Caster's complete dissipation seemed to strip away Uryu Ryunosuke's last bit of bystander's luck. He watched as the once-mighty "Grandpa" turned to ash under Kanjuro's casual strike, and saw the unfathomable [eternal night treasury] behind Kanjuro as well as the hellish scene he had created with such nonchalance. A twisted adoration and longing began to grow wildly in his heart.
Countless massive tentacles crashed down around him, smashing the ground and kicking up a foul wind, but he seemed oblivious. He stumbled and crawled to the front of Kanjuro, then fell to his knees with a thud. He looked up, his face a mix of fear, excitement, and a morbid piety, his eyes fixed on Kanjuro as if looking up at a deity descended to the mortal realm.
"Lord Kanjuro! Lord Kanjuro!" His voice was sharp and distorted with excitement. "I beg you! Give me power! I want to... I want to become just like you! Just as strong, just as... bloodthirsty! To be able to dominate life as I please and create my own 'art'!"
Kanjuro looked down at this humble and fanatical soul, his face showing a sigh that seemed helpless but was actually full of playfulness.
"Bloodthirsty?" He repeated the word softly, as if savoring it. "In terms of numbers, you've killed far more people than I have. However..." He changed his tone, a cruel smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, "If you truly desire this 'gift,' I suppose I can fulfill your wish."
Before he finished speaking, a wisp of deep black light swirled at Kanjuro's fingertip—a mixture of the [Gospel of John] authority and dark magical energy. He flicked it casually, and the wisp of black light, like a living thing, instantly vanished into Uryu Ryunosuke's forehead.
"Aaaagh—!"
Uryu Ryunosuke let out a non-human howl, his body twitching violently. His expression became hideous and terrifying at a rate visible to the naked eye. His eyeballs bulged, blood vessels spread, and his mouth split into a manic, drooling grin. Kanjuro's Mind-Control Curse was not a simple matter of mental control; it infinitely amplified and solidified the deepest, most primitive killing desires and dark side within him, while also granting him a surge of violent dark magical energy.
"Hehe... haha... kill... kill!" Uryu Ryunosuke muttered to himself, his hand tightly clutching his dagger that had been stained with the blood of countless victims. He stood up abruptly, no longer looking at Kanjuro, but instead turning his greedy and crazed gaze toward the children who had just escaped the protection of the barrier and were crying and fleeing among the tentacles.
Like a beast completely unleashed, he let out an excited roar, brandished his dagger, and charged straight into the chaotic crowd!
At this time, the attention of Artoria, Iskandar, and Gilgamesh was firmly occupied by the massive Cthulhu monster.
"Damned monster! Taste the might of this king's army!" the king of conquerors Iskandar roared. He raised both arms, and a majestic magical energy began to gather. The surrounding space began to warp and fluctuate, as if an invisible army was answering his call—he was preparing to deploy his ultimate Noble Phantasm, [Army of the King], to fight this unspeakable thing with the strength of ten thousand heroic spirits.
Although Gilgamesh was enraged by Kanjuro's [eternal night treasury], his crimson snake-like pupils scanned between Kanjuro, the monster, and the chaotic battlefield. Ultimately, he suppressed the urge to immediately attack Kanjuro, choosing to wait and see for the moment. The Noble Phantasms emerging from the golden ripples were more for self-preservation and clearing away approaching tentacles.
Artoria Pendragon held the sword of promised victory (Excalibur) with both hands. A brilliant golden light gathered in her hands, growing more and more dazzling. She forcibly suppressed the Black Magic erosion within her body that was agitated and even painful due to the pseudo-avalon, pouring all her spirit and all her magical energy into this single strike. Her eyes were deadlocked on the Cthulhu monster in the sea that was waving its countless tentacles and bringing endless calamity, knowing that only by destroying it in one blow could a greater tragedy be prevented. As for everything else... she had to make a choice.
However, just as her magical energy reached its peak and she was about to swing the holy sword—
"Aaaaaagh—!"
A series of even more shrill and desperate screams from children pierced her eardrums like ice picks.
