Irisviel's voice trembled with urgency, trying to penetrate the despair surrounding Emiya Kiritsugu: "Kiritsugu! It's okay! That's just an illusion! It's a fake woven by Kanjuro's magical energy! Don't let him deceive you!" She knew these words were weak and futile, but as a companion, she had to grasp at any straw that might stabilize his mind.
Artoria also stepped forward. Despite her clash of ideals with Emiya Kiritsugu, and despite the heavy shackles of her own memories tampered with by Kanjuro, at this moment, facing this true demon who enjoyed playing with human hearts, she had to stand on the side of humanity. The sword of promised victory in her hand seemed to sense its master's surging emotions; the blade trembled slightly, emitting a cold golden radiance, yet within that light, a dark luster originating from Kanjuro's dark magical energy was faintly entwined, symbolizing the battle between light and shadow within her heart.
"Kiritsugu," Artoria's voice was calm and powerful, carrying an awakening after experiencing trauma, "Many times, I too have been deeply trapped in the quagmire woven by Kanjuro, a mixture of extreme pain and false beauty, unable to extricate myself. However, some boundaries must be upheld!" She gripped the hilt tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force, as if making a vow to herself, "Some obsessions and pains, no matter how deep, must be... personally severed!"
"Severed?" Emiya Kiritsugu suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at Artoria. His gaze was terrifyingly hollow, yet burning with a flame bordering on madness. He asked hoarsely, "Can you really sever them?"
His gaze was then immediately drawn like a magnet, once again fixed firmly on Kanjuro and that adult Shirley.
Kanjuro seemed completely indifferent to their conversation. He was holding Shirley's soft body even tighter in his arms in an extremely intimate posture. His fingers carelessly twined around the tips of her brown hair, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. Shirley snuggled against him submissively, her face wearing an expression of complete trust, almost happiness. Occasionally, she would even take the initiative to adjust her posture to lean more comfortably against Kanjuro's chest. They had no further transgressive actions, but this intimacy that ignored everyone else, this sense of dependence as if their souls already belonged to each other, was more destructive than any naked violation.
Emiya Kiritsugu's breathing became heavy and irregular, his chest heaving violently as if it would burst at any moment. Previously, he could numbly choose for "Shirley to die" time and again because those were ultimately shadows of the past, tragedies destined to be irrecoverable. But this one before his eyes... this living, mature Shirley with infinite possibilities, this symbol that should have been the most beautiful part of his memories, was now snuggling in such a manner in the arms of the culprit who caused all the tragedies!
"An interesting reaction." Kanjuro seemed to have just noticed Emiya Kiritsugu's gaze, which looked as if he wanted to devour someone. He gently pushed Shirley away a little so that Kiritsugu could see the blush on her face caused by him more clearly. He asked playfully, his voice full of malicious inquiry: "You could even endure watching 'Shirley' die so many times, so why... can't you endure me simply giving her a hug? This doesn't even count as a violation, just a kind of... closeness."
These words were like the sharpest icicle, accurately piercing through the final line of defense of Emiya Kiritsugu's sanity.
"!!!" An incoherent rattling sound came from Emiya Kiritsugu's throat, his teeth chattering and grinding.
At that moment, the adult Shirley snuggling in Kanjuro's arms seemed to receive some silent command. She turned her head slightly and looked back at Emiya Kiritsugu, who was kneeling in a pool of blood. Her eyes were still clear, but they carried a heartfelt persuasion that made Kiritsugu's heart and gall shatter:
"Kiritsugu..." Her voice was gentle and pleasant, yet she spoke the cruelest words, "If I'm still alive, can't we still be together? Lord Kanjuro... he's a very good person. He... will agree."
"Use the children's lives to exchange for us being together. Lord Kanjuro... will fulfill our wish."
"Ugh, aaaaaahhhhh—!!!!!"
Emiya Kiritsugu let out a subhuman roar of ultimate despair. He suddenly grabbed his hair with both hands, his nails digging deep into his scalp, his body convulsing violently as if having an epileptic seizure. The tower constructed of rationality completely collapsed under the dual crushing of the temptation of "living" and the torture of "belonging to another." All his previous persistence and numbness turned into the most ridiculous joke at this moment.
Did he lose?
No, it was impossible for him to win from the very beginning.
Kanjuro admired Emiya Kiritsugu's posture of complete breakdown, like admiring a tragedy's perfect final curtain call. He gently embraced Shirley and whispered a few words in her ear. Shirley nodded submissively, that happy and hollow smile still hanging on her face.
