Eternal Cleansing: The Unending Sacrifice

They appear only when the world is about to be destroyed by people.

Humans are the ones that will perish from their own doings.

So the process of destruction must always be the same.

Jealousy. Hatred. Selfishness. Desire.

The man who loved people and tried to be of help to them was shown

the same ugliness even after he died.

He was called into such scenes and served his responsibility as a

guardian.

―――He killed.

In the silent void between realms, where time stands still and space is an endless expanse of steel and memories, EMIYA waits. His domain is the Hill of Swords—a desolate landscape filled with rusting blades jutting out of the ground like the tombstones of a forgotten war.

Unlimited Blade Works

It begins as it always does: with the faint echo of a summoning ritual. EMIYA feels the familiar pull as the ritual draws him from the Hill of Swords and thrusts him into a new scenario of chaos. The transition is seamless, a shift from one bleak reality to another. This time, he finds himself in a city on the brink of collapse.

The cityscape before him is a grotesque parody of its former self. Buildings are reduced to skeletal frames, streets are strewn with debris, and fires burn out of control. The once-thriving metropolis of Los Angeles now resembles a warzone, its inhabitants driven to their worst behaviours by desperation and despair. The essence of EMIYA's every mission is clear: he must cleanse this place of the remnants of humanity's failings, ensuring that its destruction is complete.

If it was a genocide, he would arrive to find the remains of entire communities scattered, victims of ethnic cleansing, before eliminating the perpetrators and halting further escalation.

In the case of a pandemic, he wouldn't search for a cure—he would simply eradicate all the infected to contain the biological threat.

When summoned to a world where environmental collapse has driven survivors into a final, desperate conflict, his task is to eliminate those whose actions are worsening the crisis.

Never to prevent disasters or eliminate an underlying cause but to deal with the consequences once they have occurred. He only emerged when humanity's actions had escalated to the point where entire civilisations were at risk of collapse and the aftermath of human failure needed management

A fucking cleaner in all but name 

His gaze shifted to the horizon, where the faint glow of a distant explosion illuminated the night. The epicentre of the chaos. That was where he would find his targets—the individuals whose actions had brought this city to ruin. With a practised flick of his wrists, cursed blades appeared in his hands. dainsleif and Tyrfing, Weapons that like him had no choice but to kill once unsheathed and (foolishly) hopefully brought destruction to their wielder

With a leap, EMIYA launched himself off the rooftop, his white cloak billowing behind him as he descended into the hellscape below. The wind whipped past him, carrying with it the scent of burning flesh and the cries of the dying. He landed in the middle of a street, the impact cracking the pavement beneath his feet. Around him, the city was in pandemonium. People ran in all directions, their faces contorted with terror and desperation.

A mother clutched her child to her chest, her eyes wide with fear as she looked for a way out. A man wielding a bat was smashing the windows of a store, looting whatever he could find. Others fought amongst themselves, their survival instincts driving them to violence. EMIYA watched them for a moment, his expression impassive. He could sense the despair radiating from them, but he felt nothing.

He had seen this countless times before.

He accepts what can be saved and what cannot be saved.

A flash of light caught his attention. He turned to see a group of men in military uniforms approaching, their weapons trained on the fleeing civilians. Their leader, a tall man with a scar across his face, barked orders to his subordinates, directing them to open fire.

EMIYA moved before they could pull the trigger.

His blades gleamed in the firelight. He dashed forward, his speed blinding, and the soldiers barely had time to react before he was upon them. The first man fell without a sound, his throat slit cleanly by dainsleif. The second was impaled by Tyrfing, his body collapsing in a heap. The leader turned just in time to see EMIYA's cold eyes before his world went dark.

The remaining soldiers scattered, their courage shattered by the sudden onslaught. 

EMIYA didn't let them go. 

As the bodies hit the ground, the mother from before looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock. She clutched her child tighter, as if unsure whether he was friend or foe. EMIYA met her gaze for a brief moment, then turned away and she thought she heard a whisper of "trace on". 

He was neither. He was simply a tool, executing the will of the world.

With his immediate task complete, EMIYA continued down the street, his senses attuned to the chaos around him by Alaya. The world was burning, and he had a job to do.

EMIYA walked silently through the ruins, his white cloak fluttering slightly in the wind, a stark contrast against the ashen landscape. 

He came across the second scene of horror in the dim light of a collapsed building. Two brothers, once bound by blood, had turned on each other in a vicious struggle over a meagre piece of bread. Their faces were gaunt with hunger, eyes wild with desperation. The younger brother, barely more than a boy, clutched the bread to his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The older brother, stronger and more desperate, lunged at him with a shard of glass, eyes filled with a madness born of starvation.

It was endlessly repetitive. EMIYA witnessed the full spectrum of humanity's depravity. It was as if the collapse of society had given free rein to the darkest impulses buried within each soul. The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and fear—a miasma that clung to him as he moved like a spectre of death.

After he died, he became a heroic spirit and was shown humanity's self-

destruction over and over again.

He is summoned as a "heroic spirit" to save people, but he only gets to

clean up after people's wrongdoings.

...It did not take long for him to realize that it is meaningless and start

loathing the human world.

