This command went beyond ordinary cruelty; it was an ultimate desecration and trampling of humanity, ethics, and the soul. Kanjuro was forcing Kirei Kotomine to personally complete a bloody "ritual" dedicated to the darkness, using it as a "letter of loyalty" to pledge his allegiance.
Inside the church, candlelight flickered, reflecting off the blood spreading across the floor, the cold corpses, and the man standing before them whose heart was undergoing a final collapse and reconstruction.
The air seemed to freeze, leaving only Kanjuro's expectant gaze silently exerting pressure. How would Kirei Kotomine choose? Would he sink completely, or break before his final bottom line?
He paused, admiring Kirei Kotomine's instantly frozen expression, and added:
"The more pieces you dismantle it into, the better. Only then can I be fully certain that you are a thorough, irredeemable piece of trash who has completely bid farewell to the past 'Kirei Kotomine.' And only then... will you truly be qualified to... continue living in my game."
Kanjuro and Jeanne stood silently in the dim church like two indifferent art critics, watching Kirei Kotomine perform that appalling "ritual." There was no urging, no evaluation, only silent observation, which in itself became the heaviest pressure.
Kirei Kotomine's face was initially numb, as if his soul had already been extracted. He crouched down and picked up the blood-stained Ritual Dagger from the floor that had originally belonged to his father.
When the blade touched the cold, stiff corpse, his fingers trembled imperceptibly for a moment, but he quickly stabilized.
He began to move.
At first, he was somewhat clumsy and sluggish, as if executing an incomprehensible command. But soon, a bizarre "proficiency" seemed to be triggered; his movements became precise, efficient, and even possessed a hair-raising "methodicalness."
Cutting joints, separating limbs—he decomposed the body that had once given him life into fragments of varying sizes, as if processing a pile of nameless materials.
The sound of flesh separating and the crisp snap of bones being broken were exceptionally clear and jarring in the deathly silent church.
Blood soaked his hands and splattered his black priest's robe, even leaving several bloodstains on his expressionless face. He never looked up, not at Kanjuro nor at Jeanne, focusing solely and meticulously on completing Kanjuro's command.
When the last piece of the remains was separated, leaving only a pile of unrecognizable flesh and bone fragments on the ground, Kirei Kotomine finally stopped. He stood there stiffly, his blood-stained hands hanging limply at his sides.
Kanjuro slowly paced forward, his gaze sweeping over the mess, a smile of extreme satisfaction—even carrying a hint of "appreciation"—appearing on his face.
"Good... very good." His voice carried a twisted pleasure,
"Kirei Kotomine, I'm starting to appreciate you more and more. You truly didn't disappoint me; you've shown us how... thoroughly, how 'purely' human nature can fall."
Kirei Kotomine remained expressionless, but if one looked closely, they would find that the last glimmer of "humanity" deep in his eyes seemed to have been completely extinguished along with this dismemberment.
He was no good man; he pursued pleasure and had a twisted heart, but before Kanjuro, all his self-important mystery and depth seemed so laughable. Kanjuro was like a mirror of absolute darkness, reflecting the ugliest and most primitive essence of his soul, leaving him nowhere to hide, unable even to deceive himself.
"Farewell," Kanjuro waved his hand casually, as if merely ending a boring tea party, "I hope the next time we meet, you can bring me more...'surprises'."
After saying that, he led Jeanne, who had remained as silent as a shadow, and turned to walk out of the church doors, their figures melting into the night outside as if they had never appeared.
It wasn't until Kanjuro's presence completely vanished that the suffocating pressure inside the church suddenly dissipated.
"Ugh... hhh..."
A strange gasping sound came from Kirei Kotomine's throat. His body, which had been holding on, seemed to have all its strength drained in an instant. He slumped down, his knees crashing heavily into the cold, viscous pool of blood.
"Vomits—!!! Cough!"
Intense physiological disgust and a soul-level shudder finally broke through the dam of numbness. He bent over and began to vomit violently, as if he were going to throw up his very organs.
There wasn't much in his stomach to begin with, so only stomach acid and bile came out, but the nausea was like a maggot in his bones, impossible to shake off.
He looked up, his vision blurred as he stared at the hellish landscape of his father's remains that he had created with his own hands. A chill deep in his marrow instantly swept through his body, causing him to tremble uncontrollably.
