Sparse cold rain fell on the ruins, splashing up fine dust. Artoria leaned against the cold, broken wall, her black armor appearing even more somber in the dim light. She didn't look back, but she could clearly perceive that shadow following her, the existence she had once tried her best to cut down but was now powerless to fight.
"Why did you follow me?" Her voice was very light, without much fluctuation, as if she were just asking casually, having exhausted all intense emotions and leaving only a weary void.
Kanjuro slowly paced out from the shadows and stood not far from her. The rain fell on his black robe but strangely could not dampen it in the slightest. He looked at her battered yet still straight back, his eyes complex.
"Because you are the... most perfect artwork I have seen in my long years." His voice was calm, carrying a cold, connoisseur-like scrutiny. "You possess the potential for both light and darkness, a resilient will that transcends common logic, and you could even draw upon the power of the Root at the very end... Unfortunately," his tone shifted, carrying a trace of genuine, almost piteous regret, "in the end, a flaw appeared."
Hearing this, Artoria sighed softly, the sound almost inaudible amidst the rain. She wasn't angry; instead, she had a look of insightful realization.
"Aren't you the same? Kanjuro, or rather... Merlin." She finally turned her head slightly, rain sliding down her pale cheeks. "My hesitation with that strike did indeed give you the chance to turn defeat into victory. But if I hadn't hesitated, if I could have truly pierced your heart with my sword without a ripple of emotion... then, I would no longer be 'me'."
Her gaze pierced through the curtain of rain, falling on his handsome face that was filled with madness and calculation.
"And you now, aren't you also'soft-hearted' for following me? Or is it that you just want to see with your own eyes how pathetically I, the loser, walk toward the end, just to satisfy that last bit of your ridiculous... sense of superiority?"
Kanjuro was stunned for a moment. Then, he suddenly clutched his stomach and burst into a fit of nearly frenzied, humorless laughter: "Ah hahahaha—!!! Of course! Of course it's the latter! Did you think I would sympathize with you? That I would feel any unnecessary pity for you, a failed, flawed work?! Don't make me laugh! Hahahaha!"
His laughter echoed through the empty ruins, sounding exceptionally piercing and lonely.
Artoria just watched him laugh quietly. When his laughter subsided, she spoke calmly, her voice carrying a peace that saw through all pretenses: "Merlin, your kindness to me, whether true or false, whether out of utility or something else... I remember those memories."
She turned her head back, looking toward the gray sky again.
"I just... some things cannot be faked. Like the hesitation in that moment, like your current... 'worry'."
Kanjuro's laughter stopped abruptly. The madness on his face slowly faded, replaced by a deep, indescribable silence. He just watched her quietly, watching the rain wet the tips of her hair, watching the blood slowly seep from the cracks in her pauldrons, mixing with the rain and dripping into the dust.
"...Yes." After a long time, he admitted in a low voice, his tone unreadable. "You made me develop... my only 'flaw'. Watching you quietly walk toward the end like this... seems quite good, actually." His gaze seemed to pierce through time, seeing the distant past. "At least, in these final moments, perhaps we can... occasionally remember the... reasonably good times we had in that land of Britain."
Artoria gave a soft "mm" in response. She felt the continuous loss of power within her; the connection with her master was already so weak it was almost imperceptible.
"I just... can no longer kill you now." Her voice carried a hint of regret, but no resentment. "My power... is about to run out."
A barely perceptible arc curled at the corner of Kanjuro's mouth, a smile carrying his characteristic anticipation and defiance toward an unknown future.
"Then I look forward to it," he said, his voice low and full of temptation. "After all, who can say for sure... that there won't be a next Holy Grail War?"
As his words fell, he took one last deep look at her, as if to brand her current appearance into the depths of his soul.
Then, he turned around, his black robe cutting a decisive arc in the rain. His figure gradually merged into the deeper shadows and vanished completely.
Artoria remained leaning against the broken wall, staring in the direction he had disappeared for a long time. The rain gradually grew heavier, washing over the ruins and the final traces left by this war that had lasted far too long, entangled with love and hate, truth and falsehood.
Next time?
She slowly closed her eyes, feeling her consciousness gradually being enveloped by the cold darkness.
