After vomiting everything she had eaten the night before, Maiya took a deep breath. The air entered unevenly before gradually stabilizing. She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, composed herself, and continued:
{"Caster is currently performing some kind of large-scale magecraft. If he completes it, all the residents of Fuyuki City could be affected."}
"I know."
Kiritsugu's eyes lost their light, turning dull—as if every trace of hesitation had been deliberately erased.
"But we have no choice. Even if we have to sacrifice everyone in Fuyuki, as long as we win this Holy Grail War, all those sacrifices will have been worth it."
Sacrifice the few to save the many.
That had always been the principle guiding "Kiritsugu Emiya," the man who once believed himself to be a "Hero of Justice."
And it still was.
Even if each decision eroded what remained inside him.
Though always accompanied by pain and resentment, he never had alternatives—not with the tools he possessed, not in the world he lived in.
Over time, even that original sense of "justice" had become distant, almost unrecognizable.
He was willing to sacrifice everything.
Without exception.
Even those he loved most deeply.
All in the name of a "peace" he might never truly achieve.
Meanwhile, a dense, nauseating dark-purple hue gradually spread across the entire coastal sea area of Fuyuki.
Gilles, grotesquely fused with Ryuunosuke, raised his four hands toward the sky. His fingers trembled and twisted like dry branches pulled by an invisible force as he chanted in an unknown language.
The final summoning ritual had begun.
The sea beneath him pulsed.
Heavy waves crashed against each other without rhythm, as if something colossal was moving in the depths.
Then—a golden light tore through the sky.
Everyone's attention was drawn at once.
It was Arthur's Noble Phantasm.
Utu Duranki.
"Aaaaaaah~ God has answered me!"
Gilles roared, his voice tearing through his own throat. He ripped out handfuls of his hair, his nails tearing into his scalp until blood flowed, while his remaining hands clawed violently at his face, splitting the skin and exposing flesh—as if pain were merely another artistic element.
Yet he showed no sign of feeling it.
Or perhaps he did—and enjoyed it.
"Since He has honored us with this stage, then—"
His eyes burned with sick fervor.
"I shall offer a grand banquet of death and decay to welcome you!"
"Ahahahahaha!"
His laughter echoed over the corrupted sea, blending with the viscous sound of water that was no longer truly water.
"Now the curtains shall rise for this blasphemous comedy!"
"These screams will surely reach the heavens!"
Countless tentacles suddenly sprouted from the swamp beneath Gilles' feet. They coiled around his body, tightening, invading, enveloping him completely.
But Gilles showed no panic.
Only pleasure.
His muscles relaxed in ecstasy, and his lips curled into a distorted smile as he was consumed inch by inch. He raised his arms like a martyr offering his body to the altar of his madness, his figure gradually disappearing into that increasingly sinister sea of tentacles.
His voice echoed one last time, filled with fanatical fervor:
"At this moment, we raise once more the banner of salvation!"
{"Caster was absorbed by that thing?"}
Maiya asked, tension evident even through the communication.
"Could it have been Berserker and Archer causing that commotion earlier? Things seem to be getting complicated." Kiritsugu frowned, sinking deeper into thought, unable to ignore the golden glow above.
But reality gave him no time for deeper analysis.
After a brief—and unsettling—silence…
The swamp's surface exploded.
Gilles, who had been completely submerged, emerged.
Or rather—something emerged.
A colossal, shapeless mass rose, forming into a gigantic sea demon reminiscent of Cthulhu, towering above the surface with overwhelming presence.
Its body easily exceeded one hundred meters in height—and continued to grow.
Putrid flesh expanded and rearranged itself before their eyes. Tentacles writhed like starving serpents. Indistinct eyes opened and closed across its uneven surface.
Massive waves rose violently, uncontrollably—enough to completely engulf Kiritsugu and Maiya, who watched from the shore.
Staring at that thick liquid, exuding a foul and unnatural stench, Kiritsugu immediately understood:
That thing could not touch them.
"Maiya, get into the nearest container and contact Berserker and the others via walkie-talkie. I'll use my phone. Hurry!"
{"Yes!"}
No hesitation.
