The surrounding trees began to wither, and the ground was no longer a paradise. Even the supposedly immortal "Primordial Humans" had turned into lifeless corpses.
"We did it..." Achilles exhaled in relief. Coincidentally, the mist also dissipated at that very mont. A small, shadowy figure glanced at soone in the distance, hesitated briefly, then swiftly vanished into the fading fog.
"That damn bastard, she got away!"
The only one who voiced her thoughts so bluntly was the red Saber, Mordred. She rested her sword on her shoulder, scanning the area with clear dissatisfaction as she searched for the figure that had been ambushing them repeatedly within the mist. Behind her, Kairi, Fiore, Caules, and Gordes lay sprawled on the ground, their faces filled with the relief of having narrowly escaped death.
Especially the large, rotund Gordes, who looked on the verge of bursting into tears.
"W-we’re finally saved!"
The mont they were swallowed by the mist, the Masters had been attacked by a mysterious Servant. For so unknown reason, Gordes had been targeted far more frequently than the others!
"Ara~ I may not like you, but you really had it rough, huh?" Astolfo, supporting Sieg, sympathetically patted Gordes’ shoulder.
Chiron, Fiore, and Caules, anwhile, looked up at the falling debris—clumps of earth and stone that had once ford the giant Adam. "Seems like they completed their mission too."
As for whether they were as unscathed as this group...
"Sakatsuki, are you alright? Do you need healing? Does your Master still have Command Spells?"
Jeanne d’Arc, her eyes brimming with tears, clung to Sakatsuki, frantically checking his body for injuries. To prove he was fine, the young man weakly raised his left hand. However, the feeble motion only seed to heighten Jeanne’s anxiety.
"See, I knew it! It’s all my fault! Let take care of you, QAQ!"
"Though there’s still a dull ache, it’s nothing serious... I’m fine."
"But when boys say ’I’m fine,’ it’s hardly ever trustworthy."
This foolish saint... Sakatsuki was at a loss for words. The reason he pretended to be unhard was twofold: first, thanks to the Third Magic, he could convert NP into HP at any ti, and second—perhaps because Jeanne’s excessive concern made him sowhat uncomfortable.
After all, he was a cold, emotionless assassin at heart.
Only when Sakatsuki stood up and flexed his fully restored arms did Jeanne finally accept that he was truly unhard. She then walked over to where Adam had vanished, knelt down, and clasped her hands in prayer for the fading giant.
Whether it was a requiem for the magi who had beco the "core" or for the golem—a child denied aning even after its birth—Sakatsuki couldn’t say.
He simply stared, lost in thought, at the saint as she prayed solemnly.
The hidden command embedded within Adam had been Sakatsuki’s own doing—a test he had ordered Avicebron to include. In other words, this had been Sakatsuki’s trial for himself.
At the sa ti, he had deliberately made himself forget about it. So, until his instincts kicked in, Sakatsuki hadn’t anticipated that Jeanne would co under attack.
All his actions stemd from his own heart.
Upon realizing this, the existence of ’Saint Jeanne d’Arc’ beca like an uncontrollable variable, introducing chaos into Sakatsuki’s ticulously constructed system.
And just how much impact this chaos would have on the Assassin’s current Holy Grail War—
Sakatsuki refused to contemplate it.
Because Jeanne in prayer was truly beautiful, the young man thought.
Alongside this beauty ca a pang of sorrow. The Assassin knew well that prayers wouldn’t reach anywhere, that divine intervention wouldn’t bring about any real effect.
This was sothing she herself should understand better than anyone—that prayers couldn’t save everything, just as even soone as devout as her had been burned at the stake due to betrayal and compromise.
Yet despite this, she continued to pray. Offering up prayers in the na of Saint Jeanne d’Arc.
Where did the maiden’s prayers ultimately lead?
Sakatsuki lowered his gaze. At his feet, a glowing clump of earth persistently tapped against his calf, as if reminding or perhaps complaining.
The faint glow of transmutation magic enveloped the core of the giant Adam before it vanished without a trace.
Turning around, his black robes fluttering, the Assassin strode toward the Fortress of Millennia without looking back.
