seemed to catch the crying shouts of the girl running toward him; the villagers also knelt nearby and wept—some in sorrow, some in relief.
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Inside the Reality Marble—the world of the forge, the wilderness filled with weapons, and the space of tempered steel.
A youth and a lean, hardened man stood together.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Muramasa. I caused you to die here," Shirou apologized with a bow.
"It's fine, it's fine. If I were there, I would have made the same choice. Besides, my ideal hasn't ended. Even if I die, this cannot be the end. Not to mention, I'm not actually dead yet, haha!"
"Is that so? That's good then. I've learned many things from you these past few days. Thank you very much," Shirou said with a nod of appreciation.
"Yeah. I also saw my own future through your eyes. If my techniques could help you, then nothing could be better. Farewell, kid! I hope you can reach happiness!"
"Yes! I believe that the future you hope for, Mr. Muramasa, will surely come true," Shirou said.
The two turned into sparks of light and left that world.
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A night passed. A gentle breeze dispersed the dark clouds from the sky. On the crest of a small hill in the village, six graves were erected.
Standing to one side was the tall, silver-haired girl, Okita Souji Alter. White bandages were wrapped around her waist. She stood there silently, arms crossed.
She, who should have died, had been spared by that man and survived.
This place was supposed to be a vanishing phantom—like glass in a furnace, beautiful but destined to shatter, destined to be burned by flames until it cracked into dust.
When the Holy Grail left this world, everything should have been restored and erased by the Counter Force, yet everything continued to function.
That sharp Demonic Sword had miraculously avoided her blood vessels, bones, and internal organs. It had not killed her; it had merely pierced through her front and back, leaving two holes.
Because it was exceptionally sharp, it had not dragged or damaged the surrounding tissues. The injury was not overly severe, and for her constitution, it was nothing; it would be fully repaired in just two days.
Perhaps because this world was inherently strange, she—now free from the constraints of the Grail—found that while the magical energy in her body was gradually disappearing and could no longer be replenished, she still possessed a physical body and could continue to move freely.
Having no goal, she planned to travel with the young samurai girl.
Young Yukino stood at the village gate, looking at the small hill and then at the busy villagers. After the harvest, they were directing the stored water; a new round of planting was about to begin.
In the village that had defeated the bandits, laughter and singing were everywhere. Farmers sang folk songs while transplanting rice seedlings together in the fields. The rice shoots were lush and green, and forest birds flew overhead from time to time. Everything was bursting with life.
Young Yukino turned and walked to the exit of the village. From afar, she looked at the highest grave in the village, where four katanas and a cross-shaped spear (Juumonji Yari) were planted.
At the grave of her Master, whose blade had shattered, Young Yukino left behind a hand-drawn map, paper, and a brush. However, she kept the broken sword, placing it in a sheath and tying it to her back with a cord.
"What Master said before... I think I understand now. As expected, I lost this war too. The winners this time weren't us, nor was it justice—it was these farmers who survived.
But I won't give up. From now on, I will inherit Master's will and search for the answer to the Truth."
The samurai girl gripped her sword and stepped forward, leaving the village.
Okita Souji Alter followed silently behind her.
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This was a peculiar world generated at the intersection of reality and dreams, overlapping with the concept of "Samurai." It was formed by the convergence of dreams from multiple worlds, eventually creating a unique reality.
Whether they were outsiders summoned as vessels, Servants, or the people born into this world—as long as they did not die, they would continue to exist.
As for how much longer it could be maintained, no one would know unless the world reached its end.
And for those who were drawn into this world from a dream and died, perhaps in their original world, it was merely as if they had experienced a nightmare.
In a house in Chiba Prefecture, Tokyo, a youth sleeping soundly on a sofa opened his eyes. He saw that outside the window, the sun had not yet risen.
Feeling drowsy, he thought to sleep a little longer. And so, he entered the land of dreams once again.
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"Once upon a time in this world, due to certain special circumstances, seven samurai actually accepted the employment of low-class farmers. They led the villagers to fight against bandits who came to steal the village's grain.
All the samurai fought to the very end. Not a single one fled; they fought until they were sacrificed. Of the seven samurai, only one remained in the end."
An old man, half-blind and nearly toothless, sat behind a table in a tea house, telling a story for a living.
"Hahaha! Samurai helping farmers? What a ridiculous story! But old-timer, your storytelling skills are amazing; it sounds just like the real thing. Here, a tip for you!" A customer nearby burst out laughing, pulling some change from his pocket to give to the storyteller.
Satisfied with this fresh tale, the other customers also tossed in some coins.
"Thank you, kind sir. With your generosity, your wealth will surely grow." The storyteller bowed repeatedly, and the child beside him busied himself picking up the money from the floor.
"Did Sasaki Kojiro appear? What about Miyamoto Musashi? Musashi!" someone else asked.
"Musashi, eh? That will have to be the next story," the old man said with a smile and a bow.
"Move! Out of the way! Whether you're a ronin or a commoner, don't stand in the middle of the road!" At that moment, the shouts of officials came from outside the small tea house, driving travelers away to clear the path.
On the streets of the small town, a security team composed of over a dozen men marched with wooden clubs and iron forks. Every few steps, they would demand that pedestrians clear the way to show off the authority of their squad.
They specifically targeted the impoverished and destitute ronin, wanting to see them bow their heads in submission. If they didn't, the officials would make fools of them.
"Honestly! It's all the fault of these ronin, giving us more trouble! If you want to duel, go do it outside the city!" a fat man complained.
"Exactly!" The dozen or so officials grew sour at the thought, glaring menacingly at the samurai walking past with weapons, seemingly looking for someone to pick on.
Knowing that "the powerful dragon cannot suppress the local snake" and that "a wise man does not fight when the odds are against him," the surrounding ronin all stepped aside, ducking to the edge of the road to let the officials pass.
Just then, a samurai carrying an exquisite katana approached from the opposite direction. Seeing the aggressive officials, he didn't seem to care, simply continuing forward.
"You bastard..." The fat official was about to start cursing.
"Forget it, fatty. That's no ordinary ronin," a colleague whispered, tugging at the fat official's clothes.
By then, the onlookers could see the man's appearance clearly: a lean man with hair as crimson as flames. He wore a dark red samurai robe. Although the katana at his waist was not drawn, one could tell it was a treasure just by the exquisite hilt and scabbard.
The man's eyes were fixed forward. He seemed to be in a very good mood, unperturbed by the tension of the security team. A friendly smile, like that of a neighborly young man, touched his face—an expression that was not at all dislikable.
However, any keen observer would notice that within the man's spirited gaze, he seemed to be looking toward a higher, more distant world. It was as if his aspirations and ambitions were entirely different—on a completely different level—from those of the people here.
The samurai and the security team passed each other in silence.
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