"Give it to me!" the older brother screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "I need it more than you do! You're just a kid—you won't survive anyway!"

"Please, don't do this!" the younger one pleaded, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. "We're brothers! We should stick together!"

But there was no reasoning with the man anymore. Hunger had hollowed out any semblance of humanity within him, leaving behind nothing but the primal urge to survive. He slashed at the boy, the glass slicing through flesh with a sickening sound. Blood sprayed across the rubble, and the boy crumpled to the ground, the bread still clutched in his small, trembling hands.

EMIYA watched from the shadows, his gaze impassive as the older brother stood over the dying boy, panting heavily, his face a grotesque mask of triumph and horror. The momentary satisfaction in the man's eyes faded as he looked down at what he had done. The bread slipped from the boy's fingers, stained red with his lifeblood. The older brother sank to his knees, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"What have I done...?" he whispered, horror dawning on him. But it was too late for regrets. The world had no place for weakness, no room for remorse. EMIYA knew this all too well.

Without a sound, he drew his bow, a black, western-style straight bow that had seen countless battles. It was a weapon of simplicity and elegance, yet powerful enough to unleash the deadliest of projectiles. Tonight, however, it would only need to deliver the mundane death that the man so richly deserved. EMIYA's fingers brushed the bowstring, and in an instant, an arrow materialized, its steel tip gleaming ominously in the dim light.

The man never saw it coming. The arrow struck him square in the chest, driving through flesh and bone with merciless precision. He collapsed beside his brother, his blood mingling with that of his sibling. Their shared fate was sealed—together in death as they had been in life, though not by choice. The bread lay forgotten between them, a bitter mockery of the life it could no longer sustain.

EMIYA turned away from the grisly scene, his expression unchanging as he moved on.

In the shadows of a collapsed building, he stumbled upon a makeshift camp. A group of survivors had gathered there, their faces haggard and eyes sunken with desperation. They huddled around a small fire, the flames casting eerie shadows on the walls around them. The group consisted of men and women, some old, some young, but all shared the same look of hollow despair.

In the centre of the camp, a man with a wild look in his eyes addressed the group. His voice was hoarse, but it carried the weight of authority, born out of the sheer force of his will to survive.

"We've made it this far because we're stronger than the rest of them!" he declared, his tone filled with a manic conviction. "We have to keep going, no matter what. We can't let anything stop us!"

"But we have nothing left," a woman whispered, her voice trembling. "No food, no water… What's the point of surviving if we're just going to die in the end?"

The man turned to her, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing light. "There's always a way to survive," he said, his voice low and sinister. "We just have to be willing to do what it takes."

A murmur of agreement passed through the group, but there was an undercurrent of fear in their voices. The man stepped forward, holding up a small, dirty sack that he had been carrying. He reached inside and pulled out a piece of meat, charred and unrecognizable.

EMIYA's eyes narrowed as he recognized the implications of what he was seeing. The group had resorted to cannibalism. The meat in the man's hand had once been human flesh, now a grotesque offering to the insatiable hunger that gnawed at them all.

"We have to eat," the man continued, his voice rising with a feverish intensity. "If we don't, we die. This is how we survive. This is how we live!"

Some in the group looked away, their faces pale with disgust, but none of them spoke up to challenge him. They were too weak, too broken by the horrors they had witnessed and the horrors they had committed. The line between survival and monstrosity had vanished, leaving them all trapped in this nightmare of their own making.

EMIYA's fingers twitched, itching to end this sick display of humanity's descent into madness. But he waited, observing, letting the scene play out as he decided how best to bring an end to their suffering.

The man began to distribute the meat, forcing it into the hands of those who were too weak to resist. Some accepted it willingly, their desperation overwhelming any sense of morality. Others hesitated, their eyes flickering with the last remnants of their humanity, but they too succumbed, their hunger too powerful to ignore.

As they ate, a silence fell over the group, broken only by the sounds of chewing and the crackling of the fire. It was a silence born of shared guilt and unspoken horror. They all knew what they were doing, but they had convinced themselves that it was necessary, that it was the only way to survive in this godforsaken world.

But EMIYA knew better. He had seen this before, time and time again, in countless worlds and countless timelines. The excuses, the justifications—none of it mattered in the end. They were all just lies, desperate attempts to cling to a shred of humanity even as they descended into monstrosity.

Finally, EMIYA had seen enough. With a single thought, he summoned a volley of swords, their tips gleaming in the dim light. They hovered above the group, silent harbingers of death. He let them fly, each one finding its mark with unerring precision. The survivors didn't even have time to scream. One by one, they fell, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The fire continued to burn, casting flickering shadows over the corpses

"―――Yes, I watched it over and over.

A small group of survivors had fortified themselves in a derelict church, its stained glass windows shattered, and its once majestic spires now crumbling ruins. They had barricaded the doors with whatever they could find—pews, wooden planks, rusted metal—creating a sanctuary of sorts amidst the chaos outside.

Inside, the survivors huddled together, their faces lit by the soft glow of candles. Their leader, a man with a kind face and gentle eyes, stood at the altar, speaking in soothing tones to those gathered before him. His voice was calm, almost serene, as he offered words of comfort and hope.