The final choice had not yet been spoken, but the outcome seemed to have been decided long ago. A declaration. "Die! Let everyone die!! As long as I can be with Shirley, I'm willing to do anything!" His hair was disheveled, his eyes red as blood. All the previously suppressed rationality, the burdens of sin, and the "justice" he upheld vanished into thin air before the Shirley who was "alive and belonged to him." He suddenly slumped to his knees—not out of submission, but because the last bit of strength supporting his body had been drained, leaving him completely broken.
Artoria and Irisviel fell into a dead silence. They did not criticize or despise him; there was only a bottomless sorrow. They had witnessed with their own eyes how Kanjuro, step by step, in the most precise and malicious way, exposed a person's deepest desire and most painful scar simultaneously, and then repeatedly ground them down until their spirit completely disintegrated. Any judgment from outside this scene would seem pale and arrogant.
Illya snuggled in Kanjuro's arms, looking up with her small face, and said softly in a tone mixed with innocence and cruelty: "Kiritsugu is really pitiful."
"Yes," Kanjuro did not show his usual mockery or morbid pleasure this time. Instead, he rarely spoke with a sigh like a philosopher, "A self-proclaimed Partner of Justice, who constructed a wall of cold rationality, only to have it completely collapse because of that inseparable, pure personal affection deep in his heart, losing the distorted 'beauty' he originally stood upon." His gaze swept over the broken Kiritsugu and then seemed to pass over Artoria, his voice calm yet every word piercing the heart:
"So, I have always believed that constantly sacrificing'small love' for an ethereal 'great love' is inherently an absurd paradox. Who says that the bone-deep pure affection between a man and a woman is necessarily inferior to so-called worldly great love? People who don't even understand the principle of 'loving oneself before others' and protecting what is most important to them are actually... not fit to live in this world, because they have never truly recognized the meaning of their own existence."
These words were like a demon putting on a philosophical cloak, whitewashing the most selfish desires into some kind of "truth."
Immediately after, a terrifyingly gentle smile, as if from a "sudden enlightenment," appeared on Kanjuro's face. He slowly reached out his hand toward the kneeling, dazed Emiya Kiritsugu, his voice full of seduction:
"Kiritsugu, I'm moved, really. Your persistence for the love in your heart transcends all hypocritical dogmas... I've decided to join you and become a member of the 'partners of justice,' how about it? Come, take my hand."
Emiya Kiritsugu's body twitched violently. He didn't dare look into Kanjuro's eyes; those whispers were like poisonous snakes boring into his chaotic mind. The "Shirley" on the side also showed an encouraging, pure smile at the right time, echoing softly: "Kiritsugu, look, how good Master Kanjuro is. He's willing to fulfill our wish. Come over here and hold Master's hand."
"Don't!!" Artoria shouted sternly, trying to make a final stand, "Don't go!! Kiritsugu! He's lying to you! It's absolutely impossible for him to change!"
"Yes! Kiritsugu, wake up!" Irisviel also shouted urgently, her heart filled with an ominous premonition.
However, at this time, only the smiling, living Shirley remained in Emiya Kiritsugu's eyes. World justice, the lives of the majority, past sins—everything could be abandoned. Only this "love" regained and within reach was the only driftwood he, a drowning man, could grasp. He looked at Shirley infatuatedly, as if pulled by invisible threads, ignoring all warnings, trembling yet with a moth-to-a-flame-like determination, moving step by step toward Kanjuro's outstretched hand.
Finally, his cold, blood-stained hand touched Kanjuro's fingers, which seemed warm but actually hid endless chill.
At the very moment their hands met—
A sudden change occurred!
The gentle smile on Kanjuro's face vanished instantly, replaced by an extremely cold, machine-like indifference. On his arm, dark magical energy suddenly condensed, transforming into a sinisterly shaped black sword of promised victory flowing with ominous, ghostly light!
The speed surpassed visual capture!
Emiya Kiritsugu didn't even have time to react. He only felt an irresistible force transmitted through their joined hands, pulling his arm and swinging it forward with a speed and trajectory he couldn't control!
Puchi—!
A light sound, like a ripe fruit hitting the ground.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
Emiya Kiritsugu's eyes widened. Reflected in his pupils was Shirley's beautiful face, with the encouraging smile still lingering on her... head, separated from her headless body, drawing an elegant and cruel arc in the air, and then with a "thud," rolling into the thick pool of blood.
Those clear brown eyes, still carrying the lingering gentleness and expectation, gazed quietly and hollowly at the ceiling.
Kanjuro let go of his hand.
The black sword of promised victory dissipated into wisps of black smoke.
