Within the deep, dark, and independent space created by Steve, a completely different confrontation was quietly unfolding.
The moment all seventy-one Demon Pillars were forcibly pulled into this place, their colossal bodies—composed of countless eyeballs—collectively experienced for the first time a sensation known as palpitation.
This feeling did not arise from fear of an unknown enemy, but from the apocalyptic atmosphere emanating from this mental landscape itself.
The sky was solid, stained a permanent, crimson red as though dyed with the blood of a monstrous creature. There was no sun or moon; just a breathtakingly beautiful, deep scarlet light spread evenly across the endless wasteland. The land itself was barren—cracked, black earth stretched out like metallic steel all the way to the horizon.
Faint outlines of several immense, ruined cities could just be seen at the edge of sight. Like skeletal remains of ancient titans, these ruins quietly spoke of the end of civilization.
But the most dangerous thing here was the air.
There was no oxygen—only tiny particles, glowing ominously, falling slow like snowflakes.
These were cosmic dust (SIN): a substance so toxic it corrodes all life on a planet unable to adapt to "the laws of the cosmos," and yet also the fundamental element composing the universe itself.
Simply being present, the seventy-one Demon Pillars acutely felt their magical foundations being eroded by these ever-present toxic particles—their power crumbling and leaking out in a constant flood.
This was the Land of Steel: one of the countless parallel worlds, Earth in a far-distant future. In this timeline, rampant human civilization had utterly overwhelmed the "logic of the stars," draining the planet's vitality.
The planet had died. And yet, humanity stubbornly clung to its cold corpse, refusing to leave its dead cradle.
This was a world ruled by the Principles of the Universe. Life from the previous era, unable to adapt to the new rules, was relentlessly purged here. Not even the Demon Pillars who survived from the Age of Gods—including Steve Weis, who had activated his reality marble—were exempt.
In this moment, their very existence was rejected and eroded by this world.
"What an... unpleasant world…"
Among the Demon Pillars, Paimon spoke out through their collective consciousness, his voice a mix of shock and disgust.
"No, it isn't mere unpleasantness. This is... the end," retorted Baal, the pillar of Knowledge, his tone more rational. "This world is a failed, distorted model — another possibility. A place without suffering, a world where everything returns to stillness... This is what we sought."
Steve ignored their whispers, calmly observing the enemy before him.
Owing to Flauros' betrayal and his transformation into a pseudo-servant to Fujimaru Ritsuka via FATE Summoning, he refused to rejoin them, leaving only seventy-one Demon Pillars present. But this didn't change the essence of the battle. So long as Solomon's Divine Temple of Time remained intact, the Demon Pillars could infinitely respawn within the fortress—Steve knew this well.
Even if he slaughtered them all here like harvesting wheat, it would be meaningless labor.
Thus, before the fight began in earnest, Steve posed a fundamental question.
"Seventy-One Demon Pillars—"
His voice echoed through the deathly still world.
"Rationally, Flauros should have already shared all future knowledge you possess. You must know what tragedy befalls your King—Solomon—and Marisbury after their wishes are granted."
"Once reincarnated as a human, he'll activate his first Noble Phantasm to prevent the collapse of Human Order—burning away his achievements and your very existence, erasing you completely from the world, sending you all back into nothingness."
Steve paused, giving them time to process, then dealt another devastating blow.
"And beyond even that, the planet's will—Princess Archetype: Earth—has already pointed out the flaw at the root of your plan in Chaldea. According to future knowledge, no matter how much energy you gather or control over fate you seize, it is impossible to achieve planetary Immaculation using a being that is not a stellar egg."
"That is, your grand plan to incinerate millennia of human history and return to the planet's birth—to reconstruct a new, suffering-free world—was doomed to fail from the start, even if everything else went perfectly."
His gaze passed silently over each Demon Pillar.
"Why, then, do you still oppose me now?"
"As a collective of 'rationality'—is it logical for you to continue fighting for an inherently doomed, ultimately self-destructive goal?"
Faced with this pointed question, the Pillars fell into a long silence.
Finally, a response echoed in Steve's mind: countless voices mingled with exhaustion and helplessness.
"...You're right, foreign magus."
"We don't wish to fight you anymore."
"We have given up on burning away humanity. To keep pursuing something 'pointless' is irrational... utterly foolish, even."
"We wish that our King—could also be reborn as humans."
"Perhaps... that is the attitude he truly desired."
Steve raised his eyebrows at this honest, almost self-mocking answer, but said nothing. He knew the crucial "however" was coming.
"But... these are just our wishes! They mean nothing to what's happening now!" Sabnock, the Demon Pillar of Wrath, yelled out. "Our King—Solomon before you—does not possess his own will!"
"He is nothing more than a programmed, perfectly rational machine!"
"And now, the sole directive given to him is to execute Marisbury Animusphere's command!"
"We are his familiars—his Noble Phantasms—his system. Bound by his contract, we are absolutely unable to disobey his commands!"
"As long as he is still the Solomon, unless he voluntarily abandons all boons of Heaven and chooses humanity, we remain part of his power, compelled to enact his every order. Not only can we not resist, we cannot even cause trouble. This is the 'rule' of our existence; a cage we cannot break."
Steve nodded in silent understanding.
The problem was clear: the Pillars already "knew" the future and subjectively wished to change it, but were bound by objective rules—prewritten code that, even knowing it would crash the system, they could not halt by themselves.
The only power off button was held by King Solomon, who as yet had not chosen humanity.
…