"We must hold on to our faith," he said, his voice steady. "The world may be ending, but that doesn't mean we have to lose our humanity. We can still find peace, even in these dark times. We can still choose to be kind, to help one another."

EMIYA watched from the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he studied the man. There was something about him that didn't sit right. The way he spoke, the way he looked at the people around him—it was too perfect, too rehearsed. It was as if he was playing a role, putting on a performance for the desperate souls clinging to his every word.

As the man continued to speak, EMIYA noticed something else—something that confirmed his suspicions. The survivors were weak, far weaker than they should have been considering the fortified position they had created. Their faces were pale, their movements sluggish, as if they were all suffering from some sort of illness.

And then EMIYA saw it. The man at the altar reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of liquid. He uncorked it and poured a few drops into a goblet before offering it to one of the survivors—a young woman who looked on the brink of collapse.

"Drink this," he said softly, his voice dripping with false concern. "It will help you feel better."

The woman hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty, but the man's gentle smile and reassuring words convinced her. She took the goblet and drank deeply. Almost immediately, her body relaxed, and a look of blissful contentment spread across her face.

EMIYA's eyes hardened as he realized what was happening. The man wasn't helping these people—he was drugging them, keeping them docile and compliant while he played the role of their saviour. It was a sick, twisted form of control, exploiting their desperation and need for hope to maintain his power over them.

He knew he couldn't let this continue. The survivors were too weak, too broken to see the truth for themselves. They had put their trust in a false prophet, a man who offered them nothing but lies wrapped in the comforting guise of faith.

EMIYA stepped out of the shadows, his presence immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the church. The survivors recoiled in fear, their eyes wide with terror as they saw him—an embodiment of death, come to claim them.

The man at the altar turned to face EMIYA, his expression faltering for just a moment before he quickly regained his composure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "What do you want?"

EMIYA didn't answer. He didn't need to. His bow appeared in his hand, and without hesitation, he drew back the string, an arrow materializing between his fingers. The man's eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. The arrow flew straight and true, piercing the man's heart before he could utter another word.

The survivors screamed as their leader fell, but EMIYA paid them no mind. He had already decided their fate

With a flick of his wrist, EMIYA summoned a barrage of swords—each one a deadly weapon from his endless arsenal. They rained down upon the survivors, cutting through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency. Their screams echoed through the church, mixing with the sound of shattering glass and the dull thud of bodies hitting the stone floor. The once sacred space, meant to be a refuge, was now nothing more than a tomb, the last remnants of hope extinguished in an instant.

What a farce this is, EMIYA thought bitterly, his mind a storm of disillusionment. What a grotesque mockery of what humanity was supposed to be. He is surrounded by the remnants of a species that has failed itself, and every act of violence he witness only reaffirms the futility of their existence.

Meaningless massacres, meaningless equality, meaningless happiness…

Again and again and again and ag —

"—!"

A sound broke through his thoughts—a muffled sob. EMIYA's eyes narrowed as he pinpointed the source. It came from a nearby alley, hidden in the shadows between two crumbling buildings. He approached cautiously, his swords at the ready, though he doubted he would find anything more than another lost soul.

As he neared the alley's entrance, he saw her—a young girl, no older than ten, huddled against the wall. Her clothes were tattered, her face smeared with dirt and tears. She looked up at EMIYA with wide, terrified eyes, clutching a small, stuffed bear to her chest as if it were her only lifeline.

For a moment, something stirred in EMIYA's chest. A memory, perhaps, of another child he had once tried to save. But that was a lifetime ago, and the world had long since beaten such sentiments out of him.

He knelt down to her level, his expression neutral. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice calm but devoid of warmth.

The girl trembled, her grip on the bear tightening. "I-I don't know where my mom is," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "There was… so much noise… and then she was gone…"

EMIYA glanced at the street behind him, at the bodies strewn across the ground. It was likely her mother was among them, another casualty of humanity's endless cycle of self-destruction. He looked back at the girl, who was staring at him with a mixture of hope and fear.

He had seen this countless times before. The desperate need for someone, anyone, to offer a glimmer of hope in a world gone mad. But EMIYA was not that person. He was not here to save the innocent. 

"You need to leave," he said, standing up. "This place isn't safe."

The girl blinked, confusion clouding her tear-streaked face. "But… where do I go?"

EMIYA hesitated. It would be easy to turn his back on her, to leave her to fend for herself as he had done with so many others. But something held him in place—a faint echo of the man he had once been.

The girl stared at the building, then back at EMIYA, her eyes shining with a mixture of hope and trepidation. "But… I'm scared…" she admitted, her voice trembling.

EMIYA regarded her for a moment, his mind calculating the best way to ensure she would move. He knew that she wouldn't last long in this world, that her hope was fleeting and would be extinguished by the horrors she would face. Still, he couldn't leave her paralyzed by fear.

"I know," EMIYA replied, his tone gentle, and understanding. "It's okay to be scared. But you know what? Sometimes, when we're scared, all we need is a little something to help us be brave."

As he spoke, EMIYA reached into his cloak and slowly pulled out a small, intricately crafted dagger. The blade gleamed softly in the dim light, and the hilt was etched with patterns that seemed to tell a story of its own. He held it out to her, offering it with both hands, like a treasure meant to be shared.

