A black-red void tore open in the sky.
The crimson magic dragon dissipated. The golden Holy Grail vanished into nothing. In their place came only darkness.
Impossible. The Holy Grail had been destroyed. How could the world's evil still... Kiritsugu stared blankly up at the black hole ripped open above, as if it had split the sky itself in two. He didn't even notice the so-called Holy Relic bird quietly taking flight from his shoulder.
The Holy Grail War was over. It was over. What was this supposed to mean?
He couldn't comprehend it. Whatever last remnant had survived inside him seemed to be crushed entirely by this single, unbearable sight. Black mud poured from the void above.
It swallowed the ruins of the Civic Hall. It set the surrounding park ablaze, catching every structure it touched. The mud surged outward in every direction, spreading through Fuyuki City at terrifying speed, consuming the shopping streets, residential neighborhoods, hotel districts, parks, the port — swallowing the city whole.
Kiritsugu sank to one knee, mouth open, as if screaming or sobbing.
But no sound came out. His eyes had gone blank and colorless.
He had given up the omnipotent wish-granting device. He had destroyed the Holy Grail. And somehow, nothing had changed at all.
"No, no, NO! Impossible! This is impossible!"
He grabbed his own head and let out a roar, like a man losing his mind.
His thoughts could no longer form. But instinct drove his body toward the residential district regardless. He couldn't think about anything, only let that instinct move him. His own survival, the mechanics of the Holy Grail — none of it mattered anymore.
Save people.
Save people.
I have to save people.
That was the only thought left in this man who called himself a champion of justice. The obsession that even madness couldn't strip from him, just as Miss Illyasviel would never stop chasing something called happiness even in death. He did not care whether he too might die here in Fuyuki City.
He only wanted to save people. In this burning city, in this world drowning in despair and malice, he wanted to save people.
And in the very instant that malice descended, many waiting things began to move as well.
Dozens upon dozens of finely crafted thread-familiars crept out from every corner of Fuyuki City. These were the surveillance familiars Miss Illyasviel had set up in the beginning — as well as the little toys she had left behind for others as parting gifts. Drawn by the Holy Relic that had taken flight from Kiritsugu's shoulder, they began to swarm toward the point calling out to them: the Civic Hall.
Lord Kayneth stared at the sky in shock. Without pause, he drove his wheelchair forward with Sola-Ui at his side, crossing the Fuyuki Bridge at full speed to make his escape, cursing himself for what kind of situation he had gotten himself into. There had been a nest of crocodiles in this rural backwater of a fish pond, fine, but how had a tiger shark also materialized from nowhere? What was this local ritual doing producing something like that?
Miss Francesca Prelati, by contrast, tilted her head. As if she had spotted exactly what she was looking for, she spread her arms wide and laughed in delight, and unlike everyone else who was running, she picked up her pace toward the submerged ruins of the Civic Hall. Holy Grail Wars really were endlessly entertaining. She had been wondering what local souvenirs to bring home, and then this enormous haul had simply arrived on its own.
Matou Tsuruno, who had just finished a late-night meal at the most expensive hotel in the new district with little Sakura and Shinji Matou, looked up at the scene from a distance and blinked. To his right, Sakura stared forward with an expressionless, undisturbed gaze. To his left, Shinji Matou, holding a book of magecraft that he had dug out of the Matou family archive, glanced briefly at the sky, then returned his eyes to the page.
Tokiomi Tohsaka looked through the church window at the conflagration consuming the world outside, his face ashen with shock. Bound to a wheelchair and left in the cathedral like a living corpse, he let out a quiet sigh, and seemed to age another ten years in an instant.
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne felt the tide of his life ebbing away. He was on one knee, his body charred to the bone, his magic sword finally shattered into nothing but scattered points of light. He tried to pull himself upright and stop what was happening, but his dying body made clear that there was nothing he could do. He could only wait for the black mud to reach him.
"Kiritsugu?"
Inside the Einzbern Castle in Germany, a small girl in a sleeping gown stirred awake, tears at the corners of her eyes.
