Ruler drew her sword.
The silver blade bestowed by the Church of Saint Catherine was indeed an excellent weapon. However, with this level of mystery alone, victory was impossible—at least that’s what Mordred and the Empress believed.
Yet to everyone’s astonishnt, Jeanne d’Arc used that very sword to cut her own palm. Paying no heed to the welling blood, she knelt down, clasping her hands together in a posture so graceful it resembled a sacred ritual of devotion.
"You’ve been avoiding all this ti, haven’t you, Sakatsuki?"
As she spoke, her lavender robes dissipated, replaced by resplendent silver armor. Jeanne raised her gaze to et the restrained young man’s eyes—and this ti, Sakatsuki didn’t look away, silently allowing her to continue.
"From the beginning of this decisive battle... no, I should say from the start of this Holy Grail War, you’ve been manipulating us Servants like pieces on a chessboard."
This was an indisputable truth. In this Holy Grail War, Sakatsuki was no longer the weakling from the Fourth War. He was strong—powerful enough to rank among the elite even with his magical energy suppressed.
More terrifying still was his strategic mind that matched his combat prowess, coupled with the greatest advantage of a dinsion traveler: foreknowledge.
Playing both the Black and Red factions against each other, gathering Servants under his wing, eliminating threats, dismantling alliances, weakening top-tier Servants... Everything progressed exactly as he’d planned. In terms of rationality and calculation, Sakatsuki had undoubtedly achieved perfection. Even when he finally revealed his wish and turned every remaining Servant against him, he remained composed, exorcising his enemies one after another.
Of the original fourteen Servants, only the Empress, Mordred, and the severely wounded Astolfo (who had withdrawn from battle) remained. anwhile, Sakatsuki and his Servant Artoria stood completely unhard—no, stronger than ever.
When one truly considered it, what an utterly terrifying achievent this was.
"Then why, after calculating everything, do you still refuse to look in the eye?" Perhaps the arrival of this final mont had made Jeanne bolder. "Even Atalanta, who loves you, chose to stand against you—and you showed no resistance to that. So what about ? What is it about that’s so special it makes you avoid at all costs?"
Atalanta—that famous huntress of Greek legend—loved Sakatsuki?
As the others reeled from this revelation, Sakatsuki sighed, knowing he could no longer evade this question.
"You understand my goal. No matter what, the Greater Grail will be mine."
"Impossible!" Semiramis and Mordred shouted simultaneously. Sakatsuki nodded calmly. "You see? This is exactly why. Moreover, you already know what I intend to do with the Greater Grail."
"That isn’t salvation for humanity. I believe mankind’s path doesn’t require individuals to save it—I choose to believe in the future built by generation after generation."
"But in another world, human civilization has reached stagnation, and stagnation brings decay," Sakatsuki sighed. "Atalanta is different from you—she sought revenge for her Master’s death. But you, Jeanne d’Arc, fight for sothing far more noble."
"Would you abandon your duty to stop just because of our feelings?"
"Of course not!"
"...That was instant."
"Indeed, instant."
The saintly maiden’s imdiate answer drew dry remarks from the Empress and Mordred, while Sakatsuki could only chuckle wryly, unsurprised.
This was the girl he loved—simple, gentle, sotis even foolishly earnest like a loyal hound, yet unwavering when it ca to principles. She would raise her sword to protect goodness and order, even against a beloved partner.
This was why the Holy Grail chose her as Ruler. And this was why Sakatsuki kept his distance—to spare her anguish when the ti ca for harsh decisions.
"You see? Our conflict is irreconcilable. Better to part than to et. Though I’d love to see your troubled expression, I won’t make this harder for you."
"Ugh... what a cruel thing to say." Jeanne’s cheeks flushed pink, her sweet smile irrepressible. "Still, while I’m touched, this sort of self-sacrificing protectiveness might beco a burden soday."
"Oh? What a sha." Sakatsuki shrugged. "I thought you’d praise for being ’yasashii’ (kind)."
"Hey, you two! Cut the flirting!" Mordred yelled, barely dodging attacks from Artoria Alter and several remaining Shadow Servants. The strikes from her "father’s" spear grew heavier—was she being used as a punching bag? "I’m dying here! Literally dying!"
Mordred’s shrieks finally snapped them back to reality. Sakatsuki and Jeanne averted their eyes, pretending nothing had happened. Then Jeanne took a deep breath.
"I know, Sakatsuki. You must have long been aware of my second Noble Phantasm. That’s why... you held back that ti."
"Knowing about it ans I’d prepare counterasures. But regardless, I’ll wield this power."
"Try to stop —if you can."
Jeanne referred to the incident when she’d collapsed while searching for Sakatsuki and Sieg, only to be... "taken to a secluded place" by Sakatsuki (details omitted).
Had he not feared her Noble Phantasm, Sakatsuki might not have let his opponent off so easily.
