Gilgamesh had never suffered such a humiliating disgrace. His pride was crushed, his treasury was belittled, and even his most fundamental value of existence was dismissed as worthless by Kanjuro. He struggled to stand up from the ruins, his golden armor covered in cracks, and his crimson pupils burning with the flames of humiliation and madness.
"Kanjuro—!!! You mongrel who blasphemes kings!! I want you..." he roared, recklessly driving his remaining mana as enkidu let out an unstable hum once more, attempting a final counterattack.
However, Kanjuro didn't even give him the chance to finish his sentence.
"The barking of an ant ends here." Kanjuro's eyes were cold without a trace of emotion. He merely gave Gilgamesh a faint glance and suddenly tightened the five fingers of his raised right hand—
"gospel of luke, Decree: Space-Time Disintegration!"
"Gospel of John, Suggestion: Saint Graph Self-Erosion!"
"Gospel of Mark, Creation: Imaginary Number Devourment!"
The powers of the three Gospels superimposed in an instant upon the small patch of space where Gilgamesh was! The flow of time there was frantically accelerated to ten thousand years in a single moment, the spatial structure shattered inch by inch like glass, and simultaneously, a devouring force originating from nothingness locked tightly onto his spiritual core. More terrifyingly, a strong intent of "self-destruction" was forcibly implanted into the depths of his spirit, which was already chaotic with rage!
"Im... possi... ble..." Gilgamesh's roar came to an abrupt halt. His body rapidly weathered away in the accelerated time, his saint graph violently vibrated and dissipated under the dual effects of spatial disintegration and Imaginary Number Devourment, and that self-eroding intent made it difficult for him to even gather a final resistance.
There was no world-shaking explosion, only a slight sound like a bubble bursting. Under the disbelieving gazes of the crowd, that oldest king of heroes, along with his not-yet-fully-activated enkidu, turned into a cluster of brilliant yet rapidly dimming golden spiritrons, which were then completely sucked into a miniature black hole emerging from Kanjuro's palm, vanishing without a trace.
In the distance, Kirei Kotomine, who was watching the battle through magecraft, suddenly clutched his chest. The three bright red command spells on the back of his hand throbbed with intense pain as if burned by fire, and then faded and disappeared at a speed visible to the naked eye. He felt the complete severance of the contract bond with Gilgamesh, and for the first time, a true, violent agitation and... an indescribable emptiness appeared on that face of his which usually lacked expression. That "king of heroes," in whom he had placed countless distorted expectations and observational desires, had actually been... erased so easily, almost like child's play?
As for the defeated Gilgamesh, his massive soul energy did not return to the Throne of Heroes. Instead, under Kanjuro's deliberate guidance, it was forcibly poured into and sealed within the Holy Grail—which was gradually revealing its outline deep within the leylines of Fuyuki City! It became another important bargaining chip for realizing a wish.
The center of the battlefield fell silent in an instant.
Kanjuro slowly withdrew his hand as if he had only done a trivial little thing. He turned his gaze toward Jeanne d'Arc, who was still standing by his side, fully prepared for battle.
"Step back, Jeanne d'Arc. What comes next is between her and me." His tone brooked no argument.
Jeanne d'Arc looked at him deeply, her violet eyes swirling with complex and inscrutable emotions—worry, determination, and a deeply buried feeling that perhaps even she couldn't fully define. In the end, she only spoke a soft sentence, her voice not loud, yet clearly reaching Kanjuro's ears:
"Don't forget, I am the one... who truly loves you."
Hearing this, an unfathomable smile appeared on Kanjuro's face, but he did not respond. To him, love or its absence were fundamentally the most meaningless of words.
Jeanne d'Arc seemed to have expected his reaction. She gave a self-deprecating chuckle and passed by Kanjuro, their backs to each other. As she walked toward the edge of the battlefield, her voice drifted on the wind, carrying the composure of a martyr and a hint of desolation:
"You always believe that people live for desire and that true love is lacking in this world... perhaps so. But I can tell you, a Saint should not harbor worldly desires to begin with, and yet... what I appreciate might be exactly that bottomless, endless darkness of yours. This 'appreciation' that transcends faith and light, Kanjuro, tell me... can this be considered love?"
She laughed, her laughter fading as she moved further away, carrying a sense of relief and loneliness. She stood still in the distance, like a final spectator.
Kanjuro remained silent; Jeanne d'Arc's words didn't seem to stir even a ripple in his heart. His gaze finally turned, completely and without obstruction, toward Artoria ahead of him.
Artoria looked at him, a complex and bitter smile surfacing on her face: "Merlin, actually... you are quite charming. That wisdom that sees through everything, that composure while toying with fate, even this pure, undisguised darkness right now... Why can't you let yourself go and choose a different path?"
