The lights of the Emiya household burned through the entire night without going out.
The reason was simple: Shirou Emiya had been in intensive training all night long, with Anthony (Prometheus) and Kiritsugu Emiya personally overseeing the session.
If anything, it was Kiritsugu Emiya himself who had pushed most insistently for it.
Originally, Anthony had felt there was no need to make such a big production out of the whole thing.
I mean, it was just Gilgamesh. Did Shirou really need an all-night training session just to put that golden blowhard firmly in the ground? But in the end, he simply couldn't hold out against Kiritsugu's repeated requests, and had no choice but to agree to the training.
As for why Kiritsugu had pushed so hard — the reason was equally simple: Illya was sleeping in the room next door.
Kiritsugu genuinely had no idea whether Illya was actually asleep or not.
But he knew that Illya had gone into Shirou Emiya's room.
And he strongly suspected that even if she had managed to fall asleep, she'd be awake again in the middle of the night.
But he couldn't very well say that out loud — he could hardly just walk up to Shirou Emiya's face and lay it all on the table, could he?
And so, after a great deal of wracking his brain, dragging Shirou off to do training was this veteran father's last desperate act of resistance.
That said, even Anthony had to admit that the results of Shirou Emiya's training could only be described in one word: remarkable.
In the span of a single night, his abilities had improved considerably — enough to make even Anthony look twice. Even within just the first half of the night, Anthony had already confirmed that Shirou's command of Avalon had fully stabilized, and so he simply stepped back and left the rest of the training entirely to Kiritsugu.
As for himself, he turned his attention toward a more distant horizon, and began making preparations for the battle that lay ahead.
Or rather — for the raising of the curtain.
A crow circled the edge of the church, letting out a harsh, grating cry.
The man lit a candle, illuminating the intelligence board before him, and fixed his gaze on the final piece of the puzzle delivered by his familiar. For a moment, he furrowed his brow.
"Well, well. Haven't seen you look this troubled in quite some time."
Suddenly, a voice rang out. Kotomine Kirei looked up — and saw a golden-haired man descending the stairs, an ostentatious smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
He offered Gilgamesh a respectful inclination of his head, then looked back at the intelligence board. After a beat of silence, he spoke:
"Something is wrong."
"The Berserker team has already been eliminated. By any normal reckoning, it shouldn't have happened this quickly."
"And this feeling — it's somehow familiar."
Kotomine Kirei's expression didn't shift in the slightest. He spoke in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, as though simply recounting a sequence of events, and absently reached out to stroke the familiar beside him.
Déjà vu.
That particular sensation of déjà vu that surfaces when you come face to face with something you know intimately.
"A Servant eliminated already? Hmph. At this pace, they must have been nothing but refuse."
Gilgamesh quickly lost interest and waved a dismissive hand. But Kotomine Kirei, staring at the information the familiar had delivered, felt his pupils slowly begin to shift.
Only now did his attention finally lock, truly and completely, onto that one clue.
It was a photograph — nothing more than the back of a man's figure.
But the timestamp was recent. Extraordinarily recent. Every detail in the background made it plain that this photograph had been taken mere hours ago.
And it was precisely that closeness in time — combined with a silhouette familiar to him beyond any shadow of doubt — that made Kotomine Kirei's heart lurch, just for that single instant.
No. He would never mistake this for anyone else.
For this particular person — that was simply not possible. Not ever.
"Kiritsugu Emiya!"
The sudden cry shattered the quiet of the basement. Gilgamesh paused mid-step; the earrings at his ears chimed with a clear, melodic sound.
"Oh?"
The next moment, Gilgamesh turned back with an expression of distinct curiosity, eyes fixed on Kotomine Kirei.
"He's alive."
Without even waiting for Gilgamesh to ask, Kotomine Kirei spoke the words. Then, without pausing, he began to pack his things — swiftly, deliberately.
Without even a minute's hesitation.
"So. You're abandoning your cover?"
"There's no need for it any longer. Now that he's appeared, there's no reason to continue as we were."
