This time, the radiance of the sword of promised victory was no longer pure!
It was a distorted torrent of energy, like a spiral interlacing brilliant gold light and deep shadows! Light and darkness collided and eroded each other, yet under Saber's incredibly firm will, they were forcibly unified into a destructive beam of light that seemed capable of tearing apart all inherent concepts, instantly engulfing the Sea Monster's massive body!
"ROAARRRR——!!!"
The Sea Monster let out an unprecedented, sharp shriek filled with pain and chaos. Its body, composed of chaotic magical energy, violently boiled and evaporated under the impact of the interlaced light and shadow, like a block of ice thrown into lava, until it was completely... annihilated in a blinding explosion! A massive shockwave swept across the mountaintop, blowing away the pervasive scent of blood and madness.
Kanjuro stood where he was, a dark barrier automatically manifesting around him to block the impact. Far from being annoyed by the monster's destruction, he leaned against a jagged rock and studied Saber—who had collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath—with a gaze full of interest, as if admiring a peerless treasure.
"What a... beautiful posture," he praised softly, as if critiquing a work of art. Meanwhile, the corner of his eye remained on the Codex of R'lyeh in his hand, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the profane patterns on the pages.
After reading and attempting to control parts of the Cthulhu knowledge system, although he hadn't completely mastered the Sea Monster, he unexpectedly found that his understanding and manipulation of concepts like 'Black Magic creations' and 'tentacles' had become much more proficient. The dark magic swirling at his fingertips seemed to condense into slimy, powerful tentacle phantoms more easily, as if some knowledge originating from the abyss had quietly integrated into his own authority system.
He smiled, and the gaze he directed at Saber became deeper and... full of possessiveness.
"It seems today's harvest... is far greater than expected."
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh looked at the ongoing chaos below the mountain, then at the weakened Saber and the unfathomable Kanjuro, letting out a cold snort as if weighing his options.
Should he go stop the rampaging Conqueror King, or... stay here and face this increasingly dangerous 'peer'? Saber (Artoria) knelt on one knee, her holy sword thrust into the ground to support her swaying body. The violent conflict of light and dark magic within her, combined with that strike beyond her limits, had nearly drained all her strength. Worse still, the Black Magic erosion brought by the pseudo-avalon scabbard was frantically counterattacking like maggots on a bone while she was weak. Wisps of solid black mist rose and coiled from the gaps in her armor, like living shadows, staining her silver-bright plate with ominous dark hues and even emitting a faint'sizzling' sound, as if metal were being corroded. She tried to look up, but her vision darkened in waves, and she could only rely on her stubborn will to keep herself from collapsing completely.
Kanjuro wore that signature smile—so gentle it made one's heart turn cold—as he walked toward her with leisurely steps. His footsteps sounded exceptionally clear on the deathly silent mountaintop, each step seemingly treading on everyone's heartbeats.
"What is it, king of heroes?" Kanjuro didn't turn his head, but his voice reached Gilgamesh in the air with precision, carrying undisguised provocation. "Weren't you quite 'appreciative' of this king of knights before, even wanting to include her in your collection? Now, she is in my hands, so... completely defenseless."
He stopped in front of Saber, looking down to admire her form as she trembled slightly from pain and helplessness. Then he reached out, his fingertips brushing extremely gently over her cold, filth-stained shoulder guard. The movement was intimate, like stroking fragile porcelain, yet filled with a sense of desecration.
Just then, a white figure stumbled forward, spreading her arms to stand firmly between Kanjuro and Saber.
It was Irisviel.
Her silver-white long hair was somewhat disheveled, her exquisite face was devoid of color, and those red eyes of hers were brimming with tears like shattered rubies. She looked up at Kanjuro, the beginning of all the nightmares in her life, her voice carrying a desperate sob and a humble plea:
"Kanjuro... I beg of you... don't hurt Saber... She... she is a very good, very gentle person... She shouldn't have to endure this... I'm begging you..."
Her tears fell like pearls from a broken string, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the cold ground. To protect her precious Servant, she did not hesitate to bow her head to the devil... In the distant shadows, Maiya Hisau watched all this calmly, as if merged with the darkness. Her gaze was complex; when she looked at Kanjuro, a faint, almost faith-like light flickered deep in her eyes. Years ago, it was Kanjuro who had rescued her from a certain death, giving her a new meaning for her existence. To her, Kanjuro was her 'God,' and she was willing to be planted by Emiya Kiritsugu's side as a hidden piece. She tilted her head slightly to look at the man beside her, who was as silent as a stone statue, her voice calm and steady:
"Aren't you going to help? Kiritsugu."
