Chapter 272: Kiara and the Black Emiya
Shirou had crossed into the world of "Black A"—a dark hero from another timeline, distinct from the "No Name" (Mumei) he knew.
In this world, Shirou Emiya never met Rin Tohsaka, nor did he ever see Sakura. Driven by his ideals, he mastered various firearms and explosives, wandering through the battlefields of the Middle East and honing the combat skills of a top-tier mercenary.
His path diverged based on a single choice: had he chosen to become an instructor for a resistance organization, he would have become Mumei.
Instead, he chose to investigate a strange and suspicious religious cult. In doing so, he fell, becoming the mere "residue" of his former ideals. Now an unscrupulous figure who loathed the world and cursed himself, he continued to save the world out of sheer, mechanical instinct.
The tanned man, his white hair shorn into a buzz cut, had originally infiltrated this religious group to investigate terrorist attacks and other dangerous incidents linked to its followers. However, once inside, he found that the believers were all friendly, good-natured people with smiles on their faces.
Among these followers, he even saw an old man he had encountered in his youth—the Great Magus, Zouken Matou. In his prime, Zouken could match a Heroic Spirit. In a world where magecraft existed only in history books, this cold-blooded, terrifying old monster had survived into the present, yet here he was, transformed into a kind and gentle old man.
Even the most cold-blooded, notorious villains and hardened criminals Emiya had found troublesome on the battlefield became the most devout believers and "good people" after meeting Kiara Sessyoin.
When he met the girl who had not yet fully become a Saint, his ideals were validated.
"Your justice is correct," the holy maiden said, cupping the white-haired man's face to comfort him. "Those people you killed did not die in vain. Because of them, the world can return to the right path. This is a necessary thing—for me, and for everyone's future."
"As long as you maintain that desire, even if the whole world becomes your enemy, I will stand by your side."
To realize the justice he pursued, he often had to kill groups of people, one after another. Among them, innocent lives were inevitably caught in the crossfire—like the wives and children who followed terrorists because they had no choice. But if they were left alone, the children would be sent to the battlefield as human shields or expendables to test landmines. If they weren't eliminated, the other side's people would never know peace.
It was like a tribe infected with a deadly plague. Even if there were infants in swaddling clothes among them, if there was no effective cure and they weren't "dealt with," the virus could spread globally, potentially killing tens of millions.
"Sometimes, to save more people, one must sacrifice others. You have done nothing wrong."
Encouraged by that "Saint," he did it without hesitation. Everything was for the future of humanity—though he noted that he had heard that same reasoning from the mouths of the terrorists he killed.
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One day, the man finished a mission and returned to the high-rise building of the cult's headquarters on the mountain, riding a black off-road motorcycle. The young security guard recognized him and opened the gate, letting him in with a look of relief.
"Yo, welcome back!" the guard greeted with a smile. The white-haired man said nothing, walking straight inside. "So cold... it wouldn't hurt to say hello once in a while," the guard muttered helplessly.
This man was a lone wolf, but incredibly powerful—a famous mercenary from the battlefields and a rare military asset for the sect. Their religion had grown to include millions of members. Though complex and riddled with factions, all believers believed that—under the teachings of their saintly leader—there wasn't a single bad person among them, regardless of their past.
Inside the building, the white-haired man encountered the old man chatting amiably with other followers.
"Oh, Emiya, you're back? Hard work on the mission. Hand over your firearms first, then you can go in to see Lady Kiara."
"Sorry, old man of the Matou family, I can't do that this time," the man said with a cold sneer.
Specially made demolition charges were slapped onto the ceiling, and grenades rolled to the feet of the believers. Explosions rocked the hall. Falling masonry blocked the path of the followers led by Zouken Matou. The white-haired man charged deeper into the facility.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" the guard-believers screamed.
In a cult where "bad people" supposedly didn't exist, those who couldn't handle the psychological blow of being ignored by their leader usually just found a quiet place to end their own lives. However, to protect Kiara from the Western European Plutocracy or the Holy Church assassins who envied her "holiness," the building was heavily guarded by former mercenaries and soldiers who had converted. Everything they did was for their beloved leader.
The white-haired man killed wave after wave of armed fanatics. With every floor he climbed, he had to kill people who had previously greeted him with kind, friendly smiles. He blew up the paths behind him to stop reinforcements and eventually reached the inner chapel. After taking out the final guards, he finally saw her.
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Inside the inner sanctuary, a group of men and women in believer's garb were gathered, laughing and talking in a scene of perfect harmony. The central figure was a nun wearing a white habit. Though her hair and neck were covered, her face alone was breathtakingly beautiful and full of charm. Every gaze was fixed on her, filled with longing and adoration.
Suddenly, a faint whistling sound echoed. The smiling believers froze, expressions of shock crossing their faces as they stared at their chests. Blood erupted from their wounds; their bodies turned cold, and they collapsed.
The muscular man with short white hair and black clothes stepped into the center of the church. Smoke drifted from his silenced twin pistols. His eyes were numb and cold.
"Oh, you've returned? Is your mission of justice complete?" the beautiful woman in the nun's habit asked, showing not a hint of tension.
She showed no mercy for the followers lying dead on the floor—people she had been speaking with kindly just a second ago. As always, she smiled gently, as if encouraging them even as they fought, argued, or killed each other for her sake.
But the man understood the horror of this woman named Kiara Sessyoin. Though she acted like a Saint who loved all the world and embraced everyone's desires, she essentially loved only herself.
She treated others with "mercy" only because it was her nature as a "Saint"—she felt compassion for beasts and flowers alike. She allowed her followers to slaughter each other simply because, in her eyes, they were no different from wild animals fighting over food.
