A blinding white filled his vision, unlike the white of frost; this white pulsed with an ominous, frigid, deathly aura.
Archer stood dazed, surveying his surroundings, unsure of his situation or location.
"Damn mongrel, get out here! Show yourself!"
He roared, but his shout was meaningless; only deathly silence answered.
His throat was parched and hoarse. Archer forced himself to calm down, lifting his gaze to the distance.
An indistinct, pale white substance slowly dissipated, revealing the towering ice throne once more.
"Ha… haha… hahahaha! Interesting… truly interesting. You've piqued my interest, mongrel."
Gripping Ea tightly, Archer advanced step by step, cracks spreading beneath his feet with each stride.
This was undoubtedly still a Bounded Field, but clearly, after his attack, it was teetering on the brink of collapse.
On the throne, a vaguely discernible figure, encased in full plate armor, was visible. The figure hung its head, motionless, eerily still, as if lifeless.
"Tsk… maintaining this Bounded Field for that one attack must have drained you. Do you even have the strength to fight anymore?"
"Get up! Answer me! Answer your King!"
The figure remained unresponsive, but the sword beside it vibrated—a completely black longsword radiating an unusual aura, like a light-absorbing black hole, drawing Archer's gaze involuntarily.
Just… a sword. Why am I…?
Confused and puzzled, Archer shook his head and pressed on, ascending the ice throne, standing before the sleeping king.
"No matter what kind of king you are… this ends here!"
Showing a final flicker of respect to the cloaked figure before him, Archer plunged Ea downwards mercilessly!
The expected sound of piercing flesh failed to materialize. Archer stared in astonishment at the seemingly sleeping armored figure.
The strangely demonic black sword had appeared in the armored figure's hand, somehow blocking Ea.
"Impossible! What kind of weapon is that?! How could it possibly block my Ea?!"
Archer roared in disbelief. The next second, a searing icy pain shot through half his body.
The ancient king stared blankly as the demonic greatsword sliced through him in a black arc—faster than thought.
Crimson blossoms bloomed across half his body. The pain lasted only a moment, then was replaced by numbing frost.
It was the emptiness and numbness of utter loss; and Archer had indeed lost something vital.
His hand, still clutching Ea, flew off with half his body, like a fallen king, plummeting to the base of the throne.
The blood spurting from the severed limb instantly froze from the extreme cold, clinging to Archer's flesh, solidifying into the shape of bizarre, blooming flowers.
"You dare… you dare… you…"
Pain and rage combined, driving the ancient King into a frenzy, but it was meaningless against absolute power. Before he could utter another word, the demonic black sword struck again, severing his head.
Thus, all seven Servants of the Holy Grail War were eliminated!
At the Fuyuki Civic Center, beneath the starlight, where Illya had been lying quietly, was now a golden chalice—the Holy Grail.
With all the Servants dead, the Grail, having absorbed sufficient power, had manifested, awaiting the victor's wish.
The killing continued.
Bullets. Daggers. Poison. Bombs.
Piercing. Tearing. Burning. Drowning. Crushing.
There was never any doubt about the meaning. After carefully weighing its value, a side was chosen. The other side should be left empty; therefore, killing. Killing, killing, continuous killing.
Yes, this was correct. To save the majority, some must sacrifice. If the number of those enjoying happiness outweighs those suffering misfortune, the world is closer to salvation.
Even if countless corpses lay beneath his feet.
If lives were saved, then those protected lives were paramount.
"The Grail… has it descended?"
Kiritsugu Emiya murmured, experiencing a vision while locked in a death struggle with Kirei Kotomine in the underground level—a vision of his deepest desire.
He knew it was a sign of the Grail's arrival, and it seemed the victor hadn't made a wish; the Grail was unclaimed.
"Did they… both perish?"
Kiritsugu Emiya murmured, considering this possibility, though he found it hard to accept.
"Then… make your wish. I've been waiting for you. You are the most suitable vessel."
A faint, ethereal voice echoed in Kiritsugu Emiya's ear. Overwhelmed with barely contained excitement, Kiritsugu Emiya rushed forward, entering the Grail's world.
A sea of churning black mud.
Everywhere, mountains of corpses were sinking into the sea.
The sky was red, like blood. A black sun dominated the sky amidst black mud rain.
The wind carried curses and lamentations.
If one were to use an analogy, this place… was it not hell?
"This… is the Grail?" Kiritsugu Emiya looked up at the oppressive crimson sky. At the center of this world was a 'hole' in the heavens, filled with immeasurable darkness, dense enough to crush everything.
The omnipotent wish-granting machine, the all-powerful Grail, was this… Kiritsugu Emiya was momentarily stunned, unable to comprehend it.
"Indeed… this is the Grail, the Grail you desired…"
Then… a voice, chilling and unsettling, echoed on the wind, carrying a bone-chilling laugh.
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