Emiya Kiritsugu clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white and his nails dug deep into his palms, bringing a stinging pain. On that face that was always as cold as ice, an emotion called 'fear' appeared clearly for the first time, along with a deeper sense of powerlessness when facing an absolute gap in strength. He firmly believed he was an 'Ally of Justice' who could sacrifice the few for the many, but at this moment, he realized he didn't even have the qualification to'sacrifice.' Before Kanjuro's crushing power and heart-piercing schemes, all his calculations and resolve seemed pale and laughable.
"That's true..." Maiya whispered, as if seeing through his thoughts, her tone stating a simple fact. "You and Irisviel haven't had a real relationship for a long time. She has long since been... Kanjuro's woman, even Illya is..."
These words were like the final straw that broke some of Emiya Kiritsugu's persistence. He abruptly lowered his head, the shadow of his hat's brim completely concealing his expression; only his slightly trembling shoulders betrayed the violent turmoil in his heart. He thought of Irisviel's gentle smile and Illya's innocent face, and a torrent of humiliation, anger, and immense powerlessness nearly swallowed him whole.
"One who achieves great things... must be able to bend and stretch..." He squeezed these words out from between his teeth, unsure if he was convincing Maiya or numbing himself. This was perhaps the only reason he could find to support his inaction at this moment... On the mountaintop, Kanjuro looked at Irisviel crying in front of him. Instead of getting angry, he let out a light chuckle and reached out his other hand, pulling her slender waist into his arms with a domineering and possessive move. Irisviel let out a short cry of surprise and struggled a few times, but she could not break free from that iron-like arm.
Kanjuro held one in each arm—on one side was his crying, pleading homunculus wife, and on the other was the Knight King, on the verge of falling to darkness and powerless to resist. He raised his head, his gaze full of the arrogance and mockery of a victor, first sweeping over Gilgamesh in the air, whose face was so dark it looked like it might drip ink, and then seemingly piercing through the darkness to land precisely where Emiya Kiritsugu was hidden.
"Look, the so-called 'Heroes,' the so-called 'Allies of Justice'..." His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried an invisible mockery, clearly reaching the ears of those meant to hear it. "How powerless they are before true 'power' and 'reality'."
Having said that, he ignored the others. The hand around Irisviel's waist tightened slightly, pulling her close, while he leaned down and used his free hand to easily penetrate the black mist swirling around Saber, touching the chest of her Dark Armor.
Saber's body jolted as she tried to resist, but the black mist seemed to become Kanjuro's accomplice, coiling around his arm instead, as if welcoming its true master. With a light flick of Kanjuro's finger, a stream of even deeper dark magic flowed into Saber's body like a brook, creating a powerful resonance with the polluted avalon power within her.
Saber let out a muffled groan, the last flicker of clarity in her eyes wavering like a candle in the wind. The black mist around her grew even denser, and that silver-white armor symbolizing the king of knights was being stained a deeper, more complete... pitch black at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Kanjuro watched all this with satisfaction, like an artist completing his most fulfilling masterpiece.
Saber (Artoria)'s body completely lost the strength to support itself. The backlash from forcibly unifying light and dark magic, combined with the erosion of the polluted avalon, acted like two intertwined poisonous fires, burning away her last bit of strength. The arm she had used to support herself with the holy sword went limp, and her entire weight involuntarily pitched forward, leaning right against the nearby Kanjuro.
The cold, ominous Dark Armor struck Kanjuro's seemingly slender but rock-steady chest. Saber wanted to pull away, but the black mist coiling around her seemed to have turned into invisible shackles, not only binding her movements but also seemingly draining her remaining strength, making it difficult for her to even lift a finger. She could only lean helplessly against this enemy she detested most, breathing heavily as she felt her consciousness gradually blur under the erosion of darkness.
Kanjuro caught her falling body firmly. With one arm still around the softly sobbing Irisviel, his other hand naturally circled Saber's waist, which was covered in black armor, imprisoning both women—different in posture yet equally under his control—within his embrace. He raised his head, his gaze once again provocatively cast toward the golden Servant in the air, who was nearly unable to suppress his rage.
"What is it, king of heroes?" Kanjuro's voice carried a playful smile, as if enjoying the other's spectacular expression. "Are you just going to watch? Not going to act? Your 'collection' is shivering in my arms, you know."
The veins on Gilgamesh's forehead bulged, and the golden ripples behind him fluctuated violently at an unprecedented frequency. The tips of countless Noble Phantasms emerged, emitting destructive light. A torrential rage and killing intent burned in his crimson snake-like pupils; the Gate of Babylon was ready to pour down at any moment to blast this mongrel who desecrated a king's dignity into dust!
However, at the very moment he was about to wave his hand to give the order—
A mandatory binding force originating from the master's contract, like cold chains, suddenly seized his spiritual core! It was the effect of a Command Spell! Kirei Kotomine, the man who took pleasure in the pain of others, had taken over the contract after Tohsaka Tokiomi's death. At this moment, he actually forcibly intervened to stop his actions!