"Nah, I just didn’t want a five-star bounty from the Holy Grail," Sakatsuki muttered under his breath. "You were tied up back then—completely defenseless..."
But setting aside such considerations, Sakatsuki truly dreaded Jeanne’s second Noble Phantasm. If Karna discarded his golden armor to forge a god-slaying spear, then what Jeanne obtained by forsaking her saintly virtues was an EX-ranked anti-evil Noble Phantasm—La Pucelle.
And now, Jeanne began her chant.
"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands."
"Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge."
"My end is here, my fate is here, my life is here."
The blade cut through the holy maiden’s palm, her blood spilling onto the silver sword, and thus the Lord bestowed golden radiance.
"My existence equals nothingness, wandering like a shadow."
"My bow cannot be relied upon, nor can my sword save ."
"Ugh!" The Empress gritted her teeth as the anti-magic chains strained like they were trying to subdue an unruly dragon. The young man rely flexed his arms, and the sound of creaking tal echoed through countless links. "His strength parater is only Rank D... Could it be dragon blood modification?"
"Damn it!" Mordred was caught off guard and sent flying by the holy spear. As she struggled to rise, shadow Servants sward around her, while the blackened King of Knights on Llamrei charged toward her Master without looking back.
Sacred crimson flas erging from the void hindered the skeletal steed’s advance. Artoria Alter halted, her holy spear gathering the storm of the world’s end:
"Thrust, Thirteen Fangs—Rhongomyniad!!"
"Not good!" Mordred and the Empress paled. One was pinned down by shadow Servants, the other struggling to restrain Sakatsuki—no one could stop Artoria’s Noble Phantasm bombardnt, while Jeanne still needed ti to complete her chant!
The destruction of the end poured forth. Jeanne frowned—the holy flas answering her prayer wavered under the relentless assault, even showing signs of extinguishing. If this continued, her Noble Phantasm would be forcibly interrupted, and once Sakatsuki broke free, their defeat would be undeniable.
Sakatsuki’s strategy of whittling down their numbers proved crucial. At this stage, everyone was stretched thin, and the inverted Artoria clearly wouldn’t show Jeanne any rcy. There were no more options left—no miracles, no coincidences, no deus ex machina would co to their aid.
—Unless salvation still existed between the Black and Red factions.
Then all hope rested on that sweat-drenched figure running desperately, locating them through the magical surge and shouts, arriving at breakneck speed. Yet even so, had Jeanne and Sakatsuki’s exchange delayed things by re seconds, tily intervention might have been impossible.
Thus, this was neither miracle nor coincidence, but inevitability. The world still held power and will—to save the saint, or perhaps to save themselves.
In the Great Holy Grail War, in the Holy Grail War, they were known as such.
That is—Servants.
"Raaaaaah!!"
Everyone present froze in shock. Into this world brimming with calamity and storm charged another soul. Though his pink ponytail whipped wildly in the gale, his face streaked with countless cuts, he steadfastly crossed the perilous path to stand before the chanting saint, raising that shield.
It didn’t belong to the Paladin Astolfo—this was the final legacy of that shooting-star warrior, a card Sakatsuki had never anticipated, hidden among his enemies.
"Achilles Cosmos!!"
The refreshing erald green instantly blocked out the pitch-black calamity. This was a Noble Phantasm powerful enough to rival "Rho Aias" - a shield forged by the smith god Hephaestus, projecting the world as seen by Achilles upon its surface, with ocean currents swirling around its edges from the sea god’s influence.
Its origin ca from the eighteenth song of the Iliad, where hundreds of lines were devoted to describing this shield. The divine craftsmanship allowed this small shield to recreate the entire world Achilles had lived in. As a divine construct, whether facing anti-unit, anti-army, or even anti-fortress and anti-country Noble Phantasms, this shield could completely defend against them all.
Just like how the Reality Marble "Unlimited Blade Works" faced "O Sun, Abide to Death," Artoria Alter’s attack was rely anti-fortress level, and the divine construct was far sturdier than the bounded field Sakatsuki had deployed - even the roles of spear and shield had been reversed this ti.
This ti, it was the Black faction’s Rider Astolfo who blocked the Blue faction’s final counterattack. Seizing this opportunity, Jeanne d’Arc’s chant neared its conclusion:
"With the last remaining thing, protect his (humanity’s) footsteps."
"Lord, I entrust this body to you."
The devoutly chanting maiden opened her eyes, her athyst pupils shining brilliantly. In the next mont, holy flas erupted skyward. Everyone present felt the miracle - this was the ultimate magecraft equivalent to True Magic, a conceptual crystallization armant interpreting Jeanne’s burning at the stake as an attack, a subspecies of Reality Marble.
From the "hilt" of the drawn sword, flowers of fla manifested.
These flas were the very inferno that had consud Jeanne d’Arc’s life. The inquisitors believed them to be punishnt for a witch, while Jeanne herself had faith they were the flas of ultimate salvation.
