Saber—no, Artoria—had cast herself into the Holy Grail War for one purpose: to undo the history in which she pulled Caliburn from the stone and became King, and to bring back the man who had died in her stead.
However, what awaited her was the freezing cold indifference of her Master. The one who had summoned her refused to even look her in the eye.
To win the Holy Grail War—or to even grasp at a sliver of hope for victory—she knew cooperation with her Master was essential.
Watching him play with his child, she gathered that he was not an inherently evil man. Thus, she resolved to reach out and persuade him.
Artoria stopped him as he tried to walk past her once more. She demanded to know the truth. She asked why he insisted on treating her with such blatant disregard.
Even then, she had clung to the belief that her Master had a justifiable reason for his behavior. She had trusted that there was logic behind the silence.
But the reason that fell from his lips was nothing short of absurd.
He had severed all communication simply to prevent himself from misdirecting his fury—a fury intended for those who had thrust the burden of Britain's salvation onto her—toward her person.
Anger surged within her. Without even attempting to understand her, he had judged and pitied her based solely on the fact that a young girl had ascended the throne.
Yet, she endured. To emerge victorious in the Holy Grail War, she could not allow the rift between Servant and Master to widen further.
Then, he drove the final stake through her heart.
"...And the worst of them all was Elius, that knight. If a knight is one who can knowingly send a mere girl into the jaws of death, then I cannot consider him a knight at all. He was nothing more than a bystander."
Upon hearing those words, something snapped within Artoria's mind. For the first time, she lost all sense of reason.
What do you know of him to speak such drivel? How dare you speak so lightly of the efforts he made, the resolve behind the choices he made? You, who knows nothing of the sacrifices he endured—how dare you judge and defile him?
By the time her mind cleared, her blade was already pressed against her Master's throat. She did not care.
She wanted him dead. It would have been easy. A slight thrust of the blade would have sufficed.
But she could not strike. She was a Servant; she required a Master to maintain her existence in this world.
In the end, Artoria was forced to lower her sword. She glared coldly at her Master as he clutched his neck with one hand.
"I shall overlook this insult to Elius only because you are my Master. But mark my words."
"No matter our bond of Master and Servant, should you disparage him but once more, I will strike you down where you stand."
Thus, her relationship with her Master began at its absolute nadir. Yet, the trials that weighed upon her soul were far from over.
"...If a King regrets their reign or its conclusion, then they are a mere king of ruin—a fool more pitiful than even the most wretched tyrant."
"Iskandar, it was you whose empire fractured into three and crumbled because you failed to leave an heir. Do you truly claim to have no regrets regarding that end?"
"I have none."
Indignant at the negation of her entire life's work, she challenged him, yet the King of Conquerors merely shook his head firmly, continuing his relentless rebuke.
"If that was the end reached by my decisions and the lives of the subjects who followed me, then its destruction was inevitable. I shall mourn, and I shall shed tears. However, I shall never regret it. And to think of overturning it! Such a foolish act would be an insult to every person who helped build that era alongside me!"
Each word from the King of Conquerors was a sharpened dagger, piercing through Artoria's defenses.
She could not deny him. She could not find the words to strike back. Though she struggled to formulate an answer, her lips refused to move.
Seeing her spiraling into shock, the King of Conquerors shook his head and delivered his final blow.
"True, the justice and ideals you championed might have temporarily saved your country and your people. But tell me..."
"Surely you, of all people, are not ignorant of what fate awaits those who were merely 'saved' and nothing more."
"What... did you say?"
His words triggered a memory. A living hell upon a hill, stained red with blood and carpeted with corpses.
And... the face of the one who drew his final breath within her arms.
"You did nothing but 'save' your subjects; you never once 'led' them. You never showed them the shape of a King's desire. You abandoned your lost subjects, remaining alone and aloof with your serene face, pining for nothing but a pristine ideal! You were simply—"
"...A little girl, bound by the idol of 'Kingship.'"
At those words, Artoria's head finally fell. Long after the Banquet of Kings had concluded and she was left in solitude, she whispered to herself.
"...Am I..."
Truly right?
Was the life she led entirely mistaken? Was every action she took for the sake of her people a tragedy of errors?
She had believed herself to be righteous. she had believed that serving the people was the very essence and duty of a Sovereign.