"Kirei... you damned mongrel!!" Gilgamesh roared in anger within his heart, but he could not disobey the absolute order of the Command Spell. It was a mandatory command for 'calm' and 'retreat.' Clearly, Kirei Kotomine had judged that a direct confrontation with Kanjuro at this moment was not a wise move, or... he simply wanted to see the king of heroes' humiliated exit to satisfy his twisted pleasure.
Gilgamesh glared deathly at Kanjuro, his eyes looking as if they wanted to swallow him alive. But in the end, he could not resist the power of the command spells, and could only squeeze out a low growl full of killing intent from between his teeth: "Mongrel... remember this! Next time we meet, I will surely tear you into ten thousand pieces!"
Golden spirit particles flickered violently as the king of heroes' figure, amidst extreme rage and unwillingness, turned into a streak of light and quickly vanished into the depths of the night, perhaps heading toward the chaos in Fuyuki City triggered by the king of conquerors, or perhaps simply to distance himself from this place that made him feel such deep humiliation.
Kanjuro watched Gilgamesh being forced to retreat, a satisfied smile of being in total control appearing on his face. He looked down at Saber, who was leaning in his arms, her eyes appearing somewhat vacant due to weakness and the erosion of darkness.
"Did you see that, Saber?" His voice was gentle, yet it carried a power that could corrode one's heart. "Even the oldest king of heroes, when faced with the weights and constraints of reality, can only choose to retreat. So-called absolute power sometimes cannot withstand the shackles of a single contract."
He freed one hand and tilted Saber's chin up with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him.
"And you, Artoria Pendragon, when you decided to use that polluted power at any cost to slay the Sea Monster, your magical energy and your saint graph were already deeply branded by my 'darkness'."
His fingertips slid across the faint black patterns on her cheek, as if tracing the outline of a work of art.
"From this moment on, the whispers of Black Magic will torment your mind day and night without rest, and the polluted pseudo-avalon will continuously amplify the shadows and hesitation in your heart. The chivalry you uphold and the kingly way you believe in will face the most cruel trials in the endless darkness... until you completely fall and embrace this 'truth' that belongs to me."
Upon hearing this, a flicker of extremely complex emotion passed through Saber's emerald eyes—pain, struggle—but it ultimately turned into a barely audible sigh. She spoke with difficulty, her voice hoarse yet carrying a heartbreaking determination:
"I... do not regret it. Protecting... is a knight's duty... even if... the price is... myself..."
Her gaze moved past Kanjuro's shoulder and fell upon Jeanne d'Arc, who stood silently to the side like a shadow. Those ice-blue eyes were now filled with confusion and a nearly pitying inquiry.
"Why... Jeanne..." Saber's voice carried deep bewilderment, "Why would even you... a Saint who once bathed in the holy light and guided the people... associate with a monster like Kanjuro?"
Jeanne d'Arc had been watching all of this in silence, like a detached bystander. It wasn't until she heard Saber's question that she slowly raised her eyelids. There were no ripples in those ice-blue eyes, only a dead silence and coldness after having experienced the vicissitudes of life.
She gently shook her head, her voice so calm it lacked any fluctuation, yet it contained a heavy weight:
"Why? king of knights Artoria, you ask me why?"
The corner of her mouth curled into a very faint, very ironic arc.
"Because you haven't experienced everything I have suffered. You haven't experienced the pain of being sent to the Stake by the very people you swore to protect while they cheered; you haven't experienced the despair of being ruthlessly betrayed by the king you served and the comrades you trusted; you haven't felt that what burns in the flames is not just the flesh, but also that once unwavering faith..."
Her gaze seemed to pierce through time and space, returning to that cruel scene from hundreds of years ago.
"You, Artoria, perhaps in your legend, you also encountered betrayal and failure. But at least... you have always lived within the 'ideals' of the people. You are the king of knights they long for, a symbol of flawlessness; even if the ending was tragic, your image remains glorious."
Jeanne's voice lowered, carrying a desolation that had seen through the world:
"And what about me? I was slandered as a witch, spat upon by the people I loved, and for a long time, my sacrifice was seen as well-deserved. This 'monster' you speak of..."
She glanced at Kanjuro, her eyes complex and hard to decipher.
"At least he never hides his nature. He doesn't commit acts of betrayal in the name of 'justice'. Following him, I no longer need to carry those hypocritical expectations and heavy burdens of faith. I only need to... face this naked darkness and truth."
"So, do not use your 'ideals' to measure my choices, king of knights," Jeanne said finally, her tone decisive. "You will forever live upon the throne of people's ideals, while I... have long since fallen from that burning cross into this infinite hell. From the very beginning, we were never on the same path."
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