Cold white snow drifted outside the castle walls. Alone on the wide bed, the girl slowly sat up with her back against the headboard and rubbed at her crimson eyes with a confused expression.
"What is it, Illyasviel?"
An unnamed voice came from somewhere nearby. It was Irisviel's voice.
Perhaps it was the loneliness of this little girl giving rise to an imagined presence. Or maybe it was a resonance between blood and magical energy. It was possible, too, that she was still dreaming, and her longing for her family had summoned her mother's image to ease the ache.
"I had a nightmare..."
The girl in the sleeping gown looked uneasily around the empty room. It was cold here, cold in temperature and cold in the heart:
"In the dream, Ilya became a cup. Then seven very large things were pushed inside, and Ilya was so afraid. It felt like I was going to lose myself, like I would stop being me, and hurt the people I love."
"But I couldn't escape. And then I heard the voice of our ancestor Justeaze. A great black hole appeared above my head. And then the world suddenly caught fire, and Kiritsugu watched it all happen and started crying in the middle of the flames."
"So many beautiful little birds were flying, getting closer. They swooped past Kiritsugu and tore into a big dark figure like starving animals gone mad. Many people were crying. Many others were laughing. So many people died in the fire. But then there was something terrible that tricked Kiritsugu, and it crawled up out of hell. It was a demon, black and murky, and it looked just like Ilya."
"She tricked Kiritsugu into carrying her 'anchor' back out. And from that dark hell she reached into 'reality.' She succeeded in the end. She used Kiritsugu, she deceived Kiritsugu, and she took the life of the last hero. She gathered all the pieces of some strange puzzle."
The interior of the Holy Grail could not reach the world outside. But from the fact that one vial of the blood Miss Illyasviel had given Tokiomi Tohsaka never disappeared, it was clear that her soul — never fully absorbed by the corrupted Grail — did not count as truly dead.
Only, she had no vessel in the outside world. No Spirit Origin. No anchor to fix her existence in place.
She needed a channel. A connection to the outside. And Emiya Kiritsugu was the best possible target.
As long as Kiritsugu carried her Holy Relic out with him, she could use that bridge she had constructed to remotely manipulate the scattered thread-familiars lingering outside the Grail, from within the Grail's interior — achieving things her soul alone could never accomplish.
To put it simply: Miss Illyasviel and Irisviel were both self-aware viruses inside the same computer. The Holy Grail was a closed terminal, unable to connect to any outside network. But unlike Irisviel, Miss Illyasviel had various small viruses scattered throughout the external world. When Kiritsugu carried her USB drive — the Holy Relic — outside, it was like opening a connection to those external viruses. As long as the Holy Grail War hadn't completely ended, as long as the computer hadn't shut down, she could use that brief gap to pull off the exploit of a dead Servant whose familiars were still operational.
So what could she actually do with this? What could she accomplish in that slim window?
For anyone else, it would amount to nothing. The strength of mere familiars was frankly pitiful. Without Miss Illyasviel herself manifested in the physical world to direct them, their output was genuinely embarrassing.
But even that tiny pittance was hope to her. Hope to struggle with every plan she could muster, to keep exploiting the Holy Grail War's loopholes one after another.
She was gambling. Pure, reckless gambling. She was betting that Kiritsugu would order Diarmuid to destroy the Holy Grail. Betting that Diarmuid would have nothing left to fight with. Betting that the black mud released after the Grail's destruction would be slower than her. Betting that no other Servants or Masters would manage to clear out all her scattered familiars in time. Betting that the Church's people wouldn't detect her micro-operations.
In a certain sense, this should have been impossible. The biggest obstacle by far was Risei Kotomine. The Church's surveillance network was far too dense, and if Kotomine Kirei had guessed at her operation, he would certainly have moved to stop it.
But nobody had anticipated that Risei Kotomine would die, and that Kotomine Kirei would continue down his reckless path.
"Mama, is Kiritsugu going to be okay?"
"What if he's scared, all alone?"
The girl in the sleeping gown walked to the window with a worried look, watching the snow outside as the anxiety in her chest continued to grow.