Perhaps... Artoria's figure finally dissipated completely amidst the rain and the fading spiritons, returning to the Throne of Heroes, leaving behind only the devastation and a deathly silence. Kanjuro stood upon the ruins, his black robe motionless in the strengthening wind and rain. The cynical smile on his face had long since vanished, leaving only a cold, almost nihilistic calm.
He looked up toward the sky over Fuyuki City. The originally gloomy clouds were forcibly torn open by an invisible force, and a massive "Hole" emitting an ominous and seductive glow slowly emerged—it was the manifestation of the Heavens Feel! Deep within the opening was not holy radiance, but black mud, viscous and roiling like pitch! That was the embodiment of All the World's Evil, the true form of the Holy Grail after being polluted, containing a massive amount of magical energy sufficient to grant wishes yet also enough to bring about destruction.
"Heh... Is it finally here?" Kanjuro laughed involuntarily, a laugh that held no joy, only a detached sense of "as expected." The tool he had sought for so long, capable of touching the Root and achieving his deeper purpose, had finally appeared... Meanwhile, in another corner of Fuyuki City, inside a simple Mansion with a courtyard.
Emiya Kiritsugu lay under the porch, his breath weak and his face as pale as golden paper. The flame of his life was like a candle in the wind; the complete exhaustion of his spiritual pulse and the long-accumulated wounds were rapidly taking away his last bit of vitality. The young Shirou Emiya knelt by his side, his small hand tightly holding his adoptive father's cold hand, his face full of worry and confusion.
Kiritsugu turned his eyes with difficulty, looking at that "star" in the night sky (the Heavens Feel) that was growing brighter and more ominous. He knew what it meant. Using his last strength, he squeezed Shirou's hand back, his voice so raspy it was almost broken:
"Shirou... listen... you must remember... you must become... a hero of justice."
"I will! Kiritsugu!" The young Shirou nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with a firm light whose heavy meaning he did not yet fully understand.
"...Don't... don't be consumed... by darkness... and evil..." Kiritsugu's gaze seemed to pierce through Shirou, seeing some blurred and terrifying future. He summoned his final ounce of strength, his mouth struggling to pull into a nearly non-existent smile filled with endless regret and a faint glimmer of hope. Then, his arm fell powerlessly, and the light completely vanished from his eyes.
"Kiritsugu? Kiritsugu!"
...Inside Einzbern Castle, the atmosphere was equally solemn.
Irisviel tightly held her daughter Illya's hand, standing in the empty hall. She could clearly feel that as the "Hole" in the sky expanded, the magical energy within her was boiling and rising uncontrollably! As a homunculus and the vessel for the Lesser Grail in this Holy Grail War, her mission—and her end—had arrived when the Heavens Feel fully manifested. Her body began to emit a soft yet lethal glow, as if she were about to melt away into that light.
"Mama?" Illya seemed to sense something, her crimson eyes filled with unease as she tightly gripped her mother's hand.
Irisviel looked down, gazing tenderly at her daughter, trying her best to give her a reassuring smile, but that smile was tinged with an irrepressible sorrow and a sense of finality.
In a dark corner of the castle, Matou Zouken paced anxiously like an ant on a hot pan, his cloudy eyes fixed on the "hole" in the sky while constantly looking toward the entrance, muttering to himself: "Lord Kanjuro... why hasn't Lord Kanjuro arrived yet... the Holy Grail... my immortality..."
Just then, a heart-palpitating dark aura enveloped the entire castle.
Kanjuro's figure appeared at the entrance of the hall like a phantom. He ignored the anxious Matou Zouken, his gaze falling directly on Irisviel, whose body was gradually turning into light particles, and the panicked Illya.
Jeanne followed closely behind, standing silently by his side like a most loyal shadow.
"It is time," Kanjuro's voice broke the silence, calm and rippleless. "The final moment."
He turned to look at Jeanne beside him, using a nearly questioning tone for once: "Jeanne, the Holy Grail is right before us. Do you... have any wish?"
Jeanne remained expressionless, her violet eyes still and silent, as if she had long seen through everything. "No interest. This is... our final contract." Her words carried a sense of finality, as if completing a mission.
Hearing this, Kanjuro laughed, his smile carrying a hint of playful insight. "Final contract? No, you are mistaken, Jeanne." He looked at her slightly furrowed brow and said slowly, "You are not a Heroic Spirit summoned by this world's Holy Grail system. You are... a special existence 'born' from an 'Old God' who signed a contract with me, responding to my call to fulfill my wish. As long as my will remains, as long as that contract is not fulfilled or torn up, you... will not leave."