Kotomine Kirei moved quickly. His voice was calm — but beneath it ran a faint thread of something that might almost have been pleasure:
"Without him, none of the rest of it means anything."
In that single instant, he abandoned every objective he had previously set — and locked onto the one, singular target that remained.
Kiritsugu Emiya.
There were many questions. Why had the man chosen to reveal himself? Why was he here? Why was he even alive?
But in this moment, Kotomine Kirei had no interest in picking at any of those threads.
Kiritsugu Emiya would have his reasons. Kirei had no need to think them through in advance — he would face the man directly, and they would settle things then and there.
He had no reason whatsoever to wait any longer.
Even Shirou Emiya's existence had, in Kotomine Kirei's eyes, become entirely beside the point.
In his mind, there was only Kiritsugu Emiya. One person, and one person alone.
"And furthermore — there is reason."
Kotomine Kirei snapped the equipment case shut and spoke with deliberate gravity:
"If the opponent is Kiritsugu Emiya, then everything falls into place."
Why the Berserker team had been eliminated overnight. Why the situation had descended into such sudden, total chaos.
Because he is Kiritsugu Emiya — and that is the only explanation needed. For a man like him, the intensity of this Holy Grail War was probably no different from a child's game of pretend.
Having survived through four wars, Kotomine Kirei understood perfectly: the moment Kiritsugu Emiya appeared, the outcome of this Holy Grail War had already been decided.
Whatever his reasons for appearing — he had to be dealt with immediately.
And if he couldn't be dealt with — then all that remained was to wait, and watch the man claim the crown of the Holy Grail War.
There was no third option.
"A rare thing — to feel genuinely pleased."
Kotomine Kirei's expression didn't change, but his tone had risen with unmistakable inflection. Then he turned and walked out.
Gilgamesh crossed his arms, that characteristic expression settling over his face. A beat later — he followed Kotomine Kirei out the door.
Left behind in the room was only the familiar, tilting its head slightly to one side, making soundless movements in the silence.
And then — from behind the familiar — Anthony casually closed the live feed it had been transmitting and turned to look at Kiritsugu Emiya, who stood inside the manor.
"Caught all of that?"
Anthony raised an eyebrow slightly and addressed Kiritsugu Emiya in those words. Kiritsugu Emiya gave a faint nod.
But then, he couldn't help asking:
"Is this going to be a problem?"
"You mean leaking the intelligence? Don't worry about it — honestly, I was hoping they'd come."
Anthony said lightly, the corner of his mouth curling.
The familiar was, strictly speaking, something Anthony had seized and refined in an instant using his Forgemaster's abilities.
It bore Kotomine Kirei's name — but inside, it had long since been thoroughly repurposed by Anthony.
The purpose: to lure the snake out of its hole.
"Get ready."
Anthony rose to his feet, reached out, and clapped Kiritsugu Emiya on the shoulder. In a calm, unhurried voice, he said:
"The battle is about to begin."
And from that moment — he raised his hand.
The Forgemaster's bounded field sealed everything in the surrounding area as naturally as breathing. The might of the Forgemaster's Cage descended upon this place, and simultaneously, the phase-transfer engine began to activate.
Kiritsugu Emiya, without pausing for even a single instant, picked up the Gatling gun and began assembling the components — the crisp, mechanical sound of each piece locking into place was oddly satisfying.
Until the final component clicked home, the whole assembly seemed to let out one long, resonant sigh of completion.
And so the clash of steel rang out at that moment. Kiritsugu Emiya raised his head and gave Anthony a solemn nod.
Signaling: he was ready.
Anthony's eyelids, which had been half-lowered, finally lifted — only when Shirou Emiya came hurrying out of the side room, Avalon in hand, did he raise his gaze at last.
At that moment, within the perceptual range of his soul sense, two presences had drawn close to the vicinity.
"Map's been sent to you both."
Anthony said suddenly — a sentence that seemed to come out of nowhere:
"Prepare to engage."
The next instant — Anthony raised his hand.
With the activation of the phase-transfer engine, the battlefield was divided in what felt like the blink of an eye. Then a vivid blue luminescence lit up across everyone present.