After receiving confirmation, Kiritsugu cast one last look at the monster—now already over 300 meters tall—before turning away.
"I'm sorry…"
The apology was quiet, but sincere.
Without wasting time, he moved. He holstered his sniper rifle, drew his handgun, and fired at the lock of the nearest container, breaking it open with a single precise shot. He threw himself inside seconds before the inevitable.
In the next instant, a colossal wall of corrupted liquid surged forward and swallowed everything.
The impact was devastating.
The sheer physical force of the water, combined with the magical energy infused within it, destroyed the coastal residential buildings in a single blow.
Most people didn't even have time to scream before being dragged under and devoured by the waves—which, like a grotesque domino effect, only fueled the monster's growth further.
Kiritsugu and Maiya, each trapped in their own container, were thrown into chaos, dragged by violent currents.
The structures threatened to collapse at any moment.
But they were not ordinary people.
They were magi.
Even if the containers wouldn't last long, there was a solution.
Projection magecraft.
Crude and inefficient—but sufficient.
They weren't creating something new, only reinforcing what already existed.
Not elegant—but it would work for now.
Meanwhile, Arthur—whom they were desperately trying to contact—was still engaged in direct combat with Gilgamesh.
And far away, above the corrupted sea, the creature rose even higher.
"Those who have been abandoned are welcome! I will lead you! I will command you! The voices of resentment spoken by us, the forsaken, will surely reach the ears of God!"
Gilles' vulgar declarations spread throughout Fuyuki City—and, naturally, reached both Gilgamesh and Arthur.
At that moment, the secrecy surrounding the Holy Grail War practically ceased to exist.
But no one cared.
Not when survival itself was at stake.
Panic had already replaced any concern for secrecy.
"That is…"
Watching the massive waves relentlessly advancing toward the city—and the source of the disaster, the colossal sea demon now exceeding five hundred meters in height—Gilgamesh showed clear displeasure and momentarily halted his actions.
Below, Arthur also turned his gaze in the same direction, his brow deeply furrowed.
"It's about time I deal with that filthy trash."
Arthur cursed, his voice filled with impatience.
Iri, Artoria, and Aoi—still holding Rin—turned toward him.
"Arthur, are you alright?"
Artoria and Iri approached almost simultaneously, one on each side, examining him closely. The synchronized gesture drew a faint expression from Arthur—somewhere between amusement and resignation.
"I'm fine. I just used more mana than expected," he replied casually.
"Arthur, you know you don't have to keep fighting. I can—"
Artoria's words were cut off before she could finish.
"No need to worry about that. You can focus on protecting Iri."
Arthur's tone was firm.
"And besides…" Without warning, he pulled her into his arms. "You and Iri can help me recover my mana later."
He spoke—then leaned in and kissed her.
"If things get out of control, I'll ignore everything around me and help you," Artoria replied in a low voice, pinching his waist hard enough to show her irritation.
'This time… I won't let you run away from me.'
The thought came without hesitation.
A silent determination to keep Arthur close—as if he were something she already considered hers.
"Lancer, what should we do now?" Aoi's voice broke the moment.
After saying that, she could no longer hold back. Tears overflowed, and her shoulders trembled with sobs.
Tokiomi's death had pulled the ground out from under her.
Used to living within the structure he provided, always placing him at the center of everything… now, only a crushing emptiness remained.
The future was uncertain—and terrifying.
"I won't let anything happen to Rin—or to you."
Arthur's response was direct.
'After all, Sakura still needs her older sister… and her mother.'
Besides, it was Tokiomi's fault.
They had nothing to do with it.
Arthur raised his hand and gently patted Aoi's head, trying to offer some comfort.
The gesture was simple.
Gentle.
But enough to trigger an immediate reaction.
Artoria and Iri, standing beside them, felt a subtle sense that something they considered exclusively theirs was being touched by someone else.
Artoria's eyes narrowed slightly.
Her gaze shifted briefly to Arthur's hand.
Then to Aoi.
And back to him.
A dangerous glint crossed her eyes.
'I swear… I won't let you sleep tonight, Arthur.'
(End of Chapter)