That was something that had happened not long ago. A boy, who had clarified his own will, was never lost. Following the flying fortress, he set out on the path back to his homeland as night fell.
What he sought was nothing more than the liberation of his people—those who still lived in the workshops, treated like human batteries. These were his comrades, and they were something the young man would never be able to abandon.
However, it was precisely this choice that led the boy to witness a battlefield beyond his comprehension. The battles of the Heroic Spirits transcended human understanding, their destructive power rivaled only by the grandest of magecraft.
A great hero, riding his chariot, charged across the plains. Before him, no enemy could make him stop; his chariot tore through the battlefield like a meat grinder, creating a hell of blood and flesh.
In the areas his chariot could not reach, countless iron stakes erupted, creating a hell of impalement. Raging flames consumed everything, melting the iron stakes—sharp enough to pierce bodies—into molten metal.
The benevolent hero crushed the one-armed Lord of Impaler with an unstoppable force.
The Lord of Impaler, whose power was bolstered by the blessings of the land and other enhancements to barely rival the great hero, suffered a significant decrease in strength due to his severed arm. This even allowed the great hero, who lacked sufficient mana supply, to overpower him.
Uninterested in the so-called battles of the Heroic Spirits, the boy seized the opportunity, sneaking back to the place of his birth.
As the boy crossed the battlefield and began his mission, Jeanne d'Arc arrived, quickly surveying the entire battlefield.
The battles of the Heroic Spirits astonished her, but her target remained the instigator of all this chaos.
The Red Faction's Master—a person she had never met.
However, Jeanne lacked a way to reach the Hanging Gardens. Unless the Gardens themselves welcomed her, she would need another flying Noble Phantasm to break free from the constraints of the earth.
Just as Jeanne began pondering how to infiltrate the Hanging Gardens, she saw the rise of an aurora.
A figure, accompanied by his Servant, forcefully and majestically broke into the Hanging Gardens. The sight was reflected in Jeanne's eyes.
This was no act of an ally. If they were not allies, then they were—
Before Jeanne could fully process this, a divine aura erupted from the Hanging Gardens, causing her expression to change drastically.
Had the primordial goddess Tiamat unleashed her Authority?
Jeanne could not discern what was happening, but one thing was clear: the situation had become even more complicated.
"This is all oppression!"
A roar resounded across the battlefield—a gladiator's cry of rebellion against oppression.
To aid the Lord of Impaler, who was being suppressed by Karna, Darnic finally ordered Caster Avicebron to summon the Red Berserker, Spartacus!
Spurred on by the words of the Red Caster, Spartacus, who had ventured alone into the Black Faction's camp, was captured by Vlad. After severing his contract with his previous Master, Spartacus forged a new one with the Black Faction's Caster, Avicebron.
Summoned as a Berserker-class Servant, Spartacus often remained in a constant state of rebellion.
His philosophy of action was simple: revolt against the oppressors and rescue the oppressed. To achieve this, he would always choose the path of greatest suffering.
He would not attack enemies who were at a disadvantage; he would only strike those who held the upper hand.
Moreover, he would choose to endure the enemy's attacks before counterattacking, ensuring that victory would manifest as a dramatic reversal at the final moment.
Given that all participants in the Holy Grail War were magi and Heroic Spirits, Spartacus categorized them all as oppressors!
Oppressors must face rebellion!
Following this singular principle, Spartacus charged into the battlefield where Karna and Vlad III clashed!
Spartacus's sudden intervention disrupted the stalemate, giving Vlad III—who had been relentlessly suppressed by Karna—a chance to escape.
Facing this former ally, Karna showed no mercy and launched a fierce assault!
"Berserker?"
Jeanne's expression grew grave as she noticed Spartacus. Just as she took a step forward, her attention was drawn to a figure descending from the Hanging Gardens.
It wasn't just the falling man; Astolfo, who had been lingering near the Hanging Gardens, was now flying toward the man at visible speed. "Reach out your hand!"
Riding his griffin, Astolfo extended his hand to rescue the falling Alaric.
As the Black Rider, Astolfo was one of the few Servants in the Black Faction with the ability to fly. He would have been the perfect choice to infiltrate the Hanging Gardens.
However, before he could act, Alaric had already taken control of the Gardens ahead of him, seizing its core authority through the Sea of Life granted by Tiamat. Although the ecological environment of the Gardens remained unchanged, Alaric had claimed its heart.
Looking at Astolfo, who was trying to save him, Alaric's lips curled into a faint smile as he grabbed the hand extended toward him.
However, Alaric did not act according to Astolfo's intentions. Instead, he pulled out a dagger and stabbed at the griffin beneath Astolfo!
Astolfo's ability to fly as a Servant relied entirely on his griffin. Without it—
In a flash of light, the griffin was slain.
"Eh? Eh? Eh???"
Astolfo flailed his arms and legs, his expression frantic as he looked at Alaric in the distance and shouted, "Why?!"
Ignoring Astolfo's confused cries, Alaric continued his dive toward the battlefield below.
His target was the benevolent great hero—Karna!
The hundreds or thousands of meters between them disappeared in an instant. At that moment, a command sealed by a Command Spell was relayed to Karna through Shirou.
The aurora fell from the heavens without causing any ripples, as though it were an empty illusion.
What changed with the aurora's descent was Karna, who transformed into spirit particles and vanished.
The charging knight paid no mind to this as he extended his holy sword toward the towering gladiator.
"Hello. Goodbye."
Pffft.
Spartacus, gravely injured by Karna's relentless attacks and about to unleash his Noble Phantasm, could only watch helplessly as the holy sword pierced his chest. What would have been a minor wound for him now carried the fragrance of death.
As the line of death was struck, Spartacus met the end of his second life.
Using Spartacus's still-dissipating body as a medium, the holy sword in Alaric's hand quietly dissolved into light particles, replaced by the holy lance Rhongomyniad.
"Holy lance, loading."
A pitch-black torrent consumed Spartacus's corpse, swept across the battlefield, and roared toward the distant Yggdmillennia castle.
Almost simultaneously—
"Phoebus Catastrophe!"
The Southern Cross blossomed once more, carving brilliant trails of light into the night sky. The rain of light arrows fell like a storm, covering the area around Alaric within dozens of meters.
The light arrows, capable of piercing through mountains and stone, howled through the air, brimming with divine energy.