Countless walls erupted from the ground, transforming the battlefield into an endless, labyrinthine maze.
It was as though some layer of bewildering illusion had been laid over reality itself.
The Forgemaster, by his own authority alone, had placed the battlefield in a space that transcended the physical world.
And within this Forgemaster's labyrinth, when Kiritsugu Emiya opened his eyes again, all that remained at his side was the Gatling gun — fully loaded with Origin Bullets.
Along with, in his mind, a complete map of the labyrinth — courtesy of Anthony's generous provision.
The place had changed. The ground-force had shifted.
That was the thought that rose clearly in Kotomine Kirei's mind the moment he stepped into the Emiya manor.
He lifted his gaze and looked around at the towering walls that rose so high their tops were lost from view. For a moment, his brow furrowed.
But he felt no particular surprise.
If all of this was Kiritsugu's doing — then it wasn't worth being startled about. Still within the range of expectation.
His brow smoothed almost immediately. He quickly ran through a warm-up sequence and began scanning the surrounding environment — and it was at that precise moment that he caught, just for an instant, the sound of… a gunshot?
"BOOM!"
The next moment, the color drained from Kotomine Kirei's face. He threw himself sideways with something close to his absolute maximum effort.
And then, with the motion of Kirei's dive, fire erupted. The wall behind him exploded outward with a thunderous crack, and countless bullets punched through the stone, scattering dust in every direction.
Kotomine Kirei watched this unfold, and was on his feet almost instantly.
Finally, through the dissipating dust, he saw the silhouette he had dreamed of for so long.
Though — when he actually laid eyes on Kiritsugu Emiya holding a Gatling gun, Kotomine Kirei couldn't help but feel a faint, jarring sense of dissonance with reality.
"Hm? You're still alive?"
It was Kiritsugu Emiya who reacted first — staring at Kotomine Kirei with mild surprise, raising an eyebrow, and then, in his heart, letting out a quiet note of genuine respect.
Tough to kill. He really is tough to kill.
And so, with perfect composure, he leveled the barrel of the machine gun — and pulled the trigger again.
"DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!"
Blue fire spat from the muzzle. Kotomine Kirei's pupils contracted sharply as he felt the terrifying kinetic force surging from that barrel, and in the act of instinctive evasion, witnessed a scene he would likely never forget for the rest of his life.
One of those bullets punched clean through the wall — and then detonated the entire wall on the other side.
In that instant, Kotomine Kirei's movements froze — and then he entered a state of something very close to blank stupefaction.
Could someone please explain to him just what in the world was going on here?
You're telling him that thing Kiritsugu Emiya was holding was a Gatling gun?
Like hell it was a Gatling gun.
Which Gatling gun had you ever seen that could vaporize an entire wall with a single bullet?! He'd tried the wall himself moments ago, and he wasn't even sure he could crack it!
And yet Kiritsugu Emiya continued to hold the Gatling with perfect nonchalance, trigger mashed all the way down, barrel spinning — an endless torrent of fire unleashed without pause or restraint. The barrel didn't even heat up.
As for the mystery of why this particular Gatling gun had such impossible properties…
Why not ask the one and only magnificent Forgemaster?!
Suddenly, the Gatling seemed to jam for just an instant — the belt had run dry. And right at the moment when Kotomine Kirei, ducking and weaving for his life, allowed himself the briefest internal sigh of relief — Kiritsugu Emiya remained utterly unruffled, reached into his pack, and produced a gleaming golden ammunition belt, brand new.
And on every single round of that belt was something Kotomine Kirei recognized immediately.
Origin Bullets.
"Ready for round two?"
And so, in a rare moment — a faint smile crept across Kiritsugu Emiya's face.
Finally, amid the endless, torrential barrage of ammunition, Kotomine Kirei's expression slowly twisted — and at last, was consumed by the unceasing fire, and vanished.
All that remained was the thin curl of smoke rising slowly from the muzzle of Kiritsugu's Gatling gun.
...
