The battlefield did not explode.
It vanished.
The instant both figures moved—
Sound itself failed to keep up.
A thunderclap came after the motion.
The earth cracked in a violent line as Omega Heinriel and Azravael Karture collided at the center of the clearing.
BOOOOOOM!
A shockwave tore outward, flattening trees and forcing the watching knights and mages to shield their faces.
But within that storm—
Only one presence remained steady.
Azravael struck first.
A monstrous claw tore through the air, fast enough to split pressure itself.
Yet—
It hit nothing.
Omega had already moved.
Not faster.
Not stronger.
But earlier.
Azravael's crimson eyes widened slightly.
"…What?"
Omega stood behind him.
Silent.
Unharmed.
Unshaken.
Something was different.
Not just his stance.
Not just the sword.
His eyes.
They glowed faintly.
Not with light—
But with depth.
An unfathomable stillness, like a mirror reflecting something far older than the present moment.
One of the older mages trembled.
"…Those eyes…"
A knight beside him swallowed.
"…Pure Eyes…"
At that moment—
Omega Heinriel closed his eyes briefly.
And when he opened them—
The world changed.
Not physically.
But structurally.
Time slowed.
No—
It aligned.
Every movement, every possibility, every trajectory—
Became clear.
And within that clarity—
Countless "presences" stood behind him.
The Nanaya.
Generations of assassins.
Hunters.
Killers who had refined their craft beyond humanity.
Their instincts.
Their experience.
Their techniques—
Flowed into him.
Not as memories.
But as certainty.
Omega exhaled.
A single, controlled breath.
"I see…"
Azravael turned, his monstrous form tensing.
"…You've changed again."
Omega did not respond.
He stepped forward.
And disappeared.
CRACK.
Azravael's body jerked violently.
A deep cut split across his chest—
Before the sound even registered.
"…?!"
Another step.
Another disappearance.
A second cut.
Then a third.
Then ten.
Slashes carved across Azravael's body faster than his regeneration could process.
Golden arcs flashed in every direction as Caliburn moved like flowing light.
The mages stared in absolute disbelief.
"…He's—"
"…cutting him faster than he can heal…?!"
A knight whispered under his breath.
"…This isn't swordsmanship…"
Another responded, voice shaking.
"…No… this is execution."
Azravael roared, black blood spraying as his body struggled to keep up.
"YOU—!"
He lashed out wildly.
Claws.
Wings.
Shockwaves.
Every attack—
Missed.
Not by inches.
But by inevitability.
Omega wasn't dodging.
He was simply not where the attack would land.
Each movement was exact.
Minimal.
Perfect.
Like a completed equation.
From the distance, Yukio watched silently.
For the first time—
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…So that's what it looks like…"
Another slash.
Azravael's arm split open.
"…Pure Eyes fully synchronized with a combat lineage…"
A brief pause.
"…He's not reacting."
Another cut.
Deeper.
Cleaner.
"…He already knows."
Azravael staggered backward, his body now covered in countless wounds.
"STOP MOVING—!"
Omega appeared directly in front of him.
Calm.
Still.
Untouched.
And then—
Azravael snapped.
"FINE!!"
Dark energy surged violently.
Fire.
Lightning.
Ice.
Earth.
Four elements fused together into a single catastrophic mass of destruction.
The air screamed as reality itself distorted under the pressure.
"I'LL ERASE YOU COMPLETELY!!"
The attack condensed—
Then launched.
A beam of annihilation tore forward.
The mages gasped in horror.
"…That's—!"
"…He combined all four—?!"
But Omega—
Did not move.
He simply raised Caliburn.
A single step forward.
And swung.
A clean, effortless motion.
The beam—
Split.
Not deflected.
Not resisted.
Cut.
The entire attack divided into two halves, dispersing harmlessly behind him.
Silence fell.
Azravael's eyes widened in pure disbelief.
"…No…"
Omega had already moved.
A flash of gold.
Azravael's right arm—
Separated from his body mid-cast.
Black blood erupted into the air.
"AAAAAAAGH—!!"
Before the scream could finish—
Omega's foot slammed into Azravael's chest.
BOOM.
The ground shattered as the Dead Apostle was driven violently into the earth.
A crater formed instantly beneath him.
Omega descended.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He landed without a sound.
And stepped forward.
Azravael's body twitched, completely broken, regeneration failing to keep up.
For the first time—
True fear filled his eyes.
Omega raised Caliburn.
The golden blade hummed softly.
And then—
He placed it at Azravael's throat.
Stillness.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
The entire battlefield froze.
Even the wind—
Had stopped.
Azravael stared upward.
His body destroyed.
His power meaningless.
His voice trembled.
"…What… are you…?"
Omega looked down at him.
His eyes—
Cold.
Silent.
Unwavering.
Not hatred.
Not rage.
Only conclusion.
Behind him, even Yukio spoke quietly.
"…At this point…"
A brief pause.
"…he may even surpass me."
The knights exchanged stunned glances.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others simply stared in awe.
"…A monster…"
"…No…"
"…A protector…"
Omega's grip on the sword tightened slightly.
His voice was calm.
Final.
"…This battle is over now."
Azravael's pupils shrank.
Absolute fear consumed him.
And across the battlefield—
No one dared to speak.
They simply watched.
As judgment stood at the edge of a blade.