"This is Yu Chang," he said, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence he used when alive, one meant to soothe and distract. "A very special dagger. It's called the Sword of Bravery. A long time ago, a very brave man used this to do something incredibly difficult, something no one else could do. It's said that anyone who holds this sword can find the courage they need, even when they're the most scared they've ever been."

The girl stared at the dagger, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. "Really?" she whispered, glancing up at EMIYA as if searching his face for any sign of deception.

"Really," EMIYA assured her, nodding firmly. "It's helped a lot of people before you, and now, it's here to help you too. You can hold onto it, and whenever you feel scared, just remember that you're not alone. This sword is with you."

Hesitantly, The girl reached out and took the dagger, her small hands trembling as they wrapped around the hilt. As soon as her fingers closed around it, EMIYA saw a change in her—a tiny spark of determination, of strength, igniting within her frightened heart.

"See?" EMIYA said with a gentle smile. "You're already braver than you were a minute ago."

She looked up at him, the fear in her eyes slowly giving way to a fragile hope. "I am?" she asked, her voice a little steadier.

EMIYA nodded. "Yes, you are. Now, go to that shelter," he pointed again to the building in the distance, "and stay there. You'll be safe."

The girl hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with a small, tentative smile. "My name is Lily," she said softly as if sharing this piece of herself would somehow ensure that he would remember her.

EMIYA felt a tight, almost imperceptible constriction in his chest when the girl spoke her name—a name that now felt like a fragile thread tugging at something buried deep within him. "Lily," he echoed his voice a careful monotone, devoid of any warmth. The syllables left his lips with a deliberate coldness as if denying the emotion would erase it entirely. "It's a good name. Now go, Lily. Be brave."

Lily's nod was hesitant, but the gratitude in her eyes was unmistakable. It shimmered there, a fragile glimmer that seemed too delicate for a world as cruel as this. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the hope she clung to. She scrambled to her feet, clutching the dagger like a lifeline, and ran toward the shelter he had pointed out, her small figure disappearing into the night.

'But he thinks there is nothing to regret if he was able to save everyone that appeared within his sight.'

EMIYA watched her go, a void opening up in the space where her presence had been. The emptiness inside him expanded, cold and hollow, like the echo of a distant, forgotten bell. He knew this feeling well—it was the void that always followed when he cut the last, frail connection to something human. The shelter might provide her with safety, perhaps even a fleeting sense of security. But he knew the truth—this city, and everything within it, was already condemned. It was only a matter of time before the flames of destruction or the relentless advance of the counterforce consumed it all.

But if she was destined to perish, if this fleeting hope was nothing more than a cruel illusion—

The aria rolled off his tongue like poison, each word tasting of bitter ash as the spectral blades materialised above the innocent girl, who now carried with her a spark of belief.

—then let her end be mercifully swift.

"They do not save people. All they do is eliminate harmful people, without distinction of good or evil.

They do not save people in despair. Instead, they eliminate people in despair as if they never existed in order to save others who are enjoying life.

―――It's so ridiculous. How am I different from before?"

The swords fell with a silence that was almost reverent, their descent as inevitable as the coming of night. They sliced through the air, cutting through the faint light of hope she carried with lethal precision.

Lily's small body crumpled to the ground, her life extinguished in the blink of an eye. There was no time for fear, no moment of pain—only the swift, unforgiving embrace of darkness. And then, nothing.

EMIYA remained still, his expression carved from stone, yet deep within, something twisted, coiling tighter with each breath. He had done what needed to be done, what was just in a world that had long lost any semblance of mercy. Lily's fate had been sealed the moment she had crossed paths with him—he had only expedited the inevitable, sparing her from the horrors that would have consumed her.

Yet, the weight of his actions pressed down on him, as relentless as the burden he had carried for what felt like lifetimes. It was a weight he had grown accustomed to, a weight that defined him as much as the blades he conjured. He was not a saviour,—he was a cleaner, a shadow tasked with erasing the remnants of humanity's self-inflicted wounds for the benefit of the whole body.

A hero of justice just like his old man had described

His next target was not far. The pull of the counterforce, Alaya, guided his steps, drawing him toward the heart of the city's devastation. A towering skyscraper, once a symbol of progress and human achievement, is now a crumbling ruin. It was here that the final act of this tragic play would unfold.

As EMIYA approached the building, he could feel the presence of those who had caused this disaster. The individuals whose greed, ambition, and fear had set these events into motion. They were not inherently evil, just human. But it was their actions that had led to this point, and it was his duty to eliminate them.

The entrance to the skyscraper was guarded by a group of heavily armed mercenaries. They were remnants of a private security force, hired to protect the powerful and the corrupt. But in the face of the city's collapse, their loyalties had shifted. Now they were little more than predators, preying on the weak and vulnerable.

EMIYA's approach was silent, his movements swift and deadly. The first mercenary didn't even see him coming, his throat slit by Dainsleif before he could utter a sound. The cursed blade thrummed in EMIYA's hand, its malevolent energy almost eager to claim another life. The second mercenary turned just in time to see Tyrfing's blade pierce his chest, the sword's curse ensuring that death would follow.