As if he had only done a trivial matter, he looked down at Shirley's fallen head, then looked up at the completely petrified Emiya Kiritsugu, whose breathing seemed to have stopped, and said softly in a flat, appalling tone: "Look, this is the path of the 'Partner of Justice' you chose. Even the last dream was personally severed by you."
"look,This is the choice you made.,'Partner of Justice'Road.Even the last illusion,You cut them all off with your own hands.."
"..."
Emiya Kiritsugu didn't make a sound. He just stared blankly at Shirley's head in the pool of blood, at that frozen smile, and then fell straight backward, crashing heavily onto the cold floor. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated, without a single trace of life.
Was he dead? Or was his soul already shattered?
No one knew.
Inside the Workshop, only a deathly silence and a thick, inescapable smell of blood remained.
Kanjuro turned around, took Illya's hand, and nodded slightly to the silent Jeanne.
"Let's go, Jeanne." Kanjuro took Illya's hand and turned to walk out of the Workshop, his tone as relaxed as if he had just finished afternoon tea. He didn't even look back at the slaughterhouse of flesh and the mental ruins he had personally created.
Jeanne's gaze fell on Emiya Kiritsugu, who was curled up in the pool of blood like a puppet whose soul had been extracted. His eyes were hollow, his body occasionally twitching unconsciously, his head tilted as he stared fixedly at Shirley's solitary head nearby. Jeanne frowned slightly, not out of sympathy but out of some efficiency-based consideration. She asked, "Aren't you going to kill him?" In her view, leaving such a potential, uncontrollable remnant was not a wise move.
Kanjuro stopped, turned half his face, and the corner of his lips curled into an almost pitying arc, but that pity was more chilling than any contempt. He lighty said: "Look at him now, how pitiful. Doesn't he look like a stray dog with a broken spine, only able to whimper in a pile of trash?"
As if to confirm his words, or perhaps as the final, malicious finishing touch to this cruel drama—
Kanjuro's fingers, hidden in the shadows, moved almost imperceptibly.
Shirley's head, which had rolled into the pool of blood, suddenly had its once hollow and frozen brown eyes injected with a bizarre 'vitality.' Her lips began to move, emitting a voice that was no longer gentle, but filled with bone-deep resentment and frantic mockery:
"Hahahaha—Emiya Kiritsugu! You idiot! Moron! Fool!" The head "spoke" from the pool of blood, its voice sharp and piercing, like nails scraping against glass. "It's you! You're the one who killed me! It's your damn father! Your filthy bloodline killed everyone on the island! And now you actually have the delusional hope that I'll forgive you? That you can still be with me?!"
"Are you worthy?! Are you worthy?! Hahahaha—!!"
This sudden curse from the deceased (though it was a phantom) was like the final straw that broke the camel's back, completely shattering Emiya Kiritsugu's crumbling mental world.
"Ugh... Aaaaaah—!!!"
An out-of-tune roar squeezed out of Emiya Kiritsugu's throat. His eyes no longer shed tears, but instead streamed two shocking trails of blood! In his distorted vision, Shirley's head on the ground was laughing wildly, and countless blood-soaked, hideous-faced Shirleys seemed to emerge around him. They reached out their pale hands, crying out for his life. At the same time, the vengeful spirits of hundreds of children he had 'chosen' to sacrifice time and again also seemed to rise from the pool of blood, surrounding him densely with silent accusations.
The boundary between reality and hallucination completely collapsed.
He could no longer distinguish what was real from the never-ending hell Kanjuro had woven for him.
"No—! It wasn't me! It wasn't me—!!" He clutched his head, which felt like it was splitting open, and let out a shrill, inhuman scream. He suddenly sprang up from the ground, as if driven by invisible fear, and dashed recklessly and stumbling toward the workshop door. He knocked over clutter along the way and, covered in blood and completely insane, disappeared into the cold night outside the castle.
He had gone mad.
He was thoroughly and irredeemably insane.
Kanjuro looked in the direction where Emiya Kiritsugu had disappeared, his face expressionless. He simply said to Jeanne d'Arc, "See, death would have been a release for him. But living, immersed in the eternal nightmare I prepared for him, is the most perfect irony for his 'justice'."
He lowered his head and gave Illya a gentle smile in his arms. "It's time for us to go, Illya. There are still many... interesting'stories' waiting for us to write."
Jeanne d'Arc took one last look at the mess and deathly silence, then silently followed Kanjuro's footsteps.
Einzbern Castle returned to its superficial tranquility, leaving behind only the bloodstains, silent corpses, and a former 'Ally of Justice' whose soul had been completely destroyed, running frantically through the night of Fuyuki City.
Only Artoria remained, staring angrily at Kanjuro's retreating back. "I will definitely make you pay the price!! Merlin!!!!"
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