Kanjuro laughed, a smile that was brilliant yet bone-chilling, carrying absolute self-awareness and rejection.
"Charm? Good and evil? Emotions? To me, these are nothing more than boring decorations, excuses used by the weak for self-comfort. Women are but tools for venting lust and dispelling eternal boredom; love? That thing died and rotted away long ago, along with my remaining humanity."
His gaze was as sharp as a blade, severing all possible hesitation.
"I will not let my heart waver because of anyone's words or any seemingly 'moving' emotions. My path was destined from the beginning to walk with darkness until... the eternal end."
As his voice fell, the eternal night treasury behind him let out a low roar once more. The shadows of those Eastern divine swords fully solidified, and a terrifying pressure, like a physical mountain, crashed down toward Artoria!
The final battle discarded all noise, leaving only the clash of the purest power and will! Artoria moved.
Without warning, she and the sword of promised victory in her hand turned into a bolt of gold-and-black lightning that tore through heaven and earth. It was no longer a simple thrust or slash, but a rebellion against causality and fate itself! The power granted by the Holy Grail, freed from the shackles of the counter force, surged through her body. It merged with her own essence of light and the forcedly accepted dark magical energy in an unprecedented way, forming a chaotic and terrifying new power.
The contempt in Kanjuro's eyes finally vanished completely, replaced by the fervor of meeting a worthy opponent. The eternal night treasury behind him let out a thunderous boom, and the shadows of those Eastern divine swords shot out first, carrying the weight and silence of annihilated civilizations to meet Artoria!
Rumble—!!!
The collision between the two was no longer just sound, but a conflict of concepts! Light of darkness and chaos exploded, dyeing the sky and earth in an eerie hue. Space peeled away like a shattered mirror, revealing the void beneath. With every exchange, it was as if ancient gods were roaring, and civilizations were being born and destroyed!
"Kanjuro! Is your heart truly made of stone?!" Artoria roared amidst the intense energy clash, her blade cutting through the darkness and pointing directly at Kanjuro himself. "Looking at the people suffering because of you, looking at the fates you've toyed with, do you not have even a shred of hesitation?! Is your apathy your answer to this world?!"
Kanjuro swung a spear condensed from dark magic, easily parrying her slash, while his other hand controlled the God-Binding Chains to try and entwine her ankles. A mocking cold smile played on his lips: "Hesitation? Lia, the way you look now is truly like a wronged child, crying and complaining to a parent who gave you everything but was 'unfair' to you."
His voice pierced through the thunder of the explosions with a cruel 'rationality': "But when has this world ever been absolutely 'affectionate and righteous'? The chivalry you revere, the royal responsibility you uphold, your understanding of 'justice'—which of these was not instilled in you from a young age by me, your mentor Merlin? Your so-called noble virtues are themselves one of the 'programs' I set for you! And now you use the sword I gave you to judge my 'heartlessness'? Don't you find it laughable?"
"That is not a program!" Artoria retorted sharply, her chaotic sword light surging as she forcibly shook off the chains and slashed toward Kanjuro's face. "That is the path I chose for myself after experiencing pain and choices! It's you! You are the one who defiled it, who twisted it!"
"Choice?" Kanjuro dodged the blade, and countless dark weapons shot from the eternal night treasury like a flock of ravens preying on Artoria. "Of all your 'choices', which one was not within the possibilities I set? Even your current resistance, this power merging light and shadow—is it not also the 'evolution' I looked forward to?!"
The clash of words was like another invisible war, violently battering Artoria's convictions. Their figures crossed again and again in the shattered space-time, the collision of sword and magic erupting into energy storms capable of destroying cities.
After a clash of all their strength, the two were finally blown back simultaneously for the first time by the massive recoil, facing each other across a distance filled with spatial rifts.
Kanjuro panted slightly, his black robes somewhat disheveled, but his face was filled with an incredibly excited, almost intoxicated, savage grin. His burning gaze was fixed tightly on Artoria opposite him.
Her current state could only be described as eerie. Her originally silver-and-blue knightly armor was now mostly eroded by deep darkness, with only a few areas still stubbornly flickering with holy golden light. Her originally brilliant blonde hair had also turned into a strange mixture of silver and gold, dancing wildly in the energy storm. The magical energy surrounding her was even more chaotic; the holy radiance and the all-consuming darkness were like two entangled dragons, tearing at each other yet strangely merging into one.
But what drew the most attention were her emerald eyes. Though her body had been tainted by darkness, the will in those eyes was like a diamond tempered a thousand times, burning with an unyielding flame—firm, pure, and even carrying a martyr-like determination.