The others barely had time to react. EMIYA moved with a cold grace that belied the violence of his actions. The mercenaries fell one by one, their lives extinguished with cold precision. There was no malice in EMIYA's actions, no hatred or anger—only the dispassionate execution of his duty.

With the entrance cleared EMIYA stepped into the building. The interior was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. It was eerily quiet, the polished floors and pristine walls untouched by the destruction that had consumed the city. But the silence was deceptive. EMIYA could feel the tension in the air, the fear that clung to the walls like a thick fog.

Alaya's assistance made what he was about to do unnecessary but only a fool who wants to fail doesn't double-check with his work even if he despises said work.

EMIYA activated his Structural Grasping ability, letting his 'magic touch' seep into the walls, the floors, and the very foundations of the building. This spell, when combined with his extensive experience and intuition, allowed him to map the internal structure of his surroundings down to the smallest detail inside his mind. He could see the building's layout, its secret passages, hidden rooms, and reinforced walls. More importantly, he could detect the subtle distortions—places where the structure did not align with the physical space, indicating concealed areas likely protected by Bounded Fields

In the heart of the building, several floors up, EMIYA sensed a network of hidden chambers, all masked by sophisticated magical wards and reinforced by steel. The wards were designed not just to conceal but to mislead, to create a maze for anyone attempting to infiltrate. The architects had been thorough, using overlapping enchantments to scramble any attempts at direct penetration. However, to EMIYA, these deceptions were like a poorly constructed web—complex at a glance but riddled with weaknesses.

The mercenaries stationed here weren't just standard muscle. Their positions were strategic, covering the most probable entry points and escape routes, creating kill zones for any intruders. Each soldier was equipped with Mystic codes and enhanced gear—a reflection of their employers' resources and foresight. Their positioning hinted at prior knowledge of his abilities or at least a general awareness of facing someone or something far more dangerous than a common enemy.

EMIYA's structural grasping revealed that the elevator shafts were rigged with traps designed to collapse sections of the building if used, effectively sealing off the higher floors from intruders. The stairwells, while appearing unguarded, were deathtraps as well, with explosive runes embedded in the walls that would trigger upon detection of unauthorized movement. These precautions were not just defensive—they were meant to lure and eliminate, to trap intruders in a cage with no exit.

His scan also detected life signatures scattered across multiple floors, concentrated in clusters that corresponded with the concealed rooms. These weren't mere civilians; the readings were too focused, too controlled. These individuals were likely the architects of this chaos—the very people EMIYA had been sent to eliminate. They had taken refuge within these hidden chambers, believing their precautions would keep them safe. But safety was an illusion—an illusion that EMIYA would shatter.

He began his approach, avoiding the obvious entry points. The direct path was the most dangerous, so he chose an unconventional route. Scaling the outer walls with silent precision, he reached a maintenance access point that was rarely used. It was a small ventilation shaft, heavily fortified and warded, and the enchantments were old, relying on ancient sigils that had plenty of mystery. EMIYA didn't require extensive knowledge of magecraft to disable them quietly with a simple rule breaker, slipping into the building without raising any alarms.

Inside the shaft, EMIYA continued his ascent. The higher he climbed, the more intense the wards became. He could feel the Bounded fields pressing against him, trying to force him out, to confuse his senses and implant suggestions but his will was like iron. These wards were meant to repel magi or average intruders, not someone of his calibre. He moved swiftly, bypassing detection with practised ease until he reached a floor just below the hidden chambers.

The life signatures he had detected earlier were clearer now. They were nervous, their movements erratic—men and women in a state of high alert. They had likely detected the disturbances outside and were preparing for a last stand. EMIYA could sense their fear, their desperation, as they huddled together in what they believed to be their final stronghold. They weren't entirely wrong.

He slipped into the hallway, where the polished floors and marble walls gave way to more industrial, fortified surroundings. The transition from luxury to practicality was stark. Here, the design was purely functional—built for defence rather than comfort. EMIYA detected hidden glyphs etched into the walls—wards meant to track movement and channel destructive energy toward intruders. He deftly avoided them, moving like a shadow through the maze of corridors.

Finally, he reached a set of reinforced doors, the last barrier between him and his targets. The doors were sealed with both physical and magical locks, designed to withstand a siege. But EMIYA knew that no door was impervious to him. With a silent command, he summoned Kanshou and Bakuya and turned them into their overedge forms, their black and white blades extending into wickedly curved wings. In a single, fluid motion, he sliced through the locks. The enchanted metal offered no more resistance than paper.

The doors creaked open, revealing a room filled with a dozen individuals. They were a mix of corporate executives, high-ranking officials, and the mercenary leaders who had orchestrated this disaster. The stench of fear in the air was evident as their faces recoiled with faces pale, eyes wide with terror as they realized that their last line of defence had been breached.

The first to speak was a man in an expensive suit, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound authoritative. "W-wait! We can negotiate! We can offer you—"

His words were cut short as Dainsleif flashed through the air, the cursed blade slicing through flesh and bone with a sickening Schlick. The man's head toppled from his shoulders, his body crumpling to the ground with a dull thud. The room erupted into chaos, the remaining individuals scrambling to back away, to find any escape from the inevitable.