"I believe now isn’t the ti to relax—gather, everyone. Regarding the Greater Grail, we must establish a unified approach."
The night had passed, and the light of dawn fell upon the faces of every hero, every Master. After a night of strife, betrayal, cooperation, and battle, the morning sun painted the sky in bold, vibrant hues.
What a magnificent sight it was.
Yet everyone knew that night would inevitably return. To avoid being swallowed by endless darkness, they had to light the torch of hope.
Bathed in the brilliant morning light, Chiron and Achilles exchanged a smile and stepped forward together; Jeanne rose from prayer, gripping her holy banner with unwavering resolve, while Karna walked forward in silence; Mordred and Kairi joked and conversed with easy camaraderie; nearby, Gordes turned his gaze away, opening his mouth to speak, only to see Siegfried’s steadfast back as always.
Fiora led Caules, while Atalanta leaped down from the treetops, her long hair swaying. Her erald eyes reflected the sight of Sakatsuki and Jeanne walking side by side.
At the forefront of this heroic tableau, the battered Fortress of Millennia, having endured the flas of war, still stood defiantly atop the hill.
————
The Black Faction’s eting began.
And then—as expected—sothing went wrong.
"Hah? You’re saying you refuse to assist us?!"
With a bang, Gordes slamd his hands on the table and sprang to his feet. Whether it was bravery or sheer stupidity, he glared accusingly at Achilles, Karna, and Atalanta in turn.
Perhaps even they felt sowhat guilty, as even the most hot-tempered Achilles remained calm, rely stating:
"Our teacher has already explained to you—we left the Red Faction due to our Masters’ deaths. But the true culprit behind their deaths remains unknown."
"Wasn’t it that priest who called himself Amakusa?"
"My ability tells he’s not lying. Subjectively, Father Shirou had no involvent in this matter," Karna, possessor of ’Discernnt of the Poor,’ stated.
"Then it must be Red Assassin, Semiramis?"
"Highly likely. Both Big Sis and I detest that venomous black widow," Achilles said with a sneer. "But until we find concrete evidence, we can’t act on assumptions, nor will we help you take down that priest. So, sorry about that."
Earlier, their Master’s death had clouded their judgnt. But now, with cooler heads, Heel, Little Sun, and Cat had belatedly realized the oddities in the situation.
Killing their own Master at such a critical juncture, weakening their own forces—was that really the kind of foolish move Amakusa and the Empress would make?
Even if it was for the Command Spells, in the end, Amakusa—as a Master—gained nothing, did he?
Or did the Empress go too far and accidentally kill the Master?
What a joke. This was the Hanging Gardens, and Semiramis was no delicate queen.
After discussing it, Achilles and the others ultimately decided to hold their ground. Until the truth was uncovered, they wouldn’t recklessly strike against the Red Faction.
"Of course, we’re happy to help with other matters—patrols, lookout duty, things like that."
"But we’ve handed over Romania’s leyline to you, haven’t we?" Fiore argued, trying to secure their aid.
"Right, which is why we helped you take down the Giant Adam. After all, in that crisis, you all called your own Servants away."
"Ugh..." Fiore fell silent in sha. Even Mordred, standing nearby, whistled and pretended to look away innocently.
Both sword-wielding heroes, capable of unleashing devastating beams, had chosen their Masters over slaying the giant. Though Jeanne d’Arc hadn’t said much afterward, their heroic pride (having been bolstered by Command Spells yet failing to act) left them sowhat embarrassed.
To avoid further suspicion, the three Red Faction Servants promptly stood and left the eting room. After composing herself, Fiore—now temporarily acting as head of the Yggdmillennia and leader of the Black Faction—turned her gaze to the robed young man who had remained silent.
"And what about you, Sakatsuki-san, representing the Clock Tower? Will you assist us?"
At Fiore’s words, the others couldn’t help but glance toward Sakatsuki, who leaned against the doorway. By now, no one underestimated this Assassin.
Golden electric beads swayed as Sakatsuki lifted his eyes, offering a faint, enigmatic smile in response.
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