At the same time, on the other side of the battlefield, Gilgamesh stood with his brow creased, glaring at the labyrinth walls that kept shifting and changing around him.
"Hmph. You lowly mongrel — do you not even dare to show yourself before this king?!"
He let out an imperious, impatient shout — but received no response whatsoever. Only his own voice, echoing back to him again and again through the empty corridors.
For a moment, even Gilgamesh's expression seemed to darken. He swept his gaze across his surroundings, on the verge of speaking again — when he felt it. Something had changed.
The next moment, Gate of Babylon manifested, and Noble Phantasms emerged from the golden portals — but before a single one could be launched, a flickering sword-afterimage struck them all down.
In that instant, Gilgamesh's pupils contracted sharply.
But the labyrinth walls around him were already retreating at high speed.
What replaced them was an endless wasteland — and standing across from him within it, a single boy.
Reality Marble: Unlimited Blade Works — deployed.
Yet within this Reality Marble, only one lone boy stood there — and the sight of it, against all odds, sent a wave of genuine outrage crashing through the King of Heroes.
Not even a Heroic Spirit!
"What is this?! Am I to understand that only one worthless mongrel has come to challenge this king?!"
The red-haired high schooler looked at the figure who had suddenly erupted into golden radiance, scratched the back of his head, and glanced down at the Avalon in his hand.
He finally understood why Anthony had given him that strange look when he'd set out.
"This kind of opponent really does put a damper on your mood."
And so, Shirou Emiya let out a sigh, tilted his head back, and seemed to think for a moment.
After a full night of intensive training, he could now deploy both the Glass Window and Avalon with complete fluency.
It was precisely because of that — that he felt fully confident going into this fight.
And so — in that single moment, Gate of Babylon opened wide, and the bombardment began.
But Shirou Emiya lunged forward without hesitation, weaving through the barrage raining down around him, and in the span of a single breath — closed the gap and stood right in front of Gilgamesh.
"Mongrel! Who gave you permission to look upon this king with those eyes?!"
Gilgamesh roared, sweeping his hand wide as magical energy began to gather — but in that razor-thin instant, Shirou Emiya raised his head.
And at last — he revealed the power he had drawn from Avalon.
In a single moment, countless blades wheeled through the sky overhead, blazing with trails of light, and struck down every Noble Phantasm that Gate of Babylon had sent forth.
While Shirou Emiya himself raised the blade in his own hand, and held it up before the King of Heroes — the true author of all this chaos made manifest.
A single blade of elegant design, gleaming with an azure light.
And the next moment, before Gilgamesh could even react, he felt a sharp pain in his elbow. His pupils snapped shut.
The next instant — he felt flesh parting from flesh.
He turned to look — and could only see his own elbow lying on the ground, severed clean. A sound of absolute, livid fury tore from his throat.
But the blade swung again.
Even Avalon itself was beginning to glow.
And at last — the sword in Shirou Emiya's hand became complete.
——Its name: Caladbolg.
From that moment forward, from Caladbolg, infinite sword-light blazed into existence — and in a span that could barely be called an instant, swept toward Gilgamesh with devastating force.
Even though Shirou Emiya's projection magecraft had yet to reach full maturity — meaning that Caladbolg had lost a significant portion of its true power — in this moment, what remained was more than enough.
If anything, it was massively, extravagantly overkill.
So much so that Anthony, who had floated over to check on things from the air, was left momentarily dumbfounded.
Excuse me, I only looked away for two or three minutes — how did you manage to pull something like this out of nowhere?
The next moment, he even pulled up the System's recycle interface and did a quick scan — and was genuinely astonished to discover that this thing actually had a listed price.
[Projection: Incomplete Caladbolg]
[Recycle Value: 14,000 Points]
Wait — when Shirou was using the projection, he was borrowing magical energy from my reserves. Did that actually cost fourteen thousand points?
Feels like it was only two or three thousand at most.
For a moment, Anthony looked at Shirou Emiya — and felt his conviction solidify, deep and unshakeable.
Now this — this was Employee of the Year material.
Do you even understand what it means to make the electricity meter run backwards?