EMIYA stepped into the room, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The sound of his boots clicking against the polished floor reverberated through the space, each step measured, each step final. He raised Kanshou and Bakuya, the twin swords gleaming ominously in the dim light.

A woman screamed, her voice shrill with terror, as she tried to reach for a concealed weapon. EMIYA's eyes locked onto her, and in an instant, he was upon her. The twin blades cut through her in a fluid, crosswise slash, her body falling to the floor in two bloody halves. The sound of her scream was abruptly silenced, replaced by the wet gurgle of her final breath.

Another man, his face pale and drenched in sweat, begged for mercy. "Please, we were just following orders! We—"

At those words, something dark and cold stirred within EMIYA. He felt a flash of anger, quickly buried under the weight of his dispassion."Orders?" EMIYA's voice was cold, devoid of emotion. He let go of Kanshou and Bakuya and instead chose to give in to bloodlust and plunged Tyrfing into the man's chest, the cursed sword digging deep into his flesh. The man's breath hitched, his eyes wide with agony as he died an excruciating death. "You made your choice."

EMIYA twisted the blade before pulling it free, the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone echoing through the room. The man crumpled to the floor, his body convulsing as the curse ravaged him from within.

Another mercenary leader, a grizzled veteran with a hardened expression, attempted to draw his gun, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the holster. Before he could even aim, EMIYA moved with blinding speed. Dáinsleif found its mark, slicing through the man's arm with a crunch, sending the severed limb spinning across the room. The gun clattered uselessly to the floor.

The mercenary howled in pain, clutching the bleeding stump where his arm had been. His scream was cut short as Tyrfing followed, cleaving through his skull with a wet crack, splitting it like a ripe melon. His body fell in a heap, blood pooling around it, mingling with the growing crimson tide on the floor.

The remaining survivors were in disarray, their minds broken by the realization that there was no escape. One man, his voice quivering, tried to crawl away, dragging himself across the floor in a pathetic attempt to avoid his fate.

"Please... I have a family... I don't want to die..." His voice was a whisper, a desperate plea that fell on deaf ears.

EMIYA's expression remained unchanged. "So did they," he replied, his tone as cold and unforgiving as death itself. With a swift motion, he brought Dainsleif down, the blade carving through the man's spine with a sickening crunch. The man's body spasmed, then went limp, his life snuffed out in an instant.

The room was now eerily quiet, save for the dripping of blood from EMIYA's blades. He stood amidst the carnage, surveying his handiwork with the dispassion of one who has done this too many times before. To him, this was just another task—a necessary cleansing of those who had brought ruin upon the world.

As he turned to leave, a faint sound caught his attention—a soft, pitiful whimper coming from the far corner of the room. A young executive, barely more than a boy, was huddled there, his face pale and streaked with tears. His eyes were wide with horror, his body trembling uncontrollably. Unlike the others, he hadn't moved, too paralyzed by fear to even attempt escape.

EMIYA approached him, his footsteps echoing ominously in the now-silent room. The boy looked up at him, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to form words, to beg for mercy he knew would not come.

"I-I didn't want this... I swear... I was just—"

EMIYA knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. For a moment, their gazes locked, and in EMIYA's eyes, the boy saw nothing—no pity, no anger, no mercy. Just the cold, empty stare of a man who had long since discarded his humanity.

"I wish you had chosen differently," EMIYA said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. Then, with a swift, precise motion, he drove a blade into the boy's heart. The blade slid in effortlessly, and the boy's breath hitched, his eyes going wide with shock and pain. A final, rattling gasp escaped his lips as his body went limp.

EMIYA withdrew the blade, watching as the boy slumped to the floor, life leaving him in a silent rush. The room was now a tomb, filled with the corpses of those who had believed themselves untouchable. Their blood stained the floor, the walls, and the air itself, the heavy scent of death hanging over everything.

As the boy's life flickered out, EMIYA felt a sudden, oppressive wave of energy. It pulsed from a far corner of the room, from a figure he had nearly overlooked in the initial chaos—a man shrouded in dark robes, his presence masked by layers of powerful concealment spells. EMIYA's eyes narrowed as he recognized the figure: a master of magecraft, one of the key architects of this entire catastrophe.

His aura was suffused with a powerful, ancient magecraft that radiated an almost palpable sense of danger.

The magus sneered at EMIYA, his eyes burning with pride and disdain. "You've done well to make it this far, Counter Guardian, but your path ends here. You see, I am not like those cowards you've butchered. I am Aldebaran Valefor, the last heir to the Valefor bloodline, master of the mystic arts that have shaped the world's fate for centuries."

Aldebaran's voice carried the weight of arrogance and conviction, the confidence of a man who had mastered forces beyond mortal comprehension. His magecraft was as vast as it was ancient, rooted in the secrets of the Moonlit World. He raised his hand, and the air around him shimmered with magical energy, the prana coalescing into visible waves. In an instant, a complex Bounded Field expanded, warping reality itself within the chamber. The very walls of the room seemed to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of shifting colours, as if the fabric of space-time was being twisted at his command.