"He'll be fine. That man will work hard for Illyasviel's sake. He will definitely fulfill our Einzbern family's wish, and his own, and make sure Illyasviel never has to face anything frightening ever again."
The imagined, gentle voice offered its soft comfort.
"Yes. I know he will."
The girl in the sleeping gown pressed her small hand to the cold glass and gave it a gentle touch, then let her worry go and smiled.
"Kiritsugu is a hardworking person. Once he finishes his important work, he'll come back right away. He'll come back to Mama and Ilya, and we'll all be happy together."
A nightmare was just a nightmare. One she couldn't quite remember in detail.
She believed Kiritsugu would come home. He had made a promise to her.
Only, the nightmare had felt so real. Especially that strange final image — Mama and another version of herself standing together. Mama had looked frightened, stumbling backward from something, staring at the other Illyasviel with wide, terrified eyes.
Rip.
The sound of flesh tearing from a charred and powerless body rang out. Fuyuki City burned.
Diarmuid looked with disbelief, and then with a kind of release, at the silver thread-familiar that had pierced through his fragile, burned chest. His expression held no resentment. No dissatisfaction. Only a small trace of puzzlement at why, with the Holy Grail War already over — with his death moments away regardless of the black mud — that Age of Gods Magician had personally moved to kill him after death.
Though perhaps the most surprising thing of all was simply the fact that a Magician confirmed dead was somehow still able to use her familiars to collect a kill.
"Ha. Little cat. What's the point? Even if you kill me, it doesn't change the fact that I won this Holy Grail War."
The charred Diarmuid gave a free, easy laugh, blood seeping from his lips. On one knee, his Spirit Origin already destroyed by the bullet. The Holy Grail was gone. The Holy Grail War was over. Did a post-match cleanup really matter? His mission was complete.
But even so, this man who had fought from the very first moment to the very last refused to let himself fall completely. He propped himself up on the broken half of the magic sword and spoke with a lightness in his voice. The black mud crept to his feet, but it had clearly arrived one step too late for the familiars.
"Gave everything I had."
"Used every last thing I had."
"Even without a prize, this is still my victory. I've already received my redemption. And you've seen the Holy Grail's truth — it cannot grant your happiness. Age of Gods Magician, Medea. You are not the treacherous witch of legend. What you did here was the act of a hero, something everyone should recognize and accept. So why must you go on like a sore loser who can't let go?"
The radiant knight who had spent his entire life paying the price of loyalty shook his head with a wistful sigh as this Holy Grail War drew to its close. He had no concern for his Lord's safety. Lord Kayneth was far from here. There was no chance he couldn't escape the range of the black mud. And so, with nothing left to regret, he let himself relax. Even without understanding why the Age of Gods Magician Medea could still move her familiars after death, it wasn't a bad thing to share a few words with a fellow hero before the end.
He had served his lord faithfully.
This victory was his proof.
But Medea still carried regrets.
That defiance was hers.
"You won, Diarmuid. I have to admit — you winning to the very end was genuinely unexpected."
The silver thread-familiars resonated with magical energy, carrying the sound of a wandering soul's voice.
No one had anticipated that Diarmuid Ua Duibhne — who at the port battle had only been a narrow step above Miss Illyasviel — would become the undisputed victor of the Fourth Holy Grail War, fighting from the very first night to the very last, just as Miss Illyasviel had.
"Ha! Good fortune, that's all. If my Lord had been the one to summon you, you'd have won all the same. Your record of combat in this war is something no one could compare to. My Lord has apparently been calling you 'the Servant Slaughter Machine' behind your back."
Diarmuid laughed freely and openly, making no attempt to deny that most of his victory had come from Lord Kayneth's support. If someone else had summoned him, relying on nothing but Gáe Buidhe and Gáe Dearg, he would have been only marginally stronger than the Assassin at best.
Even that irregular-class Gilles with his one final massive monster was something he couldn't have handled. Let alone the others, each more extreme than the last. How could he have hoped to stand against the Age of Gods Magician Medea, who had killed six Servants in seven days — or seven, if you counted him at the end, broken and near death as he was?