Sure, it wasn't like he could project Caladbolg every single time — but even if he projected something else and still reversed the meter, the profit margin was nothing to sneeze at!
Sigh. Shirou Emiya's current workload really was far too light.
Once this fight was over, it would be time to set up a proper work schedule for him and start accumulating some hands-on experience.
Floating silently overhead, watching the battle unfold, these were the thoughts drifting through Anthony's mind.
And the next moment, on the battlefield below, as Caladbolg's cascading sword-light blazed to its apex, Shirou Emiya cleanly and efficiently severed the other elbow of Gilgamesh.
No more elbows left to cut off.
And so, Shirou Emiya looked up — and set his sights on Gilgamesh's neck.
A chill ran down the spine.
Even consumed by absolute, seething contempt for the mongrel standing before him — even wanting nothing more than to berate him into the ground — Gilgamesh found he could not open his mouth to speak.
Because the moment he opened his mouth — even the mere instant of parting his lips — his throat might be severed by that nameless blade.
He watched Shirou Emiya with rigid wariness, forcing himself to endure the searing pain, and drove the Gate of Babylon to its limit — but at that moment, Shirou Emiya snapped back to attention, feeling Avalon begin to glow softly.
And Anthony, at that precise moment, picked up the Glass Window, directed its light toward Gilgamesh, and projected the possibility onto Avalon.
He had to say — he was doing this entirely out of personal curiosity.
Whether Gilgamesh would see it that way, of course, was none of Anthony's business.
And then — the moment Avalon lit up with its soft glow, Anthony's eyes lit up too.
Only Shirou Emiya fell into a brief moment of hesitation — before pressing his hand against Avalon.
An opening.
In that instant, Gilgamesh's battle instincts screamed at him. His eyes flared with sudden brilliance — and the next moment, he lunged directly forward.
But Shirou Emiya felt a vision blur across his sight.
The modified Avalon was speaking to him — of a different kind of possibility.
A middle-aged man with a tanned, swarthy complexion, scraggly facial hair, bare torso, holding a stout club, chasing the people of Uruk.
Then image after image flashed by — and Shirou Emiya even glimpsed that strange uncle holding a blade of grass, burying a friend.
At last, the projection of possibilities ended.
And finally — in that brief moment of hesitation — Shirou Emiya, following the call of that possibility, drew forth the presence that had been quietly brewing within Avalon.
Even its name surfaced in his mind.
"Enuma Elish!"
As the True Name was called aloud, Gilgamesh's advance lurched to a sudden halt — his pupils shook — and then his eyes fell on what Shirou Emiya had actually produced.
It was a wooden stick.
Gilgamesh was on the verge of laughing out of sheer rage.
"You mongrel — do you think you can counterfeit this king's Noble Phantasm with something like that?!"
He bellowed, and kept moving forward — but Shirou Emiya simply raised the wooden stick and gave it a gentle tap.
"Thunk."
A crisp sound rang out from the top of Gilgamesh's head. In an instant — clarity beyond clarity.
Because all that reached his ears was a muddle of noise. All that lay before his eyes was a field of perfect, blinding white.
Even his consciousness itself vanished in that single moment.
Not a shred of sensation remained.
Shirou Emiya stared at the club in his hand with a look of genuine wonder — then crouched down, and without a moment's hesitation, began knocking it against Gilgamesh repeatedly.
The rhythmic thumping sounds that came out were oddly reminiscent of someone pounding mochi.
This continued until Shirou Emiya noticed that the Gilgamesh before him appeared to have completely lost consciousness.
He raised his hand, still a little reluctant to stop — but the next moment, the surroundings seemed to flash, and Anthony materialized with a weary expression, and with one flat-palmed strike sent Gilgamesh skidding away.
Then, after kicking Gilgamesh squarely into the Origin Furnace, Anthony finally looked toward Shirou Emiya, and let out a sigh:
"That's enough — you weren't actually making mochi, you know."
"We've won. That's what matters. It's not like we're unreasonable people."
"Oh — right, right, right!"
