He Tore Through The Holy Grail War, And You Still Call Him A Dragon?

Shirou ignored Amaterasu's fatigue, his entire focus fixed on the mirror-like world around him. As magical energy surged, ripples spread across the dome of the bounded field.

On the mirrored surface, sword-shadows slowly grew and faded, lines crawling across the floor like living etchings—some neat and ritualistic, some like a child's careless doodles. They appeared for a moment, then vanished.

Around him blazed flame, searing and tempering his inner world. Through repeated chants and endless reconstruction, he sought to perfect Unlimited Blade Works.

His thoughts spun like a storm, his head fevered.

His circuits strained from the constant drain, heat spreading through his spine into his blood, as if molten lava flowed in his veins.

Even with dragon blood strengthening him, each invocation of Unlimited Blade Works consumed magic on the level of great rituals.

…Though here, inside "Suiten Nichikō Amaterasu Yano no Chishii" (Water-Heaven Sunlight Amaterasu Eight-Field Suppression Stone), the world's rejection of Reality Marbles was weaker.

Chiyo glanced at her Master. Though Shirou gave few explanations, she knew this chance must be invaluable, and she trusted him.

"Master, let me take over for now."

Without waiting for reply, she dashed forward, blades flashing against Amaterasu once more.

"…Thanks."

Normally, Shirou would have noticed how unusual it was for Chiyo to care so deeply—too human for her usual role. But now he had no attention to spare.

Perfecting Unlimited Blade Works was the key to halting Izanami's spreading black domain.

He had to not only complete the form, but wield it reliably in battle. Knowing the incantation was not the same as mastering it.

Like learning a formula, but not yet solving problems.

Boom!

A wave of Amaterasu's fire turned half the dome crimson, sparks raining like meteors.

Then lightning rumbled, purple bolts twisting into a roaring sphere, crashing into firestorms and icy rain.

Chiyo blurred forward, cutting paths of thunder through flame. Her blade split the inferno like violet lightning itself.

Shirou's eyes followed her back, but his mind was turned inward.

What he lacked was not only experience, but conviction.

Reality Marbles were born from inner landscapes. And those landscapes were forged of will.

He thought of Archer's barren fields of gears, and rejected them.

Because he was not a "hero of justice."

He did not fight to save the world. He fought to protect the people beside him.

The god had stolen part of Eri's life—so he would strike it down. The god sought to overturn the world—so he would resist.

Nothing nobler than that.

Not to be worshipped as a hero. Just to preserve the happiness of those dear to him.

He pictured Eri laughing, tying a yellow ribbon and little duck to the cherry tree in their yard, teasing Charlotte about her childish tantrums.

He pictured Nono in red hair and sunglasses, ordering Sami about like a maid, while the pale goddess Wazu smiled gently at the sunlight streaming in.

Perhaps that was what it meant to protect—to safeguard those fleeting, wordless moments.

Then, as if struck by inspiration, his inner vision crystallized.

Not barren gears, nor dead wastelands—

—but fertile fields in golden sun, green grass, flower petals falling to earth, clear lakes rippling with light.

He exhaled, and at last saw his true inner world.

"…I am the bone of my sword—"

Yes. He was not Archer. He had no reason to live a lifeless, mechanical existence. Life was brief, spring nights fleeting. Better to stride forward boldly.

"…Unaware of beginning. Nor aware of the end…"

Suddenly, flames expanded.

Sword-etched scars cut across the mirror world, splitting it apart.

"…Unlimited Blade Works!"

"What!?"

Amaterasu and Chiyo froze mid-strike. Flames and lightning died away.

The world had changed.

The mirrored landscape crumpled like paper, dissolving—revealing a new vista.

Chiyo felt flower petals beneath her toes, as real as any earth. Wind carried them aloft, mingling with blossoms in the air.

Beyond, endless meadows under clear skies. Swords glimmered in stone, countless and shining.

A dreamlike utopia, a land of beauty.

"Migu… so this is the world you sought to shape with mine? Humanity truly is amazing," Amaterasu whispered, fox ears twitching.

"…Yes. This is mine." Shirou's gaze roamed his new domain. He almost wished for a camera, to capture each frame as wallpaper.

Next time, he promised, he would bring one.

"Splendid! Bravo!" Amaterasu clapped, bosom bouncing. "Do not waste my aid, Shirou. Godslaying awaits—and I'm counting on you~"

Her smile hid tears. She had failed her mission to the White King, strengthening his enemy instead. Soon she would be punished—perhaps even stripped of her human form.