A seven-kill record in a Holy Grail War. That kind of battlefield achievement, that kind of legend, was no fish-pond affair. It was a table that wouldn't let you sit unless you were at least a first-rate Servant. The quality of that record was not to be underestimated.
"Luck is part of ability too. If we meet again in the next Holy Grail War, Diarmuid, you'll be my first priority target."
"Ha! The honor would be mine, little cat of the ancient age."
If there was a next time...
If there was still a chance...
The battle-worn knight closed his eyes for the last time. As a knight, even in his final moment, his loyalty remained fixed on his Lord. This Holy Grail War, where everyone had poured out everything they had, he could face without regret and without shame. Again and again he had pushed past the peaks and limits of what he could do.
Before his Spirit Origin shattered into points of light, the memories of every desperate battle over these seven days flickered through his mind. The corners of his lips curled without thought.
It was the smile of a victor. The composed exit of the Holy Grail War's last Servant leaving the stage.
"The seventh card. Well then. Looks like my luck held out too. I won the bet."
In the gray-white fog of the black mud Grail's interior — or rather, at the burning center of the world itself — a golden card engraved with a spear slowly coalesced and emerged.
Miss Illyasviel pressed a hand to her forehead, lips curving up at the corner, and tucked it away.
The Lancer Card. The seventh and final card. She had killed Diarmuid Ua Duibhne one step ahead of the black mud.
"My dear Father. You really didn't disappoint my expectations. You destroyed the Holy Grail, and the positioning was just right. If you're still alive by the time the next Holy Grail War comes around, I'll personally and gratefully send you on your way."
Her puzzle was finally complete. Seven Class Cards — and the seventh collected after the Holy Grail's destruction, no less. The soul contained within this card was still vanishingly small, but this was a Class Card gathered afterthe Lesser Grail had been broken.
When Kiritsugu destroyed the Lesser Grail, it was a declaration of closure. The Holy Grail War ritual ended.
The souls of fallen Servants would not return to a Grail that had already formed and then been shattered. There was no vessel anymore. The transit station was gone. What had come from where, returned to where.
So what Miss Illyasviel had essentially been doing was intercepting. Skimming off a little wool before Diarmuid's return to the Throne of Heroes, achieving the kill of one Servant with her own hand to obtain the seventh Class Card.
But what use was this? Miss Illyasviel had no Spirit Origin and no body. What was she going to do with a Class Card?
She couldn't use them anymore, could she? Without a Spirit Origin, without Noble Phantasms — weren't they purely decorative?
That was technically true. In theory and in practice, she could no longer use any Class Card. But Class Cards weren't something a dead person needed to use. She only needed to possess them. Because her goal had always been nothing more than survival...
"Illyasviel. What are you trying to do?"
Irisviel sensed something was wrong.
"Nothing much. Just testing a theory. Since the Holy Grail system has always classified me — permanently holding six small-portion souls — as equivalent to you with your six large-portion souls, as the same type of existence: you can't harm me, and you can't completely erase me."
"Does that mean I can interpret it this way: in the domain of the Holy Grail's presiding will, the system recognizes whoever holds more souls as the master?"
Miss Illyasviel tilted her head.
But the mischievous, curious smile at the corner of her mouth made the Irisviel-wearing entity go cold.
Irisviel was the malevolent Lesser Grail. She too was a malevolent existence holding six souls.
Once the Grail ritual concluded, she herself would dissolve. But Irisviel would not. They were both malevolence — and that wasn't fair.
On what basis did Irisviel's priority outrank hers? Why could Irisviel take root inside the Grail's system?
She had been quietly thinking through this question the entire time she had been silent. Victory in the Fourth Holy Grail War was no longer within her reach, so surviving had become her foremost objective. Why could Irisviel cling on like a parasite that could never be killed? Whatever Irisviel could do, she could do too.
She wanted to live. Like Irisviel. No matter what, she was going to survive.
"But there can only be one master at a time. And that creates quite the problem for me."
"Dear Mother. You wouldn't mind giving up your seat to your sweet, obedient daughter, would you? Of course you wouldn't. Of course not."
Seven Class Cards.
Greater than.
Six Heroic Spirit souls.