Shirou Emiya started slightly, then hurried to reply. He glanced to the side and saw Kiritsugu Emiya walking out from around the corner, the Gatling gun already disassembled and stowed.
"Let's go. Cu Chulainn — I never bothered with him, dropped him outside the Forgemaster's Cage right from the start."
Anthony yawned and said in an unhurried tone:
"There's not much left that needs handling now."
"Anyone who might have gotten in our way just met an untimely end. As for the rest — they shouldn't be able to make a move in time."
Anthony paused for a beat, then immediately reached his decision:
"So — why wait for a better day when today will do? While the Forgemaster's Cage is still active, what do you say we summon the Greater Grail right now?"
Kiritsugu Emiya and Shirou Emiya exchanged a glance.
"Avoid leaving loose ends."
Anthony added, after a pause.
"You're right, Mr. Anthony."
Kiritsugu Emiya sighed and said: "But Illya…"
"Hm? That's already been resolved."
Anthony turned back, his expression one of genuine puzzlement.
Kiritsugu Emiya blinked, thrown completely off-balance.
Wait — resolved? When? How? How come I didn't know about this? What did you two do behind my back?
Does that mean it's already done? But how — don't tell me Shirou and Illya went and…
Watching Kiritsugu Emiya's expression cycle through increasingly elaborate stages of agitation, Anthony coughed twice, and elected to put a stop to this man's runaway imagination before it went any further.
"Simply put — I replicated the function of the Lesser Grail."
Anthony explained quickly.
While the two of them had each been fighting their respective battles, Anthony had, naturally, not spent the entire time watching from the sidelines doing nothing. During that interval, he had been at Illya's side.
Using the powerful analytical sight of a third-tier Forgemaster, he had dissected the fundamental nature of Illya's existence as the Lesser Grail.
And so — with two hands, a bit of thought, a bit of tinkering — he had knocked together a budget knockoff version.
As for whether the knockoff would work — don't ask. He had stripped the Lesser Grail structure right off Illya herself. Who decided what was the knockoff and what wasn't — wasn't that entirely up to him?
And so that was exactly what Anthony had done.
The entire process was carried out without the slightest trace of hesitation, the full might of the Forgemaster on plain display.
"So, strictly speaking, Illya no longer qualifies as the Lesser Grail. I've temporarily fitted her with a couple of Forgemaster-made prosthetic frameworks for now — stabilizing her soul and life force should just about do it."
Anthony said this in a completely offhand tone, all while turning a small, sapphire-blue cube over idly in his fingers — inside which sat the knockoff Lesser Grail structure:
"After this, she shouldn't need to worry about any of that anymore."
Beside him, Kiritsugu Emiya listened — and felt a tangle of complicated emotions he couldn't begin to sort through.
"It's finally resolved."
In the end, those were the quiet words he murmured.
But as he turned and caught the same expression of undisguised relief on Shirou Emiya's face — a fresh headache began to build.
He was perfectly aware that Shirou didn't have those kinds of feelings — but that didn't mean he had any say over what Shirou did or didn't do.
And so, the bittersweet tangle that had been written across his face moments before gradually transformed into something far more like a man who'd just bitten into an extremely sour plum.
Meanwhile, Anthony had no attention to spare for the subtle shifts in Kiritsugu's expression.
He waved his hand, dissolved the endless labyrinth, and reappeared within the Emiya manor — now blanketed entirely under the Forgemaster's Cage.
Then he raised the Lesser Grail in his hands and fixed his gaze upon it.
From the very beginning, he had actually had this idea.
As everyone knows, the Lesser Grail summons the Greater Grail by means of Servant souls.
The souls of Servants who die in the Holy Grail War flow into the Lesser Grail; once the weight of those souls reaches a sufficient threshold, the Greater Grail is called forth.
As a general rule, the required number is seven Servants.
But Anthony had clearly no intention of slowly filling it up with seven Servants one by one — that would be far too tedious for words.
So he had come up with a bold idea.
What if he simply poured souls directly into it himself?
Gazing curiously at the Lesser Grail in his hands, a smile — that familiar, characteristic smile — began to spread across Anthony's face.