No! Someday she would find a quality man to live with, no matter what. Otherwise, she had lost everything.

Chiyo scowled, glancing between her chest and Amaterasu's.

"Hmph. My Master achieved this by himself. He needed no one else's help. Without you, he would still have triumphed."

"…Avenger, that's enough."

"Hmph."

Shirou dismissed the Reality Marble. His circuits overheated, and he could only sustain it briefly. But at least—at last—it was complete.

"…Amaterasu—" he began, hoping for answers about gods in this world.

But she paled suddenly, fox ears twitching in dread.

"Sorry! I must go!"

And she vanished, her bounded field collapsing, the black fog returning.

A chill like needles touched Shirou's spine—God's gaze.

"…Avenger, can you track her?"

"No. That was only a lingering phantom. She left long ago."

"I see…"

Shirou thought of the many mysteries still unresolved—Melusine, the absence of gods, Sami…

But first, Izanami had to be stopped.

He checked his phone. Dozens of missed calls from Nono, messages from Charlotte, attempts from Yashiro.

Amaterasu's field had even blocked signal?

"Master, something approaches."

Chiyo's armor crackled with thunder. She swept her blade across ruins. "Tenmō kaikai!"

Lightning erupted, clearing rubble—

"Stop stop stop! Don't attack, it's me!"

From the dust crawled a familiar girl.

"Sami?" Shirou waved Chiyo down. "…Why are you here?"

"I surrender."

"…What?"

"I lost a bet. So now I seek alliance. Please, great Shirou, don't let that rat Izanami steal divinity!"

Shirou frowned. "So you know Izanami?"

Sami fidgeted. Explaining all the White King and Four Monarchs' history would take forever.

"Where's your sincerity in this 'alliance'? We can't trust a stranger."

Chiyo glared coldly. "Master, she reeks of Servant's essence. She is dangerous."

Thunder rolled.

Sami blinked. "…Wait. That's the power of Gozu Tennō?"

Impossible. Norton's project never completed that system. How had Chiyo awakened it?

"Can you truly summon the god?" she asked.

Chiyo's face darkened. She could not. Not fully. Something was missing.

Sami realized it instantly. The White King's alteration of the world, reviving the Age of Gods, was enhancing Servants. If they seized control of the leyline, they could push even further.

Her eyes lit up. Finally, she could contribute.

"Wait! Master Shirou! I have a method to let your Servant summon the godly avatar. But we must control the leyline!"

Shirou rubbed his forehead. "…You expect us to believe that? Where's the proof?"

Sami gritted her teeth. Fine. Time for her trump card.

"…Then let's sign a blood pact. If I betray, I'll be cursed. Sincere enough?"

She sliced her palm, held it out.

Shirou mirrored her, their blood touching briefly.

"…That's it?" he asked.

"Enough," Sami said cheerfully. To her, this pact was no risk. Shirou wasn't the Black King. He couldn't possibly overpower her through blood.

Or so she thought.

"Very well. Then let's cooperate. Charlotte may help too," Shirou added, recalling her leyline work.

"Perfect!" Sami beamed.

At that moment—

"Found you!"

A roar split the air, and Melusine crashed down, Nono stumbling beside her, dizzy but resolute. Charlotte followed, smug as ever.

Shirou greeted them calmly.

Nono wasted no time. "I saw it! In my dream—the god's seat! The thousand torii of blood—at Nezu Shrine in Bunkyō!"

——

In his steel shell, Fingel cursed as Cassell's engineers sang nonsense farewells.

"Shut up, you lunatics!"

Trapped in the bulky "Michael" mech, he suffered Arkhadura's dramatics.

"You are the sword of rebellion against God! Go, brave assassin of the White King!"

"Do you know Jing Ke failed and died?!" Fingel roared. "Why am I Qin Wuyang now, doomed sidekick!?"

Arkhadura laughed. "Cheer up! The Headmaster himself is at Tokyo Bay, fighting the corpse tide!"

"Damn it! This isn't fair!"

Beside him, Heracles rumbled, "Master, the stench of death grows heavier."

"…Yeah. I see it."

They neared Bunkyō. Landmarks of human culture stood tainted, turned to a true Yomi.

The thousand crimson torii stretched like the slope to the underworld.

And then—

Boom!

Shirou, Chiyo, and Melusine landed before them, the earth shattering.

Within his armored shell, Fingel trembled. He glanced around at the gathered warriors.

"…Good grief. Guess I really am Qin Wuyang."

(End of Chapter)

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