"Mon... monster..." His teeth chattered as he muttered to himself, pure and undisguised fear appearing on his face for the first time. "He's not human at all... he's a monster..."
In his life, he had witnessed war, experienced betrayal, and sought twisted pleasure, believing he had already touched the dark side of humanity and the world. But not until today, until facing Kanjuro, did he truly understand the meaning of terror.
It was a terror that transcended understanding and common sense, as deep as the mist of an abyss and as vast as the unknown universe! Kanjuro's thoughts, power, and goals were all shrouded in an impenetrable mist. His way of toying with hearts and trampling on ethics seemed to stem from some completely different, higher-order logic of cruelty!
Kirei Kotomine and everyone else could not understand, because what they were facing was not a "human" at all.
Behind Kanjuro stood the "Crawling Chaos," Nyarlathotep! He was an existence who had signed a contract with an Old God; how could his principles of behavior be fathomed by mortals?
...Just as Kirei Kotomine was experiencing a soul collapse inside the church, the battle outside had also come to an end.
Gilgamesh eventually used the full power of his enkidu (Ea) to completely annihilate Conqueror King Iskandar, who had been bewitched by Kanjuro into a killing frenzy. The thunder ravaging Fuyuki City finally subsided, leaving behind only a devastated city and the survivors.
When Gilgamesh's golden figure floated above the gradually calming battlefield like a victorious deity, something unexpected happened.
It started with scattered, tentative applause, and then, the applause spread like a tide! Surviving citizens cautiously emerged from the ruins and hiding places. They looked at the golden Heroic Spirit in the sky, their eyes filled with gratitude, awe, and even... worship!
"Hero!"
"It was that golden Heroic Spirit who saved us!"
"He defeated that madman!"
Cheers began to ring out, growing louder and louder, converging into a sea of praise for the hero. These people, who had just crawled back from the edge of hell, pinned all their post-disaster emotions onto this "king of heroes" who had ended the catastrophe.
Even on the distant hillside, Saber, resting in Irisviel's arms, looked at the figure being cheered by the masses. A rare and involuntary trace of extremely faint but truly genuine tenderness appeared on her pale face, stained with blood and fatigue. Although their methods and positions differed, at this moment, Gilgamesh had indeed achieved what she had failed to do—stopping the slaughter and protecting (at least some) life.
Gilgamesh himself, listening to the mountain-like cheers beneath him and seeing those faces that regarded him as a savior, had an extremely complex, almost absurd expression appear on his face, which was usually filled with arrogance and impatience.
He, the oldest king of heroes, the tyrant of Uruk, the possessor of all the world's treasures, would one day become a hero symbolizing "justice" and "hope" in the hearts of a bunch of "mongrels" in this way?
This was truly... ironic to the extreme, yet... unexpectedly, not too bad.
Under the night sky, on one side was Kirei Kotomine, kneeling in a pool of blood in the church, his faith and humanity shattered;
on the other side was Gilgamesh, hailed as a hero by the people, enjoying an absurd triumph. Meanwhile, the true director and the deepest darkness—Kanjuro—had already quietly departed, preparing for the next "performance" that no one could predict.
The night in Fuyuki City slowly passed amidst this extreme contrast and chaos.
The night breeze blew through Kanjuro's black hair as he walked side by side with Jeanne through the ruined streets of Fuyuki City. In the distance, the cheers of the crowd surged like a tide, praising the "great deeds" of that golden Heroic Spirit. Kanjuro stopped and listened, a hint of almost childlike regret and curiosity appearing on his face.
"Listen to that sound, Jeanne. All eyes, being hailed as a savior..." Kanjuro's voice was very soft, with a trace of imperceptible trembling, as if suppressing some intense emotion. "If one day, I could also be called that, called a 'hero,' what an... interesting sight that would be." He turned his head and looked at Jeanne, a bizarre light dancing in his deep eyes. "What do you think? Is it possible for me to also become a 'hero' in their mouths?"