Meanwhile— back at Akane Tohsaka side of things she did not see any of this.
Not yet.
Tohsaka Estate — Western Wing
The room was still white.
Too white.
The same suffocating purity that had surrounded her for days now clung to every surface—walls, curtains, furniture, even the flowers arranged with suffocating perfection.
Akane lay on her bed.
Still wearing the dress.
Still trapped inside it.
The silk clung to her body like chains disguised as elegance. The lace scratched faintly against her skin, a constant reminder of what was coming.
Four days.
Only four days remained.
Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
No tears now.
She had already cried too much.
Her emotions had reached a point where even pain struggled to exist properly.
Just emptiness.
Just waiting.
Then—
The door opened.
She didn't turn her head.
She didn't need to.
"…What do you want?"
Her voice was flat.
Cold.
Samuel Arzenon stepped inside as if he owned the room.
Which, in his mind, he already did.
"Well," he said casually, adjusting the cuff of his expensive coat, "normally I'd be here for a bit of fun…"
Akane cut him off instantly.
"Why don't you do me a favor," she said, her tone sharp enough to cut glass, "and leave?"
She slowly turned her head, eyes filled with pure disgust.
"Your very existence is disgusting to me."
Samuel paused.
Then smiled.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Amused.
He walked closer anyway.
"Harsh," he chuckled. "But you'll have to get used to me eventually."
Before she could move—
His hand reached out.
And brushed against her.
Lightly.
Casually.
As if it were nothing.
As if she were nothing.
Akane's entire body froze.
"…You should be used to me by now," Samuel continued with a smirk. "After all, I'll be your husband in four days."
The slap echoed through the room.
Sharp.
Violent.
Unrestrained.
Samuel's head tilted slightly from the impact.
Akane's hand trembled in the air.
Her eyes burned with fury—raw, unfiltered, no longer hidden.
"Don't you ever touch me again," she hissed.
Her voice shook.
Not from weakness.
From rage barely contained.
"You shameless rapist."
For a moment—
Silence.
Then Samuel laughed.
Softly.
Carelessly.
As if she had just told a joke.
"Still hung up on that?" he said, rubbing his cheek lightly. "You really need to learn to let things go, Akane."
Her stomach twisted.
Every instinct screamed to tear him apart.
But she didn't move.
Because she knew.
Power.
Status.
Chains.
He ignored her again.
As if her anger had no weight.
"As I was saying," Samuel continued, walking toward the small television in the corner of the room, "I didn't come here for that today."
Akane didn't respond.
Didn't care.
"Then leave," she muttered.
But Samuel's smirk widened.
"I came to show you something interesting."
She frowned slightly.
"…What?"
He glanced back at her.
"A broadcast."
Her heart skipped.
Just once.
Uncontrolled.
"…Raphael?"
The name slipped out before she could stop it.
Hope—
Fragile.
Dangerous.
Samuel's grin sharpened.
"No," he said. "Not him."
Akane's expression immediately hardened again.
"Then I don't care."
"It's about Omega Heinriel."
Her face went blank.
Completely.
"…What about him?"
Her tone turned indifferent.
Cold again.
"He's currently in a live fight," Samuel said casually. "Against a Dead Apostle."
Akane's eyes flickered.
Just slightly.
Omega Heinriel.
A name she didn't like.
A man she shouldn't trust.
A Church Knight.
Her enemy.
And yet—
A memory surfaced.
A hand pulling her from death.
A figure standing between her and darkness.
"…Tch."
She clicked her tongue and stood up abruptly.
"I'll see it myself."
Samuel stepped aside, amused.
"Be my guest."
Main Living Hall
Akane ran.
Barefoot.
The white dress trailing behind her like a ghost.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Not for him.
Not because she cared—
That's what she told herself.
Just… a debt.
Nothing more.
She reached the television.
Her hand trembled slightly as she turned it on.
Static.
Then—
The image appeared.
And her world stopped.
"…What…"
The color drained from her face instantly.
On the screen—
Omega Heinriel lay on the ground.
Broken.
Defeated.
Blood pooled beneath him, spreading like a dark mirror.
His body—
Her breath hitched.
"…No…"
Cut in half.
Clean.
Brutal.
Unforgiving.
And piercing through his chest—
A golden blade.
Radiant.
Sacred.
Caliburn.
His own weapon.
Driven through his heart.
Standing above him—
Azravael.
Smiling.
Calm.
Untouched.
Like death itself had taken human form.
The broadcast crackled, barely holding together as the cameraman struggled to even remain conscious in the presence of such overwhelming power.
"…Target confirmed… the Holy Knight has—"
The voice cut out.
Akane's knees trembled.
"No…"
Her voice broke.
Not from love.
Not from attachment.
But from something deeper—
Humanity.
Shock.
The horror of witnessing someone who once stood unshaken—
Reduced to this.
Omega didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't fight.
He was—
"…No…"
Akane's hands clutched her head.
Her vision blurred.
And then—
She screamed.
A raw, piercing scream that tore through the mansion's silence.
"NOOOOO—!!"
The sound echoed through empty halls.
Through white walls.
Through a world that had already begun to fall apart.
On the screen—
The strongest knight of the Church lay broken.
And for the first time—
Akane Tohsaka witnessed what it truly meant—
For a hero to fall.