But now, she no longer knew. She truly did not know. Right from wrong, the validity of her path—it had all dissolved into a sea of uncertainty.
'I shall mourn, and I shall shed tears. However, I shall never regret it.'
While echoing the words of the King of Conquerors in her heart, a memory of the day she drew the Sword of Selection surfaced. She remembered what he had told her then.
'Make a choice you won't regret. Because no matter what the ending is, it will be all right.'
"...Ah."
Back then, she thought it was a kindness to ease her hesitation as she reached for the sword.
But looking back now, perhaps it was advice meant to prevent her from becoming the broken thing she was today.
"What... what am I to do... Eli..."
On this night, she missed him with an intensity that bordered on physical pain.
Despite the doubts that gnawed at her, she forced herself to focus on the Holy Grail War. She could not afford to remain stagnant in her contemplation.
Whether her path was right or wrong remained a mystery to her. However, the Holy Grail was the only destination left in her sight.
She had to keep walking because she could not stop. She had to slay every foe and claim the Grail.
But when she looked upon the face of the knight who gazed at her with eyes full of hatred, her steps faltered.
"I-It cannot be... Arondight...! S-Sir... is that truly you?!"
"—Arthurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!"
"Sir Lancelot... Knight of the Lake!"
Lancelot lunged with Arondight bared, driven by a singular urge to kill her. She deflected the blade aimed for her throat and cried out.
Clang!
"Ugh! Why, my friend? You, who were praised as the peerless knight of the Round Table—why have you fallen so far into the madness of a Berserker..."
"Arthurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!"
Clang!
While parrying Lancelot's savage strikes, the King of Conquerors' words echoed in her mind.
'Surely you are not ignorant of what fate awaits those who were merely saved.'
"...Did my ideals... did the King that I was... drive you to this, Sir?"
"Arthurrrrr!!"
Clang!
...Yes. It was all her fault. Because she had chased an empty dream and held onto a distorted ideal, this was the harvest she reaped.
The parting words of the crimson-haired knight echoed back to her.
'The King does not understand the hearts of men.'
The phrase fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. It was the absolute truth that defined her current ruin.
Thwack!
"...Forgive me, Sir Lancelot. I... I must obtain the Grail. If I do not, I have no way to atone for what I have done to you."
"...Even at such an hour... you still hold your sword for such a reason... You truly are... a difficult person..."
Indeed. If she truly understood the human heart, how could she run her own knight through just to claim a cup?
As she withdrew her sword, the fallen Lancelot dissolved into fragments of magical energy. Artoria watched as his essence scattered into the wind.
I am sorry. I am so sorry, Sir Lancelot. Truly... I am sorry. I have no other choice...
The King of Conquerors was right. She was wrong. She was a foolish king. But she could not stop now, even with that realization heavy upon her soul.
Yes. The Grail will fix everything. If it is truly omnipotent... it can undo it all.
Gritting her teeth, she dragged her battered and broken body toward the Holy Grail.
Clank. Clank.
"You are late, Saber. Even if you were preoccupied with your childhood friend's mad dog, making Us wait is a grave transgression of etiquette."
"...Step aside, Archer."
She had reached the Grail, but before the final threshold stood the King of Heroes, clad in golden armor.
"What a face you are making. You look like nothing so much as a starving stray."
"...Move! The Grail... the Grail belongs to me!"
Squelch!
"Gah!"
With the shimmering of golden ripples in the air, a blade pierced through her leg. She collapsed to her knees, overcome by the agony.
Looking down at her, the King of Heroes reached into his treasury and drew another sword.
"Saber. Even as you crawl upon the earth, corrupted by obsession, you are truly beautiful. Cast aside your sword and become My wife. Why cling to such an uncertain thing as a miracle-granting cup? Throw away your petty ideals and your meaningless oaths. Do so, and in the name of the King of All Creation, I shall bestow upon you all the pleasures and raptures of this world."
Faced with his arrogant, nonsensical demands, she screamed in a fit of rage.
"Is that it?! You intend to steal my Grail just to spout such filth?! Ugh?!"
Clang!
Boom!
She blocked another flying blade, but the impact sent her tumbling backward. Archer watched her with amusement.
"I did not ask for your will. This is a decree I have handed down. Now, let Us hear your answer."
