I failed my Master. Worse, I failed a child of such tender years. I looked upon Illyasviel in silence, the weight of my failure pressing like iron against my soul.
What claim have I to heroism? What manner of knight am I, who cannot even shield his own Master from the cold reach of death?
I could not save a young girl. A wave of wretchedness, helplessness, and white-hot fury washed over me, and I bowed my head in shame.
Why had my memory failed me? I knew the truth—I knew this Fifth Holy Grail War was a fractured thing. I knew the Grail itself was a tainted vessel, and that there were those who sought to weave their vileness through its corruption.
And yet, the realization had come too late. Why? I should have known the moment I laid eyes upon the King of Heroes.
Recalling the arrogant visage of that golden-haired king as he looked down upon us, I gripped my sword in a fit of rage and forced myself to stand.
I faltered.
"—Elius!"
Artoria caught me as I swayed. My body was far from whole; a puncture wound had laid open my lung, and every breath was a struggle against the tide of my own blood.
Medea rushed to my side as well, her hands already weaving the threads of healing magecraft.
Under the influence of mystery from the Age of Gods, the agony receded, and my breath came easier.
"...Forgive me, Caster. I could not protect our Master."
"—No. It is I who should apologize. I, too, failed her."
Medea grit her teeth, her expression twisted with frustration. None of us could have foreseen that the very man we believed to be the arbiter of this war would be the root of such calamity.
Who could have predicted that a priest of the Holy Church—those who purportedly shun the use of magecraft—would scheme so ruthlessly to seize the Grail for himself?
None had anticipated it, and the price of our ignorance was the life of Illyasviel von Einzbern.
A heavy silence fell over us. Then, the sorrow on Medea's face gave way to a look of grim resolve as she turned her gaze toward me.
"....Berser—no, Elius."
"Caster?"
"I have... a way to save her. A way to restore the Master's life."
"—What?"
I looked at her in confusion, surprised that she had used my True Name rather than my Class designation, but the words that followed left me wide-eyed with shock.
Had I heard her correctly?
"....You are saying there is a way to save Illya?"
"—My True Name is Medea. The Princess of Colchis, known to history as the Witch of Betrayal."
"...."
"From the look on your face, I see you already knew."
Medea offered a bitter smile at my lack of surprise. I nodded slowly.
"....Aye. I had my suspicions, though I had no absolute proof."
"I see.... No matter. I possess a magecraft of immortality. If I expend all the magical energy I have gathered—every drop of prana that sustains my current existence—I can perform a miracle of restoration. It is but a human heart; I can repair the damage and bring her back from the brink."
My eyes widened. For a Servant to use all their magical energy meant using the very prana required to maintain their manifestation in this world.
If she did this, she would be disqualified from the Holy Grail War. She would vanish.
"—Are you certain? If you do this, the prana maintaining your manifestation will..."
"....To hear you worry for me... You truly aren't bothered, are you? Even after hearing my True Name. Most would have cast me aside as a traitorous witch by now."
I met Medea's questioning gaze and spoke with unwavering conviction.
"I believe only that which I have seen with my own eyes. Whatever the world whispers of you is none of my concern."
"...."
"To my eyes, you are not one who betrays without cause. That is why I trust you."
She gasped, her eyes fluttering with genuine shock. She had never imagined a soul existed who would look upon her with such sincerity.
In the myriad versions of the Holy Grail War she had glimpsed across parallel worlds, Masters and Servants alike saw only the legend of the 'Witch of Betrayal.' None had ever bothered to see the woman behind the myth.
Yet here was a man who looked past the rumors to the reality of her character. Her heart gave a sudden, sharp throb.
'Had I only known sooner... that he would see me for who I truly am.'
Wearing a bittersweet smile, Medea reached out toward Illya. In that moment, a massive magic circle erupted into light beneath them.
I felt a tremendous surge of prana—the raw power of the Age of Gods. As the light intensified, Medea's form began to fade at the edges, becoming translucent.
"Is this truly what you wish? You must have had a prayer of your own for the Grail. If you return to the Throne now..."
"—I know. If I leave now, it may be an eternity before I am called again. Perhaps I never shall be."
'But Saber... my wish was just granted.'
Medea turned back to look at us one last time. As her body dissolved into shimmering motes of light, she wore a smile of such radiance that it surpassed all description.
"I have met someone who saw me as I am... and so, let me introduce myself properly. I am Medea, Princess of Colchis."
"—And I am Elius, Knight of the Round Table. Should we meet again, I shall be the one to aid you."
"Truly? Then I shall look forward to it. Farewell... Elius."
'It was a pleasure.'
With those final words, the magecraft reached its crescendo. I stood in silent tribute as Medea faded into nothingness, leaving behind the miracle she had wrought.
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