Jeanne's ice-blue eyes looked back at him calmly, without any ripples, her tone decisive: "If you really wanted to be a hero, you could have been one long ago. With your power and wisdom, saving this city or even more people wouldn't be difficult." She paused slightly, a faint touch of irony curling at the corner of her mouth. "But you won't. I'm afraid your current sentiment... is just your heart plotting some new, even worse scheme, isn't it? Playing the hero, only to destroy everything when they depend on you the most? That kind of drama would suit your taste."
Hearing this, Kanjuro was first slightly stunned, then burst into laughter. His laughter carried far down the empty street, filled with pleasure at being seen through and undisguised appreciation. He didn't refute her, because what Jeanne said might have been exactly a thought that had flashed through his subconscious.
In the midst of their bizarre conversation—
Hum!
Time froze without any warning.
Falling dust was fixed in mid-air, the open mouths of the cheering crowd in the distance were frozen, and even the sound of the wind came to an abrupt halt. The entire world was like a pause button had been pressed, leaving only Kanjuro and Jeanne able to move, along with a beautiful figure walking out from the depths of the frozen spacetime.
Demon Sister Chiyo had changed into a noble and elegant pure white dress today. The hem was like a blooming lily, forming a sharp contrast with the innate, seductive aura that seemed capable of tempting one into the abyss. She stepped barefoot on the static air, each step creating invisible ripples. Her beautiful face wore her usual smile, one that saw through everything yet was full of mischief.
"Mr. Kanjuro~" Her voice resonated directly in the core of their consciousness, so sweet it made one's bones go soft. "You truly... make me marvel again and again." She walked up to Kanjuro and extended her finger, almost touching his cheek, her eyes filled with undisguised praise. "Your actions have completely transcended the scope of what 'humans' can define. Even... the most cunning demons in the abyss appear 'pure and kind' before you. That cruelty of toying with hearts and trampling ethics into dust is simply... art!"
Looking at the suddenly appearing Chiyo, a flash of excitement appeared in Kanjuro's eyes. Instead of being afraid, he stepped forward abruptly, as if meeting a close lover, and opened his arms, wanting to pounce on Chiyo in this frozen spacetime.
"What's the matter? My little goblin," Kanjuro's voice carried a hint of playfulness and possessiveness. "Coming to find me in such a hurry, are you missing me again, or are you here to bring me a 'gift'?"
Chiyo's figure swayed like a phantom, easily evading Kanjuro's embrace. Her jade-like hand pressed lightly against his chest, pushing him away. She chuckled softly, her eyes shimmering with a trace of feigned annoyance, but mostly indulgence:
"Oh, don't be so impatient, my dear little brother Kanjuro" Her voice was like honey, yet it carried the chill of the abyss. "Big sister came this time to give you a 'reward,' not to give myself to you Although..." She trailed off meaningfully, "your performance truly made my heart flutter."
She slowly paced around Kanjuro, the hem of her white dress tracing an elegant arc in the air, as she began to recount his "achievements." With each one she mentioned, the light in her eyes grew brighter:
"You let the world see the ugly truth beneath the 'king of conquerors' mask of glory, inducing him to strangle his only truly trusting little master with his own hands; you caused the knightly and radiant Artoria Pendragon to fall deep into the corruption of Black Magic, carving an indelible crack in her steadfast conviction; you made Kirei Kotomine, that hollow puppet with an already twisted heart, personally carry out the desecration of dismembering his biological father—an act that even the demons of hell might not perform without flinching..."
Chiyo's voice carried a tone almost like an aria, as if she were singing a great epic.
"Finally, when surrounded by three Heroic Spirits, including the king of heroes, you not only escaped unscathed but also played them like puppets, even turning Caster and his tattered book into pawns to finally shatter Jeanne d'Arc's psychological defenses..."
She stopped in front of Kanjuro, her exquisite face overflowing with immense satisfaction and admiration:
"Brilliant! Simply brilliant! Manipulating human weakness, desire, persistence, and faith like delicate puppets, guiding them toward an end of self-destruction... This ultimate art of spreading 'chaos' and 'despair' throughout the world would likely have even the noble Nyarlathotep himself clapping and cheering for you! I truly admire you, Mr. Kanjuro!"
Hearing Chiyo's praise, the smile on Kanjuro's face grew deeper and more dangerous. He knew that the "reward" from this "Demon Sister" would never disappoint him. And the next, even grander "performance" seemed to have already begun.
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