"Yeah. And this time, I've come to kill you," the man replied flatly.
"The purity of your desire is insufficient! Even you have become a boring man. I thought you might be different," the glamorous nun said, her brow furrowed in a rare display of disgust.
BANG!!
A bullet from his bladed black pistol grazed her, knocking off her habit. Her thick, glossy black hair cascaded down. A lock of hair was severed by the shot, and her disheveled curls made her look more mature and seductive than ever.
"Why appear before me now? You no longer have any strong desires. Where is the man who killed so many for his ideals? You kill, yet you feel guilt and pain for it. Did you not abandon your vow to kill everyone in the way of your ideals for my sake? You left me once; why come back now? Such indecisiveness is hideous. You are an eyesore—disappear!"
The "Saint" showed a side of herself she rarely showed to others: anger. Perhaps she had held a sliver of hope for this man with his iron will and grand ideals. If she was a "born Saint," he was a "fool" who struggled to achieve the deeds of a Saint with a human body. It was a ridiculous, self-important effort, yet his sincerity made him appear dazzling.
Perhaps it was that tiny spark of light that allowed him to see her true self when no one else could. But she was disappointed. He chose to stand against her—not to save her, but to kill her.
'If you can see me so clearly, and you want to save so many people, why didn't you come to save me in the beginning?'
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Kiara Sessyoin was born in a secluded mountain village. She was loved by her father (the sect leader) and the believers, yet she was imprisoned in a single room, never allowed to step outside. Their religion, a branch of the Tachikawa-ryu that advocated for a return to nature, had severed all ties with the outside world. No internet, no magazines, no newspapers. Her childhood world was the size of a room.
"Live with moderation," "Don't waste your life"—her father and the believers preached these high-minded principles, but it didn't change the fact that her environment was a prison. Later, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness; doctors said she wouldn't live past fourteen. After that, she wasn't even allowed to leave her bed.
"How pitiful." "Why does such misfortune happen to such a lovely girl?" "Heaven is truly unfair..."
The believers said these things constantly, but no one actually helped her. No one looked for new medicine or sought a famous doctor. Lying in bed, Kiara read her favorite Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales, only to realize that the "good, true, and beautiful" humans mentioned in the books couldn't be found in reality—except for herself. She reached a conclusion: "Humans do not save humans."
Then, one spring when she was fourteen and near death, she accidentally gained access to the internet. She discovered that the "incurable" disease she suffered from had been curable by outside technology for a long time.
She incited the believers to take her away from the mountain to a hospital. Then, using her extraordinary talent as a Spiritron Hacker, she preached and expanded the sect into a massive organization of millions.
To the Western European Plutocracy and the Holy Church, she was a wanted criminal. To millions of others, she was the Saint of the apocalypse, their only salvation. Even her enemies had to admit she was a "Saint."
Only the man who had woken up saw through her. As a "Saint," she loved all of humanity, but she only considered herself to be human. Therefore, helping herself was the ultimate act of "saving humanity." Giving herself pleasure was the ultimate "benefit to mankind."
Everyone else—the followers around her—were just toys and beasts in human skin. Their lives meant nothing. If she could find pleasure in it, she would let the Earth be destroyed—because in her eyes, she was the only human who existed.
"Kiara Sessyoin! Your existence is too dangerous. Beneath that Saintly skin, you are an evil god that humanity cannot comprehend. You will only lead everyone to destruction. I cannot let you live," the man said coldly.
"Hehe... is it alright to speak such high-sounding words? In truth, your heart is filled with jealousy, isn't it? Because I became cold toward you." Kiara smiled seductively, then her expression flattened into a look of mockery. "Boring people should stop appearing before me!"
"That might be true. But I have made my peace. I will bear the weight of my sins, and your death is among them. I'll see you in Hell, Witch!"
The white-haired man raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
The woman called a Saint fell to the floor, a bloody hole in her forehead. Her eyes remained wide, and a mocking smile still played on her lips as she stared at the man. Even in death, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Perhaps no one in the world was more beautiful than her.
She was the only woman who had ever acknowledged him after he stepped onto the path of the "Asura." In a dark and turbid world, she had been his only light.
"It's over..." the man sighed.
Then, the believers—who had finally bypassed the debris—rushed in with machine guns. Seeing the scene, they let out a chorus of agonizing screams.
"Emiya... you! How dare you! How dare you do this to the Saint!" The five-hundred-year-old Zouken Matou pointed a trembling finger at the man, speechless.
"GAHHHHHH!!!" Seeing her body, the believers clawed at their own faces as if witnessing the end of the world. Their eyes turned bloodshot, their pupils dilated until the whites were nearly gone, and they wept tears of blood.
The white-haired man sat on the floor, glancing at them with a mocking smile—at the old man Zouken and the other crazed fanatics alike.
"GAHHHH!!! EMIYA!!!"
The believers leveled their guns. A volley of gunfire erupted, followed by screams of pain. Muzzle flashes flickered in the room, and the air filled with the smell of gunpowder. Shredded flesh soaked in a pool of blood. The man's mangled head still wore that self-mocking smile.
Yes, from the very beginning, the only one he was mocking was himself.
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Following the death of Kiara Sessyoin, the cult collapsed. Out of millions of followers, half chose to commit mass suicide. From the branch leaders to the young guard at the gate, the country's largest new religion was wiped out in days.
But it was not the end. At the moment of her death, Kiara Sessyoin used her developed technique, All-Colored Stagnation, to transform her soul into Pseudo-Spiritrons and enter the Moon Cell's cyber-space. Even though her physical body was killed, her soul continued to move freely, completely unaffected.
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