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In response to Crimson Moon's words, he rolled his eyes and said, "Really? I thought you were going to share something important. This is common knowledge. You're rather clueless, aren't you?"

"What...what are you saying?" she paused, her eyes widening. "You're aware of this?"

Seizing the moment of her hesitation, Artoria lunged at her with the holy sword. She dodged just in time, quickly putting distance between them. Her eyes met his, clouded with doubt and uncertainty.

Shirou didn't clarify; he simply offered her a cold smile. Why would he need to explain? 

Nine years ago, he and Arcueid had walked through the Root together. To keep him safe, she'd been badly hurt by the Heroic Spirits and monsters of Gaia, leaving her in a coma with her consciousness locked away in her dream.

The dream she was trapped in was her own personal hell: the tragedy of the Millennium Castle that happened over eight centuries ago. During the long period when Altrouge had found her and she'd been in a deep sleep, she'd relived this nightmare over and over—each time it ended, a new cycle of horror began.

Back then, both Shirou and Arcueid had been convinced that Roa tricked Arcueid into drinking his blood, setting off her vampiric impulse and leading to the massacre at the Millennium Castle. But once Shirou entered her dream, he found that things didn't quite add up.

To pull her out of that never-ending nightmare, he had taken drastic action: he had killed all the True Ancestors in the Millennium Castle himself. Only after doing so did the Church representatives, Roa, and the cloaked figure make their appearance. Clearly, the dream was still following its original script. This meant that, according to the original sequence of events, all the True Ancestors had to be wiped out first for Roa and the others to show up.

Back then, this oddity had raised red flags for Shirou. But he kept his suspicions to himself, choosing not to confront Arcueid about it.

One reason he hadn't brought it up was that they were already under attack by Vortigern and simply didn't have the time. The other reason was a matter of decency: only someone cruel and twisted would deliberately dig into another's painful past.

When Crimson Moon finally exposed herself, all of his suspicions resurfaced, giving rise to many terrifying speculations. He was a careful thinker. Crimson Moon had outmaneuvered him by taking advantage of the fact that he was in the light while she remained in the shadows. When you're hidden, it's easier to gain the upper hand because you have access to information that the other party doesn't. However, the moment she fully exposed herself, she lost that edge.

A mouse that had sneaked out of the shadows, losing its only safe shelter, stood out in the open without any secrets or tricks up its sleeve. And a player entering a master's game with no tricks in hand is essentially signing their own death warrant.

Soldiers from Camelot clashed with the Dead Apostles, and civilians were fleeing in panic.

Shirou stared coldly at Crimson Moon and said, "Bring out your final trump card."

She narrowly evaded Artoria's sweeping blade and, with a quick motion, sent Attila flying with a solid hit to the chest. But her eyes, when they landed on him, were filled with confusion and uncertainty.

No way... this can't be happening!

She felt her resolve shake. Could he actually know what her trump card was?

No, that's impossible!

How could he possibly know?

She kept reassuring herself internally. She had been hidden in the shadows for over fifteen hundred years. There was no way someone like him, whom she had thoroughly analyzed, could have discovered her secret.

"You often speak of 'your world,' don't you? Show me your Demonic Sword - Real of the World. You always have it with you, right?"

Her eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

The crowd around them seemed to freeze for a moment, equally stunned.

Demonic Sword - Real of the World. They had no idea what kind of weapon that might be. But they were well aware that Crimson Moon had ambitions to reshape the world; it was common knowledge. And this Demonic Sword seemed aptly named, a weapon befitting her grand vision for the world.

But there was a problem: she wasn't in her original body; she was in Arcueid's body now. Other than manifesting a pure white dress, there were no weapons to be seen.

Staring at Crimson Moon, Shirou's voice was devoid of emotion as he said, "Arcueid couldn't fight you off, didn't even sense you were there... Because Arcueid herself is your demonic sword, isn't she?"

Boom! She recoiled, taking two steps back, her eyes filled with shock.

She couldn't help but blurt out, "No... that can't be..."

"Your face right now is a perfect match for your sorry state, Crimson Moon," He said coldly. "You seemed so smug earlier. After lurking in the shadows for more than fifteen hundred years, it must feel pretty good to think you've won. But I have to thank you—you gave me the clue I needed."

Artoria was indifferent to their exchange. Her eyes never left Crimson Moon, cold and filled with murderous intent. 

Seizing the moment, she lunged at Crimson Moon with her holy sword. 

Distracted by her exchange with him, Crimson Moon's reaction was a beat too late. The blade cut into her arm, drawing blood.

But Crimson Moon paid it no mind, and her eyes flicked back to him, clouded with confusion. By all logic, her secret should have been safe. She was the hidden puppeteer of history, the unseen hand manipulating events from the shadows. Whether it was Shirou, Artoria, or even figures like Zelretch, the True Ancestors, and the planet itself—she had played them all. Her tactics were a collection of years of carefully crafted strategies.

Yet here was Shirou, cracking open her deepest secret with just one line! And he was spot-on; Arcueid was indeed her demonic sword!

It was utterly inconceivable! This was her ultimate ace in the hole!

More than fifteen hundred years ago, when Altrouge showed up with a holy sword from the British Isles, she shattered that weapon, convinced she had destroyed the sword of the planet. Afterward, she turned the remnants into seeds, which she then planted in the capital of the Western Roman Empire, Ravenna.

And this was the trigger that finally pulled Gaia out of the alluring dream spun by Crimson Moon, thanks in part to Shirou's well-placed words.

In that decisive clash over a millennium and a half ago, she hadn't even pulled out her demonic sword. She'd relied purely on her brute strength, her Moon Fall, and her Marble Phantasm. Despite all that, she'd lost to the alliance that Shirou had formed.

But even though she was angry, she had no part in the invasions that had befallen Camelot. She had zero affection for invading forces like the Vanguard of the Umbral Star; in fact, she was pretty much hostile towards them. All she'd done was watch from the sidelines, observing how they took over Camelot and how, eventually, they were quietly taken down by Mordred.

She was deeply shocked. These seemingly inconsequential humans, with their plots and schemes, had basically played powerful beings like a fiddle.

That's when it clicked for her. She started paying attention to something she'd always dismissed—the so-called wisdom of ants, or humans in this case.

It dawned on her that no matter how insanely powerful they might be, if they lack the smarts to go with it, they're basically just toys for humanity to mess with. They might even end up thanking the very people who are playing them to death. That's when she decided to swallow her pride and began to learn human wisdom.

Step by step, she honed her wisdom and knowledge, and her crowning achievement was using her behind-the-scenes influence to get the True Ancestors to unwittingly transport those seeds she'd planted to the Millennium Castle. There, she manipulated them into creating new True Ancestor.

The True Ancestors who acted as her pawns were laughably naive. They never even questioned why they were suddenly able to create new True Ancestor that also happened to be ideal vessel. They chalked it all up to the planet's influence. Even the planet was clueless, believing that this new creation was a tribute to her own power—a perfect replica born of her essence, a vessel suited to carry out her bidding.