Inside the floating fortress, Semiramis watched everything unfold with a satisfaction that bordered on cruelty.
"Everything is proceeding exactly as planned," she declared, her voice laden with authority. "You have all worked hard. But do not lower your guard. The battle will resu soon enough."
Atalanta raised an eyebrow.
"I don’t mind fighting... but what the hell are we doing up here in this castle? Are you planning to kill every last Master of the Black Faction?"
Semiramis chuckled softly, as though she had just heard a child’s joke.
"Kill them? What nonsense. We are rely reclaiming what is rightfully ours."
For a mont, silence fell over the room. Even Karna glanced at her, intrigued.
"Reclaim...? And how do you intend to accomplish that?" Atalanta pressed.
Semiramis’s smile widened. She lifted her arm and pointed downward.
"This garden floats because of a single principle: reversal."
At that very mont, the Hanging Gardens halted directly above Millennia Fortress.
"Behold, you fools. This is the true face of magic!"
Her words echoed throughout the chamber. She spread her arms wide and unleashed her spell.
A thunderous roar shook the heavens. The air twisted, forming a powerful vortex that descended from the garden’s depths like an inverted tornado. Winds tore away stone, trees, and earth, binding the fortress below to the palace above like a devouring funnel.
"Hey! You’re really going to take the entire castle!?" Achilles exclaid, incredulous.
Semiramis rely nodded, her calm almost insolent.
"Of course. This garden was built for precisely that purpose. Now... reveal yourself, Great Grail!"
The earth trembled. The castle groaned as though it would collapse at any mont. Two-thirds of its structure crumbled, sucked skyward. The ground split into countless fragnts, finally unveiling the hidden form of the Greater Grail.
A massive, pallid glow erged from the abyss, radiating a suffocating, almost divine aura.
"So... this is the Great Grail..." Atalanta murmured, her wide eyes reflecting the pale light of the colossal structure. For the first ti in many years, the huntress felt her words were far too small to describe what she beheld.
And not only she. Karna kept his silence, but even his normally impassive eyes glead for an instant. Achilles, who usually treated battlefields with arrogance and jest, pressed his lips together in involuntary respect. Even Shakespeare—who saw everything as re spectacle—was struck silent before bursting into ecstasy.
Before them, an endless mass of magical energy—pure, colorless, translucent—spiraled like an eternal maelstrom. Sixty years of ceaseless accumulation, sixty years of draining the ley lines of the land, all converging on a single point.
"Magnificent! Wonderful!" Shakespeare leapt to his feet, clutching his chest as though he might weep. "Ah, behold, the final stage rises before us! The heart of the world, the chalice overflowing with dreams and despair!"
Semiramis’s brow furrowed.
"Hmph... It is completely fused with the ley lines. Separating it will take ti."
And as though to confirm her words, a deep vibration shook the earth, followed by the thunderous sound of splitting rock.
Outside, the Black Faction’s Servants were already on the move, rushing toward the fortress that was now being dragged upward by the Hanging Gardens. The sight was absurd: the citadel once deed impregnable was being devoured by the invisible roots of Semiramis’s sorcery.
The Empress, standing upon the highest balcony, lifted her chin calmly.
"I must focus my energies on the Greater Grail. The rest... I leave to you. Proceed with caution."
"Well, well, well!" Shakespeare clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with sudden inspiration. "The vision of this miracle has struck like a thunderbolt of genius! I must record it at once!"
And without waiting for a reply, Shakespeare dashed off toward the workshop built for him within the garden.
"At the very least, you could lend a hand, insolent buffoon..." Semiramis muttered, already irritated.
Ignoring the weary or annoyed stares, Shakespeare simply vanished, laughing as he went.
Semiramis, however, turned back to the others.
"Ah, I nearly forgot to ntion. This garden no longer rests upon Romanian soil. Keep that in mind well. For all intents and purposes... you are fighting within my domain now."
Her words rang out like a sentence. Then her form dissolved into the perfud shadows of the suspended palace.
---
The Greater Grail, though slowly, was being wrenched free of Yggdmillennia. The invisible chains binding it to the earth yielded little by little to Semiramis’s spell. It was not yet fully severed, but only ti stood in the way.
The battlefield had changed. What had once been a siege was now a defense. For the Black Faction, the duty was clear: reclaim the Grail before it was swallowed entirely by the floating fortress. For the Red Faction, only one mission remained: protect the Grail until it was secured within the Hanging Gardens.
A cycle of attack and defense had begun.
For the first ti, the Black Fortress seed vulnerable. Its walls, which had endured centuries, now lay in ruins. Above, the Red Faction held an overwhelming advantage.
Yet two threats lood on the horizon.
First: the disparity in numbers. The Black Faction still fielded more Servants.
Second: the presence of the Ruler.
Jeanne d’Arc was already on her way to the fortress.
Few knew this—only Semiramis, Shakespeare, and Shirou Kotomine. Yet all could sense instinctively that ti was slipping away like sand through their fingers.
It was a race against the clock. The minutes before the Grail’s complete separation would decide everything.
---
Amid the devastated field, Jeanne let out a sigh of relief, brushing dust from her armor.
"Ahh... fortunately, I managed to block it."
"Don’t you think you’re being far too modest, Jeanne?"
The voice, carrying calm irony, echoed from behind her. Jeanne spun around at once. Her heart recognized him even before her mind could.
"...Gil?"
"Yes."
Arthur erged from the trees. He was unmistakable. He walked as though nothing around him mattered, stepping over stones and roots without even looking down.
"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.
"Why? Am I not allowed here?" Jeanne arched an eyebrow, returning the provocation.
"You know that’s not what I’m asking." Arthur chuckled in reply.
Jeanne laughed softly and lifted her gaze to the sky. The Hanging Gardens blotted out even the moon, a sight both majestic and nacing.
"Shouldn’t you be up there? Stopping the Red Faction? Or... perhaps you have no desire to stop the theft of the Greater Grail?"
Arthur followed her gaze. Moonlight glimred across his calm features.
"Perceptive as always. Except when it cos to mathematics."
Jeanne sighed, ignoring the jab.
"So it’s true. You have no intention of stopping any of this."
"Exactly," Arthur replied without hesitation. "The Grail is not my goal. I couldn’t care less whose hands it falls into... in the end, it will co to regardless."
The words carried no arrogance, spoken more like a simple fact. And yet the certainty in them was nearly overwhelming.
Jeanne tightened her grip on her banner.
"...You truly believe that."
Arthur only gave a faint, sidelong smile.
"My dear saint, I have no doubts about the truth of my words," Arthur replied.
Jeanne longed to ask more, to understand his true purpose. But the battlefield was no place to satisfy curiosity. Sothing far greater was at stake.
"Will you stop from heading to the Hanging Gardens?"
Arthur tilted his head slightly.
"I see no reason to."
"In that case..." Jeanne raised her banner firmly. "I will go."
Without waiting for his reply, she ran toward the horizon.
Arthur watched her fade into the distance. For a mont, his eyes glimred with sothing strange. Sothing within him always shifted when that saint was near.
A whisper escaped his lips almost without him realizing:
"...Strange. Why is it that you draw in so, woman?"
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain , try to throw those pathetic power stones at . Let’s see if even your insolence can amuse a king."
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