The sound did not come from the monster's tentacles, but from... within the crowd!
Artoria's body trembled violently and uncontrollably, and even the holy sword's light flickered for a moment. She didn't look back; she couldn't look back! She knew what those sounds meant—the murderer who had been given power by Kanjuro was attacking the defenseless children. Every scream represented the passing of a vibrant life, each one like a knife scraping against her heart.
But she knew even more clearly that if she were distracted now, if this one strike failed to completely eliminate that monster, then it wouldn't just be these few children who died; the entire Fuyuki City could be reduced to ruins, and thousands upon thousands of people would lose their lives!
"Ugh...!" She bit her lower lip hard, even tasting blood, forcing herself to pull her nearly tearing attention back to the monster. A knight's decision, a king's duty—at this moment, they turned into the most cruel torment.
And behind her, Uryu Ryunosuke was immersed in his bloody "carnival." The dagger in his hand became the scythe of a death god, weaving through the terrified, fleeing children. Every swing brought a spray of warm blood and a scream that cut off abruptly. His laughter mixed with the children's cries, forming a hellish scene on earth more chilling than the terror brought by the Cthulhu monster.
Joan of Arc was held tightly by Kanjuro. Listening to the slaughter so close at hand and feeling the steady, cold temperature from Kanjuro's chest, she kept her eyes tightly shut, her long eyelashes trembling violently as if she wanted to seal her soul away to escape this unbearable reality.
Kanjuro's whisper echoed in her mind like a demon's curse: "See, this is the choice. Save the many and sacrifice the few... or vainly attempt to save everyone and then be destroyed together. Joan, your so-called 'goodness' is so pale and powerless before the iron wall of reality."
Despair, like the deepest night, shrouded the peak of Ryudoji Temple and the heart of every hero.
Joan of Arc lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the holy sword in her hand that burned with dark red flames. The blade could not reflect her current expression; it could only reflect the golden light rising into the sky in the distance and the shadows of the frantically dancing tentacles. She neither put the sword away nor pointed it at any target, simply allowing herself to grip it like a cold and heavy ornament.
Kanjuro's mockery and provocation, which would have been enough to make any normal person break down, could not stir even a ripple in her heart at this moment. She looked up, peering expressionlessly at Kanjuro's handsome face with its playful smile. Her voice was as calm as a frozen lake:
"I won't get angry." She was stating a fact. "From the moment I decided to fall and chose to stay by your side to 'observe,' I had already made up my mind to witness with my own eyes what lies at the end of this abyss. Anger, sadness, pity... for you and me today, these emotions are all redundant."
Her gaze did not even avoid the corpses of the children brutally murdered by Uryu Ryunosuke on the ground—those small bodies still holding lingering warmth, scattered about, their blood staining the earth. She just watched, her expression unchanging, as if looking at a pile of insignificant stones. After extreme pain comes complete numbness, or rather, a nearly non-human "rationality" that completely strips away one's own emotions... Meanwhile, inside the dark confessional of the Fuyuki Church.
Kirei Kotomine clearly "saw" the tragedy unfolding on the mountaintop of Ryudoji Temple through the vision of his familiar—a tragedy more "brilliant" than any play. His chest rose and fell slightly, and an indescribable excitement, a mix of trembling and ecstasy, surged through his body. The cries of children, the struggles of heroes, the whispers of demons, the crazed slaughter... this symphony woven of pain, despair, and chaos allowed his hollow heart to feel an unprecedented sense of "fulfillment."
"Hehe... Hahaha..." He laughed softly, his fingers twitching slightly with excitement. "What a... wonderful sight. Kanjuro... you truly are the most special existence. Not only do you practice 'evil' yourself, but you can also easily drag others into the abyss, making 'goodness' appear so laughable and powerless in reality..." His curiosity and "appreciation" for Kanjuro reached a peak at this moment. This man's very existence was the most thorough negation and mockery of all order and morality in this world...
Atop the mountain peak, Saber (Artoria) had already pushed her magical energy to its limit!
"Ex——calibur!!!"