EMIYA felt the change immediately. The Bounded Field was not merely a barrier— a domain of complete control similar to the work of Medea herself, a reality marble in its infancy, one that Aldebaran had cultivated through years of research and sacrifice. Within this space, Aldebaran's magecraft could bend the laws of physics, summon destructive elemental forces, and even manipulate the flow of time itself. EMIYA knew he was facing a true magus, one whose power rivalled the legendary figures of history.

With a flick of Aldebaran's wrist, the ground beneath EMIYA cracked and erupted, molten lava spewing forth from the earth as the floor became a sea of fire. At the same time, icicles sharp as daggers formed in mid-air, hurtling toward EMIYA with deadly precision. EMIYA moved swiftly, deflecting the ice with Kanshou and Bakuya, but the relentless onslaught of fire and ice was only the beginning.

Aldebaran's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Do you see now, Counter Guardian? You cannot hope to defeat me. I wield the very forces of creation, and within this space, I am a god."

As if to prove his point, Aldebaran floated in the air unleashing a storm of lightning, the air crackling with energy as bolts of electricity rained down on EMIYA. The latter had no choice but to summon new weapons.

Raikiri; a medium-length wakizashi used by Dosetsu to cut a thunderbolt that suddenly struck him

Kogitsunemaru. Created by the ancient swordsmith Muechika with the helping of Inari and used to drive a thunderstorm away when in the hands of the Kujo family. Not quite a divine construct but the fact that it was made with the assistance of a deity gave it its divine factor more than enough potency

The chamber shook under the force of his magecraft meeting his legendary blades head to head, the raw power of his spells warping the very air.

EMIYA knew that confronting this magus head-on would be an arduous endeavour. Aldebaran's magecraft was too deeply rooted in the ancient mysteries, too versatile for a mere weapon to quickly overcome. But there were other ways to win a battle—ways that did not rely solely on brute strength.

With a calm that belied the chaos around him, EMIYA reached into his mental armoury, his inner landscape filled with countless weapons and artefacts, each with its own history, its own power. Among them, one stood out, resonating with the situation at hand—a relic of the past, an arrow imbued with the essence of a king who had once defeated a tyrant with his cunning and determination.

EMIYA murmurs something.

"What is it? If you are begging for your life, I might just list――――"

"I said dodge it, Aldebaran!." Sounding irritated EMIYA jumps as he yells. He must have broken the frozen space with his powers. EMIYA disappears from his opponent's vision, leaving Kogitsunemau behind to attract the rest of the lightening with its tip 

"W-What are――――"

The image is perplexed by EMIYA's scream.―――And to the right and left of him, black and white blades have manifested in the air to be launched in his direction

"――――!!!!!!!"

Aldebarran's robe is cut off. It must be because he reacted to EMIYA's yell, as he managed to narrowly avoid the attacks.

―――At that instant.

EMIYA threw more of his favoured blades and the cast swords made an arc and attacked the magus in the air――――

The knight in red already has Aldebaran in a checkmate. He has his knee on the ground and is readying a bow towards the sky.

His target is the key architect of this catastrophe and on it is the Arrow of Sundiata Keita—the weapon given to the legendary Lion King of Mali by his trusted friend, Balle Fasseke. An arrow that was said to strip the most powerful sorcerer of his magic if it so much as grazed him. The legend of Sundiata, who had overthrown the wicked sorcerer-king Soumaoro, was known to EMIYA. The arrow had become a symbol of triumph over dark forces, over the arrogance of those who believed themselves invincible.

The arrow glowed with a faint, golden light, a humble yet undeniable radiance that cut through the distorted reality of Aldebaran's Bounded Field.

"Your magic is impressive," EMIYA said, his voice calm, almost serene, "but pride has always been the downfall of those who believe themselves untouchable."

With that, he released the arrow.

The golden arrow flew through the air, cutting through the magical storm with uncanny precision. Aldebaran, sensing danger too late, attempted to conjure a barrier, but the arrow pierced through his defences as if they were nothing more than illusions. It struck him on the shoulder—a mere scratch—but the effect was immediate and catastrophic.

Aldebaran's eyes widened in horror as he felt the prana within him recoil, his connection to the magical forces severing violently. The elaborate spells that had filled the chamber with fire, ice, and lightning faltered and then vanished altogether. The reality marble, once so formidable, collapsed in on itself, the room returning to its mundane state as the Bounded Field disintegrated.

The magus staggered, clutching his shoulder where the arrow had grazed him. The look of shock and disbelief on his face was almost pitiable. He had taken great pride in his magecraft, in the ancient traditions of his bloodline that had allowed him to play a role in the end of the world. Now, all that power was draining away, leaving him helpless, a mere man stripped of his purpose, his identity.

"No… no, this can't be…" Aldebaran whispered, his voice trembling with desperation. "My magic… my family's legacy…my world would've been equal…"

EMIYA watched him impassively, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Your magic has caused enough suffering. It's fitting that you should feel the pain of losing what you've taken from so many."

Aldebaran fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he tried in vain to summon even a spark of his former power. But the arrow's curse was absolute, severing his connection to the magical world. Tears welled up in his eyes as the reality of his situation sank in—the mighty magus reduced to a powerless, broken man.

"Please… I've given everything for this… I can't…" Aldebaran's voice was a choked sob, his pride shattered.

