Irisviel's body was almost completely transparent, like a candle in the wind, only those red eyes still stubbornly reflecting Kanjuro's figure. She listened to Illya's tearful pleas, felt her own existence rapidly fading, and finally, it turned into a long, weary sigh.
"Even though... I know better than anyone that even if I cast aside my dignity to beg you, you might not truly grant it, and might even use it as a new mockery..." Her voice was faint, yet carried a resigned calm. "But, for Illya... I still want to... try."
She raised her eyes, which were gradually losing focus, toward Kanjuro. Using her last ounce of strength, she said clearly, word by word:
"Kanjuro, I... beg you. Please, let me... continue to be with Illya."
The moment her words fell, the last bit of light around her suddenly dimmed. Her body completely transformed into countless drifting light particles, appearing as if she would entirely dissipate between heaven and earth.
"Mama—!" Illya let out a despairing cry.
Beside them, Matou Zouken could no longer contain himself, throwing himself to the ground and kowtowing to Kanjuro with a hoarse voice: "Lord Kanjuro! This old man also begs you! Please let me see the Saint of Winter! Please grant me immortality!"
Kanjuro completely ignored Matou Zouken's hideous begging, his gaze fixed solely on the fading spiritual particle remnants of Irisviel. At the instant her traces of existence were about to be completely erased, he raised his hand—not pointing at her, but toward the Heavens Feel in the sky churning with endless black mud!
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute power as if his words were law, echoing clearly over the castle, as if directly issuing an order to the Holy Grail itself:
"In the name of the command spells and the authority of this body, I decree—"
"Strip away the destiny of the 'Lesser Grail' and reshape the foundation of her existence! Let Irisviel von Einzbern persist in this world as a complete, independent 'human' rather than a vessel for the Grail!"
Boom—!!!
The black mud churning inside the Heavens Feel seemed stirred by an invisible giant hand, suddenly boiling! A viscous, dark torrent, yet one containing immense life and the power of curses, poured down from the hole in the Heavens Feel as if guided, accurately enveloping the spot where Irisviel had dissipated!
That was no holy radiance, but a mixture of ultimate "evil" and "wishes"!
A bizarre scene unfolded! The light particles belonging to Irisviel, which were about to dissipate completely, did not get swallowed or annihilated under the shroud of this black mud. Instead, as if the process were forcibly reversed, they began to flow back and converge frantically!
"Ugh—!" Illya suddenly let out a painful groan, clutching her stomach, her small face filled with shock and confusion. She felt a sharp, indescribable heat and bloating in her abdomen, as if something was being forcibly conceived and generated within her! A magical fluctuation, both familiar and strange, was vibrating violently with her body as the center!
Black mud and light particles intertwined and twisted before Illya, making a teeth-gritting sizzling sound, finally turning into a blinding pure white light that suddenly exploded, illuminating the entire hall like daylight!
The light faded.
The place where Irisviel had stood was empty.
She did not reappear.
"Mama...? Mama!" Illya looked around in panic, but she couldn't feel even a hint of her mother's presence, while the strange sensation in her abdomen grew stronger and stronger.
Kanjuro slowly lowered his hand, looking at the empty ground, then at Illya, who was clutching her stomach with a pale face. A deep and eerie smile appeared on his face.
"I said I would let you and Mama be 'together forever'." His voice carried a demonic whisper. "The Holy Grail... has responded to the wish. In the most... 'intimate' way."
Illya seemed to understand something, looking down in disbelief at her slightly bulging abdomen, which radiated strange magical fluctuations. Her crimson eyes were filled with massive shock, fear, and a hint of bewildered helplessness.
Irisviel had not disappeared.
Her existence, her soul's essence, under Kanjuro's twisted wish and the power of the Holy Grail's black mud, had been forcibly stripped of her destiny as the "Lesser Grail," but in another inconceivable form—merged into the body of her biological daughter, Illya.
The so-called "together forever" had taken on such a cruel and bizarre form.
Matou Zouken watched all this, dumbfounded. The immortality he craved and the Saint were right within his reach, yet they seemed separated by an incomprehensible chasm.
Jeanne watched Kanjuro and Illya quietly, her violet eyes filled with silence, as if she had long expected that any wish related to this man would ultimately be fulfilled in the most unconventional way.