He simply couldn't see the logic in it.
How could the souls that the Servants of this Holy Grail War had forged through years upon years of cultivation ever compare in purity to the souls he could convert directly through the chat group?!
Please. These were souls refined directly by his golden finger.
What ordinary soul could hold a candle to that?
And so — in a single instant, from the tips of Anthony's fingers, a tide of soul energy surged outward like the ocean in flood.
Then — it poured directly into the Lesser Grail before him.
In that moment, the cresting wave of soul-force flooded the entire Forgemaster's Cage — so abundant, so overwhelming, that even Kiritsugu Emiya and Shirou Emiya felt it physically.
Even Anthony himself had no idea precisely how much soul energy he had poured in during that single instant.
In truth, ever since his Soul Strength had reached twenty-five — further bolstered by the blessings of the King of the Underworld — Anthony had long since stopped bothering to calculate the exact resilience of his own soul.
The one thing he knew for certain: purely in terms of quality and quantity of soul, even the most exalted existences in the chat group — those Nian-family figures with the highest positions — fell far, far short of him.
And so, from that moment on, the tide of innumerable souls surged forward — and the Origin Furnace opened of its own accord with a resonant roar.
And within the Lesser Grail — suddenly — a trickle of black mud seeped out.
Anthony's brow furrowed. Then, without the slightest concern, he wiped the black mud away and continued pouring soul energy in.
Until the weight of the soul energy seemed to tip the scales past some invisible threshold.
Then the soul, heavy as a falling mountain, began its descent.
Torrents of black mud erupted from the Lesser Grail, sweeping Anthony's soul up within them.
Anthony looked at the black mud surrounding him with an expressionless face. Not a single movement. Only wrapping all the mud around himself, keeping it from touching anyone else.
"Mr. Prometheus!"
Shirou Emiya's pupils contracted. He cried out in alarm — and Anthony, cooperatively, poked his head out of the black mud and gave Shirou a gesture.
Indicating: everything is under control.
Then he sank back down into the black mud.
Which nearly left Shirou Emiya staring in complete bewilderment.
His instincts told him that the black mud was nothing good.
But it was plain for the naked eye to see — Anthony was clearly something significantly worse than the black mud.
And so, within the black mud — the Greater Grail, or rather — All the World's Evil, descended.
"What wish dost thou desire to make?"
Accompanied by the question from All the World's Evil, Anthony's soul seemed to sense something — a ravenous beast, which chose its prey with terrible discrimination, was grinning at him with bared fangs.
But Anthony didn't so much as lift an eyelid. He asked, in the most offhand tone imaginable:
"I'm afraid you won't be able to grant it."
"Whatever wish is spoken, it shall be fulfilled, without exception."
"Is that so?"
In that instant, something that looked very much like delighted surprise appeared on Anthony's face — and the beast's grin grew wider and wider.
Come now. Make your wish. Say your wish aloud. Let your wish be granted!
And so, in the midst of the beast's eager anticipation, it heard the wish Anthony had spoken:
"Then — I would like to be resurrected. Can you do that for me?"
"Resurrection is merely a matter of taking on flesh, a trivial——"
All the World's Evil answered with reflexive contempt, and in the same moment attempted to fulfil the wish — but the next instant, its voice cut off abruptly, as it registered something deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Wrong — why can't it be fulfilled?
Even a twisted, distorted fulfillment had been completely and utterly blocked.
And then — it heard the sound of tides.
And so, All the World's Evil finally saw — behind Anthony — those infinite, resplendent colors.
At this moment, those colors — flowing like a river in flood — were roaring, raging, howling as they descended in punishment upon the existence that had dared to offend their dignity.
And it also saw — the mockery written across Anthony's face:
"Granting wishes, you said."
"And why aren't you granting my wish?"
Amid the roar of the Primordial River behind him, Anthony's expression turned to one of sincere, earnest inquiry:
"Could it be — that you simply don't want to?
____
👻🔥+40 ch: Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Homelander: Founding the Hero Association
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