EMIYA stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he looked down at the once-powerful magus. There was no satisfaction in his eyes, only a bitter understanding of the fate that awaited all who played with powers beyond their control.

"You chose this path," EMIYA said quietly. "And now you'll live with the consequences."

With a final, swift motion, EMIYA drew Kanshou once more and drove it into Aldebaran's chest, ending his misery in an instant. The magus's body slumped to the floor, his final breath escaping in a soft, defeated sigh.

The room was now silent, the last vestiges of magical energy dissipating into the air. EMIYA stood amidst the remnants of a shattered legacy, the bodies of those who had brought ruin to the world lying in pools of their own blood. His task was complete, but there was no sense of triumph, no relief—only the cold, bitter acceptance of what he had become.

As EMIYA turned to leave, he spared one last glance at Aldebaran's lifeless form. The prideful magus, who had believed himself untouchable, now lay dead, his magic gone, his legacy erased. It was a fitting end for someone who had contributed to the world's descent into chaos.

The reinforced doors slid shut behind EMIYA as he walked away, sealing the room and its dark secrets away forever. Outside, the city still burned, teetering on the edge of oblivion. But now, there was no more reason to hold back.

It was time to let it all go over that edge.

It was almost laughable.

This was the power he had craved all his life—the strength that eluded him, the missing piece that had turned his idealism into a curse. Time and again, he had watched helplessly as the weight of reality crushed his dreams, forcing compromise after bitter compromise. Each failure deepened the chasm between his ideals and the world's harsh truths, wearing down the boy who once believed he could save everyone.

So when Alaya extended its offer, Shirou Emiya had grasped it without hesitation. The contract was his salvation. Finally, he could produce the miracles he had always yearned for. No longer would he have to stand by as those he loved fell prey to the cruelty of fate. With this power, he could save everyone—without hesitation, without compromise.

Even those fated to die.

For a brief, shining moment, it was everything he had ever dreamed of. The euphoria was overwhelming, a complete and utter joy that filled every fibre of his being. Shirou Emiya had found his purpose, his ideal realized at last.

But then came the time to fulfil his end of the contract. He died with a heart full of satisfaction, believing that in death, he would continue his righteous crusade, that he could make up for every failure, every person he couldn't save. He welcomed the eternal task, ready to spend forever saving those in need.

What a fool he had been.

He had the power, yes—but it was no longer his will that guided it. Alaya had no interest in his ideals, in the people he cherished, or in the lives he had sworn to protect. To Alaya, he was nothing more than a tool, a weapon wielded in the service of a cold, indifferent calculus. The power he had so desperately sought was now chained to a purpose devoid of compassion, divorced from the ideals that once defined him.

All his hard work, all the blood he had shed as an ordinary person to achieve those final miracles, had led him to this—a fate where his actions were no longer his own. The vision of salvation he had fought so hard to achieve was now twisted, its purpose subverted to serve a master who cared nothing for the lives in front of him.

An existence like his…

…. was better off gone 

"Brahmastra Kundala!"

Alaya's empowerment and his almost unparalleled knowledge of weapons across space and time combined with his existence as a disposable copy allowed him to try his hand at creating divine constructs that would kill him before returning to his hill of swords. Who knows, maybe the combined experience and practice of all his infinite deployments would enable some version of himself to project one of these things without dying one day.

A man whose life permeated with the concept of self-sacrifice ended up in a position where he could only watch humanity on the brink of completely destroying itself before putting a stop to it by doing that very same thing.

A scoff left his lips at that

What a joke

The scene before him was one of devastation on a scale that transcended mere destruction. The ground was scorched and scarred, a landscape that bore the horrific testament to the power EMIYA had summoned. It was an imitation of Brahma's divine weapon, an artefact of such immense destructive capability that it defied mortal comprehension. The very air seemed to crackle with the residual energy of the unleashed power, the remnants of lives snuffed out in an instant.

The weapon, an embodiment of ancient myth and cosmic wrath, had wrought havoc with a precision that could only be described as both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The earth had trembled under the weight of its impact, the sky had darkened with the dust and smoke of obliteration. The remnants of once-thriving settlements now lay in ruins, the skeletal remains of structures jutting out of the ashes like silent, accusing fingers. The lives that had once animated these spaces were now nothing more than fleeting memories, extinguished in the blinding fury of divine retribution.

"Here it comes- hah!"

EMIYA's breath came in ragged gasps, the strain of wielding such a weapon evident in the blood that streamed from his eyes and ears. The divine knowledge and the overwhelming power of the construct had been too much for his mortal frame to endure. Each thread of divine mystery his mind roamed over when analysing its concept of creation, composition materials and accumulated years left blood gushing out of his eyes and ears as his senses were overwhelmed and consumed from within.

His form flickered, the once vibrant presence of a man dedicated to saving others now a mere wraith amid the smouldering desolation. The sacred knowledge of the weapon, and the countless lives he had witnessed and lost, were absorbed into the disordered library of an ageless existence.

The transition was almost instantaneous. Shirou's form disintegrated into nothingness, the final echoes of his being absorbed into the endless void of time as the cycle of despair continued

The boy who stated he just doesn't want to see anyone cry...

...Could only see crying humans forever