The light of the Holy Grail continued to shine in the sky, and the black mud surged, signaling that a greater storm might have only just begun. And what unknown fate would the "new" existence within Illya's body lead to? Illya's small hands tightly clutched her slightly bulging abdomen; the strange sensation of swelling and the familiar magical fluctuations coming from there left her both confused and filled with a strange sense of anticipation. She looked up at Kanjuro, her crimson eyes filled with disbelief and a faint blush of shyness.
"Papa Kanjuro... is... is this the way to bring Mama back? Is Illya... is Illya going to... be pregnant and give birth to Mama?" Her words were broken with shock; the Holy Grail's way of granting wishes was far beyond the understanding of someone her age.
Kanjuro leaned down, his face wearing an unprecedented, almost genuine tenderness as he gently stroked Illya's silver hair. His voice was low and full of allure: "Yes, Illya. This is the only way for Iri to descend into this world again as a complete 'human' rather than a cold vessel. The power of the Holy Grail... sometimes indeed manifests in forms we never expected."
He watched Illya's eyes gradually turn from confusion to determination, continuing to weave his cruel lies in a gentle tone: "So, it might be hard on my little Illya in the future. But it's alright, Papa will always be with you, and together we will... 'take care' of Mama, waiting for the day she truly returns."
Illya felt the strange existence within her belly that was connected to her bloodline yet belonged to her mother. Hearing Kanjuro's "tender" promise, the bit of unease in her heart was quickly replaced by a massive surge of "hope." She nodded vigorously, a smile of dependence and trust blooming on her face as she suddenly threw herself into Kanjuro's arms, hugging him tightly.
"Mm! Illya isn't afraid of hard work! Papa Kanjuro is the best! We'll wait for Mama to come back together!"
Kanjuro smiled as he embraced the daughter in his arms. Under the dim light of the castle, that smile appeared exceptionally deep and inscrutable.
"Kanjuro—!!!"
Just then, Matou Zouken let out a roar filled with rage and despair, interrupting his feigned tenderness. The old Magician looked half-mad, his withered fingers trembling as he pointed at Kanjuro.
"You promised me! You promised to help me fulfill my wish!! Where is the Saint of Winter?! Where is my immortality?! Are you going to violate our contract?!"
Kanjuro slowly let go of Illya and turned around. The tenderness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a high-and-mighty coldness and indifference. He sighed, as if pitying a noisy insect.
"I have never broken a promise, Zouken." He raised his hand and pointed toward the Heavens Feel in the sky, which looked as if it were burning while continuously spewing out thick black mud. He pointed to its core, the deepest part that radiated an aura of extreme evil and seductive light.
"The Saint of Winter you want to see, the soul imprint of Justeaze, is right there. That is the place where All the World's Evils settle, the gathering place of the obsessions and magical energy of countless Heroic Spirits, stained with the deepest filth and the purest desires." His voice carried a strange guiding power. "Want to see her? Want to obtain the chance to touch eternity? Then throw yourself into it. Go find your answer in that source of sin."
Matou Zouken's cloudy eyes stared fixedly at the core of the Heavens Feel. In his eyes, the churning black mud seemed to transform into eternal life and the face of the Saint he had yearned for day and night. Extreme greed overwhelmed his fear of the unknown danger. He let out a burst of crazed laughter and, without any further hesitation, his emaciated body flew up like a moth to a flame, charging straight into the hole emitting that ominous light!
"Justeaze—!!! I AM COMING—!!"
His figure was instantly swallowed by the surging black mud without even causing a ripple. Only a short, strangled cry could be faintly heard before it was completely silenced. Was he assimilated? Did he obtain a deformed immortality? Or was he completely annihilated? No one knew.
Kanjuro looked indifferently in the direction where Matou Zouken had disappeared, as if he had merely cleared away some eyesore. He slowly raised his hand, and dark magical energy gathered in his palm, condensing into a black sword of promised victory wreathed in an ominous aura.
"Alright, the irrelevant interlude is over." His gaze returned to the Holy Grail in the sky, his eyes becoming sharp and expectant. "The Holy Grail's wish has been achieved, and the accumulated magical energy is overflowing..."
The black holy sword in his hand pointed at the ever-expanding hole, his voice carrying a declaration-like killing intent.
"Now, it is time...'She,' who carries All the World's Evils, is about to... come out."
Following his words, the Heavens Feel in the sky suddenly shook! The surging black mud poured down even more violently like a broken dam. A massive, twisted presence filled with endless malice and destruction was slowly awakening within, about to descend upon the world!