"I refuse! Never...!"
Thuck!
Another weapon buried itself in her flesh. As she gasped, unable to speak through the waves of pain, Archer sneered.
"Are you so bashful that you find yourself at a loss for words? Very well. I shall allow you to answer wrongly as many times as you require. To know the joy of surrendering all to Me, one must first be schooled in pain."
"...Do not... mock me!"
Maddeningly, Archer was the stronger of the two. Furthermore, Artoria was already at her limit. Anyone could see she was losing. Even if she endured, it was only a matter of time before she faded into nothingness.
Just as she was about to fall into the abyss of despair, thinking the Grail was lost to her, she saw it.
Behind the King of Heroes, her Master appeared. At that sight, hope surged within her.
Yes, I can still win the Grail. If I have the backup of the Command Spells, I can defeat the King of Heroes...!
Seeing Kiritsugu raise his arm to activate a Command Spell, Artoria ripped the sword from her leg, ignoring the pain as she forced herself to stand. She could not fall here. She gripped her blade tight, steadying her stance and waiting for the order to strike.
"...In the name of Kiritsugu Emiya, I command thee with a Command Spell. Saber... Use your Noble Phantasm... and destroy the Holy Grail."
The order Kiritsugu uttered defied all logic. Why?
Before she could even voice the question, the compulsion of the Command Spell seized her body and moved it against her will.
"—No... No, Kiritsugu! Why, Kiritsugu? Of all people, why must it be you?! Why?!"
Invisible Air dissipated, and her sword, saturated with magical energy, was forced high into the air for its True Name Release.
She could not let this happen. She couldn't fail now. With the Grail right before her eyes, she couldn't let it vanish.
She resisted with everything she had, and for a moment, the hold of the Command Spell began to falter. She felt a brief moment of relief—until she looked at Kiritsugu.
Watching her struggle, Kiritsugu spoke once more. Artoria felt the horror in her very marrow.
"...I command thee again with the third Command Spell."
"No! Master! Do not give that order! Masterrrrrr!"
"...Saber, the Holy Grail..."
"STOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP—!!!!!!!!!!!"
"...Destroy it."
With that final, cruel command, her sword swung down. The True Name echoed as the Holy Grail was shattered.
***
When she opened her eyes again, all she saw was her final sword and the hill stained by the fallen.
An earth dyed crimson by an ocean of blood and a carpet of corpses. And she, the only one left alive.
Realizing she had returned to the Hill of Camlann where everything had ended, she fell to her knees and shrieked.
"Aaaaah, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH—!!"
She pulled the cooling body of her knight into her arms and wept without end.
"I am sorry... I am so sorry..... I am... a thing like me....... Aaaaah, AAAAAAAAAH!"
Having failed this Holy Grail War, she had to wait for the next, though she knew not when it would be.
It would likely be an eternity—a vast, unfathomable stretch of time.
Yet, if she had gained but one truth from this war, it was this:
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH—!!"
A creature such as I... should never have been King.
-------------------
While taking a mathematics mock exam, the Author found themselves with extra time and, recalling the comic posted yesterday, began to doodle on the exam paper.
Hmm. For a doodle drawn while lying down, does it look all right?
Saber. She looks a bit soulless, almost like an Alter, but surprisingly, this is Artoria in blue.
Suddenly, the Author felt the urge to draw some of the famous scenes from Unlimited Blade Works. Thus began the doodle session.
It feels like Lancer's... posterior is being emphasized, but that wasn't the intent. I simply wanted to draw him just before his True Name Release against Archer.
The Wrought Iron Hero (Archer). Since it's a frontal view, Rho Aias has been simplified to seven petals.
Hmm, what other iconic scenes were there? Ah, right.
Self-terminate, Lancer!
Lancer ga shinda!
Wait, why is this one drawn so well? Forgive me, Lancer. You truly have no luck.
Time was running out.
Lancer: Hey! It's not fair that I'm the only one dying! That Mapo Priest died too!
Author: Sigh, I'm getting lazy... fine, fine. I'll draw him too.
But I never said I'd put in any effort.
???: ONORRRE!! Where is the King?!
Author: Ugh, so bothersome. Fine. I'll draw you too.
The bell rang just as I finished that one. And with that, the chaotic doodle session is over!