"So beautiful... Lia!" Kanjuro praised sincerely, his voice trembling slightly with excitement. "Look at you now! You've broken free from the cage of light I set for you and embraced the dark power I gave you, yet you can still maintain such a brilliant self-will! Contradiction, struggle, transcendence! You truly are my most perfect masterpiece! There is no other!"
Artoria slowly raised her sword, her chaotic magical energy once again highly compressed, the tip of the blade pointing straight at Kanjuro. Her voice calmed down, but it carried a determination even greater than before:
"I am not your masterpiece, Merlin. I am Artoria Pendragon. Today, no matter the price, I shall end your darkness."
"Then come!" Kanjuro laughed wildly, opening his arms as the darkness of the eternal night treasury and his own magical energy completely boiled. "Let me witness with my own eyes if this end of yours, this fusion of light and shadow, can... consume me!" At that moment, Artoria's aura underwent a qualitative change.
It was no longer a simple fusion of light and darkness, nor a crude superposition of the Holy Grail's power and her own magical energy. All the contradictory forces within her—the pain of her altered memories, her responsibility to Britain, the echoes of her shattered dreams, her bone-deep hatred for Kanjuro, and that inextinguishable, complex emotion, as well as the determination to sever everything—were, at this moment, forcibly forged and tempered by her will, finally collapsing into a single 'point.'
A singularity containing both 'the end' and 'the beginning.'
The chaotic light around her suddenly retracted inward, all of it sinking into the sword of promised victory. The blade no longer shone; instead, it became dull, as if it had swallowed all light, with only a faint but incredibly pure golden glow flowing along the edge of the blade.
Then, she raised the sword.
There was no sound, no warning. But the magical energy of the entire battlefield—no, the entire Fuyuki City, and even a wider area—stagnated and solidified because of it. Kanjuro's surging End Domain, his roaring eternal night treasury, and the web of laws woven by the authorities of the four Gospels—before this holy sword that had returned to 'nothingness,' they actually began to silently melt and disintegrate like snow thrown into a blazing sun!
All the dark incarnations and blasphemous creations Kanjuro released—whether they were entangling tentacles or twisted demonic shadows—when they touched the 'field' pointed to by that blade, they were like pencil marks erased by an eraser, instantly turning into nothingness, leaving not even a trace of existence.
This was not a crushing of power, but a 'negation' at the level of existence. What Artoria was wielding now was no longer a simple Noble Phantasm, but the ultimate judgment against 'all the world's evil (Kanjuro)' that she had summoned by using her entire existence as a sacrifice!
The scenery of the world began to twist and reconstruct behind her. It was no longer a ruin, no longer a battlefield, but a hazy land of ideals filled with a warm glow. There were quiet lakes, emerald hills, cottages with curling smoke, and... the gentle smile of Merlin, who had guided her as a mentor, seemingly frozen in the most beautiful moment of her memory.
That was—Avalon! It was not merely a defensive barrier that isolated everything, but the ultimate yearning and manifestation of 'happiness' and 'peace' deep within her heart! It was the ultimate light capable of covering and purifying all the filth of reality!
This light spread gently, and wherever it passed, the dark empire Kanjuro had painstakingly built collapsed. The ripples of the eternal night treasury were like candle flames blown out by the wind, and the blasphemous runes of the End Domain snapped inch by inch. Light, pure and vast light, began to shroud this trauma-ridden land.
Kanjuro stood in the center of the light, all his power rapidly draining away, all his defenses disintegrating. But on his face, there was not a shred of the fear or anger of defeat.
He stared blankly at the phantom of Avalon unfolding behind Artoria, at the gentle smile of 'Merlin' within that phantom. His savage expression gradually softened, finally turning into an incredibly complex smile, filled with endless reminiscence, relief, and a hint of bitterness.
Slowly, and even with a posture of liberation, he opened his arms as if to embrace that light, to embrace that past within the phantom.
"Avalon..." he murmured softly, his voice devoid of his former mockery and madness, leaving only a deep exhaustion and tenderness that seemed to have traveled through countless ages. "Wasn't that... in the past, before everything had changed, before I had torn off my disguise... the most beautiful time that you and I wove together?"
His gaze passed through the dazzling light and fell upon Artoria's face, which was firm yet streaked with tears.
"So... your final answer was not to destroy me, but to... return to that 'dream' I first gave you?"
Artoria's hand holding the sword trembled almost imperceptibly. The destructive power at the tip of the blade also seemed to experience a moment of stagnation because of Kanjuro's words.
The light of Avalon continued to spread, about to completely submerge Kanjuro.
Was it the end, or... the beginning of another form?
In that extreme light, Kanjuro's open arms and the tip of Artoria's sword pointing at him formed an eternal and contradictory picture.
A hint of a gentle smile that had not yet failed appeared at the corner of Kanjuro's mouth.
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