Illya instinctively moved closer to Kanjuro, her small hand clutching his hem. She stared at the darkness in the sky that seemed ready to devour everything, her crimson eyes reflecting fear and bewilderment.
Jeanne tightened her grip on the holy banner in her hand, silently preparing for battle.
What the final "wish" brought was not salvation, but a deeper... calamity.
Matou Zouken's figure was completely swallowed by the black mud churning inside the Holy Grail. The thick, cold sensation instantly enveloped his decaying body. Extreme pain and a massive torrent of magical energy simultaneously struck his consciousness and soul, which were on the verge of collapse. In the moment before his consciousness completely sank, he burned his last obsession and let out a heart-wrenching cry toward the deepest part of the darkness, calling upon the power of the Holy Grail, calling the name engraved in the depths of his soul—
Light.
It wasn't holy, but a cold light, like moonlight reflected off a ten-thousand-year-old ice field, lighting up in the depths of his consciousness.
The surging black mud parted like a curtain, and in the center of that light, a pure white figure slowly emerged. Her silver-white hair was like flowing moonlight, and her exquisite face showed no trace of age, nor any human emotion. She wore an ancient and solemn white dress, her eyes hollow and distant, as if reflecting the void of the entire world.
It was Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, the Saint of Winter of the Einzbern family, one of the three founders who constructed the Holy Grail system, whose soul essence had long since merged with the core of the Holy Grail.
"Justeaze... is... is it you?" Matou Zouken's remaining consciousness emitted waves of excitement so intense they were distorted. He tried to approach the figure in the light. "Do you still remember me? I am Makiri Zolgen! We once... together... in order to reach the Root..."
The Saint of Winter slowly, very slowly, turned her eyes. Those hollow eyes landed on Matou Zouken's soul remnant, which was wrapped in black mud and horribly twisted. Her gaze held no fluctuation, as if she were looking at a stone by the road, a completely irrelevant existence.
Her lips parted slightly, and a voice so cold it lacked any trace of the mortal world echoed directly in the depths of Matou Zouken's soul:
"I... have already forgotten who you are."
Forgotten... who you are... This airy sentence was more destructive than any curse or attack! It completely negated Matou Zouken's centuries of obsession, negating the meaning of his pursuit of immortality at any cost and his longing for a reunion! All his schemes, all his sacrifices, all his twists and persistence, became an utter joke in the face of this "forgotten"!
"No... impossible... how could you... forget..." Matou Zouken's consciousness let out a howl of despair and unwillingness. His soul, which had been hunched for centuries, seemed to be completely shattered by an invisible hammer.
In the next moment, the black mud enveloping him seemed to lose interest, suddenly ejecting his soul wreckage—which had completely lost its meaning for existence—from the core area of the Holy Grail like discarded trash!
Thud—
A shriveled body, covered in thick black mud and emitting a strong stench of curses, fell heavily onto the ground outside Einzbern Castle. It was Matou Zouken's long-decayed physical body. At this moment, however, this body had completely lost all signs of life and soul fluctuations, like a piece of dead wood soaked in filth, making no further sound. He had finally seen the Saint of his dreams, but all he received was the complete negation and termination of his existence.
At the same time Matou Zouken was cast out by the Holy Grail, the Heavens Feel in the sky erupted with unprecedented light! That light was not pure darkness, but a heart-palpitating, pale white mixed with countless grudges and desires!
Buzz—!!!
A massive torrent of magical energy spread in all directions like a tsunami. A more solid, even larger pure white figure slowly descended from the center of the Holy Grail, stepping onto this battered land.
It was the Saint of Winter, Justeaze.
But unlike the hollow phantom Matou Zouken had seen in his consciousness, the version of her that descended now radiated a suffocating pressure. Her eyes were no longer just hollow; they had added a divine (or perhaps demonic) indifference, as if looking down at ants. Countless fine black lines flickered on her pure white dress—the marks of "All the World's Evil" merging with her essence.
Her gaze pierced through the barriers of space, ignoring everything around her, and finally locked firmly onto the man at the castle entrance, whose black robes fluttered and who wore a playful smile—
Kanjuro.
Their eyes met.
On one side was the incarnation of the Holy Grail, the Saint of Winter carrying the world's evils and countless wishes, her gaze as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice.
On the other side was the dark Magician who manipulated fate and toyed with human hearts, leading the Holy Grail War toward an unknown conclusion, his smile as deep as an endless abyss.
The air seemed to freeze, and even the surging black mud seemed to stagnate at this moment.
The true finale seemed to have only just begun.
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