Jeanne froze, her violet pupils suddenly contracting. This truth was far more shocking to her than the manifestation of the Holy Grail. Her existence, her following him, even her indescribable "appreciation" for Kanjuro's darkness—had it all originated from a higher-level transaction and creation she herself hadn't noticed?
She stared blankly at Kanjuro. For the first time, in her heart filled with obsession, a sliver of true bewilderment originating from existence itself emerged.
Kanjuro stopped looking at her, turning his gaze back to the Heavens Feel churning with black mud in the sky, and Irisviel, whose body was becoming increasingly transparent. In his eyes flickered the determination to finally seize the fruits of victory and step into deeper darkness.
The end of the Holy Grail War was also the beginning of Kanjuro's true ambition. Illya watched her mother's body gradually become transparent, light particles drifting from her fingertips like fireflies, and a massive fear gripped her young heart. She broke free from Irisviel's hand, stumbled to the front of Kanjuro, her crimson eyes filled with tears, and pleaded with a sob:
"Papa! Please! Save Mama! Don't let Mama disappear!"
Her small hands tightly gripped the hem of Kanjuro's cold black robe, as if it were her only lifeline.
Almost simultaneously, Matou Zouken also crawled forward, his withered face a mix of greed and flattery, his voice trembling sharply with excitement:
"Lord Kanjuro! Lord Kanjuro! You promised me! Immortality! This old man only seeks eternal life! And... and... I want to see her again... Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, the Saint of Winter! Please grant this!"
Kanjuro's gaze swept between Illya's small face full of pleading and Matou Zouken's old face distorted by desire. A strange expression appeared on his face, like pity, yet also like mockery, finally turning into a meaningful sigh.
"Wishes..." he said softly, his voice carrying a peculiar rhythm. "Actually, they don't conflict."
He raised his hand, pointing to the Heavens Feel churning with black mud in the sky; that massive "hole" seemed to connect to the core of the abyss.
"Matou Zouken, the Saint of Winter you wish to see," the corners of Kanjuro's mouth curled into an unfathomable arc, "her soul's essence, her 'traces,' are inside that Heavens Feel, long since fused with this vast magical power and this 'All the World's Evil.' You want to'see' her? It's simple. Dive into it, and you will naturally feel her presence... In what form you 'exist' depends on your luck."
Hearing this, a terrifying light erupted in Matou Zouken's cloudy eyes. He gazed blankly at the hole in the sky as if he truly saw the ladder to eternity and the phantom he had longed for, making unconscious guttural sounds.
Kanjuro ignored him, stepping slowly toward Irisviel, whose body was nearly transparent. He stopped very close to her, looking down into those red eyes similar to his own but filled with complex emotions. His voice became unexpectedly gentle, carrying a bewitching magic:
"As for you, Iri..." He reached out, his fingertips almost touching her face of light particles. "You want to continue being with Illya, never to be separated, right?"
Irisviel's body trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a deep sorrow that saw through to the essence. Her profound eyes locked onto Kanjuro, her voice weak yet carrying a clear doubt:
"Kanjuro... would you be so kind? To use the power of the Holy Grail to fulfill us? That doesn't sound like you."
Kanjuro laughed, his smile still gentle, but his eyes were filled with cold calculation and control.
"I of course have conditions," he said unhurriedly, his gaze sweeping over Illya, who was watching him tensely, then returning to Irisviel's face. "It's simple... Beg me."
His voice was low and heavy with pressure:
"Cast aside all your pride, hatred, and pretenses, like the most devout believer praying to a god... beg me. As long as you speak and beg me, I will fulfill your wish and let you and our daughter be together forever."
He threw the choice back to Irisviel in an extremely cruel way. Should she hold onto her final dignity and completely dissipate while worrying for her daughter? Or, for the slim hope of being with her daughter, should she bow her proud head to the man who ruined her life and defiled everything she had?
Irisviel looked into Kanjuro's eyes, which seemed able to see through every weakness, and then at her daughter's small face filled with hope and fear. The massive conflict and pain nearly tore her remaining existence apart.
And Kanjuro simply waited quietly, like a patient hunter enjoying the prey's final struggle in the trap. The light of the Holy Grail shone behind him, reflecting the cold, confident smile on his face.
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