Its na was "La Pucelle" - a special anti-unit Noble Phantasm crystallizing the scene that would bring tears to anyone rembering the saint. Amidst the flas, the saint rose, not gripping the hilt but clutching the blade itself, pointing the hilt toward Sakatsuki in a direct stance.
Hidden by the burning flas, no one saw how deeply Jeanne was gazing at Sakatsuki’s face. Only in this mont did she cast aside her role as Ruler, letting her suppressed emotions flow freely as tears down her cheeks:
"But... if we could et again... I truly wish... my love could find its destination."
Facing the holy flas, Sakatsuki’s pupils contracted sharply, but before he could speak, Jeanne uttered her final words:
"Hope cos after despair (L’espoir vient apres de desespoir)."
The radiant floral flas instantly transford into explosive blades. This was a Noble Phantasm activated by pouring one’s life into it - no hero could escape instant annihilation before its might. For the flas into which the saint poured her very being would reduce all holy, all demonic, all human adversaries to ashes.
The dazzling flas were breathtakingly beautiful. Anyone could see the saint’s radiance within them - this was the very symbol of her life.
A direct hit would an instant annihilation—utterly no room for resistance. It wasn’t a lack of rcy, but precisely because of rcy that the target would be obliterated in an instant.
Sakatsuki took a deep breath. He didn’t flee. Just as Jeanne d’Arc had said, he had long been prepared. Yet now, he realized he wasn’t as strong as he’d imagined.
He had already abandoned two people who deeply loved him, but it seed he wasn’t prepared to cast aside a third as well—
Should he simply embrace annihilation now, skipping the third stage and proceeding straight to the fourth?
As Sakatsuki pondered this, he heard Mordred’s frantic shout:
"Don’t go, Father—!"
Only then did Sakatsuki notice—amid the overwhelming purifying flas, a dark storm surged forward. Though insignificant against the sea of crimson, it stubbornly blazed like a black star, descending beside him.
It was the Servant he had summoned in this Holy Grail War—his king, his knight, the companion who had accompanied him through every journey—Artoria.
"What are you doing, my Master? Has the death of the holy maiden Jeanne made your heart grow weak as well?"
The young man heard the accusation. He looked at his Servant. Though her beloved steed had been annihilated and her heavy armor was shattered, Artoria Alter’s expression showed no hesitation. She even maintained her magical energy output, desperately holding back the advance of La Pucelle.
"Proceed as we planned. This was what we agreed upon."
"..."
Faced with Sakatsuki’s silence, the blackened King of Knights instantly understood his thoughts and decision. "I see. You intend to abandon the plan and sacrifice yourself, do you—you fool—"
Sakatsuki looked up in shock as his collar was seized. The next mont, he was pulled into Artoria’s deep kiss. His eyes widened, but he soon abandoned resistance, surrendering to the sweetness.
Enveloped in the deadly holy flas, the two figures lost themselves in the kiss, savoring the wondrous resonance between their souls.
La Pucelle: ...
Are you two seriously ignoring like I don’t exist?! Damn you!!
After a mont, their lips parted. The ahoge moved with its usual decisiveness. "A seal like this is far more reassuring than pointless hesitation. And—"
The golden-haired, golden-eyed King of Knights poked Sakatsuki’s shoulder, her tone softening unusually. "You must bring victory, my Master."
Sakatsuki studied Artoria Alter’s faintly smiling face as if engraving it into his heart. With a firm nod, he cast aside all hesitation and placed a hand over his chest.
"By my Command Spell—"
The world roared. The atmosphere scread as it churned violently, as though the very space itself was on the verge of collapse. The Empress squinted against the gale—this was neither hell nor heaven. It was as if the mont a Creator had declared, "Let there be light."
For once, Empress Semiramis wished for destruction on the grandest scale possible.
Because only then would there be a chance to annihilate Sakatsuki!
Light, flas, and darkness danced wildly—the flas devoured the light, while the black calamity resisted the fire. But soon, the radiance released by the holy spear vanished, and the all-consuming flas swelled, distorting the light until even the last vestige of purity was swallowed whole.
"Good!" Astolfo and Semiramis exclaid with delight. Only Mordred, after cutting down the last shadow servant, readied herself for battle once more, standing firm.
Amidst an inexplicable burst of light, the crimson flas seed to carry away a certain figure before dissipating like mist. Yet when their vision cleared, the sight that greeted them plunged them into even deeper despair.
"Why... is this happening!"
Under the stunned gazes of the group, a bare-chested young man slowly raised his eyes, his iridescent blue pupils gleaming with a lifeless hue. On his chest, the wings of a fallen angel spread wide, three feathers gradually fading away. And in his hand, he tightly clutched a piece of fur.
It was pitch-black, engraved with demonic runes—an on of calamity.
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