She loudly chanted the holy sword's True Name, swinging down the golden blade that gathered all her radiance and conviction toward the massive Cthulhu monster on the sea!
The brilliant golden torrent, like the dawn that split heaven and earth, tore through the darkness and surged forth with peerless power! However, within this light that should have been pure and flawless, ominous patterns like black veins were faintly intertwined—it was the aura of Black Magic from the pseudo-avalon eroding her body, uncontrollably backfiring and manifesting under the drive of extreme power!
"Saber! No! You'll be completely eroded!" Irisviel let out a desperate cry; she could feel Saber's saint graph let out an overburdened wail due to the conflict of powers.
But Saber ignored her warning. Her gaze was incredibly firm, even carrying a martyr-like resolve. To prevent a greater disaster and protect more people who might survive, she would not hesitate even at the cost of being corrupted or her saint graph collapsing! The golden light cannon swallowed countless flailing tentacles, slamming fiercely into the monster's core, triggering a deafening explosion and the monster's painful shrieks!
Even Joan of Arc, who had been watching coldly from the side, saw Saber's posture of disregarding herself and carrying out her convictions until the very end, and a faint, almost admiring light flickered through her frozen eyes. But it was only for a moment before returning to deathly stillness.
"Look, Jeanne." Kanjuro gently stroked her cheek, his movements as intimate as caressing his most precious treasure, but his voice carried a cold comparison. "She has become the version of yourself you once dreamed of but ultimately failed to uphold. She is a true 'King,' burning herself to try and illuminate the darkness even in despair. And you?"
He leaned close to her ear, whispering like a lover, yet spitting out the most hurtful words:
"And you? You're just a... fallen Saint who bowed before reality, chose to go with the flow, and even watched coldly from the sidelines."
He was curious about what strange attraction he held for Jeanne that allowed her, after experiencing so much cruelty, to still choose to stay by his side as an "observer" rather than completely breaking down or resisting to the death.
Jeanne seemed to see through his inquisitive thoughts. She still didn't look at the bloody massacre, calmly meeting Kanjuro's gaze. In the depths of those ice-blue eyes, something deeper and colder seemed to be condensing.
"I won't kill you, nor will I lift a finger against you," her voice was clear and steady, devoid of any emotion. "Because I know clearly that right now, I am no match for you. Futile resistance is meaningless."
She paused slightly, the corner of her mouth seemingly curving into a very faint, very eerie arc.
"Likewise, I stay because... I truly want to know."
Her voice took on an almost imperceptible tremor, but it wasn't fear; it was an excitement mixed with immense curiosity and some kind of dark expectation.
"For an existence like you, Kanjuro... playing with people's hearts, trampling on morality, finding joy in the suffering of all living beings, as if transcending all rules... what will your ultimate end be?"
"Will you arrive at that eternal nothingness as you wish? Or will you be backfired upon by the 'truth' you pursue at some unexpected moment? Or... will you encounter an 'accident' that even you cannot understand or control?"
She leaned forward slightly, her nose almost touching Kanjuro's, her breath carrying a frigid chill:
"I'm curious, I really, really want to know... Kanjuro."
At this moment, what radiated from Jeanne was no longer the compassion of a Saint, nor the despair of a fallen one, but a kind of... god-like desire to investigate some ultimate "phenomenon" and the indifference of a bystander.
She detached herself from the mire of emotions, positioning herself as a cold observer waiting for "experimental results." And Kanjuro was the grandest, most unpredictable "test subject" she was observing.
Kanjuro looked at the unprecedented, cold, and pure light of curiosity in her eyes. He was slightly stunned at first, and then a smile appeared on his face that was more real, more joyful, and deeper than at any previous moment.
"Interesting... truly interesting, Jeanne." He chuckled low, pulling her tighter into his embrace. "Then, let us... watch until the very end together. Let's see what kind of... finale, one that even I might not be able to predict, this play directed by me will ultimately reach."
The massacre continued, the monster roared, and the hero fought a hard battle.
And at the center of this chaos, the demon and his fallen Saint observer reached an even more chilling alliance based on pure "curiosity" and "observation."
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