Even if Irisviel's souls outweighed hers in raw volume, the Holy Grail War's system was rigid in this particular, peculiar way. In the Grail's eyes, seven was simply greater than six.
"My dear Illyasviel, you won't survive this. The Grail has been corrupted by my influence all the way to its roots. Our malice is not the same kind. Even if you try to expel and replace me through this method, the end result will be both of us vanishing together from the Holy Grail ritual's system."
Irisviel wasn't angered by this. She simply frowned slightly and laid out the stakes.
Her essential nature was the remnant of the Servant summoned by the Einzbern family during the Third Holy Grail War, already rooted in the Grail's system for sixty years.
In other words, the corrupted Grail recognized her, not Illyasviel.
Though Illyasviel's peculiar circumstances had exploited a loophole that gave her a chance to directly replace Irisviel, she still wouldn't be able to survive inside the Grail. It was like a normal person being able to trade habitats with a polar bear — they might move into the Arctic, but they wouldn't survive there any better than the bear would have.
"Listen to me, Illyasviel. You still have a chance. Your name has already spread throughout the Holy Grail ritual community. As long as you return to the Throne of Heroes, some variant Holy Grail War will summon you sooner or later. Some of those variants aren't far off from Fuyuki's system in quality. You can return in peace and wait..."
"But I don't have a home anymore, Mama."
Miss Illyasviel draped herself around Irisviel's neck with the lazy ease of a sloth, her voice dropping into something low and sad.
Like a small girl who had run into something heartbreaking and buried herself in her mother's embrace to cry.
"This isn't your home either. You shouldn't be here."
Irisviel still tried to persuade her, gently stroking the small head resting against her cheek.
And then...
Rip.
"AHHHHH!"
A large chunk of flesh from her neck was torn away by small teeth, swallowed down and transformed into black mud.
Held completely in check by the soul-count hierarchy, Irisviel let out a shriek of agonized pain.
"It's alright. As long as I eat Mama, this place will be my home for a little while."
A normal person and a polar bear might swap habitats, but the person couldn't survive the Arctic on their own. Skin the polar bear for its pelt, though, and you could at least stay warm long enough to hold out for a while.
And so it was with Miss Illyasviel and Irisviel. She wasn't hoping to survive completely or indefinitely.
But wearing the outer skin to extend her time a little longer was entirely doable.
Long enough, for example, to make it to the opening ceremony of the next Holy Grail War.
Miss Illyasviel licked the black mud from her lips. Just as foul-tasting as the black mud pastry she had eaten earlier to get used to the flavor...
"You know what, Mama?"
"I really don't like you. I don't like you wearing her face. Because everyone in this world has been a bad person, and she was the only one who truly loved me, even though I don't actually care about things like that."
Still. There was something distasteful about it, in the end.
A Holy Grail War is a Holy Grail War. If you want to survive it, you have to be more ruthless than everyone else.
This time, the miscalculation had been hers. The greatest mistake was failing to account for the extreme thinking of that twisted madman Kariya Matou, and failing to account for the chain reaction after Tokiomi Tohsaka's attack on the Matou household, which had left her in terrible condition after that crippling injury.
But that was fine. Consider it experience gained. The next Holy Grail War, if she encountered anyone with the Matou name, she would not make the same mistake twice. She would keep her own promises.
Said she'd kill the other party's entire family, then she'd kill the entire family. Crack every egg until the yolk scattered. Slice the earthworms vertically into two halves. Slap Kotomine Kirei twice across the face just for being nearby.
"Please, Illyasviel, please, don't..."
"Don't? You know the despair I felt the moment I realized what the Holy Grail actually was, and you didn't say a word then. I should actually be thanking you. Thank you for corrupting the Holy Grail and giving me the opportunity I needed."
Miss Illyasviel's lips curved upward with quiet delight as her small hand plucked out the terrified girl's eyes.
Her white sleeping gown bled entirely into black-red as she leaned close to the other's ear.
And she whispered, with the pure, simple tone of a little devil:
"Hehehe, Mama. My dear, dear Mama. You really are, truly...
so delicious